Kelly felt like she was drowning, lungs burning, the weight of water pressing down on her chest. It was like trying to claw her way out of a nightmare while fighting against that stubborn, invisible pull that wanted to drag her back under.
She pushed harder, reaching for the surface with every ounce of will she had left, chipping away at the suffocating wall bit by bit, until, at last, her breath tore free.
Her eyes snapped open, dragged wide by the sudden rush of consciousness. Air filled her lungs in steady, greedy gulps as she lay there, disoriented, her head still buzzing from the trial that felt too real to be just a dream.
The cave around her slowly came into focus, the jagged walls glowing faintly with scattered lights. Beside her was the bag Aurelia had given, its contents spilled across the rocky floor like a careless offering. Among the mess lay Jayden's sword, the steel catching the glow of the cave, glistening like it had been waiting for her.
Funny, she had almost forgotten about it. Ironic, really, considering how desperately she'd clung to it at the start, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
But now… now something else stole her attention.
A feeling. One she knew faintly, but this time it hit her with such raw intensity it nearly stole the breath she'd just won back.
Kelly felt strong. Ridiculously, impossibly strong.
The sensation flooded her veins, wild and electric, like life itself had been poured back into her. She rose to her feet without thinking, and the ground cracked beneath her with the simple act of standing. Power hummed in her body, sharp and clear, as though she had stepped into a new version of herself—higher, brighter, reborn.
Even the world felt different. For the first time, she could hear the faint howls of the sandstorm raging outside, each whisper of wind threading its way into her sharpened senses.
Of course, nothing could compare to the overwhelming power she'd felt when wearing Ritrea's body. But this—this was different. This strength was hers, through and through. It resonated with every fiber of her being. It didn't feel foreign, didn't feel borrowed. It felt right. Like this was how she was always meant to exist.
Kelly raised her hand, and the air answered. Cosmic Dust spiraled after her movement, leaving a trail of soft, purple sparks that shimmered in the dim light. Yet something was different. The dust wasn't just following her—it was singing.
For the first time, she felt it. A subtle emotion radiating from the glowing specks that danced around her palm, like tiny stars rejoicing at her touch. It felt… happy. As if the dust itself wanted her to know how much her presence meant to it, how much it delighted in simply being near her.
Kelly drew in a deep breath, her chest tightening with wonder as she tried to make sense of it all. Her mind flicked back to the trial, searching for the reason behind this surge of strength. But something was off. Not wrong, exactly—just strange.
The memories she'd absorbed, whether from Ritrea or the phantoms Arvon had conjured, were gone. Wiped clean, like they'd never existed at all. She didn't care much for their weight, but they had been useful—a cheat code of knowledge crammed into her head. And right now, for someone thrown headfirst into a supernatural storm only days ago, that kind of advantage was the last thing she wanted to lose.
Kelly sighed, accepting the loss with a shoulder-roll of resignation. "Hey, system," she called, trying to keep the bite out of her voice even though she was annoyed. In every book she'd read, systems always pop up right at the beginning of the protagonists story. Her system, of course, chose the perfect moment—right after she'd already embarrassed herself multiple times!
There was definitely something wrong with this plot!
"Can you, like, let me access my strength? My status screen? Whatever those novels call it," she asked, half-curious, half-exasperated.
A familiar blue panel blinked into being, its glow pulsing like a sulking child.
Kelly rolled her eyes so hard she felt it in her skull. "Okay, whatever. Seriously—stop acting like an overgrown toddler and just show the damn status screen. I hope you aren't normally talkative, because it's going to become a little irritating with you yapping in my head all the time."
The pulsing quickened, like the system was silently cursing her, but it still brought up the glowing panel in front of her.
Kelly gawked at the screen, jaw slack. Peak of Dust Initiate? That was… insane. But her shock didn't last long, because the system's little "remark" smacked her right in the face. Her eyebrow twitched violently.
She was starting to wish the damn thing had a body—just so she could beat it senseless.
Her gaze flicked back to the error-riddled screen. "Hey, system," she said, voice sharp with confusion, "why the hell are my talent and physique tabs glitching out like that? Don't tell me you're already this bad at such a simple job!"
The system gave her nothing but silence. The panel flickered and winked out, like it couldn't even be bothered.
Kelly groaned, throwing her hands up. "Oh, come on! At least give me a proper introduction or a tutorial or something! You can't just ghost me like this—you live in my head!"
Again, nothing. No panel, no snarky remark. Just silence—like the system had stomped off to sulk in some invisible corner.
Kelly sighed. Great. Not only did her system show up late, it also came with the personality of a spoiled child. As if her life wasn't already bad enough, now she had to babysit a glorified voice-in-her-head with sweet words just to get it to cooperate.
