Sylas stepped through the portal—and for a brief moment, there was nothing. No weight, no sound, no sense of up or down. Just a blank, empty pause, like everything had been cut out all at once.
Then—his eyes opened.
Light hit him immediately, harsher than before. Not blinding, but enough to make him squint as his vision slowly adjusted. The blur faded in pieces, shapes forming where there had been nothing a second ago.
This wasn't the Sky Realm anymore. The soft white clouds, the calm, endless blue—they were gone.
What replaced it felt… wrong.
The sky above him was a dull, washed-out yellow, uneven and slightly murky, like it had been sitting under layers of dust for years. There weren't any real clouds—just a thin haze that dulled the light instead of reflecting it. It didn't feel open. It felt heavy.
Below him, the ground stretched out in every direction, cracked and uneven, like it had been baked dry over and over again until it finally gave out. Large plates of earth overlapped each other at awkward angles, some slightly raised, others sunken just enough to trip over if you weren't paying attention. It didn't look natural—more like something that had been worn down slowly, without ever getting the chance to recover.
The air shimmered faintly in the distance. Heat—not the kind that burned right away, but the kind that lingered, sitting on your skin, seeping in little by little. It blurred the horizon just enough to make everything feel farther away than it actually was.
Dust moved with the wind, thin trails of it sliding across the ground, never really settling. There was no sound to it—just motion.
No trees. No water. No signs that anything had ever lived there. Just empty land that didn't seem to end.
Sylas took a slow breath, letting it out just as quietly. "…So this is where I ended up." His voice didn't carry far. The air swallowed it almost immediately.
He shifted his footing slightly. The ground dipped under him without warning, uneven enough that he had to adjust his balance without thinking. Even standing still took more attention than it should've—there wasn't a single flat stretch in sight.
After a moment, his attention dropped to his hands. They looked… off. Smaller than they should've been.
Sylas turned them over slowly, flexing his fingers once, then again, watching the movement carefully. Everything responded the way it should, nothing felt stiff—but they weren't the same hands he was used to. Lighter. Less defined.
He raised one hand to his head, catching a strand of hair and pulling it down into view.
Crimson.
The color stood out immediately against everything else.
He stared at it for a second before letting it slip through his fingers. "…Right."
It didn't take much longer for things to connect. Bits and pieces of memory surfaced—half-forgotten conversations, random mentions of stories he'd never really paid attention to. People dying, waking up somewhere else, starting over with something extra.
A second chance.
He closed his eyes, briefly recalling the document the old man had shown him.
[Name: Sylas Ichor]
[Race: Fanalis — a body built for strength and speed, capable of explosive movement and physical force well beyond normal limits]
[Ability: Esper — a form of mental control, allowing him to move and apply force to objects through focus]
[Age: 10 years old]
"…Not the best draw," he murmured as his eyes opened again. "But it's enough."
There had been better options. He just hadn't had the points for them.
As that thought settled, something else followed.
It wasn't like remembering. It didn't come in fragments or flashes. It just… appeared—clean, complete, and already understood.
Sylas stilled slightly.
The information didn't feel foreign. It didn't clash with his own thoughts or push against them. It settled in naturally, like it had always been there and he was only now noticing it.
A name surfaced first.
The Demon Continent.
This time, it didn't feel like a guess.
It felt certain.
Along with it came a rough understanding—not detailed, not complete, but enough. A place known for being harsh, unstable, difficult to survive in. A place people avoided unless they had a reason not to.
Sylas's gaze shifted across the horizon again, slower this time.
The land matched what he now knew. The dryness, the uneven ground, the empty distance—it wasn't random. This was just how this place was.
"…Yeah," he muttered quietly. "That lines up."
More followed. Not overwhelming—just enough to be useful.
Language, for one.
He recognized it the moment he thought about it. The structure of it, the way words should sound, how meaning was formed—it was all just… there. Not something he learned, but something placed into him.
Sylas exhaled lightly. "…That saves time."
He didn't question where it came from.
He already knew.
The old man. This was part of it. A quiet form of compensation.
He lifted a hand slightly, angling it to block some of the light as he looked ahead again. The heat was still there, pressing against his skin—but it didn't wear him down the way it should've.
That, too, made sense now.
After a second, he lowered his hand and glanced at it again, turning it slightly before closing it into a loose fist. He held it there for a moment, then let it relax.
"…Alright."
His attention shifted to a small rock a few feet away. Nothing special—just loose enough to move.
He raised his hand slightly and focused.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the rock shifted.A small tremor at first, barely noticeable—like it was reacting to something he couldn't see. Sylas narrowed his eyes slightly, keeping his focus steady.
"…There it is."
The rock lifted slowly, dragging itself free before rising into the air. It hesitated for a moment, as if resisting, then steadied as it reached about chest height. It hovered there, a slight wobble running through it.
Sylas held it in place, watching closely.
The feeling wasn't physical. There was no strain in his arms, no tension in his body. It was something else—like holding pressure in place without touching anything, like maintaining control over something just outside of reach.
He let a few seconds pass.
Then a few more.
"…Not bad."
He moved his hand slightly, guiding the rock forward. It followed, drifting away from him while staying suspended. The farther it went, the more focus it took to keep steady—but it held.
Sylas adjusted, tightening that control just enough.
"…Let's see."
The rock began to shake.
At first, it was subtle—small vibrations running through it. Then it grew more uneven, the movement becoming sharper as he pushed harder.
He shifted his focus, not just holding it up anymore, but pressing inward—
Crack.
The sound cut cleanly through the silence.
A fracture split across the surface, followed by another. The rock broke apart, uneven pieces dropping back to the ground a moment later.
Sylas watched them fall.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "That takes more."
He glanced toward a larger stone nearby—heavier, more solid—and focused again.
It moved.
Barely.
"…Not enough."
He pushed harder, forcing more into it. The stone lifted slightly—just enough to clear the ground—
Then the strain hit.
Fast. Sharp enough to break his concentration immediately. His control slipped, and the stone dropped with a dull, heavy thud.
Sylas let out a quiet breath, rolling his shoulder once as the tension faded.
"…Alright. That's the limit for now."
He gave it a few seconds. Whatever that strain was, it didn't linger. His focus cleared quickly.
"…Good to know."
After a moment, he straightened.
"Physical next."
He adjusted his footing, setting himself more carefully against the uneven ground.
Then he bent his knees slightly, preparing himself.
And jumped.
The force hit instantly.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he pushed off, and he shot upward far faster than he expected. The distance opened beneath him in an instant, the sudden height throwing off his sense of balance for a split second—
Then he started falling.
He landed a moment later, cleanly, his body adjusting on its own as if it already knew how to handle it.
Sylas stayed still for a second after landing.
Then he exhaled.
"…Okay."
He glanced back at where he'd taken off from, noting the cracks spreading outward from the point of impact.
Then his gaze dropped to his legs.
"…That's at least ten feet."
He paused briefly.
"…Probably more."
He looked up again, scanning the empty stretch ahead.
Still nothing.
No movement. No sound. No change.
Just that same endless, broken land.
Sylas shifted his weight slightly, steadying himself.
"…Alright."
A quiet breath left him as his gaze settled forward.
"…One step at a time."