The shift was a violation, an explosive end to a quiet life. One moment, Aevor Vaelgorath was a knot of exhaustion in his chair, his body heavy with the residual fatigue of lack of sleep. The next, he was standing on cold stone, his memory a void, his soul ripped into a new, impossible vessel by an unseen force.
He gasped, the breath seizing in his throat.
He opened his eyes, and the world was a blinding, dizzying blur.
He was in a vast square, surrounded by towering, angular buildings. Everything was moving—not just quickly, but with a terrifying, liquid speed that strained his perception. The air was thick with a high-frequency roar, the sound of unimaginable motion compressed into a constant hum.
I don't know this place. That simple, lost thought was the only thing anchoring him.
The physical contradiction of his existence here—his Earth-based soul fighting a reality of absolute speed—forced a sudden, agonizing response. The unseen force that had brought him here had embedded a necessary power. A primal, survival instinct took over. Aevor commanded his essence to match the velocity.
A blinding, internal shockwave hit him. A flash of dark energy encased his silver hair. His body seized, and then his temporal frequency snapped into congruence with the environment.
The terrifying blur dissolved.
The world reformed, clear, sharp, and agonizingly normal.
The square was teeming with people—merchants, guards, and travelers—all moving, talking, and working at a pace that felt natural. Aevor was no longer a ghost; he was now operating at the world's pace. He ran a pale hand over his face, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd, trying to reconcile the impossible calm with the blinding terror he'd just experienced.
He was utterly lost, a new figure in an ancient, bustling city. He walked toward a woman tending a stall of vibrant, alien fabrics, his stride now perfectly matched to the flow of the citizens.
"Excuse me," Aevor asked, his voice now sounding clear and perfectly synchronized with the city's tempo. "Can you tell me where I am?"
The Merchant, a tall woman with sharp features, glanced at him with a flash of annoyance, seeing only an ordinary, easily confused traveler. "Lost, traveler? You're in a trade market. Pay attention."
Aevor pressed on, ignoring her dismissive tone. "No, the name. The city, the land?"
She sighed, a quick, efficient gesture. "This city is Veridian. And beyond the gates, that's just Eryndal. Now move along; you're blocking the flow of customers."
Veridian. Eryndal. A wave of cold realization washed over him. He was a foreigner in a place he shouldn't be able to perceive.
He looked past the woman, past the rapid motion of the crowd, to a colossal, gray mass rising at the edge of the horizon. It was silent, vast, and physically impossible, dominating the entire skyline.
Aevor pointed. "What is that structure?"
The Merchant paused, a flicker of automatic reverence and impatience in her eyes. "That? That's the Pillar of Stillness. It's the axis of the world. Keeps everything running right, they say." She then gestured upward, to the dark, layered sky that seemed to endlessly fold in on itself. "And above us, that's just the Celestium. Don't waste time looking up."
Pillar of Stillness. Celestium. Eryndal. He was a living contradiction in a world built on cosmic paradox.
Suddenly, a massive, armored man—a City Enforcer—slammed into Aevor as he passed. The impact, happening at their shared, impossible velocity, barely shook Aevor.
The Enforcer shot him a hard, impatient look. "Watch your lane, citizen! We don't tolerate delays!" The Enforcer instantly resumed his patrol, moving away with the same unnatural velocity.
Aevor was now a shadow, indistinguishable from the native life. The force that drew him hammered a cold, insistent directive into his mind: ASCEND.
He looked toward the silent, immense structure of the Pillar of Stillness. It was a command and a destination. Aevor Vaelgorath began his purposeful walk toward the Pillar, just another fast-moving figure in Veridian, his crimson eyes fixed on the paradox that held the key to his missing memories
Aevor stood before the nest, his gaze cold and analytical. The egg was massive, easily the size of a carriage, its shell shimmering with subtle shifts in color—pinks giving way to blues, blues to vibrant gold. He felt no wonder, only the necessity of assessing this new variable. He took a single, slow step closer, testing the limits of the small, sheltered space.
At that instant, the ambient light inside the cavern dimmed sharply, as though the Celestium had momentarily folded in on itself. The low, deep thrum of the Pillar intensified into a high-pitched, piercing whine that resonated directly within Aevor's skull, bypassing his ears entirely.
A shadow, immense and utterly definitive, fell across the cavern entrance.
The creature that appeared was a terrifying composite of power and wrath: a Dragon Hybrid, its body sheathed in scales of burnt obsidian, its vast wings webbed with pulsing, unstable light. Its eyes, twin suns of malevolent gold, instantly fixed on Aevor and then darted to the iridescent egg before settling back on the intruder with pure, unmitigated lethal intent.
