Far to the west of Verdanthos, well beyond the reach of the capital's influence, stood a small settlement known as De Grand Freia. It was little more than a remote village surrounded by enormous stretches of wilderness, with only a handful of awakened choosing to live there. Its distance from the capital made it easy to overlook, but the surrounding forests were anything but peaceful.
A group of tournament participants had made their temporary camp near the village. They had been travelling together since the beginning of the survival stage, sharing supplies and keeping watch over one another. Among them was a young woman who rarely stayed with the group for long.
Her name was Jecka Mimere.
She stood at the edge of the forest, staring into the trees while the others prepared their equipment behind her. Unlike the rest of them, Jecka didn't seem particularly concerned about staying together. She had a habit of disappearing without warning and returning hours later without explaining where she had been.
One of the members finally called after her. "Jecka, where are you going this time?"
She stopped but didn't turn around.
"To look around."
"You said that last time."
"And?"
The member sighed. "We're supposed to stay together."
Jecka glanced over her shoulder with an almost indifferent expression.
"Then stay together."
She turned back toward the forest.
"I'll be fine."
Nobody followed.
They had learned that arguing with Jecka rarely accomplished anything.
She disappeared between the trees.
The deeper she went, the quieter the forest became. The sounds of the village gradually disappeared behind her until only the wind and distant movements of wildlife remained.
Then she heard something.
A low growl.
Jecka stopped.
A Ravager stepped out from between the trees.
It was considerably larger than the lesser Ravagers she had encountered earlier. Its body carried the signs of countless battles, and the pressure surrounding it suggested that it had reached the upper threshold of its current rank.
Jecka stared at it.
"You're stronger than the others."
The Ravager lowered itself.
Jecka smiled faintly.
"Good."
It charged.
Jecka moved at the last possible moment, avoiding the attack before striking back. The battle immediately became intense. The Ravager possessed enormous physical strength and durability, forcing Jecka to rely on timing rather than brute force.
She didn't overpower it.
She studied it.
Every movement.
Every attack.
Every weakness.
Eventually, the Ravager began to slow.
Jecka remained standing.
Barely breathing harder than before.
She looked at the creature.
"You've reached the threshold."
The Ravager lunged one final time.
Jecka stepped aside and finished the fight.
The forest became quiet again.
She stood there for several seconds, staring at the fallen Ravager.
Then she looked at her own hands.
Her expression changed.
Something inside her felt different.
Stronger.
Her Aether core felt unusually full despite the amount she had spent during the battle.
Jecka closed her eyes.
She could feel something approaching.
Something she had been chasing for years.
Ascended.
She opened her eyes.
"Not yet."
She turned back toward De Grand Freia.
Behind her, the remains of the battle slowly disappeared beneath the vegetation.
Nobody in her group knew how she did it.
Nobody understood how an Awakened could repeatedly defeat Ravagers that had reached the absolute limits of their rank.
And Jecka herself had never explained it.
Because the truth was even stranger.
Her strength did not belong entirely to her.
It belonged to everyone she had ever copied.
And after ten years of waiting in Voidspire...
Jecka had become very good at borrowing what belonged to other people.
She continued walking toward the village.
For a moment, her reflection appeared in a small puddle beside the path.
It wasn't quite moving at the same time as her.
Jecka stopped.
The reflection stared back.
Then she continued walking.
She didn't notice the faint smile that remained behind in the water.
Jecka returned to the outskirts of De Grand Freia as the sun began disappearing behind the distant trees. The others were still at camp, but she ignored them for the moment. She walked toward an abandoned stone structure overlooking the village and sat against one of its walls.
For several seconds, she simply stared at her hands.
Something had changed.
She could feel it inside her Aether core.
The sensation wasn't overwhelming, but it was unmistakable. Her Aether felt denser than before, as though her body was beginning to approach a boundary she had spent years trying to reach.
Jecka raised her hand.
"System."
A familiar translucent window appeared before her.
[STATUS]
Name: Jecka Mimere
Given Name: The Borrowed Self
Rank: Awakened
Attribute: Copy
Aether Core: Near Threshold
Personal Aether: 71%
Copied Attributes: 7
Stable Attributes: 3
Unstable Attributes: 4
Jecka stared at the numbers.
Her eyes immediately stopped at one line.
Rank: Awakened
She sighed.
"Still?"
The system didn't respond.
Jecka scrolled through the window.
She had fought countless Ravagers.
She had copied abilities from awakened humans, beasts, and even fragments of techniques she barely understood.
Yet she remained where she had always been.
Awakened.
She looked at the final line.
[Warning: Host is approaching the physical threshold required for Ascension.]
Jecka's eyes narrowed.
"Approaching."
She almost laughed.
"That's what you've been telling me for years."
The window remained motionless.
Jecka leaned her head against the stone wall.
Ten years.
Ten years of waiting.
Ten years of watching chosen ones appear, grow stronger, and eventually leave Voidspire behind.
And she was still waiting.
Still watching.
Still copying.
Her eyes returned to her Given Name.
The Borrowed Self.
She stared at it for a long time.
"I wonder..."
Her voice became quieter.
