Three Years Later
Rey stood at the Sanctuary's main gate, his appearance transformed by time and experience.
At nineteen years old by this world's reckoning, he'd grown taller, his frame filling out with muscle earned through constant training. His distinctive black-and-white hair now reached past his shoulders, tied back in a practical style.
His eyes—gray with those telltale blue and red glints marking Nephilim heritage—carried a depth that suggested experiences far beyond his apparent age.
Most striking was the mystical pressure radiating from him.
Subtle but undeniable, it marked him as someone who'd transcended normal limitations through dedicated cultivation.
"Heading out for training again?" the gate guard asked, a Nephilim warrior named Torin who'd become familiar with Rey's routine over the years.
"Yes," Rey confirmed, adjusting the equipment secured across his body. Multiple high-grade Artifacts, carefully maintained and upgraded through the Sanctuary's resources.
