Kealix and Leo continued talking, their voices weaving between silence and curiosity. The conversation had shifted from names and surface-level questions to things that truly mattered—like where their powers came from, and how this strange world functioned.
Leo's voice held that same relaxed confidence, like he was explaining the weather. "Everyone who has powers here? They got them by killing an Aetheric Beast." He paused, then added with a grin that didn't quite hide the grit underneath, "And yeah—they did it before they had any powers."
Kealix blinked, his mind catching on the weight of that sentence. Killed one? The beasts were no joke—not from what he'd seen. And Leo had taken one down?
"But that doesn't decide your class," Leo continued. "It's not about how you kill them—it's about who you are. The system chooses what class fits your nature best. Like, it sees you."
That made Kealix pause. The system. Like it was alive. A watcher. A judge.
It felt completely different from what happened to him and his group. Their abilities hadn't awakened through bloodshed or conquest. They'd been changed—touched—by something far stranger. The fracture. Just coming into contact with it had triggered the surge of power. No battle. No death. Just that rift in the sky and the energy that had poured through it like the universe had tried to rewrite itself.
Yet despite everything Leo explained, something still tugged at Kealix's thoughts—quiet but persistent.
What are Divinities?
What are Legacies?
The words had been thrown around before, almost in passing, but their weight had echoed through him. He didn't know what they meant—not really. Not yet. But he would ask. When Thalia returned, he'd corner them both if he had to.
For now, he focused on the moment. The two of them kept talking, the minutes slipping by without effort. Leo was easier to talk to than Kealix expected. Loud, a little reckless, but honest. There was no mask on him. Just energy, openness, and a kind of reckless optimism that almost reminded Kealix of Joshua—almost.
Eventually, footsteps could be heard, and Thalia stepped back in with her usual quiet command of the room. She didn't look surprised to find them mid-conversation.
Leo grinned wide the moment he saw her. "Hey, sis. Me and Keal already got to know each other a bit, so working together shouldn't be an issue."
Kealix flinched slightly at the nickname—Keal—but kept his face neutral. He didn't correct Leo.
It'll take some getting used to… but I'll deal with it.
Thalia didn't respond with words. Instead, she unfurled what looked like a massive scroll from under her arm. The parchment was thick, weathered, and looked older than any document Kealix had ever seen.
She rolled it out across the ashen grass of the forest. It unfurled with a sound like crackling fire, revealing a massive map—an ancient one, drawn in faded ink and strange, slanted characters. Mountains, forests, cities—all sketched with sharp, deliberate strokes.
Kealix leaned closer, eyes narrowing. The landmasses were wrong. The continents didn't match anything from his world. The oceans were wider. The coastlines unfamiliar. He scanned for familiar markers—names, shapes, patterns—but found none.
Of course. It hit him all over again.
He wasn't home. Not even close.
The fracture hadn't just changed him—it had moved him. Pulled him out of his world entirely and dumped him into something new. A parallel realm? A higher plane? Another dimension? He didn't know.
But this place… it was vast. Unfamiliar. Unforgiving.
And it had rules he hadn't even begun to understand.
Whatever this world is, Kealix thought, I need to learn its rules fast. Or I won't last long.
He clenched his jaw slightly, the same question rising again.
What are Divinities? What are Legacies?
He wouldn't let it go unanswered.
Not this time.
After a few long moments of watching Thalia trace paths across the weathered map—her gloved fingers ghosting over ancient ink and faded borders—Kealix finally broke the silence.
"Hey… do you guys know what Divinities and Legacies are?" he asked, keeping his voice even, calm. Not too curious. Not too flat. Just… steady.
Both Thalia and Leo looked up at him sharply. Not with hostility, but with something else—like he'd asked about a myth most people were taught not to believe in. A strange quiet fell between them.
Leo leaned forward slightly, lips parting as if to answer—but before he could get a word out, Thalia spoke instead.
"Why do you ask?" she said, her voice soft, but tinged with something cautious. Not suspicion, exactly but Wariness.
Kealix hesitated.
What do I even say? Should I just tell them I think I have a Legacy? No… no, that would be reckless. If it really is something rare—or dangerous—I'd just be drawing attention I can't afford. Not yet.
"I heard about them… before I got pulled into this world," he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. "So I figured I'd ask."
Thalia didn't answer right away. She just watched him.
That mask of hers—smooth, white, unreadable—made it impossible to see her expression, but he could feel the weight of her stare pressing through it. She looked blind with that thing on… but somehow, Kealix was sure she could see everything.
The firelight from their nearby camp crackled gently, dancing along the silver edges of the map. Thalia's long, deep-orange hair stirred with the wind, catching the light like flowing embers.
For a breathless moment, no one spoke.
Then she finally nodded.
"That's a good enough reason," she said, her tone thoughtful, calm. "A Divinity is something a person can attain by surviving—and winning—a battle they were never meant to win. Something so stacked against them that, by all logic, they should have died."
She let the words sink in before continuing.
"A Legacy, though... that's more complicated. No one really understands how they work. They're rare. Incredibly rare. Even after four hundred years of living in the aftermath of the Cataclysm, the conditions for awakening a Legacy are still vague—broad and contradictory. Some say it's tied to fate. Others, to bloodlines. Or choices. Or death. We just... don't know."
