Yuri floated, a speck of consciousness adrift in the void, suspended before a wheel of impossible scale. It was a cosmic mechanism, vast and endless, carved from the bones of eternity itself.
It was fashioned of no substance known to man. Its form shimmered with translucent colors that shifted like breath caught between dreams. The spokes turned with an infinite, silent slowness, meeting no resistance. Along its rim, ancient runes—not of Earth or memory, but inscribed in the very DNA of souls—danced and pulsed with a life of their own. They judged, they measured, but they ignored him. That was what made his soul quiver.
Why is it not judging me? he thought, a drop of ink in a sea of light. Is it… waiting? Or has it already seen all it needs to?
The void around him swirled with latent energy. And there, behind the wheel, a being watched. A lion-headed colossus, its golden mane a cascade of solar flares, its body a tapestry of stars and seething cosmic flesh, sinews woven from galactic dark matter. It stood mountain-tall, layered in constellations and veins of celestial fire. Before it, Yuri was less than an insect—a fleeting thought, a whisper.
And it was staring directly at him.
Not with malice, nor with kindness, but with a depth of scrutiny that felt foundational, like a scholar examining a curious fragment in the dust of time. Yuri felt his soul buckle under the gaze, the weight of reality itself pressing down. If thoughts could sweat, he would be drowning.
It sees everything. I'm being watched by a breathing law of nature…
The astral lion tilted its immense head, as if receiving a silent command from the void. Without a sound, it raised a hand large enough to cradle moons and gestured.
A force, unseen and irresistible, took hold of Yuri. It pulled not at a body, for he had none, but at the core of his soul. He floated upward—or perhaps downward—drawn toward a shimmering stairway of astral light that curled through the emptiness like a staircase grown from dreams. His soul alighted on the first step, landing with a gentle weight. Each step resonated with meaning, the echoes vibrating through him like the notes of a forgotten song.
Then—he arrived.
The stairway ended at a vast, luminous plane, limitless and serene. Yet Yuri felt smaller than ever before.
I'm a sinking boat on an endless ocean.
He stood on a platform of shimmering dreamlight, surrounded by the silence of stars, and faced the thrones. Three of them.
Before him, two immense figures stood flanking a seated presence whose aura eclipsed them both. The male radiated a calm danger, his beauty divine and cold, his eyes twin shards of supernovas. The female stood like a swan amidst burning stars—her beauty unfathomable, her eyes holding both gentleness and judgment, her form blurring the line between art and deity.
Even Yuri, who had witnessed the crafted perfection of celebrity idols, could only think, They are more beautiful than any being I have ever seen. The gods of stories would envy them.
And yet, they paled before the one enthroned between them.
A crowned astral goddess.
Her legs were crossed in effortless sovereignty, a posture that did not need to command because it inherently ruled. Her form was adorned with veils of swirling, kaleidoscopic light—colors no human eye could name. Her face was obscured, not hidden, by that same power—an astral shimmer that pulsed with life and law. Through the veil, two eyes gazed down upon him, piercing and ancient, like the first dawn given form.
Yuri was paralyzed.
Then, a voice—no, a presence—filled his mind like liquid lightning.
"So, you are a Velurian."
The voice was layered, female and more, both one and many, ancient as aeons and young as new light. It made Yuri's soul vibrate, his thoughts stutter. He did not know the word "Velurian," and yet… it tugged at something buried deep within him, a seed of memory from beyond even life.
"It has been long since I have seen one. Your internal spirit… it is grand. Very grand indeed. I know your true identity now. I could unmake you, boy. Your existence, even here, is a threat to me."
Yuri flinched.
"But you are here. And if you are here, then the Order has willed it. Even I, in all that I am, am bound by its summons."
Velurian. Threat. Order. The words echoed in the hollows of his being. Why did his soul quiver with a sense of recognition?
"I sensed the Order's call. Your presence confirmed it. You are the reason I was summoned. So, I will give you a choice."
The goddess paused. She didn't blink. She didn't need to.
"Become one… but many. One of the Blades—my subjects scattered beyond the worlds. They act when I command. They serve the laws of my astral plane."
Yuri's lips—or the memory of them—parted to speak, but no sound emerged.
The crowned goddess continued, her voice now echoing directly within the sanctum of his thoughts. He gasped, bewildered by the intimacy of it.
She's speaking inside my mind…
"You are no longer flesh. This is your soul." Her tone softened slightly, its weight like velvet against his consciousness. "You wonder why I call you 'boy'… though you lived forty-six years. You are soul now. Your age in flesh is irrelevant here. You will return to a younger state. That is the way of reincarnation."
Yuri's mind began to drift, imagining the sensation of youth…
A look from the male astral being on her right snapped him back to attention. It was not angry, but it was a stern, cosmic warning.
The crowned goddess offered something like a smile. She was not offended. She had seen his distraction, read his wandering thoughts like open scrolls, and found them amusing.
"You will reincarnate into a world of mana—a place where power flows through the essence of being. There, your soul will be granted a Mana Soul."
Yuri blinked, if such a thing were possible for a soul.
"Your task is to investigate a disturbance. Something… not of that world. A power that abuses nature, corrupting it. It reeks of the extraterrestrial—that which defies my plane and the Order itself."
Yuri finally found his voice. "I… Wait, how will I know when I've found what I'm looking for?"
The goddess was already raising a single, elegant finger.
She pointed.
From her fingertip, threads of astral light—thin, infinite, weaving through unseen dimensions—shot toward him. They struck his soul not with violence, but with a warm, inexorable force. Behind him, a portal tore open—a vast, circular gateway filled with spinning layers of starlight and fate.
He began to drift backward.
"No—wait!" he cried out, his voice swallowed by the void. "When will I know I've—"
The portal pulled him. Faster. Stronger. Resistance was a concept for the world of flesh; here, a god's command was gravity itself.
As the edges of the portal began to seal, he caught one final glimpse of her.
The crowned astral goddess.
Still seated.
Still watching.
And now, unmistakably smiling.
That same amused look glittered in her veiled eyes, as if she already knew every twist of the path ahead—and all that Yuri was destined to become.
Then, all light vanished.