[Wake up, Orren!
Your Nightmare is over.] [Prepare for appraisal…] Silence followed.
“Huh?” Orren blinked.
“…Didn’t I just die?” No answer came.
The darkness around him felt familiar—too familiar.
Instinctively, he realized where he was.
His soul sea.
Then the Spell spoke again.
[Aspirant!
Your trial is over.] And then, the appraisal began.
A presence filled the void; ancient, impartial, absolute.
[A soul of unknown origin gained consciousness in a world not of his own.
He wandered like a lost being, clawing, killing, and butchering his way through a world that sought only his demise.
In a place where weakness meant death, he sought to awaken through sheer will and struggle, attempting to carve power from his own suffering.
With no purpose, no salvation, and no hope of victory, he still raised his blade against fate itself, challenging an inevitable end.
In the end, he was defeated, as all things must be.
Yet even defeat could not bring him peace.
The soul that refused to surrender time and time again became something even Death was unwilling to claim.] And then… The Spell whispered.
[You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain a dormant beast…] [You have slain an awakened beast…] [You have slain an awakened monster…] [You have slain a fallen beast…] [You have slain an awakened beast…] [You have slain an awakened…] [You have slain an…] [You have slain…] ….
[You have achieved the impossible!] [Final appraisal: glorious.
Your tenacity is worthy of praise.] The list of his kills stretched on far longer than he could properly focus on, the Spell’s notifications bleeding together into an endless stream.
Hundreds of confirmations, layered over one another until meaning itself began to blur.
‘I’m satisfied with the appraisal, but the final appraisal is a bit lacking.
It could have praised my deeds a bit more.
But since I received ‘glorious’ I guess that’s fine.’ He exhaled through his nose, half amused despite everything.
Still, seeing that word there meant something.
At least the struggle hadn’t been meaningless.
[Dreamer Orren, receive your boon!] “Oh, here it comes,” he muttered, straightening slightly.
[You have been bestowed a True Name: Destined Doom.] “…Oi.
Are you mocking me?” His brows tightened.
The words didn’t feel like an honor.
If anything, it sounded like the Spell had looked at his entire struggle and decided to label it with cruel irony.
As if nothing he did mattered, as if the outcome had been decided from the start.
He clicked his tongue.
[Your Aspect is ready to evolve.
Evolve Aspect?] “…Yes.” There was no hesitation this time.
[Dormant Aspect Wayfarer is evolving…] [New Aspect acquired.] [Aspect Rank: Divine.] For a moment, he didn’t react.
Then he let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
‘At last.’ [Aspect Name: Lost.] The name made his expression stiffen slightly.
‘…That sounds ominous.’ He opened the runes, reading carefully.
Aspect: [Lost].
Aspect Rank: Divine.
Aspect Description: [You are severed from the continuity of fixed paths, a wanderer existing at the edge of defined places.
Directions lose certainty in your presence, and paths fail to maintain stable form when extended in relation to you.
What should remain consistent gradually becomes uncertain, as if the world cannot preserve a reliable structure of “where” you are within it.] The more he read, the more his expression darkened.
It wasn’t power in a straightforward sense.
It was absence.
A rejection of structure itself.
A faint, humorless thought crossed his mind.
‘Useful.
In the worst possible way.’ Innate Ability: [Unmarked].
Ability Description: [You leave no lasting mark upon the world.
Your existence naturally resists being recorded.] “…That’s actually good.” For the first time, something practical.
Something that could matter.
Then the system shifted again.
[The First Seal is broken.] [Awakening dormant powers…] “Huh?
I already have a cor…” Pain cut him off.
It didn’t come gradually.
It arrived all at once, as if something inside him had been seized and torn apart.
His breath locked in his throat, and the world narrowed to a single point of unbearable agony.
“…AAHHHHHHH!” His body collapsed instinctively as the Spell unraveled his soul core.
Not destroying it entirely, but breaking it down and rebuilding it from the foundation upward.
There was no resistance he could offer.
Only endurance.
Then, slowly, the pain changed.
It didn’t vanish, but it softened, reshaped into something deeper, heavier, like molten heat flowing through shattered channels.
His body felt unfamiliar, as if every part of him was being rewritten from within.
When it ended, he lay still for a moment, breathing raggedly.
[Awakening Aspect Ability…] [Aspect Ability acquired.] [Aspect Ability Name: Stray.] ‘Even my Aspect ability changed, huh.’ He thought as he summoned his runes.
Name: Orren Veil.
True Name: Destined Doom.
Rank: Dreamer.
Lost Core: Dormant.
Lost Fragments: [0/1000].
‘It’s… it’s empty again.
All those soul shards for nothing and I have terrible feeling about this Lost Fragment counter; it will certainly be a headache later.’ Ignoring the phantom pain of losing all his progress he looked further down the runes.
Memories: Ironscale Fang, Tyrant’s Shell, Vigil, Hunter’s Token, Warden’s Embrace, The one who remembers.
Echoes: [Venomhide Tyrant].
Attributes: [Unanchored], [Mark of Divinity], [Mist-Touched].
Aspect: [Lost].
Aspect Rank: Divine.
Aspect Abilities: [Stray].
Aspect Ability Description: [You instinctively perceive instability in space and structure, possessing an innate awareness of your surroundings and your position within them.] He studied the new ability quietly.
‘Slightly better than Orientation.
Not bad.
I can work with this.’ That small thought steadied him.
Then he noticed something else, another memory, unfamiliar in name and weight.
But before he could focus on it, the Spell spoke again.
[All power has a price.] [You have received a Flaw.] Flaw: [Detached].
Flaw Description: [You cannot bring yourself to truly care about belonging.
The stronger you get the less you will feel the desire to belong somewhere.] For a moment, he didn’t respond.
Then he let out a short breath that might have been a laugh but didn’t quite reach it.
‘I don’t know how to feel about this.
Am I to never find place to call my own in this accursed world or what?!’ He got taken out of his own world for reasons unknown and thrown into this known yet unfamiliar world and now he finds out he won’t ever truly want to belong anywhere.
Not exile.
Not rejection.
Just… gradual indifference.
He had been ripped out of his world, thrown into this one, and now even the desire to anchor himself somewhere would slowly erode.
That was almost worse than hatred.
But before the thought could settle, the Spell’s voice returned one last time.
[Wake up, Destined Doom!] …..
Volume 1: Destined Doom, ends here.
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