Kyomu opened his eyes slowly.
The first thing he noticed was the ceiling.
It was wooden—old, cracked, and unfamiliar. Thin beams ran across it, uneven and darkened by age. This was not his room. Not even close.
He inhaled sharply.
The air felt different. Thicker somehow… yet cleaner. It carried the scent of wood, ash, and something faintly metallic.
Kyomu tried to move—and froze.
This body responded too easily.
His limbs felt lighter. Younger. When he lifted his hands into view, they were smaller, paler, with faint scars he didn't recognize.
"…This isn't me," he whispered.
The voice that came out was not his own.
---
Panic rose in his chest, but before it could take control, something familiar stirred.
A faint shimmer.
His Aether.
It was still there—weak, unstable, but undeniably his. The Flicker survived death itself.
Kyomu sat up, heart pounding, scanning the room. It was small and sparsely furnished: a narrow bed, a wooden table, a cracked mirror leaning against the wall. Sunlight slipped through a single window, illuminating floating dust particles.
Then he felt it.
A pressure beyond the room.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Watching.
Sentinel.
---
Kyomu pressed a hand to his chest. This body's heartbeat was steady, but beneath it, his Aether trembled—reacting to something far greater than itself.
You have crossed worlds, the voice echoed softly in his mind.
This body is your vessel.
This world is your trial.
Kyomu swallowed.
"So I really died…" he muttered.
Fragments of memory surfaced—not his own.
A name.
A cold winter.
Hunger.
Fear.
This body belonged to someone else.
Someone who had already reached the end.
---
Kyomu stood and approached the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was unfamiliar: a young boy, slightly thinner than he had been before, with dark hair and eyes that looked too calm for someone his age.
But when he met his own gaze, something else stared back.
Awareness.
Experience.
Death.
"I'll live," Kyomu said quietly. "For both of us."
At that moment, a sharp wave of dizziness hit him. His Aether flickered violently, reacting to the world around him.
This place was saturated.
Aether existed here naturally.
Not dormant.
Not rare.
This world was built for power.
---
Outside the room, footsteps approached.
Kyomu stiffened.
His Aether dimmed instinctively, pulling inward. He didn't know the rules here yet. Didn't know who this body belonged to—or who might be dangerous.
The door creaked open.
A woman stepped inside, her expression tired but gentle. When she saw Kyomu standing, her eyes widened slightly.
"You're awake," she said softly. "I was afraid we'd lost you."
Kyomu said nothing.
He simply watched.
Listened.
Learned.
Because one truth was already clear:
This second life would not be easier than the first.
And somewhere in this world, Sentinel was waiting.