He didn't know whether it was the ground beneath his feet spinning or if he himself was the one rotating, but everything around Damien suddenly lost its stability. Little White's voice faded into an unintelligible whisper, and Arctic's figure blurred from the corner of his vision—both vanishing like mist under sunlight.
His senses grew muffled.
His perception twisted.
Then… the world dissolved into pure, blinding white.
There was no pain. No movement. No breath.
Just a vast, blank nothingness.
Damien couldn't tell if seconds passed or entire centuries. Time seemed to stretch infinitely, until suddenly, clarity returned like a light flickering on in a dark room.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the inheritance ground. No trace of the stone pillars, ancient runes, or hellish genie remained.
He stood in an entirely different world.
His eyes widened in surprise—but that surprise deepened the moment he looked down at himself.
"What is this…?"