Still, she couldn't shake the sense that the system was a prize. Something handed to her for surviving what no one else had. A gift from the trial itself. The thought brought Aurelia to mind, that unstable girl and her talk about finding some soul flower. What was she even thinking? How could Aurelia be so sure the flower was here, when nobody had ever made it back alive? The giant lizard hadn't lied—that much Kelly was sure of. Which meant Aurelia was either misinformed… or plain crazy.
"Wait," Kelly muttered, glancing around. "How do I even get out of here?"
Last time, the cave she'd sheltered in had collapsed around her, forcing her to flee. But this one stayed solid, unmoving—proof she had passed.
Sure enough, a glowing interface flickered into being. The one she already knew too well. Her oh-so-reliable system, finally deciding to grace her with its presence.
"Wow, what a life-changing choice," Kelly muttered, sarcasm dripping. She jabbed at Yes without hesitation.
But the second her finger confirmed it, her eyes widened. "Wait—the sword, the bag—"
Too late. Her body shimmered, turning hazy and unreal, and in the next breath, she was gone.
***
When Kelly reappeared, still a little dizzy from the teleportation, her eyes blinked open to a scene she knew all too well. Ancient ruins stretched around her, their broken remains drifting weightlessly in the air as if gravity itself had given up. The ground beneath her was charred black, scorched so deeply that even the sand crumbled into ash.
She lifted her gaze—and met those eyes. Eyes that had once regarded her with cold disdain. Now, they carried something different. Respect, begrudging but real. Curiosity. And beneath it all… something hungrier. A hunger that made her stomach twist, though she told herself it was only her instincts playing tricks.
But there was one thing that had changed. The fear was gone. Completely.
Arvon's soul art hadn't just scarred her—it had burned the fear right out of her, snuffed it out with pain so brutal there wasn't even ash left behind. And for that, strangely enough, she was grateful. It left her sharper, steadier, and more determined than ever to destroy him.
Myrrhvalen laughed. Not the echoing, phantom laughter in her mind she had heard before—but with his own mouth. And the sound shattered the world.
The air exploded into motion. Winds howled, pulling chunks of rock and ruin into a frenzy, spinning them so fast they blurred into streaks. Stone after stone shattered apart, only to reform into even larger fragments—colossal slabs of earth a thousand times her size—until millions of them churned through the sky, caught in the spiraling tornadoes that bloomed from his laughter alone.
And yet, the platform beneath Kelly's feet stayed untouched. Not a pebble shifted. A sanctuary in the chaos—because the beast wanted it that way.
"Hahahaha!" Myrrhvalen laughed, the sound rolling across the ruined sky. "Oha—hahaha!"
Kelly watched in numb disbelief, wiping the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her sleeve. His voice was wrong in the gut—like rot given speech, an oily thing trying to crawl into her bones.
"Finally—the perfect meal! The perfect buffet!" the beast crowed, tongue unfurling so long it seemed to slice the horizon.
"Don't worry, human," he bellowed, voice oily with glee. "After I eat you and savor the sweetness of your soul, you'll get to live inside me—digesting comfortably as my meal! Be proud. You are the key that will push me to the summit of power. Hahaha! The sight of you makes me ravenous. Come, deliver yourself to the glory of my jaws!"
Kelly didn't flinch. Her expression was flat, cold—half amusement, half scorn. "Oh, I'm truly honored," she said, voice clipped and dry. "To be chosen for the royal feast by Lord Myrrhvalen himself. Tell me, your majesty—what made a repulsive thing like me suddenly so… edible?"
The grin that split his face was worse than any roar. He looked delighted—pleased at the humility of his prey. "The Eternis Sphere, human," he said, each word a drooling promise. "Its aura has flavored your soul into something exquisite—mouthwatering. I have waited thousands of years for this taste. Thousands of years watching fools fail to bring it back. Now… now I can leave this place after I feast on you!"
A blue panel snapped into being before Kelly, its interface flashing so brightly the light felt urgent.
Myrrhvalen's eyes narrowed. "I sense what you are trying, Eternis," he said, each word like grinding stone. "I have spent hundreds of thousands of years trying to break the Eternal Lord's hold over me. For how can I ascend to immortality while bound by chains. How can I become a god while bowing my head to another. My loyalty will be to no one but myself, for this is my pride!"
Kelly's gaze never left the interface. She let a bitter little smile curl at the edge of her mouth. "Seriously. How do you even run from that?" She turned to the beast, hardened now, and stretched out her right hand. Cosmic Dust unfurled from her palm, scattering bright like a handful of stars.
"I hope," she said, a grin creeping across her face despite everything, "you give me a fight worth remembering, giant lizard."
