What am I? A failed scientist? A terrible father? A horrible person in general? I am all of the above. My wife passed away four years ago, I was left to take care of my daughter Alisha, don't think am doing well on that aspect, my good friend, Selene has been the one taking care of her and making sure she gets a good life, I have been a crazed alcoholic ever since Lilia, my Wife, passed away, I think I have to do better but don't know how to. As Jozay looks out onto the horizon, his memories overwhelm him, pulling him into despair. The weight of failure crushes his chest, making it hard to breathe. The bottle in his trembling hand is nearly empty—like him.
He wonders if Alisha would be better off without him. If Selene had practically raised her anyway, what difference would it make? He tries to convince himself it's for the best, but the thought twists his stomach.
Jozay stumbles to his desk, pulling open a drawer where he keeps an old revolver. It was supposed to be for protection but serves a different purpose tonight. He runs his fingers over the cold metal, his reflection barely visible on its surface.
Tears slip down his cheeks as he raises the gun, his grip tightening. "I'm sorry," he whispers to no one in particular. To his wife. To his daughter. To himself.
A deep breath. A pull of the trigger.
And then—silence.
The gunshot rings out. But instead of oblivion, pain rushes through him—hot, burning, unbearable. He gasps for air, his fingers clawing at the damp earth beneath him. Grass? Soil? This isn't where he died. With his fingers raking the soil, jozay found himself in a new body entirely.
"Weird, didn't I.... Kill myself?", As jozay was marvelling at the fact he didn't die, he looks around, instead of being in the body of a tall, slender, middle-aged man, His fingers tremble as they run through his hair—shorter, silkier. His legs feel weaker, his arms thinner. He stumbles forward, catching his reflection in a puddle nearby. The face staring back at him is young, unfamiliar. It's not him. Not the man who once failed his daughter. He's different; white hair, crimson eyes, and an Androgynous face, he couldn't tell if he was male or female, so he checks beneath his underwear for what private part he was having, luckily for him, he figured he was male, but he is still confused.
"Where am I?, Who am I?, Lowkey thinking this could be a dream but it's too real, too weird to be or feel like that". I had to walk back into the house, or at least the owner of the body I am in, The wooden floor creaks beneath his steps as he walks inside. The air is still, dust floating in the golden light spilling through a window. Shelves filled with old books line the walls, some open, pages covered in strange symbols. A single candle flickers on a desk—someone was here recently. Someone who isn't me. After exploring this home, he realized different things.
Firstly, the owner of this body lived alone, no friends, no family, no loved ones, just him. Secondly, where he was had to be another planet or some other universe entirely because he found ancient script about spells and incantations. Jozay goes outside, figuring out if he could explore the world he's in. While in this world, I figured out this was another universe, because the whole world was alive, this was certainly possible from my old world, while I was being an aerospace engineer working for NASA, we all figured there were planets more habitable than earth itself, perfect environment, low natural distance, more than enough energy to carry everyone in it for countless years, this planet was the same yet the quality of it was significantly abnormal, not just the energy-related concern but the laws of physics too was different. Jozay took a cautious step forward, his boots sinking slightly into the soft, glowing ground. He could feel the energy around him, a constant hum that seemed to vibrate through his very being. But unlike the inhabitants of this world, he couldn't tap into it. He was an outsider, a being from a universe where entropy ruled and mana was nonexistent.
As Jozay explored the world, he quickly realized how out of place he was. Jozay continued forward, eyes scanning the strange yet mesmerizing landscape before him. The air was thicker yet lighter, carrying a faint shimmer as if reality was layered with an unseen force. Every step sent a pulse of energy up his legs, a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt on Earth.
The sky above was a deep violet hue, swirling with slow-moving celestial bodies that seemed closer than they should be. The sun—if it could even be called that—burned a pale blue, casting an unnatural yet soothing glow across the terrain.
"The book mentioned Something about these sensations, maybe if I reread it, it'll make sense"
But there's no need for that, the owner of this body had memories within his Hippocampus, but not all memories were accessible to jozay, jozay had wondered how he retains his memories if he's no longer trapped within the confines of his physical body which held his brain which had his memories and memory formation, though all that didn't matter now.
The current body he inhabited had memories, but jozay had to find them like he's searching for a particular data stored within those memories he couldn't get everything at once, no, but instead he needed to locate them himself, while he was trying to figure things out, a voice echoed in his head.
Jozay froze.
The voice was clear, sharp, and undeniably real—yet it came from inside his head. He spun around instinctively, searching for the speaker, but he was alone.
"You can't just waltz into the city like that."
His heart pounded. He wasn't hearing things… was he?
"Who the hell—?" Jozay muttered under his breath.
"The guy whose body you stole," the voice replied, dry and unimpressed. "And if you don't want to get killed, listen to me."
Jozay staggered back, clutching his head. The voice wasn't just some random thought—it carried weight, emotion, presence.
"You're—Elias?"
"Glad to know my name isn't forgotten already."
Jozay swallowed hard. This wasn't normal. In all the reincarnation theories he had read about, the past owner wasn't supposed to stick around. He figured out he was Elias through the memories he had, small visions of.
"Why are you still here?"
"Dying wasn't exactly part of my plan," Elias said, his tone edged with bitterness. "And now some stranger is parading around in my body. You think I'm just going to stay quiet?"
Jozay exhaled sharply. Great. He was stuck with a ghost roommate.
Jozay took a deep breath. If Elias was still here, then he had two choices: fight for control or work together.
"Alright," Jozay said, rubbing his temple. "If you know so much, tell me—where the hell am I?"
"You, my friend, are a wanderer from an unknown time or space, my bet is on both. A wanderer from a different space-time entirely".
"Yeah, you're not wrong, but let's focus on what's important, I'm lost, you need your body back, why don't we work together to get us both out of this situation?", jozay said, "So help me to help you"
"Ugh, fine, this alliance will only be temporary once we find a way to get you out of my body, we are done, got that?" Elias said, frustratingly. "So, what do you want help with?"
Jozay crossed his arms. "First things first, this world has magic, right?"
"Mana," Elias corrected. "Magic is a fairy tale. Mana is a force—real, tangible, and deeply tied to life itself."
Jozay scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I can't feel a damn thing." "Every time I try to push further, it breaks! It's like my own mana's trying to kill me." Jozay angrily poined out.
Elias sighed. "Because you're skipping steps. You think power is raw output—but real strength is precision. Conjuring mana isn't about force. It's about flow. Balance."
"Alright. Picture your body like a circuit. Mana enters as Input—your own spiritual fuel. But that input is raw—too wild to use as is. That's why you need to transcribe it—mold it with your will, purpose, and affinity."
Jozay concentrates. The wind hums around him. He tries to gather his internal mana but feels resistance—like dragging molten metal through his veins.
Elias then says "Haha, it's fine, I am happy I get to see you struggle this much"
"Huh?, what do you mean?
"Pyro—fire, Aero—wind, Aqua—water, Geo—earth, Nyx—darkness, and Lumen—light."
Jozay's mind worked quickly, absorbing the knowledge. "And every mage uses one?"
"Not exactly. Most people are naturally attuned to one, sometimes two, for some reason, I guess. And then some use something beyond these six forms."
Jozay narrowed his eyes. "Beyond?"
"Let's focus on the basics first," Elias said, brushing off the question.
