Won was drowning. His eyes were closed. His thoughts drifted. He let himself sink into the sensation of it all. It was peaceful. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this calm. Every time after he had a meal? No, those feelings were not like this.
Usually, the moment he finished a meal, his mind would already spiral into anxiety over when he might get his next.
Finding even the smallest job in the squalor was near impossible—everyone was desperate, and the competition was brutal. Life there was the antithesis of the city. No one cared for anyone else. Children his age either chased after shady jobs or spent their time tormenting quieter ones like him.
He had grown numb to it, worn thin by it. He had stopped wanting to survive long ago. As far as he was concerned, he had already lived a life long enough to die for—until he awakened.
The night it happened, he didn't hesitate. He fled the squalor without telling a soul. If anyone had known, they would have dragged him down out of jealousy. Not that he had any roots there. He usually slept on rooftops, near shops, or anywhere the other homeless hadn't already claimed.
Awakened individuals were a rarity in the squalor. The place was believed to be cursed, forsaken by God. Only two people in thirty years had awakened there—Won was now the third.
He wasn't thrilled at the idea of fighting monsters in the Veynes. What thrilled him was knowing that from now on, food would appear on his plate without worry. The uncertainty was over.
Suddenly, he was no longer drowning.
He stood before a massive hill that soared into the sky, shrouded in thick fog. So much fog that the peak looked like it vanished into a sea of white clouds.
Then, without warning, a mirror materialized before him, reflecting his face.
He stared at himself in silence. Nothing about his appearance had changed—except his eyes. His left eye had turned a deep red, a stark contrast to his usual hazel.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
Woco replied, "That's a result of becoming a vessel for the God of Emptiness. Your vision has been enhanced even further."
"It was already sharp thanks to my Sensari. Now I look... strange," he said, turning away from the mirror. Disappointed.
The Veyne was supposed to vanish, right? Then where am I? he wondered, scanning the distant fog.
"Woco, do you know where this is?" he asked.
"Looks like you're stuck in a glitch. You didn't check your Codex Map after becoming a vessel. Once you open it, you'll return to your world," Woco answered.
"Is that so?" Won echoed, summoning the Codex Map before him.
Boons: Sense 8
Bearings: Sensari, Disguise, Cognidominance
Bearing Rate: 12
Vitality: 35
Vault: Item 3
No change in the stats. This is exactly how it was after I killed the master, he noted, then noticed something in the corner of the screen.
Two unchecked messages.
First message:
"You have received a Fate Seal."
A Fate Seal? Won gasped, covering his mouth.
Seer of Emptiness.
He knew what that meant. It was a rare title, bestowed only on Ashen who demonstrated extraordinary virtue, regardless of rank. Only two people in his nation's history had earned such a distinction.
Is this because I became a vessel? he thought, summoning Woco again.
"Woco, this title—did I receive it just because I became a vessel?"
"No. Fate Seals and ranks are determined solely by an Ashen's individual merit that's not limited to strength only. The gifts from the God of Emptiness are physical enhancements for now—minor ones. Over time, with training, they'll develop mentally as well, particularly your Sensari and Cognidominance bearings. The power of God are not strong enough as of now to reflect on yourself."
Won let out a breath, relieved. He had feared it was a shortcut he hadn't earned.
Still, how is this possible?
The second message blinked open.
"Your rank has been promoted to Gravemarch."
"WHAT?!" Won shouted.
"Isn't that rank a myth? There's no record of anyone ever reaching it," he whispered in disbelief.
"That's the highest rank!"
"How... how is that even possible?" He began pacing, rubbing the back of his neck.
"From Flintshade to Gravemarch in one jump? That's insane!"
"Woco," he called again, "are you sure this isn't a mistake?"
"This is no mistake, Ashen Won. You are right. Gravemarch was once a myth—until now. It was a hypothetical rank, created as a beacon by the Ashen's supreme leaders. A hope that someone stronger would one day emerge."
"Why me? I'm not strong. I can't even fight properly," Won retorted, shaking his head.
"Ranks don't come from strength alone. They come from your heart—and your resolve."
"Can I keep my rank hidden?" he asked. "After meeting the General, I realized the higher-ups are buried in politics. I don't want to be targeted. Can I stay under the radar?"
