Warmth.
Real warmth.
Not like the Veil, as he called it. That cold, dark place was the opposite. This warmth was natural—thick and earthy, soaked in sunlight that clung to his skin like dust.
Orion stirred.
He could feel it before he opened his eyes to it: dry grass brushing against his cheek, the low rustling of wind curling through golden stalks, and the sharp scent of dirt baking beneath the morning sun. Birds called in the distance—unfamiliar notes strung together in patterns that meant nothing to him.
Somewhere nearby, a stream trickled by, soft and steady.
He rolled onto his back, blinking hard against the sky. No longer a ceiling of darkness or mist or infinite void—just a pale blue dome stretching overhead, feathered with white clouds.
"I'm thirsty," he said simply.
But more than thirst, he felt relief. Relief at the familiar, welcoming sounds of nature. At the presence of real silence. Not the oppressive hush of the Veil. Living silence. Breathing silence.
His fingers sank into the dirt. He curled them into the ground like he might fall through it otherwise.
For a long moment, he just lay there, letting it all wash over him.
Then, slowly, he sat up.
The field around him swayed in the breeze, golden and unbroken, stretching until it touched the faint shadow of a forest on one side and, in the opposite direction, the silhouette of a walled village nestled in a shallow valley. The place didn't look large—maybe ten, fifteen thousand people at most. Slate rooftops caught the sunlight. Thin pillars of smoke drifted lazily upward, scented faintly of firewood and meals just beginning to cook.
Orion exhaled.
This wasn't an illusion. No simulation. The air was heavier—realer—than anything he'd breathed in weeks.
But something was wrong.
His body.
It felt… different. Like it wasn't his at all—the looseness of the joints, the sluggish way his muscles responded, the slight delay in every movement. Even the rhythm of his heartbeat was unfamiliar.
Unsettled, he staggered upright. His legs were thinner. His shoulders lighter. His back didn't ache the way it always did after battle. He glanced down—his arms were narrow, his fingers longer. Sure, he'd gone days in the Veil without eating, but he'd endured longer before. During the war, he'd grown used to starvation.
"What the hell?" he asked the world. But it wasn't his voice.
The sound came out higher, smoother.
Younger. And that's when it hit him.
This wasn't his body.
The stream caught his attention again—a quiet gurgle just beyond the edge of the field. He made his way toward it, half-limping as he adjusted to the strange weight of his limbs. The water was shallow, trickling lazily beneath a worn stone bridge barely wide enough for two people to cross side by side.
Orion leaned over and stared at the reflection. The face that looked back was not his own.
Despite standing at the stream, he forgot his thirst.
The boy in the water looked maybe sixteen—sharp features, pale skin, dark tousled hair swept slightly to one side. His eyes were a striking gray-blue, wide with disbelief. For a long time, he just stared. Waiting, hoping the image would shift. That his real face would return. That he'd wake up.
He didn't.
"This… isn't me," he said.
And for the first time since waking, fear crept in. What happened to his body? Was it destroyed in the transfer? Traded away? Worse—had he stolen this one? His stomach twisted. Guilt surged like bile in his throat.
"I didn't… kill someone, did I?" he whispered.
"Nope," came a voice—cheerful, dry, and entirely out of place.
Orion spun.
No one was there.
"Over here," the voice said again, teasing. "Well… more like in here."
He froze.
"Who—?" His breath caught in his chest. "Where are you?"
"I just said it," the voice replied, sounding amused. "Inside your head. Keep up."
There was a pause. Orion opened his mouth, then shut it again.
This wasn't an echo. Not a hallucination. The voice had tone, rhythm—sarcasm. It sounded alive. Separate.
"What… are you?" he asked slowly.
"Name's Ajax. Ajax Zareth. And relax, would you? You didn't kill me. You just… evicted me out of my own house. Bit rude for a first meeting, if I do say so myself… which I do."
Orion stared at the stream again, trying to steady his breathing. "You're… the original owner of this body?"
"Yup."
"And you're okay with me being here?"
"Didn't say that." Ajax laughed. "But I'm not not okay with it. Honestly? Kinda nice having company for once."