Jozay frowned but let it go for now. There was always more to the story.
In his former world, he was one of the top scientists at NASA, pushing the boundaries of space exploration and theoretical physics. His work was groundbreaking—his theories on interdimensional travel and cosmic energy had put him at the forefront of scientific discovery. But that brilliance had come at a cost.
The long nights, the endless calculations, the obsession with the unknown—it had all pulled him away from the people who mattered most. He had missed birthdays, anniversaries, and countless moments he could never get back. His wife had been patient, his daughter had idolized him, but in the end, science had been his real companion.
And now, he was here. In a world that operated on rules he could barely comprehend.
Jozay clenched his fists, grounding himself. "Alright. Start from the beginning. How do I tap into this mana?"
Elias smirked. "That's the right question."
He raised his hand, and a faint shimmer of energy danced along his fingers. "Mana isn't just power—it's an extension of your will. It flows through everything, but the key is learning how to make it respond to you."
Jozay watched carefully. He had spent his previous life studying forces beyond human reach. Maybe this was just another unknown waiting to be understood.
Maybe, this time, he wouldn't let it consume him.
His stomach tightened, a dull ache reminding him of his limits. For all the wonders this world held, his body still had the same basic needs. The weight of exhaustion pressed against him, his thoughts clouding over. He needed rest. He needed food.
Elias noticed the shift in his expression. "You're looking pale," he said, his tone lighter now. "First time tapping into mana can leave you drained. Your body isn't used to it yet, well my body anyway."
Jozay exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, well, I've spent most of my life running on coffee and whatever junk food was around. Guess that won't work here."
Elias smirked. "Nope. You burn mana now, even when you don't realize it. The more you use, the more you need to replenish. Eat, rest, recover—otherwise, you'll collapse before you ever get strong enough to survive here."
Jozay frowned at that last part. Survive. Not just live, not just exist. This world wasn't a place where he could coast by on knowledge alone.
"Come on," Elias said, motioning toward the village ahead. "Let's get you something to eat before you pass out."
Jozay hesitated for just a moment, then followed. As much as he wanted answers, he wouldn't get far on an empty stomach.
Elias told him about the diner nearby located at the east coast of the city, there in Caligurn, the city recorded to be one of the most peaceful in the world. "Beginner level adventurers always come here to hang. Sometimes really strong ones come here just to catch their breath".
"Sounds like the outside world isn't all that peaceful" Jozay replied.
"Well, it's not a problem, as long as you are strong enough to handle things, you can go out there and make a name for yourself"
As Jozay entered the diner, conversations slowed. People couldn't help but notice his mana was different. Not untrained, not wild—just foreign. It didn't pulse in the same rhythm as the others, as if it operated on a different wavelength, detached from the world's natural flow.
"Maybe a noble's kid trying to act tough?"
Their voices were low, but Jozay caught every word. He ignored them, keeping his face neutral. He had been observed like this before—scientists watching him, superiors measuring his worth, his own family waiting for him to prove something.
"Let them speculate," Elias's voice echoed in his mind. "They don't know you. Yet."
Jozay exhaled slowly, suppressing the instinct to respond aloud. He wasn't used to having someone else in his head.
A waitress approached, her expression shifting between polite curiosity and mild wariness. "You ordering, or just standing there?"
Jozay pulled out the coin pouch he had taken from Elias' home earlier and tossed a few pieces on the counter. "Whatever's good and fast."
She nodded, pocketing the coins. "You got it. Take a seat."
As he sat down, he let his thoughts settle. The city of Caligurn was supposed to be peaceful, yet this place was filled with survivors—people who had seen battle, fought for their lives. Even here, strength dictated survival.
"The concept of futility remains the same in every world," Jozay thought.
"Of course," Elias's voice agreed. "Weakness is always punished. The question is, how long will you let them see you as weak?"
Jozay tapped his fingers against the table. He wasn't in a rush. Let them talk. Let them watch.
Soon enough, he'd give them something real to fear.
As Jozay dined on his roasted beef, he started a mini conversation with Elias, their conversation was subtle since it was technically in their head.
"So how good were you with mana manipulation before I… barged in?"
"I wasn't talented, my body is too weak to handle gruesome forms of mana, but I was a pyro mage, so I am guessing that's going to be your first mana element"
"Flame user huh?, that's not bad. So you're saying you couldn't handle the stress or what?"
"Manipulating mana isn't just twisting energy or trying to gather it to achieve a particular phenomenon", Elias said gruesomely. "Mana manipulation is you actually feeling the energy, so before learning pyro, you have to get used to being burnt"
Sounds tough, guess this world is a whole level of crazy,
The concept to this was of mana. Right now it's unnecessary, so jozay asked something else
"Why were you alone, I saw some memories, no parents, no friends, want to talk about it?"
There was silence.
For a moment, Jozay thought Elias wouldn't answer. Maybe he had struck something too deep, too raw.
Then, Elias's voice came, quieter than before.
"I don't know."
Jozay blinked. "You don't know?"
"I mean it," Elias said, almost frustrated. "I remember being alone. I remember never having anyone. But I don't know why. I don't remember if I had parents or if they just… weren't there. I don't remember if I pushed people away or if no one ever reached out to me in the first place."
Jozay listened, frowning slightly. A man without a past.
"At some point, I stopped questioning it. Some people are just meant to be alone."
Jozay scoffed. "That's the biggest load of crap I've heard today."
Elias didn't respond.
Jozay leaned forward, his voice quieter now. "You don't forget something like that. Something—or someone—took that from you."
Elias was silent.
The idea unsettled Jozay. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he understood the weight of losing things. Maybe because it meant Elias wasn't just some random guy who got unlucky—maybe there was something bigger at play.
Or maybe it meant Jozay himself wasn't as alone in this new world as he thought.
The waitress returned, placing the rest of his food on the table. Jozay let the conversation drop for now. But as he ate, a thought nagged at the back of his mind.
Shit I've been talking to him for too long, I don't want to seem like the type that talks to himself. Jozay has bad memories with that in his past life
"Don't worry, time slows down during thought based communication". Elias mentioned
"What do you mean?"
"Unlike spoken conversation, which requires forming words, speaking, and listening, thought-based communication skips these steps. Ideas are transmitted almost instantly as raw information. This means that what feels like a long, complex conversation within the mind actually happens in a fraction of real-world time—similar to how you can think through an entire argument in your head before saying a single word out loud."
"what's the time gap?"
"Well, if we both talked for 5 years here, it'll take 5 minutes in the real world"
Must be crazy, haha. As a scientist, this really impressed me, but I have to return to practice. The more I read about mana, the more important it seems to be, there's so much to do.
Elias let out a dry chuckle. "That's one way to put it."
Jozay leaned back in his seat, his fingers idly tapping against the table. Mana was more than just energy—it was everything. It dictated power, determined survival, and shaped the world in ways he had yet to understand. He had spent his past life dissecting the mysteries of the universe, but this was a new frontier.
"Alright. Let's stop wasting time. If I'm going to live in this world, I need to master this." Jozay stood up, leaving a few coins on the table. The weight of the currency still felt strange in his hands, but he had bigger things to get used to.
"Where to first?"
"Training grounds," Elias answered. "You need to start with the basics—feeling mana, manipulating it, and pushing past the limits of your body."
