Aelion's senses were slow to recover, his mind adrift between the ragged edges of waking and dreaming. He blinked into the darkness—a complete absence of sound, color, and form.
The void pressed in from every side, smothering even the faintest memory of earth or sky. It felt colder and emptier than any place he had ever known, a realm untethered to time.
Even the rhythm of his breath seemed to echo into a bottomless expanse.
Right before him floated the only break in the emptiness: a golden portal, its rim sculpted in intricate whorls and runes that pulsed with subdued light.
It shimmered like a promise—or a threat. Yet, for all its brilliance, the portal was sealed tight, untouched by even a whisper of movement.
It throbbed with potential, as though waiting for something beyond Aelion's reach.
Suddenly, a blue screen flickered into life before Aelion, its light like moonbeams fractured through crystal. Sharply etched letters shimmered in the flat air:
[Euloria is currently in sealed state]
[Time until unsealing: 5 Months 14 Days]
Confusion pooled in Aelion's eyes. The weight of those words sank in slowly, crushing hope and expectation beneath uncertainty and dread.
Why was the world sealed? What force kept it locked away? If it was locked away, Then wgy was he here? The realization that he was trapped here for months gnawed at his resolve.
Aelion's mind raced, seeking answers, but the void remained silent, unhelpful.
Before terror or frustration could bloom fully in his chest, a new message appeared, cutting through his thoughts with chilling clarity:
[Do you want to awaken your talent?]
The words hovered, luminous and insistent, refusing to fade. Aelion's heart hammered in the stillness. His mouth went dry. What would it mean to awaken his talent here, in this empty limbo? Was this the only way to survive until the world unsealed itself?
He stood motionless, the hush around him heavier than stone. Time stretched—limitless and agonizing. Thoughts spiraled: Should he wait, conserve strength, seek stability? Or seize this opportunity and trust that fate could guide him to safety? He contemplated the choices in his life, the risks he'd taken, the battles fought and survived.
Yet, faced now with complete isolation and the gnawing ache of powerlessness, Aelion's spirit surged. He could not afford to wait for circumstance to dictate his fate. The small flicker of hope ignited into purpose.
[Do you want to awaken your talent?]
[Y/N]
With a breath of fierce determination, Aelion selected Yes. Instantly, a surge coursed through him—raw, pulsing energy, both excruciating and electrifying.
His body became the crucible of transformation. A luminous, throbbing light exploded from within, and he could feel layers of his old self being violently stripped away.
Skin peeled and flaked, shed like the remnants of past weakness. Black powder and oily liquid poured in streams from his wounds, collecting as a writhing globe of impurity before him.
It hovered menacingly, radiating a sickness that gnawed at the soul. Every instinct shrieked for him to recoil, to flee the crawling malignancy swirling in the void.
Aelion watched as the last motes of shadow left his body. In their place, something new emerged—a glimmer at first, then a beacon.
Slowly, from deep within, a white seed surfaced, carved by light and shaped by fire. It pulsed with an unearthly radiance, casting a gentle glow across his battered body.
His eyes widened in awe and terror.
The memory of another world, another life, returned vividly—a memory branded into his heart.
The cold stone arena of the hundredth floor in 'Myth of Dungeons,' where blood and sweat pooled at his knees.
He recalled the exhaustion that left him broken, crawling for breath as the final victorious message hovered in the abyss.
A shadow, tall and graceful, crossed his vision. The handsome man, draped in robes woven of midnight and gold, radiated an insatiable bloodlust.
In the man's hand blazed the same white seed—an artifact of unimaginable significance.
"You fought admirably," the man had said, voice awash with a violence barely contained.
The seed was pressed gently toward Aelion's trembling grasp.
"It will be useful to you soon."
Those words echoed across time, weaving comfort and dread into Aelion's memory.
To see the seed again now, in this severed place between worlds, drew misted tears to his eyes. The pain and gratitude of that moment resurfaced. The name escaped, involuntary as breathing—
"Samuel."
The seed drifted closer, trailing thin lines of radiant fire. Upon contact with his flesh, sizzling waves pulsed through Aelion's veins.
The impurity in his body recoiled, melting and dissolving until only purity remained. Fresh skin regenerated in rippling waves, glowing with softness and health—a transformation unmarred by suffering.
He stared in wonder at his hands, now luminous and unblemished.
Every ache and trauma seemed to have vanished, replaced by a new assurance, a sense of power that throbbed quietly beneath the surface.
A new message crystallized on the blue screen, clean as a bell.
[You have a 1 day visit to Sublimation realm]
Aelion braced himself, his heart wild with anticipation and fear.
The darkness around him began to shift and thin, shaping itself into new contours, ready to pull him into another chapter of survival, hope, and discovery.
All the while, A question silently popped up in his mind, "What the hell is Sublimation Realm?"
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