"If I keep copying people..."
She looked at her reflection in the status window.
"...will there eventually be nothing left of me?"
The system offered no answer.
Jecka closed the window.
For a moment, she remained completely still.
Then she heard footsteps approaching from the village.
One of her teammates.
"Jecka! There you are. We've been looking everywhere."
She stood.
"What do you want?"
"We were worried."
Jecka looked toward the village.
"I'm fine."
The teammate noticed the faint exhaustion in her expression.
"Did you fight another Ravager alone?"
Jecka didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
The teammate sighed.
"One day you're going to get yourself killed."
Jecka walked past him.
"Maybe."
She paused.
Then added quietly:
"But at least then I won't have to keep pretending I'm someone I'm not."
The teammate didn't hear her.
Jecka continued walking.
Behind her, the System quietly displayed one final notification before disappearing.
[Ascension Threshold: 93%]
And for the first time in ten years...
The Borrowed Self was getting close to becoming something entirely her own.
Jecka returned to De Grand Freia as the afternoon light began to fade. The small village looked strangely peaceful compared with the wilderness surrounding it. People moved between wooden buildings, merchants arranged supplies, and children ran through the narrow paths between homes. It almost felt like an ordinary settlement.
Almost.
Jecka approached a group of villagers gathered near a small market stall. She had noticed something unusual on her way back: the weather had changed several times throughout the day. Earlier, the sky had been clear. Then clouds had appeared without warning, followed by a brief shower before the sunlight returned.
She glanced upward.
"Has the weather always been like this?"
One of the older villagers looked at her with confusion.
"The weather?"
"Yes. Rain, clouds, wind. All of it."
The villager exchanged a glance with another before answering. "Not originally."
Jecka's expression became more attentive.
"What do you mean?"
The older man pointed toward the sky. "When Verdanthos was first created for the tournament, there was no natural weather. No proper seasons either. The land was designed. It was dangerous, but predictable."
Jecka frowned.
"Then what changed?"
A woman standing nearby answered this time. "The God of Creation's lieutenant."
Jecka immediately became quiet.
"Aris?"
The woman nodded.
"They say he changed the continent."
Jecka looked toward the distant horizon.
"What exactly did he do?"
The villagers began explaining what they had heard. Aris had apparently used his authority over the pocket dimension to introduce new forms of life, vegetation, animals, and environmental systems into Verdanthos. Places that had once been empty terrain now contained entire ecosystems. Rivers had been altered, forests had developed their own wildlife, and even the atmosphere had been modified to allow weather to form naturally.
One villager smiled as he spoke about it.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? Before, Verdanthos was just a battlefield. Now it feels alive."
Jecka didn't smile.
"Alive..."
She repeated the word quietly.
Another villager nodded. "He wanted the continent to feel like a real world instead of an artificial arena."
Jecka looked toward the forest.
"So he created life."
"Yes."
"And changed the weather."
"Yes."
She was silent.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"Then what rank is he?"
The villagers became noticeably quieter.
Nobody answered immediately.
Finally, the older man lowered his voice.
"People say he's around the Celestial rank."
Jecka's expression changed.
She had fought Ravagers that were approaching the limits of their rank.
She was barely approaching Ascension herself.
And yet there was someone overseeing this entire continent who could apparently reshape its environment as though it were nothing more than clay.
Jecka swallowed.
"Celestial..."
The word felt heavy.
She had never seen a Celestial before.
She didn't want to.
One of the villagers noticed her expression.
"Are you afraid?"
Jecka looked at him.
"Yes."
The honesty surprised him.
Jecka looked back toward the horizon.
"I'm not stupid."
She folded her arms.
"If someone can create life and rewrite the environment of an entire continent..."
Her eyes narrowed.
"...then fighting them isn't even an option."
A sudden breeze passed through the village.
Jecka looked upward.
Clouds were beginning to gather again.
For some reason, she felt as though the sky itself was watching.
She remembered the System's warning about her approaching Ascension.
93%.
Yet even if she crossed that threshold...
Would it actually matter?
Jecka looked down at her hands.
She could copy other people's Attributes.
She could borrow their strength.
She could become pieces of them.
But Aris?
There was nothing she could simply copy from someone like him.
Not unless she understood him.
And she wasn't sure she ever wanted to understand someone capable of changing an entire world.
Jecka quietly whispered to herself:
"Celestial..."
Then she looked toward the enormous wilderness beyond De Grand Freia.
"Just what kind of monster created this place?"
Jecka remained silent for a moment after hearing the villagers mention Aris.
Then one of the older men spoke again.
"There is something else."
Jecka looked at him.
"What?"
The man glanced around before lowering his voice. "They say the lieutenant isn't limited to Verdanthos."
Jecka's expression tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"He can supposedly travel between dimensions."
The words immediately caught her attention.
"Without a gate?"
The man nodded slowly.
"That's what people say. If he wanted to, he could leave this place and travel between dimensions as easily as we travel between villages."
Another villager joined the conversation.
"Some even say he could create a dimension of his own."
Jecka stared at them.
"Create an entire dimension?"
"That's the rumor."
The villager shrugged. "Apparently, he simply doesn't need to do it for this tournament."