Jozay smirked. "So, step one is getting burned alive, huh?"
"Pretty much."
Jozay sighed, stepping out of the diner. The air was crisp, the streets of Caligurn bustling with adventurers and merchants alike. He glanced up at the sky, then clenched his fist.
Whatever challenges lay ahead, he wasn't going to waste this second chance.
As Jozay stepped foot outside the bar he was stopped by the bar lady.
"Hello there, I can't help but notice something". She said curiously
"Huh?, how can I help you?"
Jozay tensed slightly. He hadn't expected to draw attention so soon.
"Your mana wasn't… normal." The bar lady's gaze was sharp, analyzing him with an intensity that made him uneasy.
He forced a casual shrug. "What do you mean?"
She crossed her arms. "It's… unfamiliar. Most people have a natural flow, even the weakest of mages. Yours feels different, like it doesn't belong."
Jozay frowned. Elias remained silent in his mind, but he could sense his unease.
"I'm not trying to start trouble," the woman continued. "Just letting you know that people who can sense mana—really sense it—will notice. You stand out."
Jozay exhaled through his nose. "Noted. But I've got things to do."
The woman studied him for a moment longer before stepping aside. "Be careful. Some people might not take kindly to… anomalies."
"Well, that's not ominous at all," he muttered.
"You should get moving," Elias finally spoke. "The less attention we attract, the better."
Jozay nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started down the street.
The bar lady lingered for a moment before speaking again. "Listen… if you don't mind a bit of advice, I might be able to help."
Jozay raised an eyebrow. "Help? You just said I stand out too much. Now you want to get involved?"
She smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "I've been around long enough to know when someone's out of place. And you? You're more than just some wandering adventurer trying to figure things out."
Jozay narrowed his eyes. "And howwould you know that?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "Because I was once part of the Elven Court."
Silence.
Elias, for the first time in a while, stirred with interest. "The Elven Court? That's not just some noble house—those elves were the foundation of power in this empire."
Jozay crossed his arms. "You don't exactly look like you're from some grand court."
The woman let out a quiet laugh. "That was a long time ago. Things change. But some knowledge doesn't fade so easily."
She studied him again, as if weighing her decision. "I can teach you to mask your presence—to control the way your mana flows so it doesn't scream 'look at me' to anyone with a decent sense for it."
Jozay tapped his fingers against his arm, thinking. If what she said was true, then this was more than just a random encounter.
Elias spoke again, his tone unreadable. "This could be useful. If she was part of the Elven court as she mentioned then she could tap from her knowledge and experience."
Jozay met the woman's gaze. "Alright. I'll take you up on that offer. But first—who exactly am I learning from?"
She smirked, extending a hand. "Name's Sylvaine. Welcome to your first real lesson, outsider."
But jozay was curious of something.
"So, you were part of the Elven Court?"
Sylvaine nodded, her smirk fading into something more serious. "A long time ago. The Court doesn't just protect elven lands—it watches over the empire, dealing with threats most people don't even realize exist."
"Obscure threats, huh?" Jozay crossed his arms. "And you left that behind to run a bar?"
She shrugged. "Let's just say not all fights are meant to be won. Sometimes, you step away."
Elias's voice echoed in Jozay's mind. "If she was truly part of the Court, she's more than she appears. They don't accept just anyone."
Jozay exhaled. "Alright. If you can help me control my mana, I'm in. Where do we start?"
Sylvaine smiled. "Follow me. You're about to learn how to hide in plain sight."
Sylvaine raised an eyebrow. "Before we begin, I need to know who I'm teaching. What's your name?"
Jozay hesitated. His real name—Jozay—didn't belong here. It was the name of a man from another world, a scientist who had left everything behind. But the name Elias—the name of this body—felt just as foreign, like an identity that wasn't truly his.
Still… it was better than raising questions.
"Elias," he said, keeping his expression neutral. "Just Elias."
Sylvaine studied him for a moment, as if sensing something was off, but she didn't push. Instead, she gave a small nod.
"Alright, Elias. Let's see what you're working with."
Elias's voice stirred in the back of his mind, unreadable. "Hmph. Didn't expect that."
Jozay ignored him. For now, this was the best way to move forward. He wasn't Jozay anymore—not in this world.
He was Elias.
Sylvaine led Jozay—Elias—down a narrow alley, away from the noise of Caligurn's streets. They walked in silence until they reached an open courtyard, overgrown with ivy and cracked stonework, as if forgotten by time.
"First lesson," she said, turning to face him. "Mana isn't energy."
Jozay blinked. "What?"
Sylvaine sighed. "Everyone thinks of mana as some kind of mystical fuel. You gather it, you shape it, you release it. But that's the thinking of a child. Mana is not a force. Mana is a consequence."
She tapped the ground with her foot, and Jozay felt a ripple—not of power, but of something deeper, something fundamental.
"A consequence of what?" he asked.
"Of existence itself." She gestured around them. "Mana is the residual imprint of reality's interaction with itself. Every action, every movement, every breath you take warps the world just a little. Mana is that distortion, woven into the fabric of space and time."
Jozay folded his arms. "So, what, it's like an echo?"
Sylvaine smiled. "Close, but incomplete. It's more like... a footprint left in wet sand. Most people just step into the sand over and over again, forcing their imprint onto the world. But true mastery? True mastery is knowing how to step in a way that the sand moves for you."
She took a step forward, and something shifted. The space around her blurred—no, it folded, as if reality itself adjusted to accommodate her movement. The effect was subtle, but Jozay could feel it. The world itself had allowed her to move.
"That was mana manipulation," she said. "But not in the way you're thinking."
Jozay exhaled. "Alright. So how do I do that?"
Sylvaine tilted her head. "First, forget everything you think you know."
She took a step back, crossing her arms. "You're a scientist, aren't you?, you look like one. Then let's experiment. I'm not going to tell you how to pull mana in or shape it. That's what every fool does. Instead, I want you to figure out how you affect the world just by existing."
Jozay narrowed his eyes. "That's vague as hell."
"Mana isn't a technique—it's the echo of your being. You don't cast it; you are it. Right now, you're like a child shouting in a cave, unaware of how your voice shapes the air. To control mana, you must first hear yourself."
Jozay closed his eyes, focusing past his heartbeat, past his breath—down to the pressure he exerted on the world. At first, nothing. Then… a hum. A distortion, like heat haze off his skin.
"If my existence bends reality… then controlling mana means controlling myself."
He exhaled—and the distortion pulsed.
He closed his eyes. He didn't try to pull energy or focus on anything external. Instead, he tried to become aware.
The weight of his body on the ground. The air pressing against his skin. The quiet hum of movement in the distance.
And then—something else.
A faint tremor, just beneath perception.
Jozay's eyes snapped open.
Sylvaine smirked. "Good. You felt it, didn't you?"
Jozay nodded. "What was that?"
"Your existence."
She tapped her temple. "Lesson two: before you can manipulate mana, you need to understand how the world already moves for you. Only then can you learn how to move with it."
Sylvaine tried to dive into the idea on how to actually use mana, she explained it was.
Jozay exhaled slowly. This… this was going to be a challenge
Jozay stood there, his heart racing. He had spent his previous life trying to understand forces beyond human reach, but this was different, he wondered why elias was awfully silent too
"Alright," he said, shaking off the daze. "I can feel it, but how does that help me actually use mana?"