Orion was quiet.
"…How is this possible?"
"Well," Ajax said, "I'm what they call an Awakened. Or… I was. Until I failed the First Trial. Badly. That left a mark. A curse, really. My body attracts souls now. Hungry ones. Drifting ones. Most of the time, they just pass through."
"And I didn't?"
"Nope. You stuck." There was a shrug in his tone. "Must be something special about you. Or something wrong. Either way—you're here now."
Orion ran a hand down his face.
This was madness.
And yet… it was real. He could feel Ajax—not just hear him, but sense him. A second presence curled in the back of his mind. Watching. Amused.
"Where am I?" he asked finally. "What is this place?"
"Floor Zero," Ajax replied. "This village? It's called Duskmere. It's on the outskirts of the First City. You're in the Tower of Ascension now."
"…Tower?"
"You really don't know?"
Orion didn't answer.
Ajax came to a certain realization and exhaled. "You're what we call a Drifter, then. One of the rare few who didn't come into the Tower the usual way. Happens sometimes. Not often. But enough for the name."
Orion let the word settle.
Drifter.
"So what now?" he asked. "I just… live here?"
"Not exactly." Ajax's tone darkened. "The Tower doesn't let people rest. You're Awakened now. That means you'll be pulled into the First Trial on the first day of the new year."
Orion blinked. "When is that?"
"Three and a half weeks."
"Huh." Orion had no words.
Three and a half weeks. To prepare. In a world he didn't understand. In a body that wasn't his. For a trial he knew nothing about.
"Great," he muttered.
Ajax chuckled. "Look on the bright side. At least you've got me."
"…Lucky me."
—
Ajax had gone quiet.
Not gone—Orion could still feel him—but quiet, like he was giving space to think. To absorb. To grieve.
Orion found himself pacing along the edge of the stream, fingers brushing the tall grass as he moved. The new body felt… a little less foreign now. Not his, but workable. Like armor borrowed from someone just close enough in size. Clumsy, but possible.
He turned over the pieces in his mind like puzzle fragments:
The Tower.
The Awakened.
Drifters.
The words felt heavy. Like names carved into stone. They held weight, but no shape. Not yet.
Three and a half weeks. No allies. No strength. No map. And yet, one companion.
"You said Awakened," Orion muttered aloud, his voice steadier now. "What does that actually mean?"
Ajax jumped in like he'd been waiting. "Awakened are the ones who've been touched by the system. You're not born with it—it just… happens. Trauma, near-death experience, random chance, who knows. But once you're lit up, that's it. You've started climbing."
"And that path leads to the Tower?"
"No. You're already in the Tower." Ajax paused. "It leads up."
Orion glanced toward Duskmere. From here, it looked like any other quiet village—stone paths winding between rooftops, livestock grazing near the edge of the wall, a few figures moving beyond the gates. But beneath the stillness, he could feel it: a pulse. A presence. Not magic, exactly, but something close. A kind of awareness in the air. Like the world was waiting for him to take the first step.
"What happens if I don't pass this trial in time?"
"You get kicked back down to Floor Zero," Ajax said casually. "Marked. Cursed. You try again next year."
"And it's the same trial every time?"
"No, never. The Tower doesn't do repeats. Every trial is always different, and you better not fail. It punishes failure. You mess up even once, you're cursed for life."
Orion exhaled, low and long.
"And your curse?"
"Yeah, I'm the lucky winner," Ajax said, almost grinning. "The Wailing Brand. Makes my body attract wandering souls like a TV draws moths. Once one sticks? Boom. Soul-fusion. Permanent."
A beat of silence passed.
"…What the hell is a TV?" Orion asked.
Ajax coughed. "Drifter thing. Never mind."
Orion crouched beside the water again, watching the current pass between pebbles and reeds. "So if I want to learn more about this curse of yours, it'll show up in my system window, right?"
"Yeah. That's where it'd be listed."
Orion looked up. "And what exactly is my system window?"
"You don't know what that is?" Ajax sounded half stunned, half impressed. "Seriously?"
"If I did, would I be asking you about it?"