"Certainly. As a Cognarch, you can mask your rank even if you do a reassessment."
"That's a relief," Won said with a long exhale. "Let's go back now."
Everything collapsed.
Won returned to the same room where he had first entered the Veyne.
Blood? Where's that smell coming from? he wondered, scanning the room.
Then he caught his reflection in the mirror that was in the corner of that room.
He was covered in blood, wounds still fresh as if untouched by the God of Emptiness's healing. There was no pain—but the injuries remained.
Maybe it's better this way. Fewer questions that way.
The door creaked. The General rushed in, having sensed his return.
As expected from the General, Won thought.
"You're back!" the General exclaimed.
Won didn't answer. The man had dragged him through hell. Perhaps he should be thankful—he wouldn't have gained so much otherwise—but still, he hadn't asked for it.
He slumped into a chair, closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep—sinking into darkness once more. Right now, more than anything, he just needed rest. He didn't care that his wounds were still open.
***
When he woke, he found himself in a bedroom—lavish, almost royal in design. He squinted.
Am I still in the Veyne? he thought, sitting up.
"Finally, someone's decided to wake up," came a voice.
The General…
He was lounging across the room on a couch, reading a magazine.
"Where am I?" Won asked.
"My house. You've been out for a week."
"A week?"
"A. Whole. Week," the General repeated.
"Why are you here?"
"Just returned from clearing a Veyne. Thought I'd check in. Do you want to tell me what happened in there?"
"Shouldn't your first question be how I survived a master-ranked Veyne as a mere Flintshade?" Won said, raising an eyebrow.
The General said nothing. Won continued, "Before I entered, you told me everything would be an illusion. So you knew it wasn't a normal Veyne. There were people inside. What kind of Veyne contains humans?"
The General averted his eyes. "Because of my bearing. It's called Vision. I saw you there. The Veyne appeared to me during slumber. Only you could cleanse it—that's what the voice said."
"The voice….you mean the Codex Map?" Won asked, intrigued.
"You received the Codex Map? But you weren't accepted into the Ashen Academy at the time. How's that possible?" the General asked, stunned.
"Maybe the system already knew I was worthy. Doesn't matter now. That voice you heard—was it the Codex Map?"
"No. It's a different voice. One I hear only during visions."
Won fell silent. If the General had only seen the vision, that meant he knew everything. About Won's rewards and what really happened inside.
"Did you see the whole vision?" he asked cautiously.
"No. Visions are never complete. There are only glimpses that I always see. I only saw you, some humans, and the creatures inside that instance Veyne. The voice warned that if it wasn't dealt with soon, it would breach and cause massive casualties."
"Why me?" Won asked again, testing the waters.
"I had the same question," the General admitted. "You're a Flintshade-ranked Ashen. But I don't have time for this now. I'll hear your full story later."
"Wait…. I have a question. If your bearing is vision, didn't you see what was about to happen on that veyne where everyone died?" Won asked, furrowing brows.
The General turned his head away saying, "No. I have been asking myself the same question. Only if I knew my child would still have been alive." His voice broke.
Won felt bad for him. It was visible in the General's face that he had been blaming himself for everything.
Clearing his throat the General added, "I am glad to see you finally awake. There's a letter next to your bed. The butler will bring you dinner. It's already night. Get yourself cleaned up."
With that, the General left.
Won checked his wounds—they had mostly healed. He reached for the envelope on the table.
To Ashen Won. From Meteor Ashen Technical.
He tore it open and unfolded the letter.
Dear Ashen Won,
Congratulations on completing your Veyne raid and being successfully selected for Meteor Ashen Technical. Your academic year begins tomorrow. We look forward to seeing you at orientation.
You'll meet peers your age at the academy. Please attend the first day, as dormitory assignments will be made. Absence may prevent you from choosing your preferred housing.
Please find your ID Number according to your rank in your year listed below:
Flintshade Ranked Ashens – ID No.:
1. Won
That was it.
He was the only Flintshade in his class.
Everyone else hadn't made it. Died in the veyne.
He ruffled his hair and let out a dry chuckle. Alone as a Flintshade, huh.
Never mind... I'm the only Gravemarch anyway.