The wasteland stretched endlessly, a canvas of crimson skies and jagged obsidian peaks. Ryumin Kang—now more survivor than wanderer—trudged across the cracked soil with no sense of time. Hunger gnawed at him, thirst parched his throat, and yet his body moved as though something greater than willpower carried it.
Ever since the voice had spoken within him, ever since he had slain that molten beast with powers he couldn't explain, he felt… different. Stronger. Stranger.
But also lost.
"Jinhyuk…" he whispered hoarsely, the name of his younger brother. Each step forward was less for himself and more for the promise of seeing that boy's smile again.
The alien world, however, seemed intent on crushing that hope.
Shadows circled above—winged beasts screeching as they dove for prey. He raised his hand instinctively, and black spires erupted from the earth, skewering the closest one. The rest scattered. Ryumin staggered, staring at the blood on the spires.
"…So this is my power?" He clenched his fist. "Then I'll master it."
Days—or perhaps weeks—passed as he wandered. He tested his abilities in battle: summoning spikes, manipulating terrain, amplifying his strength. He discovered he could sense the faint aura of living beings, a predator's instinct baked into his soul. But even with these gifts, the loneliness pressed on him like a suffocating fog.
Until the day he met her.
He first sensed it—a presence so vast, so overwhelming it drowned out everything else. It was not a monster. It was something sharper, deliberate.
A figure emerged from the horizon: tall, graceful, with silver hair that caught the crimson sun. Her emerald eyes glowed faintly, like twin jewels, and the pointed tips of her ears marked her heritage. An elf.
But unlike any elf Ryumin had imagined from human legends.
Power radiated from her with every step, bending reality itself. The very sky seemed to warp around her presence.
Ryumin's instincts screamed danger. He braced himself, spikes trembling under his control.
"You reek of chaos," she said softly, her voice melodic yet sharp. "And yet… you are not of this world."
Ryumin swallowed. "Who are you?"
The elf tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle. Then, with a single motion of her hand, every spike he had summoned shattered like glass. The ground itself refused to obey him.
"I am Elenya," she replied, though her name was not one mortals spoke casually. "The strongest of this realm."
Ryumin's breath caught. The strongest. Then she could kill him in a heartbeat.
But instead of striking, she stepped closer, her gaze unreadable. "And you… what are you called?"
"…Ryumin Kang," he said, hesitating.
Her lips curved in the faintest smile. "Too fragile for this world. Here, you will be known as Javier Ricas. That name suits one who carries a fractured destiny."
The name rolled from her tongue like a decree, and somehow it felt binding. Ryumin blinked, a strange resonance settling in his chest. Javier Ricas.
"Why are you… giving me a name?" he asked.
"Because names hold power here. And because I see in you a spark that should not exist." She paused, her gaze piercing. "You are unshaped clay. Potential waiting to awaken."
She took him under her wing—not as an equal, but as a disciple.
In the days that followed, Ryumin—now Javier—followed Elenya through forests of crystal trees, across deserts that howled with stormfire, into caverns glowing with molten rivers. She walked like one untouchable, and he learned quickly to fear nothing when she was near.
Her teachings were merciless.
"You are not weak because you lack a trait," she told him one night, as they camped beneath a fractured moon. "You are dangerous because you possess something rarer. You can take what belongs to others and make it yours."
Ryumin's eyes widened. "Take… you mean copy?"
She nodded, tossing him a dagger made from beast bone. "Cut me."
"What?"
"Do it."
Hesitantly, Ryumin nicked her palm. Blood, luminous and silver, trickled down her hand. A flood of information surged into Ryumin's mind—an ability, sharp and dazzling, begging to be claimed. He reached out for it…
And failed.
The power fizzled, slipping from his grasp like water through clenched fingers. He fell back, gasping. "It didn't work…"
Elenya smirked, her expression half amusement, half challenge. "Of course it didn't. My ability cannot be stolen. It is unique."
"What ability is that?" he asked, voice trembling with awe.
Her gaze burned as she spoke. "Reality Manipulation. I can shape the threads of existence, twist probability, and rewrite what is. To copy it would be to rival creation itself."
Ryumin's heart pounded. Reality manipulation—an ability beyond gods. And she wielded it as casually as breathing.
"You'll learn, Javier," she said, wiping her blood without a care. "But not everything. Some powers exist to be passed down, not taken."
Years melted into centuries. Under Elenya's brutal discipline, Javier honed his stolen abilities from monsters, warriors, and even the spirits of the land. He became a master of blades, spells, and shadows. His body endured countless deaths in training, only to be pulled back by her manipulations.
And yet, through it all, she remained untouchable. A mentor, a protector, a force of nature.
But even she knew: the world trembled.
Whispers of gods stirring in their slumber reached them. A war was coming. One that would decide the fate of everything.
And Javier Ricas—once Ryumin Kang, the traitless awakener—would stand at the heart of it.