The creature did not move; it simply attacked.
A devastating strike erupted from its maw—not a flame or a bolt, but an emerald lance of pure conceptual negation. This was not mere energy, but a localized field of un-making, capable of erasing anything it touched from existence, bypassing distance, dimensions, and all known barriers of reality.
The attack was absolute. It did not take a moment to reach Aevor; not even the concept of time could delay it, and the instant it was released, it was already upon him.
Aevor's analytical mind, devoid of any emotional reaction like fear or surprise, processed the threat with flawless, detached clarity. This was an inescapable hax—a conceptual weapon designed for total elimination.
At that infinitesimal fraction of an instant—the gap between the attack's launch and its contact—the unseen force spoke. It was not a voice, but a sudden, searing surge of power injected directly into Aevor's core, flooding him with a terrifying, absolute counter. The force had delivered his instruction: the ability Hyperion Mirror.
Aevor, with the cold precision of a mathematician, activated the ability. He could have preemptively activated it before the strike, yet he chose to wait for the point of contact.
The Hyperion Mirror didn't merely reflect the emerald blast. It instantly copied and perfected the attack's conceptual technique, transforming it into an even more devastating, infinitely amplified form.
With deliberate focus, Aevor sent back two perfected iterations of the strike alongside the original reflection, creating a three-pronged, multidimensional onslaught. The counter transcended all possible worlds and dimensions, leaving no possible counter or escape.
The Dragon Hybrid—the creature that had birthed the unstoppable attack—was utterly and instantly neutralized, erased from existence by the amplified, perfected essence of its own weapon. Where it had stood was only the impossible, featureless stone of the Pillar.
Aevor stood in the cavern, untouched. He felt no triumph, no relief, only a cold, hard accession: The Hyperion Mirror was now a permanent, mastered technique within him. Any assault aimed at him could now be turned into an infinitely scalable weapon.
The danger was neutralized. The cavern was silent once more, save for the faint, resonant thrum of the Pillar. Aevor looked at the spot where the entity had stood, then shifted his gaze back to the iridescent egg.
The immense kinetic exchange between the attack and its reflection had to have a consequence. Aevor focused his gaze, waiting for the Pillar or the unseen force to issue a new directive.
As he watched, a subtle, sharp sound finally pierced the deep thrum of the Pillar. A minute, spiderweb fracture appeared on the colossal iridescent egg. It pulsed once, twice, and the tiny crack began to glow with a sickly, vibrant yellow light.
The power of the Hyperion Mirror had not just eliminated the parent; it had irrevocably affected the offspring.
Aevor stood in the cavern, the immense spatial discharge from the Hyperion Mirror fading into the ambient thrum of the Pillar of Stillness. He felt no lingering adrenaline, no sense of accomplishment. The successful execution of the retaliatory technique was merely a data-point, confirming the unseen force had armed him with the necessary tool to ASCEND.
His crimson eyes remained fixed on the colossal, iridescent egg. The fragile shell, previously only shimmering, now held a distinct, glowing crack. The powerful kinetic exchange had irrevocably damaged the life support system of the organism within.
The crack deepened quickly, tracing a jagged line around the egg's circumference. The faint, internal light within the shell intensified, turning from subtle iridescence to a blinding, vibrant yellow.
Aevor's analysis was cold and swift: The incubation period was prematurely terminated. The being was about to emerge in a volatile state.
With a final, sharp crack, the top third of the colossal eggshell flew off, vaporizing instantly upon contact with the open air. A blast of heat, sharp and unstable, erupted into the cavern, momentarily disrupting the subtle flow of Veridian's velocity.
A tiny figure emerged from the remnants of the shell. It was a dragon, but incredibly small—no larger than Aevor's forearm. Its scales were the purest white, lacking the obsidian density of its parent. It looked utterly helpless, wet, and fragile amidst the monumental ruins of its nest.
The hatchling shook its head, letting out a pitiful, high-pitched squeak that was instantly swallowed by the Pillar's low-frequency hum. It was just a little white dragon.
The newborn creature finally lifted its head and opened its eyes. Where the parent had possessed malevolent gold, this creature's eyes were a shocking, delicate pink. Those tiny, pink eyes immediately locked onto Aevor.
A powerful, confusing wave of pure feeling slammed into Aevor's consciousness—a storm of biological confusion, hunger, and an intense, overwhelming attachment. The feeling was alien, terrifyingly warm, and wholly external to Aevor's own core of cold efficiency. The little white dragon was projecting its nascent emotions directly into his mind.
Aevor did not flinch, but his analytical focus sharpened. This creature was seeking a bond.
