In the endless darkness, nothing existed. A bundle of thoughts drifted in silence, suspended in an empty expanse with no sense of direction or distance, waiting for the moment it would finally leave this place.

Rhys had no idea how long he had remained like this. Time no longer carried meaning. He could not feel his body at all. There was no weight, no breath, no heartbeat.

Still, he held onto his patience, enduring the stillness the way a soldier held his ground on a battlefield, waiting for orders that never came.

With nothing else to do, he let his thoughts circle back through his life from the beginning. He revisited the choices he regretted, the moments of relief when he stood by the path he had taken, and the doubts that returned again and again, asking whether things might have changed if he had acted differently.

Each memory surfaced with sharp clarity, one after another, with no interruption.

He had too much time to think. After a while, even thinking lost its meaning, and boredom set in despite the lack of sensation.

"Having something to drink would be wonderful right now." The words carried no vibration, nothing more than a thought echoing through the emptiness, in a place where even the word 'void' had no meaning.

From there his mind drifted to alcohol. He began recalling recipes, familiar smells, sharp tastes, and the warmth that spread through his chest after a strong drink.

That was when he noticed something unexpected.

He remembered how much he had enjoyed mixing his favorite drink with the mutation serum and the red powder Adyr had given him.

He then started recreating the process in his mind, running through each step until he could almost see the colors blending and the textures shifting. Before long, experimenting with flavors inside his thoughts became a small but meaningful hobby in this forsaken place, something that cut through the monotony.

When that, too, started to lose its appeal, his focus shifted. He realized his imagination had improved significantly, so he began training in his mind.

He had nothing but his thoughts, yet they were enough. With no physical limits to restrain him, he replayed movements again and again, refining them through repetition.

Dagger work. Throwing. Hand-to-hand combat. He also tried weapons he had never cared for before, such as bows and axes, testing their balance and range in his mind alone.

His thoughts fed that inner world, sharpening it with each passing moment. He practiced, learned, and refined whatever he could, all to pass the time and keep his mind from sinking back into stillness.

Eventually, he began experimenting with drunken combat techniques. Using the imagination he had cultivated, he pictured himself dead drunk, a wine bottle in hand, swaying yet striking with surprising accuracy.

That was when something unexpected intruded upon his self-created world of thoughts.

"What in the hell is that?" Rhys stood in the open field beneath the clear sky, but his attention snapped to the horizon. Something had appeared there that did not belong to his thoughts.

Far in the distance stood a gate as massive as the sky itself, towering beyond any structure he had ever seen.

Within it stood a feminine, beautiful figure, but the radiance around it washed out every detail, leaving only a glowing silhouette.

Rhys glanced down at the wine bottle in his hand, feeling its imagined weight, and muttered with a frown, "Did I drink too much?"

He took another sip, imagining the familiar taste and the burn as it slid down his throat. When he turned around, he froze. Another gate stood on the opposite horizon, just as immense as the first.

This one felt different. Its details were still blurred to his eyes, or rather to his thoughts, but its color was unmistakable. It was completely black and deeply unsettling, absorbing light instead of reflecting it.

Rhys felt no discomfort. Instead, he found the sight entertaining. In a world shaped entirely by his imagination, encountering something unfamiliar was a welcome distraction from endless stillness.

He continued drinking his wine as the figures within the gates began to move, their forms growing clearer with each motion.

Two colossal figures raised their hands. One seemed to descend from the heavens, vast and luminous, radiating warmth and mercy. The other rose from the deepest underground, massive and shrouded in shadow, carrying terror and destruction.

Both palms turned toward him. Then two distinct auras burst forth, one white and one black, surging in unison and compressing the space around him as they closed in.

Rhys did not have time to react. In an instant, he was engulfed by the two energies, their opposing forces pressing in from all sides.

His imagined world collapsed without warning. The field, the sky, and the towering gates shattered like fragile glass. His body vanished along with the wine bottle, and everything fell back into the same empty nothingness as before.

When his thoughts gathered again, he slowly opened his eyes.

This time, he felt the weight of his eyelids and the resistance of his body answering him again. Light spilled into his vision, harsh and unfamiliar after the endless dark.

He looked up at the familiar ceiling. Its worn, stained surface felt like a memory from long ago, yet he recognized it instantly.

"So I'm back, huh?'' His mouth moved, and the sound reaching his ears confirmed it. His mind had returned to his body, here in the laboratory room.

Yet it was not only his mind that had returned. Something else had come back with him.

Transparent text hovered in the air before his eyes.

[Congratulations. The AXION Path has marked you as one of its followers.]

The system message alone was enough to leave him stunned. It was undeniable proof that Rhys had truly awakened as a Practitioner.

Still, something was wrong. His brow tightened.

The name of the Path was unfamiliar, something he had never encountered before.

The shock deepened when another message appeared, displaying the Path's description in the same transparent text.

—

[AXION]

-One of the lost Paths, created by the mortal Adyr Hellcraft.

-The first existence to find balance within imbalance, giving rise to the harmony of Black and White.

-It represents absolute equilibrium.

—

Rhys read the description carefully, then lifted a hand to his face and ran his fingers over his skin, checking for any sign of glass. He pressed a fingertip to his pupil as well, half-expecting resistance, as though a contact lens might be there.

"This isn't a joke?"

He was almost certain the researchers were messing with him, projecting fake system messages in front of his eyes while laughing as they watched his reaction.

But apparently it was real.

He slowly lifted his body from the table he had been lying on.

At first, his body refused to cooperate. It was unsteady, as though it had been without him for far too long. His legs trembled slightly as he stood, and he had to move carefully, letting balance return with each step.

Once he fully straightened, his vision steadied with him. That was when he noticed the figure lying on the ground in front of him.

Rhys recognized Adyr immediately. He was motionless, his two wings spread out to either side, their edges resting against the floor.

He jumped down from the operating table without hesitation.

As his feet hit the ground, his muscles failed him for a brief moment, and he nearly stumbled. He caught himself, then rushed forward and reached for Adyr's neck to check his pulse.

He was alive. The pulse beneath his fingers was strong and rapid.

Rhys lifted his head and scanned the room, trying to piece together what had happened while his mind had been absent.

The laboratory no longer looked the way it had before. Additional equipment filled the space now. Wires hung loose, metal surfaces were dulled, and everything was coated in layers of brown and orange rust.

No researchers were in sight, either.

"How long have I been sleeping?" he muttered, his brows drawing together.

Taking in the rust coating the room and Adyr's face, which now looked older, his features sharper and more worn, as if he had reached his 40s, Rhys began to think he had been asleep for decades.

He had good reason to think so. What he had experienced during his awakening felt like dozens of years passing, and the reality in front of him matched that sensation far too well.

Then the door to the room began to open. Metal scraped against metal as the door moved slowly, flakes of rust falling to the floor.

Moments later, researchers in full protective suits entered from outside, their figures bulky beneath layers of gear.

Rhys watched them, then focused on the woman who stepped forward.

He studied her face behind the visor, searching for something familiar, and let out a heavy sigh. "You must be Mara's granddaughter."

Dr. Mara and the researchers behind her stopped at once. They exchanged brief glances, trying to understand what Rhys's words meant.

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