Sylvaine grinned. "Impatient? Good. Now, let's move to the next part."
"motivate" me. Didn't help.
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Jozay's foot slammed into the dirt for the third time that morning. He winced, brushing soot off his glove. The ember he'd conjured had fizzled—again. The air still held the warmth of it, but it didn't last. Nothing ever did.
Across from him, Sylvaine didn't even blink. She stood with her arms folded, leaning against a weather-worn stone pillar, half-shadowed by the ruined overhangs of what might've been a temple centuries ago. This was where she trained him. Not a sterile room with scrolls and tomes, but cracked earth and nature biting back at the edges.
He glanced up at her. "You gonna tell me I'm doing it wrong again?"
She walked over and crouched beside a broken slab of stone. "No. I'm going to tell you you're thinking wrong." Her finger slid along the crack in the stone like she was tracing something invisible. "You're trying to force it. And Pyro Mana hates that."
Jozay muttered, "So does everything else I try to do."
She ignored him. She tells him all about mana existing originally as force before it's turned into power
He lookng. "So what, I'm supposed to just wait for it to do what it wants?"
"No." She flicked her fingers. A small flame curled to life in her palm. "You guide it. You tempt it. Pyro is greedy. Give it something to eat, and it'll follow."
He watched the flame pulse against her skin, responding to every breath, every shift of her fingers. It looked alive.
He tried again. Closed his eyes, reached for the warmth inside himself—not forced, just noticed it. Let it move to his hand. One spark.
It lived. For a moment.
Sylvaine grinned. "Better."
But it wasn't enough. Not really. Day after day, it was the same story. He could feel mana—his Pyro was strong, even wild—but every time he tried to shape it into magic, it unraveled. Nothing held.
She watched him struggle without judgment. No praise, but no scorn either. Just silence. Until one day, she set a thin black slate in his lap.
"You're not a caster. So stop trying to be one."
He stared at it. "What is this?"
"Transcription," she said. "You write what you want reality to do."
He laughed. "You're joking."
She didn't laugh back.
That night, by firelight, she taught him. Not spells—intent. Each glyph was a thread of meaning: heat, direction, force, resolve. She showed him how to carve the symbols in his mind first, then trace them onto stone, leather, even skin if he dared.
He started simple.
Fire. Release. Forward.
The slate warmed. It didn't glow. Didn't shout. But he felt it recognize what he meant. Like the world was listening.
He carved that same sequence into the lining of his gloves. A few more on his boots: heat and pressure layered into his steps. His body became a canvas of low-grade enchantments—silent, passive, but waiting.
The more he wrote, the easier it became to feel the rhythm of things. Mana moved cleaner. It listened. He wasn't just commanding it—he was in dialogue with it.
Weeks passed. And one night, while Sylvaine slept, Jozay sat alone at the edge of the ruins and wrote a phrase in the dirt with his finger:
As he grew stronger, Jozay began to avoid attention. His mana and life force were severely tamed; he syncs in with the others now. Jozay had the highest gratitude to Sylvaine for showing him the ropes to this, though he was curious why she abruptly accepted him despite being a little rude.
But there's a story, there always is.
Sylvaine had once been a legend in the elven courts, a human mage whose innate talent for magic had earned her a place among the most powerful beings in the world. As a Manaborn, she was one of the rare few who had evolved in high-mana environments, her body naturally circulating mana without the need for external manipulation. Her abilities were unparalleled, her mastery of magic a thing of beauty.
But Sylvaine's life had taken a different turn. She had fallen in love—a simple, profound love that had nothing to do with magic or power. She left the elven courts, abandoning her title and her status, to live a normal life with her husband and son. They ran a small bar together, a quiet, unassuming place where Sylvaine could leave her past behind.
For a time, she was happy. But life had a way of taking things away. Her husband passed away first, his human lifespan no match for her extended years. Then her son, who had inherited her Manaborn traits but not her longevity, followed not long after. Lucia was left alone, the bar a bittersweet reminder of the life she had built and lost.
When Jozay first stumbled into her bar, Sylvaine had been struck by how out of place he seemed. He was awkward, struggling to control the mana that flowed so freely in this world. But there was something about him—his determination, his quiet resilience—that reminded her of her son. Not in appearance, but in spirit.
She watched him, observing as he practiced in the corner of the bar, his frustration evident but his resolve unshaken. Finally, she approached him, her sharp tongue masking the empathy she felt.
"Hello there, I can't help but notice something". she had said, her tone blunt but not unkind. "Your mana wasn't… normal."
No glyphs. Just a sentence.
The ground pulsed under his hand. Not violently. Just enough to tell him: this too, was magic.
In the morning, he didn't mention it. But something had changed.
Sylvaine must've seen it in the way he moved, because she didn't correct him once. Not when he sparked a flame cleanly from his palm. Not when he timed a rebound blast mid-sparring to dodge her strike. Not even when he activated three glyphs at once—glove, boot, backplate—and used the force to slide under her guard.
She only said one thing, as he stood panting.
"Finally. Now you're not just playing with fire—you're dancing with it."
He didn't smile. He didn't need to.
He'd felt it in the dirt.
Magic wasn't power.
It was a promise.
And Jozay had just learned how to keep his.
Want to continue into his first real battle using this new skillset?
—control the flow, contain the energy, let it take form. This time—surely this time—
Nothing.
The mana dissipated before it could even spark.
"Well, you're looking like a solid Crest."
"A Crest?, what do you mean?"
"You don't even know the rank or levels to people mana capacity"
"No.....?". "Well, it's like calling you a D ranker, your mana conservation was originally Ember (F rank), so it currently being a Crest is pretty amazing". Elias answers inwardly.
Well, it as so
F-Rank Ember Just beginning to awaken mana; small spark within. E-Rank Vein. Mana flows through your body like shallow rivers. Basic techniques unlocked. D-Rank Crest. Mana starts shaping to your will; first signs of elemental control. C-Rank Aetherborn. True elemental wielders. Capable of combining basic combat and magic. B-Rank Riftwalker. Can manipulate mana in versatile ways; eligible for fusion training. A-Rank Manastride. Can alter the battlefield. Capable of creating unique spells and enduring large-scale mana strain. S-Rank Ascendant. Surpasses normal limitations. Masters of fusion, elemental mutation, and mana adaptation. SS-Rank. Primeveil Near-divine. Can bend mana laws or destabilize regions just by existing.
"This also can be referred to your core"
"Damn, a D huh, i have a long way to go then" Jozay says.
"Don't feel to bad about it, in measuring ranks, the result is never truly accurate through the naked eyes, but take it from me, i am an accurate estimator . Also a rank lower will never truly beat a rank higher, so you're safe from all E and F's, which is what caligurn is filled with anyway"
"I don't think that makes it better" Jozay laughs.
They both contiuned with training, for a manaborn, the concept of fatigue is almost non-existent, but such concepts isn't present for a normal human, let alone a D ranked one
Jozay swore under his breath. His whole body ached, his mind strained from the effort. It was like trying to hold water in his hands—no matter what he did, it slipped through his fingers before he could shape it into anything useful.
Sylvaine sighed, stepping forward. "You're stuck in the same trap as every beginner," she said.
Jozay shot her a glare. "Then maybe I'm just not built for this."