Her voice was steady as always, but the flicker of the fire on her mask and the subtle tension in her posture gave her words weight.
"But what we do know," she added, "is that anyone who's ever awakened a Divinity—or a Legacy—ended up among the most powerful people this world has ever seen."
Powerful… and dangerous.
Kealix absorbed that in silence, letting it turn slowly in his mind like a blade being examined from every angle.
So… you have to accomplish the impossible. Win a battle you shouldn't have been able to. That tracks. We never would've stood a chance against Fenrir—not without Abbynerr showing up when he did. We should have died. That fight wasn't meant for people like us.
He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He was satisfied with the answer. More than that—he believed it. There wasn't a hint of exaggeration in Thalia's tone. No pride. Just truth.
"Thanks," he said, giving her a small nod of appreciation.
Thalia didn't respond with words. She simply returned her attention to the map, her hand now resting near a place labeled in curling runes too old for Kealix to read.
Leo gave a low whistle, leaning back with a look of amused awe. "Well… if you did hear about them before coming here, you've got better sources than most people in this world."
Kealix said nothing in response—just offered a vague smile.
But deep down, the thought gnawed at him.
If Legacy-bearers become legends… what the hell does that make me? And why me?
He didn't have the answers yet.
But at least now, he knew the right questions.
"All right, listen up," Thalia's voice cut through the quiet, calm but firm.
Kealix glanced up from the map. Leo, who had been poking at the fire with a stick, perked up.
"What is it, sis?" Leo asked, tilting his head, the casual note in his voice unable to hide his curiosity.
"We're going to plan our route to the Western Regions," Thalia said, brushing her hair back as the wind caught its ends. "It's going to take time—and the water's off-limits. Which means we'll have to go on foot. The entire way."
Off-limits?
Kealix narrowed his eyes, gaze falling back on the map. He didn't voice the question, but it echoed in his mind all the same. Why would the water be off-limits? Is something out there? Something worse than what's on land?
Thalia continued, her hand sliding across the map and landing on a faded stretch of terrain.
"We're currently in what was once called Russia. We need to reach Western Europa—what used to be Europe—within a year. It's a long trek, but doable." She paused, her tone softening slightly. "But... there's a complication. The Black Mountaintops lie directly between here and the path west. And that region's grown dangerous."
Her breath caught slightly as she said it, a subtle but noticeable shift. Kealix caught the faint strain in her voice, the way she exhaled slowly between thoughts, disappointment settling over her like a slow dusk.
"Abbynerr is too large to patrol the entire mountain range. There are threats there—beasts, remnants, even worse things—and many have gone unchecked for too long. But we have no choice. Going around would cost us months."
Kealix studied the map as she spoke. The Black Mountaintops weren't labeled in any language he could understand, but their jagged, ink-drawn peaks dominated the center of the continent like scars clawed across old parchment. Something about them unsettled him deeply—more than he was willing to admit aloud.
Still, his mind buzzed with curiosity. Despite the danger, this world was a vast labyrinth of unknowns, and each new piece of information felt like a key. He'd never cared for school—too rigid, too dull—but this? This was learning with weight. Every fact could save your life… or end it.
"You sure this is the right call, sis?" Leo asked after a long pause. His voice was softer now. Not hesitant, but respectful. Concerned.
Thalia gave a single, solemn nod.
"It's the only path that gives us a chance," she replied simply.
And that was that.
They spent the next hour talking logistics—rations, gear, watch rotations, the pace they'd need to keep. Nothing flashy, just survival. When they finally laid down for the night, the cold air carried the scent of smoke and old parchment. Kealix lay awake for a while, eyes half-lidded, thoughts drifting like ash.
So… we're heading through a place even Abbynerr can't fully protect. That doesn't exactly scream "good idea," but what choice do we have?
His body relaxed, but his mind didn't. His hands remained clenched beneath the blanket, nails digging lightly into his palms. Every distant crackle of the fire made his eyes twitch open again, scanning shadows that refused to stay still. And that's when it happened.
A sudden burst of golden light exploded across the night like a divine thunderclap, tearing the darkness in two. It wasn't just light—it was presence, weight, power. For one brief second, the forest looked like day, cast in blinding hues of white and gold, every branch and shadow burned into stark silhouette.
Shadows scattered.
The fire roared.
The world held its breath.
Kealix shot upright, his heart thundering against his ribs. The heat of the fire vanished beneath the chill crawling across his spine.
Then came the voice—raw, urgent, unmistakable.
"Get up! You have to get out of here! Now!"
The golden brilliance crackled like a living storm, and at its core stood a figure that made the world seem smaller—Hero.
But this wasn't the serene sentinel Kealix remembered.
The calm was gone.
The stillness shattered.
His card—once a steady glow—now pulsed violently, light bending and twisting around it like it was trying to contain something far greater. Hero's entire form flickered with unstable energy, as if the very air around him was being pulled apart at the seams.
His face—always unreadable, always composed—was now drawn tight with panic.
This wasn't a request.
This was a warning.
And something monstrous was on its way.
Far off, deep in the scarlet forest, the ground rumbled—a low, unnatural vibration that crawled through the soles of Kealix's feet and coiled around his spine like ice.
Whatever it was…
It was already coming.
And it wasn't meant to be survived.