"Okay, fair," Ajax muttered. "So—it's like… a personal interface. Shows your trait, your aspects—passive, active, even your curse if you've got one. Every Awakened has one. You don't really open it, you just kind of… think it into being."
Orion tilted his head. "So I can see my traits there?"
"Trait," Ajax corrected. "Singular. You only get one."
"No," Orion said flatly. "I have two."
A long pause.
Then Ajax burst into laughter. "Okay, wow. That's hilarious. Really committed to the bit, huh? No, seriously—one. Everyone gets one. Maybe one of them was a dream."
"I'm not joking," Orion said. "I saw them. Right after I left the Veil. Two of them. One was called… 'Sovereign of the Hollow Crown,' and the other—"
"Wait—what?" Ajax's voice pitched high. "You're making that up. That's not—Sovereign of the what?"
"I can show you."
"Ah, that won't do. Only you can see your system window."
"Right but don't we share a pair of eyes?"
"Hm. Well, actually yeah that would make sense. Y'know, you're actually kinda smart sometimes."
Orion ignored the comment and focused.
The moment he did, a window bloomed into view—etched in black and violet, rimmed with softly glowing runes. Clean. Sleek. Ancient.
[System Interface: Active]
Name: Orion Myrelis
Designation: Drifter
Status: Awakened
Trait Ⅰ: Sovereign of the Hollow Crown
Rank: ???
Status: Passive
A crownless path carved in defiance of fate. Grants the bearer latent authority beyond known classifications. Its limits are unknown.
Trait Ⅱ: Fangsteel Requiem — Twin Blades of the Bound
Rank: Ethereal
Status: Active
Two living daggers forged from the Tower's will. Grants a chance to extract active aspects from slain beasts. Grows stronger by consuming Soul Shards.
— Evolution Requirement: 200 Soul Shards
• Passive Aspects: None detected.
• Active Aspects: None detected.
• Curses: None detected.
[Sub-Soul Detected: Ajax Zareth]
Trait: Aspect Alchemy
Rank: Mythic
Status: Passive
Allows synthesis of compatible passive aspects into stronger, fused variants. Rare and extremely unstable outside specialized hosts.
Curse: Wailing Brand
This vessel attracts wandering souls and is vulnerable to forced soul-fusion. Once possessed, the fusion becomes permanent.
Ajax whistled inside of Orion's head.
"Holy crap. You weren't kidding. I can see your window. But why does it look like that?"
"You can actually see it?"
"Clear as day. Which is not supposed to happen at all." His voice climbed. "Wait—scroll down. What are those icons?! What the hell is an ??? Rank Trait?! That's not even a thing—WAIT, BACK UP."
Orion did.
Ajax went still.
Then—
"OkayokayokayWHAT?!"
Orion raised a brow. "You alright?"
"You have two traits. Two. One of them is ??? rank—are you even hearing yourself?! I didn't even know ??? was a real classification! And Ethereal? That's above Mythic! You're not just some Drifter—you're like a cosmic middle finger to the balance in the tower!"
"…Thanks?"
"No, that wasn't a compliment! Or—maybe it was? I don't know anymore!" Ajax's voice spiraled between panic and awe. "What did you do to get this? Did you steal fire from a god? Kick a Watcher in the teeth?!"
Orion deeply contemplated this. What did he do to deserve such a rare trait? Finally, he came to an answer. The best answer he could think of.
"I… completed a tutorial."
Ajax went silent.
"Everybody completes the tutorial, dipshit. Well, all the drifters at least." He paused, then continued, "Is there anything special that might have caused this to happen?"
Orion thought back to the invasion of the ancient being in his time spent in the void and considered mentioning that, that the presence took pity on him, but he held it back.
"Not that I know of."
Ajax didn't speak again for a long moment. The silence returned—but this time it wasn't fear, or awe. It was something deeper. And when he finally did speak again, it was quiet. Steady.
"…You're not lying, are you?"
"No."
"…Damn."
Orion closed the window with a thought.
And for the first time since waking in this strange new world, he heard something different in Ajax's voice.
Respect.