She smirked. "Or maybe you're too stubborn to realize you're thinking about it the wrong way."
She lifted a hand, and mana obeyed her effortlessly. A wisp of fire flickered into existence above her palm—not an unstable surge of energy, not wild flames barely held together, but a single, steady flame. "This is mana", after saying that the flames started to envelop her entire body, burning everything that touched her.
"And this is magic"
"Mana is fuel," she said simply. "Magic is the language that tells it what to become."
Jozay exhaled slowly, eyes locked on the flame. He understood, at least in theory. But after hours of failure, understanding and doing felt miles apart.
Sylvaine closed her fingers, extinguishing the flame. "That's enough for today. Your body's already pushing its limits."
Jozay wanted to argue, but the exhaustion hit him all at once. His arms felt heavy, his mind foggy. He hated to admit it, but she was right.
He'd learn magic. Eventually. But not today.
For now, he needed to rest.
"Thanks for everything today Sylvaine, you were of great help to me today"
"The pleasure is all mine Elias", as she smiled and waved him off
Damn, didn't know things like learning mana will be this exhausting, but good thing is I can control the so called pyro mana, mostly due to Elias body already being use to it
Talking about Elias. "Hey buddy, you've been silent for a while."
Jozay walked through the dimly lit streets of Caligurn, his body aching from exertion. The city's nighttime hum filled the air—distant chatter from taverns, the occasional footsteps of adventurers returning from missions, the rhythmic flickering of mana-powered lanterns lining the road.
But in his mind, there was only silence.
For the past few hours, Elias hadn't spoken. Not a word. Normally, Jozay could feel his presence—not just as a voice, but a weight in the back of his thoughts. But right now, it was as if he were alone.
Jozay frowned. "Elias?"
Still nothing.
A strange unease crept over him. He wasn't sure why—maybe he had gotten too used to Elias being there, too used to his occasional sarcasm, his annoyed sighs whenever Jozay did something reckless. The silence wasn't normal.
Jozay stopped walking. He shut his eyes, focusing inward.
He reached.
And finally, after a long pause—Elias responded.
"I'm here."
The voice was weaker than usual. Faint. Almost… strained.
Jozay's frown deepened. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
Elias let out something close to a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "You're exhausting me, that's all. When you push the body past its limits, I feel it too. It's not exactly fun."
Jozay exhaled. That made sense—he had been testing his limits with Pyro Mana for hours. Elias might not have been the one moving, but he was still tied to this body, still feeling everything Jozay did.
"You should've said something."
"And miss the fun of watching you struggle? No thanks."
Jozay smirked, shaking his head. At least that sounded like Elias.
"Alright, fine," Jozay said. "I'll take it easy."
"You say that, but I know you're going to get yourself into some kind of trouble before the night's over."
"C'mon, have some faith in me."
"That's exactly why I'm worried."
Jozay chuckled, but the concern still lingered in the back of his mind. If Elias was feeling this drained… how much longer could he last like this?
He put the thought aside for now.
First, rest. Then, he'd figure out the next step.
With that, he continued walking, the glow of Caligurn's lanterns leading him through the night.
As Jozay went back home to settle, he asked Elias about the history of this home. As Jozay stepped through the door of his small home, he tossed his cloak over a nearby chair and let out a breath. His muscles still ached from training, and exhaustion settled into his bones like a weight. But before he collapsed onto the bed, his curiosity got the better of him.
"So, Elias," he asked, stretching his arms. "This place... does it have a history, or did you just wake up one day and decide to live here?"
For a moment, silence. Then Elias' voice stirred in his mind.
"It has a history, I suppose. Not a long one. It was given to me when I joined the local mage guild—not out of merit, but because they pitied me. A weak Pyro Mage with no family, no connections... a place to live was the least they could offer."
Jozay leaned against the wall, listening. He could hear the bitterness under Elias' words, even if he tried to mask it.
"I didn't exactly have many possessions," Elias continued. "No one to visit. No one to share it with. Just me, trying to be a proper mage in a world that didn't need me."
Jozay exhaled, glancing around. The place was modest—bare walls, a simple bed, a small shelf lined with books, a wooden table with an old mana lamp. It was livable but devoid of anything personal. No signs that someone had truly made it a home. This was exactly the life jozay had lived back in his former world, alone, no one to talk with and pretty much an unstable alcoholic.
"You really were alone, huh?"
"Guess you would know that better than anyone."
Jozay frowned. He had seen glimpses of Elias' memories before, but the weight of his loneliness hit harder now. The fact that this home had never been filled with conversation, never felt warmth beyond the flicker of Pyro Mana—it made something sink in Jozay's chest. Something only he understands
"And then I came along."
"Yeah. Then you came along."
Jozay didn't know what to say to that.
For all the trouble he'd caused, for all the ways he had upended Elias' existence… maybe, just maybe, he had also brought something new to this home. A voice. A presence.
A reason for it to be more than just a place to sleep.
"Well," Jozay muttered, dragging a chair out and sitting down. "I guess it's our place now."
Elias was quiet for a long time. Then, finally—
"Yeah. I guess it is."
Jozay leaned back, letting exhaustion finally take over. He'd think about magic tomorrow. He'd think about Elias' past another time.
For now, he closed his eyes and let himself rest.
Kieran Vale had long since abandoned the teaching of the Elven Court, trading the weight of exile for the freedom of wandering. These days, she was known as a nameless adventurer, one who drifted from city to city, rarely staying anywhere long enough to leave a trace. Yet, she was more than just a sword for hire—she had a habit of helping where she could.
Lost children found their way back to their families when she was around. Towns besieged by mana beasts often awoke to find the creatures mysteriously slain before dawn. And when strange things happened—unexplainable events even the most learned mages couldn't comprehend—she always seemed to be watching.
This time was no different.
Caligurn was a peaceful city, or at least that's what people claimed. But to someone like Kieran, who saw beyond surface-level truths, it was obvious that something had shifted.
It began two nights ago.
She had been resting at the edge of town after slaying a rogue mana beast when she felt it—a ripple in the flow of mana. A disturbance. Like something foreign had entered the world, something that shouldn't be here.
At first, she assumed it was a mage who had botched a high-level spell, or maybe some arrogant noble playing with relics they didn't understand. But when she followed the trail of disrupted mana, she found… him.
A young man. Broad-shouldered but tense, his movements slightly out of sync with his body, as if he was adjusting to wearing his own skin.
She had seen countless adventurers, soldiers, and mages. Yet something about him was… off.
Not just in his presence—his mana signature was unnatural.
Not absent, not blocked—just different.
She knew all too well what that meant.
A person whose mana did not fully align with this world was either a vessel of something greater… or someone who did not belong.
And she had seen something like this before.
Years ago. In a vision.
A memory buried so deep she had almost convinced herself it was just the remnant of a fever dream from the day she touched that forbidden artifact. A memory of someone standing in the rift between what exists and what should not.
She had dismissed it before. But now, looking at this stranger…
He looked familiar.
It was impossible. She had never met him.
And yet, deep in her bones, she knew this wasn't their first encounter.
But watching from the shadows would get her nowhere.
She needed to meet him. Not as an investigator, not as a hunter, but as a fellow adventurer.
So, she set a plan in motion.
