The bell above the door chimed as Sylas nudged it open with his shoulder, a thin plastic bag hooked around two fingers. The warmth of the gas station convenience store peeled away from him the instant he stepped outside, replaced by cool night air that carried the sharp tang of gasoline and damp concrete.
The pavement still shimmered from a drizzle that had passed through an hour earlier, fluorescent canopy lights stretching across the wet ground in blurred streaks of white and yellow.
"Hey—Sylas."
He slowed mid-step and glanced back over his shoulder. Mr. Patel stood behind the counter, arms folded loosely across his chest, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as usual.
"You forgot your receipt," Mr. Patel said, lifting the narrow strip of paper between two fingers.
Sylas exhaled a faint laugh and shifted the bag in his hand. "You know I don't need it."
Mr. Patel gave a soft, disapproving huff. "One day you'll wish you kept track of your spending."
"Seventy-five cents for gum and two dollars for a soda isn't going to bankrupt me," Sylas replied. Still, he stepped back inside, the bell chiming again as he reached across the counter to take the receipt. "But thanks."
Mr. Patel didn't hand it over immediately. He studied Sylas for a moment longer than usual, his expression tightening in quiet thought. "You heading home?"
"Yeah." Sylas lifted the bottle slightly in explanation. "Just needed the caffeine. Long night of studying."
"Hm." Mr. Patel finally released the receipt. "Stay sharp out there." He nodded toward the road beyond the pumps. "Drivers these days don't pay attention."
Sylas tucked the receipt into his pocket, offering a casual two-finger salute. "I will."
The bell chimed once more as he stepped out for good this time.
The parking lot was nearly empty—an aging pickup truck idled beside pump three, its engine rattling unevenly, and a silver sedan hummed near the air machine with its headlights cutting pale beams across the wet concrete.
Overhead lights buzzed faintly, blending with the distant rush of traffic from the main road. Somewhere far off, a horn blared and then faded.
Sylas slipped one earbud into his left ear, thumb dragging across his phone screen until he found something familiar. After a second of scrolling, he tapped a song.
A low bassline pulsed into his ear as he walked between the pumps. His reflection drifted across the dark storefront windows, stretched thin and distorted beneath the deep indigo sky. The night felt suspended, as if the world were holding its breath between passing cars.
Across the street, the traffic light shifted from green to yellow to red in a slow, rhythmic cycle. Engines quieted, then growled again as vehicles surged forward in impatient waves. Headlights streaked over the damp asphalt, elongating across the road before snapping back into shape.
Sylas reached the edge of the lot and paused.
The sidewalk across the street would lead straight to his neighborhood. Only a few blocks. He'd crossed here dozens of times without a second thought.
He glanced left. A pair of headlights glowed far down the road, distant enough to seem harmless.
He glanced right. Empty.
The thin handles of the plastic bag pressed into his fingers as he adjusted his grip. His phone vibrated in his other hand—a notification flashing briefly across the screen. His eyes dropped to it on instinct.
Just for a second.
The music swelled in his ear as he stepped off the curb.
Halfway across the first lane, something felt wrong.
An engine roared—louder than it should have been. Tires hissed sharply against wet pavement, the sound rising into a frantic whine.
Sylas looked up.
The once-distant headlights were no longer small. They were massive. Blinding. Filling his entire vision as they bore down on him with terrifying speed.
There was no time to think. No time to move. The world became white—
Then sound exploded.
A violent screech of brakes tore through the air.
BOOM.
—
"I'm… not dead?"
Sylas sucked in a ragged breath as his palms scraped against cold stone. The surface beneath him was rough in places, smooth in others, biting into his skin as he pushed himself upright. The air felt heavy—damp and mineral-rich, tinged faintly with something metallic.
Darkness surrounded him.
Not the soft darkness of night, but something deeper. Endless. Pressing in from all sides.
His head throbbed as fragments of memory surfaced—blinding light, rushing impact, the scream of brakes. He inhaled sharply and ran his hands along his ribs, his arms, his legs.
