Nausea. That was the first thing Kelly felt the moment she stepped out of the portal. Clutching her head and fighting the urge to retch, she glanced around—and almost had a heart attack.
Everywhere she looked, buildings lay in ruins. The ground was scorched black, like the sand itself had been set ablaze by some ancient, wrathful flame. Stones, rocks, even dust floated in the air like gravity had become a forgotten concept. There was no real light—just a deep, suffocating darkness, broken only by the faint glow of distant stars barely casting any illumination at all.
But none of that explained the dread that gripped her chest like a vice.
Her breaths came in sharp gasps. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees, all the blood draining from her face.
Up above, in the endless sky, hovered the largest creature she had ever seen.
Two massive eyes stared down at her—eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies, with nebulae swirling deep inside them. Kelly's body trembled, and tears spilled down her face. There was a wrongness to it all, something primal that screamed at her to run, to hide, to never look again.
She was staring at an apex predator. Something so far beyond her comprehension that even her body knew instinctively—it was not meant to be seen.
And yet, she couldn't forget it. The image was etched into her mind like a curse, because her brain couldn't even find the right words to describe what she saw.
It resembled the dragons from fantasy novels back home, but that comparison felt pitiful. This creature was more—far more. Too complex, too abominable for the human mind to fully grasp. It carried with it the presence of something incomprehensible, like a concept that didn't belong in a mortal world.
Its body shimmered like black obsidian, with wings so vast they blotted out the sky, stealing even what little light remained. Crescent-moon-shaped horns curled atop its head, and its long, coiling tail split into three jagged tips. The space around it pulsed—compressing and expanding—as if reality itself was struggling to contain it.
And then, it spoke.
There was no roar. No movement of lips or maw. The sound didn't come from the air.
It echoed in her mind.
And the violation of her thoughts—of her very self—left her gasping.
"Hello, Kelly."
Its voice was… comforting. Oddly so. It carried a warmth that promised safety, an almost gentle aura that completely clashed with its monstrous form.
"Ho–" Kelly croaked, barely managing the word as her head stayed bowed, glued to the charred ground. "How do you know my name?"
"I know many things," the beast replied smoothly. "I am Myrrhvalen, the Abyssal Wyrm. I will be your judge for the Aether trial. I do hope you succeed, mortal. All those before you have failed."
Kelly's heart thudded faster. If there was one thing she had a natural instinct for, it was sensing danger. And right now, everything inside her screamed to run.
"W-What happened to the ones who failed?" she asked, already dreading the answer she knew was coming.
"Oh," Myrrhvalen said, almost amused. "They became my nourishment, of course. Some put up quite the fight. I rather enjoyed eating those in pieces—watching them resist even as they fell apart. It was… entertaining."
Kelly's fists clenched. Since coming to this godforsaken universe, everything had either tried to kill her or eat her. She wasn't nutritious okay!
"I swear, I can barely fill the gaps between your teeth!" she snapped, unable to hold it in. "And unlike those people, I'm probably one of the weakest Stellari alive. Honestly, you're a creature that talks! I thought that meant you'd be a little more civilized. But nope—you're just a massive, oversized lizard with a vocabulary and cannibalistic tendencies!"
She glared upward, pulse pounding, both terrified and defiant.
There was silence for a few seconds. Then, the creature's voice echoed once more in her mind.
"Congratulations, child. You've successfully enraged me."
Kelly scoffed. "Yeah? Well, fuck you too."
She knew she had a personality problem. A normal person wouldn't go mouthing off to something that didn't even need to look at you to kill you. Yet somehow, here she was—doing just that. Again.
But it wasn't hard to figure out what was really going on. This trial—it was a joke. A setup. A rigged game made up by some oversized cosmic lizard who liked to watch its prey struggle before devouring them.
So if she was going to die, she might as well go out with a few insults. That felt like a better death than begging.
"I can read your thoughts, human," Myrrhvalen said, its tone disturbingly calm. "And while I find them… enlightening, you seem to be terribly mistaken."
The air shifted. Reality itself felt like it paused.
"I, Myrrhvalen, am not thrilled at the thought of devouring you. You are weak—so utterly and offensively weak—that your presence fills me with disgust. The idea of putting you in my mouth is repulsive."
Kelly blinked. That should have made her feel better. It didn't. Somehow, that stung worse than a death threat.
There was another pause—this one longer, and the creature's voice returned, now laced with confusion. It sounded like it was thinking aloud.
"Only Celestial Sentinels or higher should be eligible for this trial… So why did the artifact choose you?"
Then the tone changed. Bolder. Deeper. Like thunder in her skull.
"Kelly Drexler, I shall give you the hardest trial ever known. Walk the Road of Eternity… and survive."
Kelly tilted her head slightly, still kneeling. Then, slowly, with quiet defiance, she rose to her feet—careful not to meet its eyes.
"So, send me to this 'road' already," Kelly said, brushing imaginary dust off her clothes. "I just got out of a coma and haven't even had breakfast, so let's get this over with."
The creature was silent. But she could feel it watching her, its colossal gaze pressing down on her like the weight of a thousand stars.
"Interesting," it finally rumbled. "Why aren't you panicking, mortal? You stand on the edge of a trial that beings far stronger than you have faced… and failed."
Kelly gave a casual shrug. "It's just like any other day."
There was a long pause—then what sounded suspiciously like a tired sigh.
"Good luck, mortal. You will need it."
Space twisted.
In an instant, Kelly vanished into a spiraling void.
The first trial of Aether had begun.
***
She landed with a soft thump and instantly scanned her surroundings.
It was a desert. Vast, endless… dead. Red sand stretched from horizon to horizon, the grains sparkling like crystallized blood. No wind. No plants. No sound.