She had overheard his conversation in the diner—the way he asked questions, the way he hesitated before answering. He was hiding something, just as she was. He had used the name 'Elias,' but his unease made it obvious that it wasn't fully his own.
If he was like her—someone who had touched something beyond this world—she needed to know.
So she approached him.
She let him notice her. Let her presence be just a little too obvious, her curiosity just enough to make him uneasy. And when he asked who she was, she offered only a simple truth.
"A traveler," she said, her voice calm but deliberate. "Much like you."
His eyes flickered with something—wariness, recognition, or perhaps just exhaustion. He had been careful, keeping his presence muted, but now he was looking at her as if he knew she had seen through him.
"You've been following me," he said, not quite a question, not quite an accusation.
She smiled faintly. "Observing. There's a difference."
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. She could tell he was weighing his options, considering whether to brush her off or confront her outright. She didn't press him. If he was truly what she thought he was, pushing too hard would only drive him away.
"You seem to know something," he finally said.
"I do," she admitted. "And so do you."
His grip on his cloak tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She tilted her head. "Then why does the weight of this world sit wrong on your shoulders?"
That stopped him. Just for a moment. His breath hitched—barely noticeable, but enough.
She had been right.
Now the real question was: would he run, or would he listen?
Jozay's grip on his cloak loosened, but the tension in his body remained. The woman before him didn't press further. She didn't need to. Her words had already unraveled something within him, something he had been trying to ignore for too long.
The weight of this world sits wrong on your shoulders.
She had said it so casually, but it cut deeper than she could possibly know.
Because she was right.
Jozay had felt it ever since he arrived in this world—the subtle wrongness, the quiet discomfort that never quite left him, no matter how much he trained, how much he fought, how much he tried to mold himself into someone who belonged. The lessons from Sylvaine, the relentless drills, the countless lectures on discipline, power, and control—none of it had changed the undeniable truth gnawing at him.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Yet, he was. And he had no choice but to keep moving forward.
Sylvaine had always sensed it too, though she never voiced it outright. Instead, she buried Jozay in discipline, in duty. 'Purpose will anchor you,' she would say. 'Without purpose, you are just a man adrift in a storm.'
Jozay had believed her. He had thrown himself into every lesson, every command, convincing himself that if he mastered her ways, if he became strong enough, the feeling of disconnect would fade. That one day, he would wake up and feel whole.
But he never did.
And now, standing here, with this woman—this stranger who looked at him as though she had seen him before—he realized something else.
He was never going to.
"You want answers," he murmured, half to himself.
The woman's gaze didn't waver. "So do you."
Jozay clenched his jaw. The answers he sought wouldn't be found in the familiar confines of Sylvaine's domain. He had known that for a long time, but he had pushed the thought away, convincing himself it wasn't time yet. That he needed to be more prepared, more skilled, more… something.
But waiting wasn't going to change anything.
And now, finally, he couldn't ignore it anymore.
Sylvaine had always told him that leaving would be his choice. That the moment he felt he was ready to carve his own path, he would be allowed to go without protest. But Jozay knew what leaving truly meant.
I have to actually explore the lands if i need to understand it, what do you think Elias?.
"Yeah, no doubt, you'll never get to know if you don't move forward, plus she's a guide, your guide, but you have to let sylvaine know"
"Yeah, you're absolutely right". Jozay approached Sylvaine with the news, he wasn't requesting because he felt he didn't need to. His curiosity have once again made him abandon something pr someone he should deem important.
Sylvaine raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. "You've been 'figuring things out' for days. It's time to take the next step. You're not going to grow if you stay here."
It was a clean break. Absolute.
The thought made his chest feel tight. He had never known a parent, but if he had anything close to one, it was Sylvaine. The idea of walking away, of stepping into the unknown alone, made his pulse quicken.
"Good. I've packed everything you'll need." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, glowing orb. "This is a spatial storage device. It's got food, clothes, money, and a few other things. Don't lose it."
"Thank you". As he said that he was ready to wander off.
"Hey!, make sure to return some day okay?"
Jozay nods and promised, he will infact return to this place once again, perhaps even far stronger.
He wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation.
"So we going to be exploring the lands or something?" he finally asked, voice quieter now.
The woman didn't smile, didn't shift in triumph. She simply met his gaze and spoke. "You're a question, and our travels might give you an answer. I want to witness it, that's why I want to be part of this journey."
It wasn't an answer, not really. But it was enough.
Jozay exhaled and, for the first time, turned his back on the life he had known.
The wind whispered as Jozay walked, the sound of his boots muffled by damp earth. The woman followed at a distance, silent and respectful of his thoughts.
But she wasn't the only one with him.
Not really.
Somewhere between steps, as trees blurred and the horizon cracked open into the unknown, a voice stirred inside him.
"So… this is it, then?"
It was soft. Familiar. A voice he'd heard only in dreams and dying echoes.
"You're really going through with this."
Jozay didn't stop walking.
"Elias," he said under his breath.
The name hit the air like a stone in still water.
Jozay's fingers curled at his sides. He'd tried not to think about it—about the boy whose life he'd overtaken. The boy who should've lived.
"I didn't choose this."
"Neither did I."
Silence again. Only this time, it wasn't the same as before. This one pulsed with grief.
"You wear my face, but I see the world through your eyes now. I feel what you feel. The loneliness. The weight. The guilt."
Jozay finally stopped. He looked out over the edge of the cliff they'd reached, the trees thinning behind him. Clouds crawled over distant mountains like tired ghosts.
"I ask myself every day if I made the right decision," he said aloud. "Taking your place. Living your life. Using your hands to shape something new."
"You didn't steal my life, Jozay."
"You gave it purpose."
He shut his eyes.
"I was fading. I was already gone. I don't know if I was ever whole to begin with. But I've seen what you've done with this chance. And I..."
The voice trembled now.
"I'm proud it was you."
The wind shifted. Warm, this time. Like a memory of sunlight.
"Just don't forget me."
Jozay opened his eyes. For a moment, he could almost see Elias standing beside him—transparent, young, and solemn, like a ghost from a dream.
"I won't," he whispered.
The woman finally caught up to him. She said nothing—just stood by his side, as if sensing the storm that had passed through him.
Jozay took one last breath and turned away from the cliff.
"I carry more than just my fate," he said quietly.
Then he walked on—no longer just a question.
But an answer in the making.
Jozay and Kieran have been walking for multiple days now, surviving on the resoruces Jozay brought along.
The sun had barely climbed above the treetops when they set out again.
Jozay adjusted the straps of his pack, still sore from the last hill they crossed. Mud clung to his boots, and the damp chill of morning clung to his skin like a second shirt. Birds chirped lazily overhead, oblivious to the existential crisis bubbling beneath his breath.
They walked in silence for a while—Ms. Vale always two steps ahead, her cloak dragging the leaves like a ghost's whisper.
Then Jozay snapped.
"Okay, seriously," he said, stopping mid-step. "Why are we walking?"
Ms. Vale didn't turn around. She kept walking, unfazed. He jogged to catch up.
"I mean—we have mana, right? You've got that mysterious air and probably a hundred tricks up your sleeve. Couldn't we, I don't know... conjure a cart? Or find one of those moving house things I've seen nobles use in novels? One with beds. And tea."
Vale gave a slight glance his way, but didn't break stride. "You want a house on wheels?"