No broken bones. No blood.
His hoodie was intact, though fine gray dust clung stubbornly to the fabric.
"This isn't asphalt…" he muttered.
The ground beneath him was stone—ancient and uneven, shaped not by machines but by time itself. Perfectly smooth in certain stretches, jagged and fractured in others. Veins of dim green light pulsed faintly within the walls, illuminating an enormous corridor that extended into shadow so deep it swallowed detail whole.
Sylas rose slowly to his feet, heart pounding harder with each breath. "Okay. Either I hit my head… or I finally lost it."
A low rumble vibrated through the stone floor.
The air in front of him shimmered.
He stumbled back as the distortion thickened, folding inward until it condensed into a thin sheet of parchment. It hovered for the briefest second before drifting down and landing silently at his feet.
Sylas stared at it.
"…No way."
He crouched cautiously and picked it up.
As he watched, dark ink began etching itself across the parchment's surface—letters carving themselves into existence one stroke at a time.
—
To the One Who Crossed Between Worlds.
The words did not simply sit on the page.
They echoed inside his mind.
"You are no longer in the world you once knew. You now stand within the Great Orcus Labyrinth, located in the world of Arifuerta. It was my mistake that has led to your current predicament. For that… I am sorry."
Sylas's throat tightened.
"As compensation, I have rewarded you with a power that most suits you. To access this power, all you have to do is say the word, Gift.
Sorry again,
God of Earth."
—
The final word reverberated in his skull.
Then the parchment began to disintegrate.
It did not burn. It did not crumble.
It simply faded—edges dissolving into faint motes of light until, within three seconds, nothing remained in his hands.
Silence reclaimed the corridor.
Sylas stood motionless, his pulse thundering in his ears. "There's no way that just happened."
His breathing steadied as he forced himself to think.
If this was a hallucination, it was detailed. Painfully vivid.
There was only one way to test it.
He swallowed and straightened his posture, bracing himself against whatever might follow.
"…Gift."
The word left his mouth softly, but the reaction was immediate.
Something ignited inside him.
A subtle warmth bloomed beneath his skin, spreading outward through his limbs and chest. At the same time, faint white wisps began rising from his body like steam in cold air, curling and drifting before dissolving.
His eyes widened.
Information flooded his mind—structured, precise, undeniable.
"This is… Nen."
Understanding settled into place as if he had always known it.
"Never would've guessed the power most suited for me would be Nen," he murmured, flexing his fingers as the energy responded faintly to his will.
Nen is a technique that allows its wielder to control their own life energy and shape it into an external force.
Ten (Shroud/Point): The foundation. By keeping aura nodes open, energy flows around the body, forming a protective layer. It prevents aura from leaking, increases defense, and slows aging.
Zetsu (Suppress/Tongue): The complete closure of aura nodes, halting the outward flow of energy and erasing one's presence.
Ren (Enhance/Temper): The act of producing a greater output of aura than Ten, amplifying strength, durability, and overall presence.
Hatsu (Release/Act): The personal expression of one's Nen. A unique, specialized ability shaped by the user's nature and affinity.
"These are the four fundamentals," Sylas said under his breath, mind racing as more knowledge surfaced. "And then there are the advanced applications…"
Gyo (Focus): Concentrating a large portion of aura into a single body part to enhance perception or power.
In (Conceal): Hiding one's aura from detection without stopping its flow.
En (Circle): Extending aura outward into a spherical field to sense everything within its radius.
Shu (Enfold): Coating an object in aura, strengthening it and making it an extension of the user.
Ken (Fortify): Maintaining a constant, balanced layer of aura over the entire body for sustained defense.
Ko (Temper): Channeling all aura into one body part while nullifying it elsewhere—immense power at the cost of complete vulnerability.
Ryu (Flow): The seamless redistribution of aura in real time, shifting between offense and defense with precision.
Sylas exhaled slowly, white wisps curling around him in the dim green glow of the labyrinth walls.
To be continued…