Alistair stared at the crater in silence.
The stone at the bottom was still smooth. Cut cleanly. As if his Meteor Impact spell hadn't shattered terrain, but simply removed chunks from a pre-cut grid.
Even the fractures followed sharp angles.
"…This is ridiculous," he muttered.
That was a tier-five destructive weave. It should've splintered stone, scorched soil, … and instead it carved out a perfect box?
He stepped back, rubbing his temples.
"I need to regroup," he said aloud. "Figure out what the hell all this is."
His eyes turned toward the horizon—the direction of his arrival. That first patch of plains still tugged at him with a strange pull. He didn't know why, but it felt… stable. Familiar.
"Back to where I started."
He raised both hands.
Mana surged outward.
"Double Body Technique: Gravity Body."
A shimmer covered his frame, anchoring his weight, enhancing density.
"Gravity Release."
The opposing spell surged—cutting that weight and giving his core a floating channel.
"Speed Enchant: Applied."
His limbs vibrated with kinetic mana.
"Advanced Body Control: Full."
Muscle tension aligned with mental rhythm. Blood pressure, balance, ocular focus—all under will.
Then—
"Flight."
The moment the last command left his lips, his body shot into the air like a bolt. Wind howled past his ears as he cut through the sky, streaking over treetops and hill crests.
He grinned.
"No need to search anymore. I already confirmed—no one's out here."
His eyes scanned the landscape as he flew. Hills rolled like velvet below him. Trees gleamed in the soft morning light. The light here was unreal—vivid, layered. Almost like looking through enchanted crystal.
Then he saw it.
A patch of open land, brilliant with sunlight and blooming flowers. Gentle streams ran through the area, reflecting gold. Mana flowed through it—more gently than the rest.
"…There."
He descended, landing softly on the grass.
"Architect Magic," he said.
Lines of light traced beneath the surface. The debris from the earlier spell—burned logs, cracked stone—rose from the earth and hovered in formation. The materials rearranged themselves, following Alistair's intent.
Walls grew. Beams locked. A small, elegant house formed within minutes—wooden, refined, open-aired.
He stepped inside.
Sat down on a chair of freshly-formed oak.
"Open inventory," he said.
The interface appeared—flickering into reality with that same semi-transparent glow.
He smirked.
"This... is incredible. Casting magic like this—I'm still not used to it."
But something caught his eye.
The wood and stone he'd used to build the house? Gone.
Not reduced. Removed entirely.
"That explains it. I only used a handful of debris, but built a full home. It's because this world... compresses structure into minimal material slots."
His eyes narrowed, gaze drifting to the squared shapes.
"…And everything is made of cubes. Even the materials."
He opened the chest he'd carried from the ruin and began slotting things inside: ores, bones, that strange Fire Aspect II rune-book.
He held the book for a moment, brows lowering.
"When I touched this thing earlier, my mana started recovering…"
But now? Nothing.
He frowned.
"I'm holding it again—and my mana isn't regenerating."
He sighed and leaned back into the chair.
"Oh gods. Even I—a genius born once in a century—find this confusing."
Nothing matches.No arcane core logic. No stable framework. Nothing here is compatible with traditional magic.
But one thing still gnawed at him.
"The fire spell I cast… drawn from the magic I absorbed through this book—was stronger than normal."
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"I haven't slept in hours. I should make something to rest on."
He stood and stepped outside. A sheep grazed lazily nearby.
"I can't sleep on the floor."
He walked closer.
As he passed into a shaded spot under a tree, he paused.
A pulse.
His mana was regenerating.
"What?"
He held still. Focused.
The regeneration was real. Slow—but active.
"…So I recover mana in the dark?"
He thought back.
But during the battle… I was surrounded by night and still didn't recover.
His eyes drifted to the book in his hand.
"…It must be the trigger. Like the system only accepted me once I synced with it."
He turned to the sheep.
"No need to conserve mana anymore, then."
He raised one hand and cast:
Wind Element: Advanced Multi-Casting.
The air vanished from around the sheep in a perfect vacuum. No sound. No resistance. The creature dropped instantly.
"Clean."
He collected the wool. The meat. But he needed more.
He went out again—moving farther, hunting for food and materials. Another sheep. Then a cow. Another.
But then—he stopped.
Just beyond the slope—
A structure.
Obsidian stone. Ringed in red glowing dust.
Lava nearby. Cracked stone. A faint shimmer of magic hanging in the air like burnt incense.
His eyes narrowed.
"…That's not natural."
He stepped forward.
The obsidian structure loomed ahead, dark and geometric—arched like a gate, but incomplete. Chunks were missing from the frame, and the red dust circling it pulsed faintly like a heartbeat in stone.
"Obsidian," Alistair muttered. "Dense. Resistant. But more importantly…"
His eyes flashed faintly.
"…a natural conductor of high-tier teleportation magic."
He approached carefully, senses extended.
As he neared the base, his foot nudged something.
A chest.
Simple. Unlocked. Sitting beside the portal like it had always been there.
He opened it.
Inside were several golden tools—a sword, a pickaxe, a shovel, and scattered golden nuggets. Fragile materials, but heavily mana-reactive.
"Inventory transfer," he said.
The items shimmered and disappeared into his personal space with a soft pulse.
But something clung to the air.
Dark mana.
But not death-aligned… not necrotic.
It was thick and oppressive—yet hot. Alive. Moving. Like molten magic.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Not just ambient corruption… This is spatial flame."
He glanced again at the incomplete frame of obsidian.
Two blocks were missing from the vertical edge.
He reached back into his inventory—and there it was.
Two blocks of obsidian he'd found earlier in the ruin's chest. At the time, they'd seemed unremarkable, just heavy and inert.
He placed them carefully into the missing slots.
The moment the frame completed, something changed.
His dragon eye—flared on its own.
A ripple of heat surged through his skull.
He stepped back instinctively, eyes locked on the structure.
"…There's a connection here. Spatial gates… heat-linked?"
The obsidian pulsed.
He raised his hand.
Cast a basic Fire Rune. A small flame ignited at the tip of his finger.
"Let's test it."
He reached forward and touched flame to frame.
The reaction was instant.
VOOOM.
A vertical curtain of purple-blue energy snapped into existence, flaring with a deep, rumbling hum. The center of the structure now held a wall of swirling light—shifting, shimmering, almost liquid.
Alistair's eyes widened.
"A… portal?"
His heart skipped.
No rituals. No array. No anchors.
Just obsidian, mana, and fire.
He took a slow step closer. The air around the portal distorted slightly—warped by an intense magical field. Mana bled off it in waves, and he could feel the pull at his skin.
"…It's stable," he whispered. "And… leading somewhere."
He reached out.
Didn't touch it—not yet—but felt the pressure at his palm, like a breeze pulling inward.
And behind that pull—
Something vast.