"Huh? What the..?"
He wasn't falling anymore.
That was the first thing he noticed. No weight. No wind against his skin. No sense of up or down. He simply floated… suspended in the void like an unwanted thought.
And beneath him, the dragon still lay—colossal and broken.
Its body looked fossilized, hollowed out by centuries. Parts of it crumbled even as he stared. Its skin no longer shimmered but cracked like dried earth. One of its glassy, clouded eyes moved just enough to meet his gaze.
Its jaw shifted.
Mumbling. Not a growl. Not a roar. Just... mouthing something, soundless. Its voice, if it had one, didn't belong to this world anymore. He strained to hear.
Nothing.
What is it trying to say?
And then, without warning, the dragon's chest convulsed.
A wave burst from its body—not fire, not breath—but mana. Pure, golden, searing mana. It surged like a geyser, rising straight toward him.
No… no no no—
He didn't have time to resist. It slammed into him. And then it entered him. All of it.
It wasn't like breathing in mana.
It was like being consumed by it.
His veins screamed as they were flooded with burning light. His bones rattled like drums. His heart thrashed as if trying to escape his ribcage. His mind fractured into white. He could feel everything and nothing.
He screamed, but there was no sound in the abyss.
His mouth was open, throat torn raw, but nothing escaped.
What's happening to me? What is this?! Why does it hurt like this?
It felt like something inside him was being peeled away.
His limits.
His ignorance.
His humanity?
He didn't know what was being taken, only that it was being replaced by something monstrous and ancient.
Am I dying?
No—this is worse.
I'm being changed.
I didn't ask for this!
He convulsed.
Then it stopped.
All of it.
No more pain.
No more noise.
No body.
He blinked.
But he had no eyelids.
He breathed.
But there was no air.
He simply… was.
Floating in complete, silent, black nothingness.
He couldn't feel his arms. Couldn't hear his own thoughts echo anymore. Only a strange, cold clarity. He looked around—if looking was even the word.
And then the stars appeared.
One by one, like embers in the distance, they ignited in the endless dark. Distant. Silent. Cold.
Where am I?
Is this… some kind of afterlife?
No… I'm still here. I can think. Feel. Remember.
The guilt. The betrayal. Roff.
He thought of the mage, of Caelistra. Of the monster they fought together. Of how, in that moment, he had started to believe he wasn't just an animal to survive the next day.
And now I'm here.
Why?
The silence answered nothing.
He was alone.
Utterly.
There were no spirits. No gods. No voices whispering ancient secrets. Only infinite space—and his thoughts, stretching thin.
This isn't death.
This is something deeper.
He began to panic again, but there was nowhere to run, nothing to fight. His thoughts spiraled.
What if I never wake up?
What if this is it? My soul lost in a sky with no floor?
But something stirred.
Not outside.
Inside.
The mana.
Still pulsing.
A heat inside his core, like a star lodged in his gut. It hadn't left him. It was nesting, mutating, growing roots in his very existence.
What has that dragon done to me?
He could feel it—shifting something in him, rearranging thoughts, instincts, senses. As if the beast hadn't given him power, but planted a seed. One he couldn't understand.
I'm not the same anymore.
And then—
One of the stars ahead pulsed. Not brighter. Just... closer. Realer.
He didn't move toward it. It moved toward him.
Or maybe… it called.
The star reached him.
Not fast. Not slow. Just… inevitable.
It pierced through the darkness—no light, no warmth—just pressure. A single pulse of force that ignored time and space.
And then it entered him.
He hurled a silent scream into the void.
"HAAAAAAAAAA—"
Everything exploded.
No more floating. No more emptiness. Just a rush—like being yanked through the eye of a storm. His body convulsed, memories fractured, and something ancient screamed within him.
He slammed back into reality.
With a jolt, he gasped—air, thick and real, filled his lungs. His chest rose violently, like a drowning man breaking the surface.
He was lying on the stone floor of the chasm.
Back in the world. But nothing was the same.
The gouffre was eerily silent. No trace of the colossal dragon. The mana residue had vanished, and even the scorch marks on the rock seemed... healed.
He sat up slowly, every movement unfamiliar.
His hands.
His arms.
They weren't the same.
His body had changed—no longer fragile or starved. His muscles were lean, solid, coiled like steel cables under his skin. Every breath felt deeper. Every heartbeat heavier. His senses were razor-sharp.
He flexed his fingers, and veins of faint golden glow rippled under the surface. Power hummed through him. Not borrowed. Not granted. His.
He noticed something in the dust ahead.
A mask.
Half a mask, smooth and black like obsidian, shaped to cover only one side of the face. As if waiting for him.
He reached for it instinctively.
The moment his fingers touched it, a thrill raced through his spine.
Without hesitation, he lifted it and placed it over the left side of his face.
"Huh...? What's going on...?"
A surge of energy shot through him like a lightning bolt.
His vision sharpened.
His thoughts aligned.
He could hear his own blood flow, feel the pulse of mana in the rocks, sense the lingering echoes of battles long past in the very air.
He staggered back, laughing—at first in confusion, then with wild, primal clarity.
"Hahahaha..."
He felt alive.
Not just breathing.
Not just surviving.
Reborn.
Complete.
He stood tall, shadow flickering at his feet as if reality was trying to catch up with his new form.
He looked at his reflection in a shallow pool of water nearby. One eye gleamed like a dying star. The mask pulsed softly.
This wasn't the boy who had crawled through the mud to escape a slaver's whip.
That version of him had died in the void.
"From now on ..."
He spoke slowly, with conviction, his voice no longer uncertain.
"The nameless boy no longer exists."
He smiled.
Cold.
Resolved.
"Now... I am Void."