"Yes. Is that unreasonable? I've been stabbed. Twice. My boots are crying. And I'm pretty sure this tree just judged me."
She chuckled under her breath—an actual laugh, soft and rare.
"I could get us a cart," she said. "Even a small fortress if you'd like. But you wouldn't learn anything in there."
Jozay frowned. "Learn what? How to blister my heels into oblivion?"
"No. How the world breathes."
That made him pause.
Ms. Vale stopped too, finally turning to face him. Her eyes held that sharp clarity again—the kind that peeled layers back before you even realized you had them.
"A house on wheels would protect you. Comfort you. Shield you from the rot in the soil and the sorrow in the wind. But this path? This road? It makes you pay attention. It forces you to see."
"To see what?"
"To see what you're becoming."
Jozay's mouth went dry. It was the kind of answer that made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. The kind of answer Sylvaine might have given, except colder. More honest.
He looked down at his hands—still bandaged from yesterday's skirmish with that glass-skinned beast—and then toward the trail ahead. The path curved through ancient woods, fog coiled between trees like secrets waiting to be told.
"Fine," he muttered, falling into step beside her again. "But if we get eaten by something with too many teeth, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"
"Noted."
The journey stretched before them, long and winding. Forests, valleys, ruins whispered in the distance. And somewhere, far ahead, fate waited with claws folded and breath held.
But for now, it was just the road.
Jozay.
Vale.
And the sound of two souls walking toward destiny, with no roof but the sky.
The road grew quieter as they left the familiar hum of the forest behind. The trees here were sparse—gnarled trunks and tangled underbrush where the sun barely touched the ground. The air was thick, oppressive. The silence stretched unnaturally, as if the land itself were holding its breath.
They had been walking for hours, no sign of civilization or other travelers. Just the dull crunch of dirt beneath their boots and the occasional rustle in the brush. A feeling settled in Jozay's chest, one he couldn't shake. It was the kind of quiet that promised something off. Like the world was about to tilt on its axis.
And then they saw her.
The girl stood at the edge of a small clearing, crouched low to the ground. A wild boar, larger than anything Jozay had seen before, lay unmoving in front of her. The girl wasn't much taller than the boar herself—short, with tangled hair and clothes that looked like they'd seen better days. Despite the blood splattered across her, she didn't seem bothered by it.
She stood up slowly, turning to face them with a calmness that didn't belong in this place.
Jozay's fingers twitched, his instincts telling him to be cautious. Vale, however, didn't seem fazed. She simply walked toward the girl, unfazed by the gruesome sight.
"That's quite a kill," Vale said, her voice level, casual. "Did you do that alone?"
The girl gave a slight nod, wiping the blood from her hand with a cloth she pulled from her belt. "Yeah. Took a while, but it's done."
Jozay couldn't help but wonder how someone so small could handle such a beast. The boar was no ordinary creature. Its tusks alone could slice through armor, its strength unmatched by most of the beasts that roamed these lands.
"Why are you here?" Vale asked, her tone sharp, piercing the tension in the air. "Most adventurers take the cart roads through the plains. They don't venture into these barren hills or these thick forests. What's your reason?"
The girl's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes flickered for a moment—a hint of hesitation before she answered. "I'm looking for something," she said simply, her gaze flicking toward the trees, as if she expected something to step out of them at any moment.
Jozay felt a twinge in his gut, something gnawing at him. He had known it. From the moment they'd set foot on this path, something didn't add up. It wasn't the kind of place adventurers came to unless they had no choice. This wasn't the road to the city or the plains—Vale had tricked him, he snickered and pretty much impressed on how he was fooled.
Elias's voice drifted to him, soft, as though it were an echo of a forgotten memory.
"She's looking for something, Jozay. You should ask her what. People like that don't wander without a reason."
Jozay's lips thinned. Elias wasn't wrong. There was something about this girl. Something about the way she spoke—too calm, too certain in this wild place. She was not like the adventurers he'd met, who all walked the well-worn roads, either for profit or glory.
Vale pressed further. "Something? Like what?"
The girl's eyes darted between the two of them. "I've been traveling alone for months now. Adventurers don't pass through here, and no one wants to talk about what's hidden beneath these hills. But I know. I know it's here." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I'm not afraid of it."
Jozay narrowed his eyes, trying to piece it together. This wasn't an ordinary hunt. No, this was personal. She wasn't just looking for food or fame. Whatever she was after, it was dangerous. And the fact she was alone in a place where even seasoned adventurers would hesitate to go… well, that spoke volumes.
Vale seemed to sense it too, her gaze sharpening as she stepped closer. "What are you looking for, exactly?"
The girl's lips pressed together in a thin line. Her hand, still stained with the boar's blood, twitched at her side.
Jozay took a step forward, his voice low but urgent. "You didn't come all this way just for some boar meat. What's out here? What are you really after?"
The girl's gaze hardened, a flicker of something darker passing through her eyes. For a brief moment, she looked like someone far older than she appeared, as if the weight of her journey had already carved deep lines into her soul. She didn't speak for a long while.
Then, finally, she whispered, "Something that's been buried for centuries. And it's waking up."
The words hung in the air like a promise—or a threat.
Jozay felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He exchanged a glance with Vale, who didn't flinch. She was always unshaken, but even she seemed to sense the gravity in the girl's voice.
"Buried? What do you mean?" Vale asked, her voice softening, but still probing.
The girl looked over her shoulder toward the forest behind her, as though the trees themselves were watching. "It's the reason no one comes here. The reason this road is forgotten." Her eyes narrowed. "You should turn back. It's too late for me. But you? You still have a chance."
The air grew colder as the girl's words sank into the ground between them. Jozay could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere. The moment had changed, the calm before the storm now feeling like an inevitable surge.
Elias's voice echoed again, distant but insistent.
"You knew it. And now it's too late to turn away."
Jozay's gaze darkened. He could sense it now, the weight of something ancient stirring beneath the earth. The girl wasn't just lost or foolish. .
Jozay's gaze hardened as he studied the girl. He had sensed it before, a gnawing unease that only grew stronger the longer they stayed. Her words hung in the air, charged with a kind of quiet power, like a storm gathering on the horizon.
Vale stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the girl's intentions. "What exactly is waking up?" she asked, her tone calm but carrying an edge of caution.
The girl hesitated, looking down at her bloodied hands for a moment before speaking again. "A demon. One that was bound long ago. My people… we made a mistake. They summoned it, but they couldn't control it. The binding wasn't complete, and the demon's power was sealed in a sword. That sword is what I've come for."
Jozay stood still, his thoughts tangled in disbelief. Demons—real, actual demons. All his life, he'd thought of them as little more than mythological creatures, the stuff of bedtime stories and ancient folklore meant to scare children. But here, standing before a girl who spoke of a rift, a sword, and a leaking evil, the stories suddenly felt far too real.
What unsettled him even more was the revelation of Hell's existence—though it wasn't called Hell here. It had another name, something darker, colder.
"The Black World," he whispered under his breath.
That was what she had called it—the place where these demons came from. Not just a metaphor, not a parable, but an actual realm. A place with rifts leaking its corruption into this world.
He felt his stomach turn at the thought. All this time, he had been playing catch-up in a world of mana and monsters, and now there was a hellish dimension in the mix. A real one.
