The world around Nyr shifted.
The ground beneath his feet vanished. The mountains were gone—swallowed by an endless stretch of silver sand.
The cold wind had turned warm and dry, rough against his skin, carrying the scent of dust—and faint traces of life clinging to survival in the scorched air.
His head throbbed—sharp and steady, like someone was hitting a stone on his head—the lingering sting of sudden teleportation.
'Ugh,' he thought. 'Why does teleportation have to hurt so much?'
Above him, the sun hung like a cruel overseer.
Below, dry and leafless trees stood like forgotten guardians—silent withered things that had somehow survived that long.
A massive mountain loomed at the desert's edge, as if silently judging all that dared to live.
The silver sand shifted. Ridges twitched beneath the light—small and quiet signs that something else lived here too.
Suddenly, a shadow split the sky above.
A massive shape streaked across the sun, followed by a shriek—sharp, echoing, and loud enough to crack the silence rolling over the dunes.
He couldn't lift his head, but his eyes caught it. A huge and deadly flying monster.
A Scourge. It dove toward him.
'Wait, I'm in the sky!' His heart pounded. The teleportation pain hadn't even faded before he realized—he wasn't on the ground anymore.
He was suspended in midair as his arms refused to lift, and his legs wouldn't shift. Nothing moved.
Above, the monster's cruel eyes locked on him.
It spread its immense wings that were covered in dark red feathers with gold-edged tips that shone in the sunlight.
It blocked out pieces of the sun as it flew, cutting through the air like a storm of fire and shadow.
A hooked beak jutted forward—curved, sharp, made to rip and crush.
Then, once again, it's a loud and raw scream that slices through the desert like a blade.
Its eyes burned sharp yellow, fixed on Nyr with focused and intelligent hunger.
Four limbs clung to its sides: two clawed feet ready to snatch prey, and two thick arms ending in twitching claws—tense and eager to strike.
'For spirit's sake—move.' The words barely formed in his mind as he felt unnatural fear inside of him.
The creature's claws swiped past his face, missing by hair—just a tiny bit closer, and his head might be gone.
His chest hammered as instinct surged. He reached inward, desperate to summon his golden wings.
But nothing happened.
'NO, no, no…' The frantic and helpless word looped in his mind. He hung there in the open air, fully exposed under the monster's shadow.
Another slash. Closer this time. Slower and deliberate. It was playing with him.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Again, he tried to awaken his wings, but no golden light answered. Just the rising certainty that death was closing in.
Time slowed.
'Shitty trial—let me move!' he begged.
Still nothing, like invisible chains held him down.
His breath caught as panic surged. Muscles screamed to act, but not a single part of him obeyed.
Cold and suffocating fear rolled over him. The desert below twisted, warped, and blurred. It felt like it was rising to swallow him whole.
His thoughts begged. 'Come out. Now. Please.'
Still no answer. Only the deepening shadow above that blotted out the sun.
His heart thundered, louder than the monster's scream. His vision narrowed. Breathe shallow. Body trembling.
Then—gravity took hold.
And he fell.
Panic rose in his chest as he fell toward the burning sand with nothing to stop the fall.
'Get over it. Come out! Come out!' The thoughts beat against his skull like a drum, wild and desperate.
Was this really it? Not killed in battle, not torn apart by monsters—just dropped. Powerless and failing to change anything, even though he had wings.
He was seconds from crashing, the sand rushing up fast—he could see his own reflection in it.
Then—light.
A golden blaze exploded from his back.
When despair reaches its peak, even broken wings remember how to fly.—And so did he.
Wings of pure brilliance burst into existence, spreading wide. They weren't feathers or flesh. They were made of raw Spirit Essence, alive and radiant.
The air cracked with energy as he flew, golden trails streaming behind him like fire in the wind.
They hummed with power—both beautiful and dangerous. An echo of the Spirit inside him, finally awakened.
With a blast of wind and a scatter of sand, Nyr—Radiant Star—slammed into the side of a dune.
His knees bent with the impact, sending a shockwave through the slope. Sand burst outward in ripples, dust flying in every direction.
Light burned around him. The golden glow warped the air, casting a halo that shimmered like heat haze.
For a moment, he didn't look human. He looked like a flame standing alone in the desert—bright, defiant, and alive.
"Damn. That was too close," he muttered.
His breath came fast and uneven. The golden wings folded inward and vanished, leaving only silence—and the fading taste of danger still clinging to the scorched air.
