Years passed in the blink of an eye, slipping by so quietly that even Axiros barely noticed their weight. Time had long become meaningless to him. He had spent far too much time living.
He was nearing ten now.
And with it, his Rite of Revelation drew dangerously close.
This stretch of years had been deceptively calm. No invasions. No entities peering through reality. No catastrophic anomalies that threatened to erase his existence. Yet Axiros trusted none of it. Calm, in his experience, was never kindness, it was merely preparation.
During this time, he had received two more gifts.
Both were wrong in ways that defied simple explanation.
The first was a ring.
It was plain to the point of insult. A smooth, featureless band with no visible engravings, gemstones, or craftsmanship to speak of. Anyone with even the faintest sense for treasures would have dismissed it as worthless.
Axiros did not.
The moment his gaze settled on it, the world around the ring felt… hesitant.
The laws in its vicinity did not bind to it. They circulated, like wary predators testing unfamiliar ground. Causality bent slightly inward. Spatial definitions softened, then reasserted themselves, as if reality itself were unsure how to classify the object.
Yet his mother had been completely oblivious.
To her, it was nothing more than a ring, perhaps one with a trivial enchantment, perhaps not even that. She had handed it to him casually, believing she was giving her son something modest, something harmless.
Axiros said nothing.
Some truths were better left unspoken.
The second gift unsettled him far more.
A perfect black cube.
No matter how long he stared at it, nothing revealed itself. There were no runes, no energy fluctuations, no distortions of space or time. Even its absence of presence felt deliberate, engineered. Light died upon its surface, swallowed without reflection.
When he had questioned his mother, she had only smiled, slow, knowing, unreadable.
"Figure it out yourself."
That was all she offered.
For the first time since his reincarnation, Axiros found himself genuinely blocked. His eyes told him nothing. His instincts found no purchase. The cube existed beyond categorization, beyond even suspicion.
And that terrified him.
He kept it close nonetheless, storing it with care, waiting. Some things were not meant to be understood immediately. Some things demanded time, or perhaps something far more costly.
Now, his tenth birthday was only days away.
The threshold he had been waiting for, the Rite of Revelation, stood just beyond reach. Whatever lay sealed within him, whatever truth his body and soul had been denying him, would soon be forced into the open.
His mother prepared for the occasion with excessive enthusiasm. Despite it being only the two of them, she planned a celebration bordering on absurd, lavish food, decorations, warmth filling every corner of the house. It was unnecessary.
But it was sincere.
Axiros watched quietly from the sidelines.
Outwardly calm. Inwardly coiled tight.
This Rite would answer everything.
Whether the system was salvation or surveillance.
Whether his body was a miracle or a curse.
Whether this world had claimed him, or merely borrowed him.
The waiting was almost over.
---
On his tenth birthday-
"Happy birthday, Axiros!" his mother cheered warmly as the small flame atop the candle flickered and went out with a soft hiss.
Axiros lowered his head slightly, the glow from the candle fading from his violet eyes.
"Thanks, ma…" he said, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before adding, "I have some questions."
Rachel paused. The smile on her face didn't fade, but her attention sharpened.
"What is it, son?" she asked gently, taking a seat across from him.
"Nothing bad," Axiros replied quickly, almost sheepish. "Just… questions about my Rite of Revelation."
The room went quiet.
Rachel blinked once. Then again.
"Who told you about that?" she asked, brows knitting faintly. "I don't remember ever bringing it up."
Axiros didn't miss the shift, subtle, but present.
"Uh… Uncle John," he said without hesitation. "Obviously. Who else would it be?"
Rachel studied him.
Not with suspicion, but with precision. She watched the muscles around his eyes, the micro-tensions in his jaw, the cadence of his breath. There was no distortion. No forced calm. No lie.
Nothing.
"…Alright," she finally said, exhaling softly. "If John told you, then I suppose it's fine."
She leaned back slightly.
"So," she continued, "what do you want to know?"
Axiros straightened. The childish ease vanished from his posture, replaced by something far too composed for a ten-year-old.
"When will it happen?" he asked.
"And where?"
Rachel smiled again, this time more fondly.
"Oh, honey. You don't need to worry about that. The Rite happens when you're ready, whether you know it or not. As for the place…" she tapped a finger lightly against the table, "…you won't have to go anywhere."
"You'll be summoned automatically."
Axiros nodded slowly.