Until there was.
A deep rumble echoed across the dunes. Kelly looked north—and froze.
A sandstorm. No, not just a sandstorm. The sandstorm. A swirling red vortex tearing across the desert like a living wall, stretching so far in both directions that it swallowed the sky itself.
"Of course," Kelly muttered, clutching her bag tighter. "Because things just have to go from zero to apocalypse."
She narrowed her eyes, shielding them from the rising gusts, then summoned Cosmic Dust to her legs. Her muscles surged with strength.
She ran.
Her feet blurred across the blood-red dunes, moving faster than any normal human should've been able to. The Dust encasing her legs amplified her speed and balance, and every step kicked up glowing particles behind her.
Back in the forest, when she fought the plant monsters, she had stumbled into this trick by accident. Now it was instinct.
And according to Aurelia's knowledge dump, no Dust Initiate should ever be able to use Cosmic Dust like this. At her current level, she was supposed to just accumulate the stuff. Maybe lift a small boulder if she was lucky.
But here she was—running faster than humanly possible, legs coated in glowing Dust.
Enhancing body parts with Cosmic Dust was supposed to be a trait of a Dust Adept. Wielding it outward? That was firmly in Dust Wielder territory.
But Kelly could do both.
She wasn't just enhancing her legs—she was subtly manipulating Cosmic Dust around her body too, like it was a part of her. A Dust Initiate shouldn't be able to do any of that. Not in theory. Not in practice. Not ever.
She shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
Now wasn't the time to question the impossible.
The sandstorm was gaining on her.
She could hear it now—like the roar of a thousand stampeding beasts, each carrying jagged shards of glass. The air thickened. Breathing grew harder. Each gasp burned her throat as wind-blown red sand stung her skin and clogged her lungs.
Kelly coughed violently, her legs pumping beneath her like twin pistons. She didn't dare look back. She could feel it—closer, heavier, hungrier.
"Think… think, come on," she urged herself, scanning the terrain desperately for anything—anything—that might offer shelter.
And then she saw it.
A dark outcrop jutting from the dunes—a sharp, jagged black rock that hadn't been there before. At its base, a narrow opening. A cave.
It felt… wrong. Like the cave had been dropped there by mistake. Like the universe had changed its mind and handed her a wildcard.
Kelly skidded to a halt in front of it, teeth clenched.
"Great," she muttered. "Creepy cave or death by exfoliation. Choices."
She didn't hesitate. The moment she felt the storm claw at her back, she dove in.
Just as the vortex crashed against the desert, a tide of red fury smashed into the rock behind her. Sand slammed into the cave's entrance like a living thing, hissing and howling—but the stone held.
For a moment, Kelly thought the sandstorm would force its way into the cave through the entrance—but it didn't. It was like an invisible force repelled the sand, holding the storm at bay. Almost like the place had been prepared for this very situation.
Still gasping for breath, Kelly took a few tentative steps deeper into the cave. It was dark. Really dark. But then, something strange happened—the walls began to glow. Lines of light pulsed softly across the rocky surface, spreading out like veins, illuminating the entire chamber in a pale, otherworldly brilliance.
Kelly stiffened.
Why did the lights come on now, exactly when she arrived?
And why were there lights in what should have been a perfectly natural cave?
She scanned the space carefully. It looked… empty. Nothing but stone, and that odd soft glow from the walls. No runes. No carvings. No ominous relics of ancient trials. It felt too ordinary, and yet not at all.
Wary but exhausted, Kelly lowered herself to the ground and leaned against one of the glowing walls. She unstrapped the travel bag Aurelia had given her and rummaged through it. The inside of the bag was far deeper than its size suggested—like a small storage room hidden in cloth.
After a few moments of digging, her fingers wrapped around something familiar—roasted pork. She pulled it out, along with a water flask.
The meat was warm, juicy, and crispy at the edges. She took a bite and nearly moaned from satisfaction. It was the first real meal she could remember eating since being kidnapped, though she knew the fox kin must have fed her while she was unconscious.
Still, now that she was actually tasting food again, Kelly felt her stomach ache with gratitude. She had missed this. The simple comfort of eating.
And then—
"Will you leave some for me, Kelly?"
She froze. The meat dropped from her trembling hands.
Slowly, she turned toward the voice.
Standing there, just a few feet away, was a lean man with black hair and striking blue eyes. He wore medicated glasses, his expression soft and familiar—too familiar. A warm smile curved at the edge of his lips.
But his smile clashed with the deep cut on his neck—a wound so severe that even bone was visible. Rotting blood stained his white shirt, and one of his ears was gone, replaced by a raw, fleshy stump.
Yet none of that mattered to Kelly. The man standing before her was her biological father—and he was supposed to be dead.
"Go away. You're not real. You're not him," Kelly screamed, more to herself than to him. Her heart hammered wildly, panic crashing over her like a tidal wave—the kind she'd never experienced before. Tears blurred her vision despite her desperate effort to hold them back.
The man's frown twisted into hurt and disappointment. "Even after your actions cost me my life, you still deny the one you killed. I was cursed to have birthed you."
"No," Kelly cried, trembling as she rose to her feet. "I—I got the keys like you told me to. It just… it just wouldn't work."
He stepped closer, his voice turning dark and sharp. "Did you enjoy hearing me scream behind those doors while I was butchered? How does it feel, knowing I could have escaped if your shaky hands had just worked?"
Kelly's throat tightened as buried memories clawed their way back, filling her with fresh pain.
"All you had to do was open a door. A simple thing," he said, making a motion with his hands like turning a key. "Yet, my trust in you cost me my life."
Her eyes squeezed shut as tears spilled freely.
He leaned in close, whispering coldly, "How does it feel… knowing you killed your father?"