"You okay?" Elias's voice stirred gently inside his head, soft like the hush before a storm.
Jozay blinked, still staring at the ground. "No. Not really."
There was a pause, then Elias spoke again. "You're shaken."
"Of course I'm shaken," Jozay muttered, his voice low. "Demons aren't supposed to be real. Neither is some cursed realm leaking into ours. What else are we going to find out next? That ghosts are real too?"
"You already know they are," Elias replied, with a voice that held no mockery, only truth. "You've seen them. You've fought mana beasts. You've touched the edges of death and come back. What's a demon compared to that?"
"They're from a different world, Elias. One that shouldn't exist. One that's... wild."
Elias was quiet for a moment before he answered.
"Maybe it is wrong. But it's real. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can do something about it. You've never been one to run."
Jozay let out a shaky breath. "I'm not running. Just... adjusting."
"Then adjust quickly," Elias said softly. "Because if what she said is true, and that sword is the only thing that can seal the rift—then we're not just part of the story anymore, Jozay. We're in the center of it."
A demon, bound by a sword, buried for centuries… The pieces started to fit, but the weight of what she was saying hit him with full force. This was no mere treasure hunt. This wasn't even a quest for revenge. This was something much darker.
"You're looking for the sword that sealed it," he said, his voice heavy with realization.
The girl nodded, her eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "I have to find it. The rift it left behind—it's been leaking demonic energy into the world for generations. It's why no one comes this way anymore. And it's why I'm alone. My people... they sent me. They're the last of us, and if I can't find the sword to seal the rift, everything will be consumed."
Jozay felt a chill creep down his spine. The thought of a rift, leaking demonic energy, was not something to take lightly. And the fact that she was alone, carrying this burden on her shoulders, only made it more dangerous.
"So, this sword... it's the only thing that can stop it?" Vale asked, her voice more measured now, but with a hint of disbelief.
The girl's expression remained unreadable, but her voice held an undeniable weight. "It's the only way. Without it, the rift will keep growing, and eventually, it'll consume everything." She paused, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, as if she could already feel the encroaching darkness. "And if I don't find it in time... the demons will come. And the world won't survive."
Jozay exchanged a glance with Vale. She gave him a slight nod, indicating that she understood the gravity of the situation.
"You know it's dangerous," Jozay said, his tone softening. "You're not alone in this anymore. We'll help you."
The girl's eyes flickered with surprise, but she said nothing. She simply looked at him for a long moment, as though weighing his words carefully. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"I've already made the journey alone. I can't ask you to risk your lives for me," she replied, her voice quiet but firm. "But if you're willing, I won't stop you."
Vale then made a brutally obvious suggestion. She asked, "Wouldn't it be better if we just traveled together?" The young girl looked at her incredulously and said, "Are you crazy? My people…." "They wait, sure, demonic energy is leaking from the rift, but it's small, right?" Vale continued, trying to reason. "The rift is still small, too small for any beast of significant power to come through. We've got time on our hands. And there's also a chance the sword is too powerful for any of us to wield right now." Lucia slowly nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Elias's voice echoed in Jozay's mind, offering a thought. "Rifts don't stay small forever. They open, and when they do, they don't care about the time you've bought." I know. For now, let's just ignore it.
Vale had just finished her pitch, her words still hanging in the air like mist.
Lucia looked hesitant, eyes flicking between the growing rift in the distance and the group around her. Her fingers unconsciously rested on the hilt of her dagger — a habit she had when caught in between decisions.
That's when Jozay spoke, his voice quiet but steady:
"Okay, while this sounds good... I personally think Lucia should go back to her homeland."
Everyone fell silent.
Lucia slowly turned toward him. "You think I should leave?"
Jozay met her eyes. "I think you want to stay because it's easier to ignore what might be waiting for you back there. But you know as well as I do that the longer you wait, the worse it'll get."
Vale frowned. "Come on, we just agreed there's time—"
"Time's a lie," Jozay said, not harshly, but with conviction. "That rift won't stay small. And even if it does, your people need a leader, Lucia. They need you. Not rumors of you chasing a sword with strangers."
Lucia's lips parted slightly. "But… the sword—"
Jozay cut in gently, anticipating her hesitation.
"I know. You think if you're not the one to find it, someone else might take it. Or worse — misuse it."
He took a slow breath, stepping closer, tone steady:
"Let me handle that. I'll find the sword. I'll make sure no one unworthy touches it. And when the time's right, I'll bring it to you myself — or I'll die making sure no one else does."
Lucia stared at him. "You'd do that for me?"
He gave her a firm nod. "It's the most logical and optimal solution right now, to both of the current problems."
Elias's voice hummed quietly in Jozay's mind: "Glad you told her to go back, there are inaccuracies in calculating when and how a rift will tear. But how did you know?."
"I didn't. " Jozay replied inwardly.
Lucia exhaled, long and slow. "I hated you for saying that.",
Jozay gave a faint smile. "I figured you might."
"But I also know you're right." Her shoulders straightened, like a queen reclaiming her crown. "I've been trying to run from the weight. Just for a while. But it's mine to carry."
She looked at Vale. "I'm sorry. I want to go with you. I really do. But my people come first."
Vale nodded, reluctantly. "Do what you must. Just don't die out there."
Lucia turned to Jozay last. "You'd better keep your word."
Jozay smirked lightly. "Yeah, bet."
She gave him a wistful look, eyes burning but dry. "Then I'll be waiting. When the sword comes, I'll be ready."
As Lucia gathered her things and departed, she waved goodbye to them. Vale happily waved back, and Jozay did too, wearing a smile that concealed a void beneath. Vale's eyes screamed nothing but worry; she didn't feel comfortable with a little girl embarking on a long journey alone.
"Don't look so bothered, Vale. She killed a D-ranked boar. Due to her lack of injury, I'll be sure she's around C, which is close to you, a B rank. If I pick a fight with her now, I'll terribly lose"
"It's no wonder her people chose her as the person who should retrieve the sword."
Vale crossed her arms, her brow still furrowed. "That's not what bothers me."
Jozay glanced at her, casually. "Then what?"
"She's just a kid," Vale said. "A powerful one, yeah, but… she hides how much she's hurting."
Jozay looked off in the direction Lucia had gone, his expression unreadable. "She'll be fine. She has something to prove—and people to prove it to."
Vale didn't answer right away. Eventually, she sighed and turned toward the road. "I hope you're right."
Jozay said nothing.
But in his mind, Elias stirred.
"You didn't send her away for her people. You sent her away because you didn't want her around."
Jozay blinked once, slowly. She's a distraction.
"She was also your moral anchor."
Exactly.
There was a pause. Then Elias added, more quietly, "Doesn't make it right."
Jozay's fingers curled slightly at his side. No. But it makes it easier.
Behind him, Vale gave a light stretch, trying to shake off the heaviness that still hung in the air. "So… what now?"
"We train," Jozay replied without missing a beat. "Get sharper. Faster. The sword's not going to wait forever—and neither are the people who want it for themselves."
Vale nodded, slipping into a more focused posture. "Fine by me. But next time, don't make big decisions without telling me first."
Jozay smirked slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
As they started walking, the forest seemed quieter than usual, like it, too, knew someone important had left.
Far ahead, out of earshot and sight, Lucia didn't look back.
And Jozay didn't either.