He took another step closer, his eyes scanning the cavern, the nest, and the surrounding environment for any threat to the vulnerable creature. The dragon, sensing the focus of the only other entity in its existence, immediately crawled forward, dragging its tiny body across the dark nest material until it pressed itself against Aevor's boot.
The instant the small, wet form touched Aevor's skin, the telepathic connection intensified. The dragon's chaotic emotions stabilized, focusing into a laser beam of absolute symbiotic possessiveness. A powerful, protective aura—invisible and conceptual—enveloped Aevor.
In that moment of contact, the unseen force spoke directly into Aevor's soul, not with a command, but with a revelation about the creature: It is a failsafe. A necessary component for the completion of your ascent. You require a bond to survive what is ahead.
Aevor understood. The dragon was a tool, a new variable, and now, a symbiotic necessity. He needed a designation for this essential component.
He looked down at the tiny white form, at the intensity of those startling pink eyes.
"Luna," Aevor stated, his voice flat, emotionless, and final. He bent down and, with precise, calculated movements, gently lifted the little white dragon, tucking the tiny, warm body securely against the smooth, silver scale of his neck, where the symbiotic aura was strongest.
With the necessary bond established and the new tool designated, the immediate objective remained.
The Pillar's deep, constant thrum was still present, and the ASCEND directive was still the highest priority. Aevor turned his attention away from the nest and began to methodically search the cavern walls. The Dragon Hybrid had been eliminated, but the Pillar still held its secrets.
As Aevor ran his hand along the impossible stone of the Pillar, the little dragon—Luna—burrowed deeper into his collar. Suddenly, a pulse of energy, amplified by the Symbiotic Amplification effect of their new bond, surged through Aevor's system. It was the residual energy from the Hyperion Mirror discharge—energy that was now redirected, focused, and perfected by Luna's presence.
Where Aevor's hand rested, the featureless gray stone of the Pillar rippled, not as a reflection, but as a door. A tear formed in the stone, revealing a vertical, spiraling tunnel that descended not into the earth, but into a deeper, unsettling darkness.
The Pillar had opened
Aevor stepped through the tear in the Pillar's stone. The spiral tunnel instantly plunged him into a dense, palpable silence, completely detached from the high-speed roar of Veridian. The Pillar, which had seemed so solid from the outside, felt like a sheer boundary enclosing a cosmic void.
The descent was quick. Aevor felt the strange, artificial gravity pulling him down through compressed layers of reality. His senses registered the subtle, chaotic energy of existence folding upon itself.
The tunnel spat Aevor onto a narrow, obsidian ledge. Below them stretched an abyss of profound conceptual terror: The Infinite Ocean.
It was a boundless expanse of liquid darkness, without surface or floor. It did not flow, nor did it ripple, yet Aevor could feel a terrifying internal dynamism.
"Ah, another adventurer come to play in the fiction."
The voice was thin, ancient, and dry, cutting through the heavy silence.
A figure was seated on a nearby boulder, legs dangling over the abyss. He was a wizened, skeletal man draped in robes that seemed woven from the black water itself. Unlike the citizens of Veridian, this figure moved with a slow, deliberate mastery.
"The citizens see this as a game," the old man continued, nodding toward the abyss with a dry chuckle. "They believe they are exploring a legend, like reading a thrilling book. They perceive the Pillar as a playground of impossible physics, a temporary break from their speed. They explore the 'myth' of the Infinite Ocean and leave, none the wiser."
The old man finally turned his sunken eyes to Aevor, his gaze sharp. "But you are not here to play, silver hair. You are here for the truth."
Aevor adjusted the tiny white dragon, Luna, nestled against his neck. Luna's symbiotic possessiveness was a continuous, warming pressure, her pink eyes still closed. Aevor registered the old man's words and the strange environment with objective clarity, needing only information.
"The environment does not follow the external laws," Aevor stated.
The old man smiled, a slow movement of stretched skin and bone. "Laws are irrelevant here. This abyss, the Infinite Ocean, is where Eryndal truly resides. Its waters do not flow, yet within them move atoms beyond concept or measure, unshaped by any law, beyond all dimension and causality."
He extended a spindly finger toward the liquid darkness.
"That water is not made of simple fluid. Inside every atom of this Ocean, infinite layers unfold. World within world, realm within realm. These layers do not end; they continuously rise into higher forms of reality. With every unfolding, something greater than all before comes into being, until even greatness itself ceases to have meaning."
He paused, letting the staggering concept settle.
"This Pillar is merely the shell. The Ocean is the core. And if you are here to ascend, you must navigate that cascade of unending creation."
Aevor's crimson eyes remained fixed on the old man. The objective was ASCEND. The path lay within the Infinite Ocean.
"How is ascent achieved?" Aevor demanded