'A promise to sister, a promise to friend—already slipping through trembling hands.'
He had said he'd live. Now, he was about to die from a fall. How shameful.
Above, a shadow passed over him again.
The Scourge let out a shriek—high and raw. The air shook with it. It was already turning, wings cutting a sharp arc as it dove once more.
"It's huge. No way it's just Roused. At least Howled," Nyr muttered, jaw clenched. 'This is gonna be problematic.'
For non-demonic factions—the Order—the Spirit path began at Awakened, then rose to Adept.
Monsters followed a different scale. Their first rank was Roused, followed by Howled.
The creature above wasn't some fledgling threat. It had already crossed that deadly threshold.
Now Nyr saw it in full—the red feathers streaked with gold, the grotesque hooked beak, talons curled like spring-loaded traps beneath its massive body.
Four limbs moved with unnerving precision, made for killing both in the sky and on the ground.
This monster had hunted before—and now it had marked him as its next target.
But he was done being helpless.
'Come here, bird,' he thought. 'Let me introduce you to regret.'
Nyr raised his hand covered in golden glow and pointed it towards the monster, and suddenly the golden lights wrapped around the monster, it stopped in mid-air, and slowly began to fall from the sky.
As it was about to fall to the ground—the golden light lost its control over the monster, and it started to fly above him again.
But this time the creature slowed down.
Its flight turned cautious. It circled carefully now, keeping its distance. The light hadn't harmed it, but the message was clear.
'I'm not prey,' Nyr thought, his gaze locked and unshaken. 'Come again—and you'll regret it.'
The desert wind curled around him, and sand shifted beneath his boots. Above, the monster hovered, watching.
Things had changed.
The bird monster stayed aloft, wings wide—like sails of skin and blood-streaked feathers. Its head tilted, beak twitching as if tasting the air. Its eyes locked on Nyr—sharp, focused, and intelligent.
Red feathers rustled with every subtle adjustment. Muscles flexed beneath the wings, claws curling slowly—each movement controlled, deliberate.
It hovered, unmoving. What it had expected was prey: a lost, wounded boy. What it saw was something else—glowing golden light humming softly in his palm.
The creature let out a low hiss, somewhere between warning and confusion. Its body coiled with tension.
Then, with a single powerful beat, it rose higher. Once around. Then it turned—toward the mountains.
Without a sound, it flew off, fading into heat and distance.
Nyr watched it shrink into the shimmering air, eyes narrowed.
But he stayed alert. In the desert, turning away didn't always mean surrender. Just because something vanished didn't mean it was gone.
Predators were patient. And this one... it wasn't just strong—it was old. Experienced. Dangerous.
Still, it had left. That was enough—for now.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders easing. The golden wings flickered once, then unraveled into fine threads of light, slipping quietly back beneath his skin.
'Thank goodness,' Nyr thought. 'If I'd fought it, that would've been one hell of a battle. Flying monsters aren't easy prey.'
Confident, but never arrogant—Nyr understood the truth. A Howl-ranked creature wasn't just powerful. It was relentless and unpredictable.
And one that could fly? That changed everything. Aerial monsters could vanish into the sky in seconds—slip beyond reach and dive without warning.
He wasn't built for long chases or battles in the air. If it had chosen to fight, he would've needed to be ready for anything.
He stood alone in the vast desert, exposed, the terrain giving the bird every advantage.
And he was completely inexperienced in fighting across this endless, sunburned wasteland.
The wind picked up—thin and sharp—carrying strands of silver dust that danced across the dunes like restless spirits.
The desert shimmered under a strange light: fluid, deceptive, and always shifting.
"My 5% of Spirit Essence is already spent. What a pity," Nyr muttered to himself.
Spirit Essence—the foundation of all things. It flowed through the earth, moved as energy, lived in every life, and echoed within each soul.
It powered Spirit Marks and all kinds of artifacts. Out here, wasting even a drop of it was like inviting death.
Behind him, the sand rustled—a sound so faint it was nearly swallowed by the wind.
A section of the dune shifted slightly, smooth and intentional—not moved by the breeze, but by something with purpose.
Something was lurking.
It wore the desert like a cloak, its shape blending seamlessly into the silver dust and moving with the patience of a predator.
To the naked eye, it looked like nothing more than another ripple in the endless sand.
For a moment, it opened its brown eyes—and then closed them again.
It was watching. And waiting.