Jecka looked toward the enormous wilderness surrounding De Grand Freia.
"Then what is Verdanthos?"
"A pocket dimension."
The older man pointed toward the distant landscape.
"This entire continent exists inside one."
Jecka's eyes narrowed.
She had known Verdanthos was artificial, but hearing someone explain it so casually made the scale of Aris's power feel different.
One of the villagers laughed nervously.
"And apparently, this isn't even his final idea."
Jecka turned toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"They say the next tournament might be completely different."
The villager looked toward the sky.
"They say Aris wants to create something much larger next time."
"How much larger?"
The villager smiled uncertainly.
"A full dimension."
Jecka didn't respond.
"Not just a battlefield," the villager continued. "A real world. Its own atmosphere. Oxygen. Plants. Animals. Rivers. Weather. Everything."
Another villager added, "People too, perhaps."
Jecka's eyes widened slightly.
"People?"
"That's only a rumor."
The villager quickly raised his hands.
"But if someone can create a world, why couldn't they eventually create life to inhabit it?"
Jecka looked toward the horizon again.
The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
A pocket dimension was one thing.
An entire continent created for a tournament was already difficult to comprehend.
But an entire dimension...
A place with its own sky, atmosphere, ecosystems, and people?
That wasn't simply power.
That was creation.
Jecka lowered her gaze.
"That's insane."
The older villager chuckled.
"Perhaps."
He looked toward the sky.
"But remember who we're talking about."
Jecka followed his gaze.
"The God of Creation's right hand."
A cold feeling settled in her chest.
She had spent ten years waiting for chosen ones.
She had spent years copying their abilities.
She had fought Ravagers alone.
She was finally approaching Ascended.
And yet, somewhere above all of them, there were beings who treated dimensions as if they were pieces on a board.
Jecka quietly clenched her fist.
For once, she didn't want to copy anyone.
She simply wanted to understand how far the world actually went.
Because if the rumors were true...
Verdanthos wasn't the world.
It was merely a room inside something much larger.
The older man fell silent for a moment, his eyes remaining fixed on the sky. Jecka could tell there was more to what he knew than he was willing to reveal.
"If the lieutenant is capable of all that," Jecka asked, "then why doesn't he simply interfere whenever someone becomes a problem? Why let thousands of awakened fight each other?"
The old man gave a faint smile.
"Because he has rules to follow."
"Rules?"
"Strict ones. Rules given by the gods themselves."
Jecka's expression hardened.
"What kind of rules?"
The old man lowered his voice. "The gods don't want the demons getting involved in this tournament. If they do, it could become something much bigger than a competition."
"War," Jecka said.
The old man nodded.
"Exactly. It's too early for another war. The gods aren't ready to engage the demons directly, and they certainly don't want a tournament becoming the spark that starts one."
Jecka looked toward the distant capital.
"Then what are they actually preparing for?"
The old man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, "The Book of Records."
Jecka's eyes narrowed.
"The Book of Records?"
"They're searching for it."
"Why?"
"Because they believe it will allow them to complete their transcendence."
Jecka remained silent.
The old man continued, "The gods have power beyond anything ordinary awakened can comprehend, but even they are bound by something."
"A curse?"
His expression became serious.
"The first god placed a curse upon the generations that came after him. The gods cannot simply escape the limitations imposed upon them. They can pass their power onward, but doing so comes at a cost. And even the gods themselves aren't truly beyond death."
Jecka stared at him.
"So they're searching for the Book of Records because they believe it can make them..."
"Absolute."
The word hung in the air.
"Beings who cannot die. Beings who cannot be forced to pass their power to another. Beings who would finally exist beyond the curse."
Jecka's expression darkened.
"And the first god?"
The old man looked toward the horizon.
"He possessed ancient magic. Magic so old that even the gods who came after him cannot simply ignore it."
"So they obey his rules?"
"They have little choice."
The old man smiled faintly.
"That's why they send their lieutenants instead. The gods cannot simply descend and do whatever they please. Their servants search. Their agents investigate. Their chosen participants compete."
Jecka folded her arms.
"And you know all of this because...?"
The old man looked at her.
For the first time, Jecka noticed how calm he was.
Far too calm.
He wasn't speaking like someone who had heard rumors.
He spoke like someone who had witnessed pieces of the truth himself.
"Who are you?"
The old man smiled.
"Just someone who knows where to listen."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
His smile widened slightly.
"But it's the only one you're getting."
Jecka stared at him for several seconds.
"Then what organization are you from?"
The old man finally answered.
"The Midnight Church."
Jecka's expression changed.
"The what?"
"The Midnight Church."
She had never heard the name before.
Not in Voidspire.
Not from the Watchers.
Not from the System.
Nowhere.
"Never heard of it," Jecka said.
The old man chuckled quietly.
"Most people haven't."
Jecka's instincts immediately became uneasy.
She took a step back.
There was something wrong with this conversation.
Something she couldn't explain.
The old man simply watched her.
And for the first time since arriving in Verdanthos, The Borrowed Self wondered whether she had accidentally walked into something far more dangerous than the tournament itself.