For the first time, something like shock flitted across the Beast's face. The air held its breath—stone-still for a few heartbeats—then Myrrhvalen's voice rolled out, curious where anger might have been expected.
"Human," he rumbled, voice low and almost amused, "a single breath from me would vaporize you—no flesh, no ash left to mourn. What makes you think you'll remember a fight that never happens? You will be dust before it begins."
I'd rather die fighting than rot like a dog," Kelly said, voice steady. "So what if you're stronger? So what if I'm foolish enough to throw myself at you? That's my choice — a stupid one, maybe, but I will do it again without regret. You have your pride. I have mine. So pick yourself up giant lizard, and stop being a coward!" Her aura flared, tiny and fragile against the being looming above her. She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and called the Cosmic Dust to her.
A brilliant mist of purple spun up around her. The dust danced like living embers, bathing her in a glow so strange and beautiful she looked otherworldly—profane and holy at once, the sort of sight that made people want to avert their eyes and kneel at the same time.
Kelly smiled with her eyes shut, warmed by a happiness that wasn't just in her chest but in the marrow of her bones. The Cosmic Dust whispered around her, small voices of light telling her they loved being near her, that she made them sing.
They wanted more. They wanted movement. Kelly let herself fall into it—one step, another, a slow, trance-like dance that was part ritual, part surrender. Her motions were fluid and precise, like paint coming alive: graceful, dangerous, impossible to look away from.
Myrrhvalen watched in stunned silence. For the first time, something like reluctance flickered across his ancient face. He had waited centuries for this moment; empathy had little room in a being forged by millennia of hunger. Still, seeing her there—a tiny human wrapped in light—made him hesitate, if only for a heartbeat.
Myrrhvalen held back, for now—out of a strange sort of honor. He respected the human's choice to give everything. But watching Kelly dance with the Cosmic Dust—watching the impossible swell of life around her—something in him snapped. Instinct roared to kill her, to end this aberration before it could fully bloom. And that was because for a moment he felt his blood boiling, compelling him to bow!
Kelly kept moving. The Cosmic Dust moved with her—an impossible, hypnotic duet. Then the dust began to change. The purple sparks thickened, folding into thousands of tiny butterflies, each wing patterned differently, each one a living shard of light. They rose and swarmed, forming a storm that wrapped around her in a living halo.
Her hair shifted, strands of black melting into glossy purple that caught the light like polished glass. Her irises brightened to the same fierce violet, and her skin took on a luminous, jade-like sheen, healthy and new as if she'd been remade from the inside out.
"Impossible," Myrrhvalen rasped, disbelief and something like fury curdling his voice. "You turn the universe's energy into life—you are no anomaly, but an abomination!" His words trembled with murderous intent and a wariness that betrayed his own fear.
Kelly didn't hear him. She was still inside the trance, reborn beneath the cyclone of Cosmic Dust. Myrrhvalen had waited long enough. The human was strange. She was dangerous.
Every minute she stayed alive braided itself into his fear—not of who she was now, but of what she could become if she ever left this place. The human had to die. Now.
He narrowed his eyes and decided to give her a death worthy of a legend. Rather than end her with a blink or a breath, he lifted his hand—an open palm vast enough to blot out a third of the sky—and brought it down.
"Human, there is no greater glory than to be my nourishment. Accept your fate," Myrrhvalen intoned, his palm arcing toward the earth.
Only it never landed.
Time stuttered. At least it did for him. He couldn't move, couldn't speak; every sense burned with the certainty of being trapped in a moment that belonged to someone else. The girl still danced somewhere a few kilometers away, light and careless, while everything around him sat, frozen. He wrestled at invisible bonds and felt only the futility of rage—small and ridiculous before whatever had reached into the world and paused it.
Then the void answered.
A boy stepped through as if he were wandering into a room rather than interrupting a god. His shirt was white and every button left undone; his hair was the color of winter, his eyes the red of hot glass. He smiled the kind of lazy, harmless smile that made strangers let their guard down.
Myrrhvalen's instincts screamed otherwise. The boy gave off no obvious aura, no thunder of power—only a silence that screamed at the monster to look away, to run, to pretend he hadn't seen.
The boy spared a glance for the dancing girl, his grin widening like a small, casual miracle. Then he turned to Myrrhvalen. The smile slipped off his face so cleanly and fast the beast felt a blade settle on its throat; the cold dread that had been simmering inside him curdled into pure terror.
"Tell me, beast," he said, voice casual, bored even. "Do you want me to kill you myself, or will you be kind enough to save me the trouble? Don't get me wrong—I prefer the first. It'll be slow. Cruel. Painfully memorable, even after you're finished."
Myrrhvalen shuddered.