He fell, but he did not die.
At least, not in the way he expected.
The world he hated spat him out into another, a place where the sky bleeds, where gods are fractured, and where names weigh heavier than lives.
     Here, he is someone else.
Someone cursed.
Someone forgotten.
         Yet in the ruins of memory and the echo of laughter that was never his, a strange truth coils:
that death is not an ending,
but a beginning far crueler.
   A book without pages.
   A family without love.
A body that doesn’t belong to him,
and a voice in the dark that whispers of eternity.

"So what do you think is the reason for the effective distinction between different types of the same human race, even though biological research shows no structural differences between any of them?" Henry's voice echoed through the corridor, smooth yet restless, words spilling faster than Avin's patience could keep up. "For example, God-Folk like yourself and swordsmen like me all have the same source of internal energy—the heart. Our hearts aren't so different, yet they store different things. It's been researched and proven that a swordsman could never use a God-Folk's mana, and vice versa. Remember the executed professor who experimented on humans—infusing swordsman mana into God-Folk and the other way around—causing them to blow up after just a few minutes?"


Chapter 86 - Hooded Test