"Don't worry if you won't be able to awaken Noevar. I reach out to Aetheris to help you awaken your Fluxia."
He already knew that.
But knowing and confirming were very different things.
What if the novel had lied?
What if details had been altered?
What if this world obeyed rules similar, but not identical, to the one he remembered?
Assumptions were deadly. Certainty was survival.
So he asked.
And he listened.
For now, that was enough.
Weeks passed in quiet anticipation as Axiros waited for his long-awaited Rite.
It never came.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Each time he felt a faint disturbance, he prepared himself, only for nothing to happen. The Rite demanded patience, and Axiros had learned long ago that impatience was a luxury for the weak.
If it wished to make him wait, then he would wait.
Three months after his birthday-
Axiros lay sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling, boredom gnawing at the edges of his mind. His thoughts drifted lazily when-
The air shifted.
It was subtle. Almost imperceptible.
But to him, it was deafening.
The fabric of energy twisted in on itself. Layers of reality overlapped, grinding together like misaligned gears. A faint crack rippled through existence, not enough for anyone else to notice, but more than enough for Axiros.
His eyes sharpened instantly.
"This is it."
He bolted upright.
"Mom!" he shouted, urgency bleeding into his voice. "Come quickly. This might be my last time seeing you for a few days!"
The space beside him folded.
Rachel appeared instantly, eyes already glowing faintly as she took in the distortions flooding the room. One glance was enough for her to understand.
"…Looks like someone's about to awaken," she said, forcing a light smile. "All the best, Axiros. Don't worry. Stay safe."
Her tone was calm. Reassuring.
But Axiros saw through it.
Behind the carefully crafted mask lay worry, raw and unhidden. The Rite of Revelation was never completely safe. Death was rare, but rare was not the same as impossible.
And this was her child.
"Alright then, ma," Axiros replied, smiling back despite everything. "See you soon."
Their gazes met for a brief moment.
She wanted to say more.
So did he.
But the world didn't give them the time.
The distortions intensified. The room stretched, colors bleeding into one another as space itself began to peel away.
Axiros didn't look back.
He had already made his choice long ago.
With a final, violent churn of the energy field, Axiros vanished.
Not teleported.
Not displaced.
He simply ceased to exist, as though he had never been there at all.
The room fell silent.
Rachel stood still for a long moment, staring at the empty space where her son had been only seconds ago. The residual distortions faded, reality knitting itself back together as if nothing had happened.
"…Be safe, son," she whispered.
Then she turned and walked downstairs once more, her steps slow, her expression unreadable.
---
Axiros opened his eyes.
He stood in a world of absolute black.
No sky.
No ground.
No horizon.
It felt eerily familiar, like the void he had once been trapped in during another life.
Yet this place was different.
The void had been empty, barren, truly nothing.
This place, however, was full.
Not of matter.
Not of energy.
But of presence.
Something permeated the darkness, dense and watchful, as though the space itself was aware of him. It pressed in from every direction, not hostile, but not welcoming either.
Axiros exhaled slowly.
"This isn't the void," he murmured.
It didn't respond.
But he knew, with absolute certainty-
He had arrived somewhere else entirely.
He tried to move.
He couldn't.
Something restrained him, not chains, not force, but a conceptual bind that held him in place. He was suspended within the endless blank, unable to step forward, unable to retreat.
Time became meaningless.
Minutes passed.
Hours slipped away.
Days stretched into weeks, only to collapse back into nothing.
Or perhaps none of it happened at all.
The concept of time simply did not exist here.
Axiros didn't bother counting. He didn't struggle either. The silence was serene, almost comforting. It reminded him of the void, but without its crushing despair.
This place did not seek to erase him.
He knew, with quiet certainty, that he wouldn't be trapped here the way he had been before.
Someone, or something, had intervened back then.
He still didn't know who.
Or what.
But whoever it was, he was thankful. That much was undeniable. He had been given time. Time to think. Time to question himself without fear of annihilation.
What had truly saved him?
Was it a friend, or a future enemy merely delaying his end?
An entity with hidden motives?
Or something even more absurd-
The author of this world.
Its creator.
Was that being an ally? Or just another observer playing with fate?
His reincarnation was not a mistake. That much, he was certain of.
The questions came one after another, relentless, sharp, like a barrage of bullets tearing through his thoughts.
He questioned himself.
Again.
And again.
Until-