Nekeili walked until his feet bled, his soles blistering and cracking as each step pressed jagged grains of sand and fractured stone deeper into exposed flesh. His healing had begun to slow, only slightly. But enough for him to notice the difference the farther he moved from the gate. Even so, it remained unnaturally fast compared to anything human. At least to his knowledge, and whenever he allowed himself even a brief pause, the damage would begin to mend, skin pulling together as the pain dulled just enough to continue.
Still, he didn't stop for long—not here, not now.
With everything that had happened, he couldn't fully grasp what he had seen, let alone what he had become a part of. The Void, the Gate, Vorathyx, the fragment—none of it aligned with anything that could be called normal. It went beyond that. It pressed into something deeper, something that resisted definition.
Madness.
Yet even knowing that, his mind refused to slow. It moved restlessly, alive in a way it had never been before, filled with sensations he couldn't quite define. There was no clear fear anchoring him, no panic forcing his thoughts forward. Instead, there was curiosity, persistent—almost intrusive in how it pushed him onward. His awareness stretched inward as much as outward, constantly circling back to the same thing.
The power.
It coursed through him steadily, not violently—but with presence, like something that had settled into him and was continuing to take shape. He could feel it in his limbs, in the rhythm of his breathing, in the faint tension beneath his skin. It wasn't just there.
It was active, easily responding to his will.
And the system—
The system felt no different than a Immature child, that was the only way he could define it.
Young. Incomplete. Still forming.
Each interaction revealed slight inconsistencies—minor errors, shifts in the way it presented information. Yet the way it structured itself, even the way it *felt* seemed to adjust in small, noticeable ways. At first, it had confused him.
Now, it made more sense.
It wasn't broken. It was changing. Adapting alongside him.
That realization settled deeper than anything else had so far. The system wasn't just something given to him—it was something becoming something *with* him. Every action, every strain, every shift in his condition fed into it. Not just recording, but refining.
Learning.
Even if he didn't fully understand how. And despite that uncertainty, the results were undeniable.
Leviathan, his would-be adoptive father, had once told him that he needed a soul core—that he had to pour his madness into it. To steep himself in madness, but to remember that not all madness was created equal. He didn't even know how to begin, how to do such a thing. And if he wanted to grow stronger in any meaningful way, to become something he wasn't entirely sure of, he would need to find one.
But how?
Nekeili had questioned how, but was left unanswered. Cast down into the world soon after using his limited questions.
But then, when he thought on it while in the void, Leviathan's words felt absolute. It had sounded complete—like the beginning and the boundary of the same path, something absolute in how it was presented.
The only way to begin.
But now, as he moved through this world, that certainty no longer held the same weight. He could feel the difference within himself. Even without a soul core, he was changing—through strain, through movement, through something less defined but no less real. The power responded regardless. The system adapted regardless. His body endured and shifted in ways that weren't bound to that single method.
It didn't make Leviathan wrong.
But it made it incomplete.
And if there was more to it—more paths, more conditions, more unseen steps—then he was already walking one of them, whether he understood it or not.
So Nekeili continued forward.
---
His thoughts gradually settled as reality pulled him back in, his attention shifting outward once more. The terrain stretched endlessly before him, jagged and uneven—a fractured expanse of broken stone and deep fissures that cut through the ground like scars. It extended for miles in every direction, untouched and unforgiving, as if the land itself had been split apart and left to decay.
Dust clouds rolled across the surface in thick, suffocating waves, carried by winds that never seemed to rest.
It was a desert, but not one shaped by time alone.
Something had happened here, that much was obvious.
The fractures were too abrupt, too violent in their formation. The land didn't feel eroded. It felt broken, like it had been forced apart rather than worn down. Even the air carried something off about it, dry and abrasive in a way that felt unnatural, as though it had been stripped of something essential.
Was this because of the gate? This damage?
Nekeili struggled hard not to go back into deep thought. He focused once more. The wind picked up, scratching at his face.
And—
With each breath he pulled in, into his lungs, it seemed to grow heavier. The air scraped against his throat as it became harder to draw in and hold. The farther he moved, the more it felt like the environment itself resisted him.
And as the light began to fade. That resistance deepened.
The sun was setting in Adramadeus.
The shift wasn't gradual, It was immediate.
The already barren landscape fell into a quiet that felt wrong, the kind that didn't signal rest, but absence. The wind continued to rage, but beneath it, there was nothing else.
Before, there had been signs of life—faint, but present. Distant screeches had carried across the terrain, subtle movements hidden within the cracks of the earth. Creatures that avoided sight, but couldn't completely conceal their existence. He had even seen birds, if they could still be called that.
Their bodies had been twisted, malformed in ways that didn't follow natural decay. Wings that moved unevenly, structures that looked as though they had been broken down and forced back together incorrectly.
Void-touched, much like him—but in a completely different way.
But still—
Alive.
Or something close to it.
Now there was nothing. No sound, No movement, Nor a sign of any presences nearby. It didn't feel like the world had gone silent.
It felt dead.
---
The dust storm rose without warning.
One moment the winds were harsh, grinding against the terrain in relentless waves—the next, they consumed everything. Sand and debris filled the air in an instant, swallowing the world around him as visibility collapsed.
Ten meters.
Five.
Then less.
Nightfall followed immediately after, the last traces of light erased behind the storm as if the sky itself had been sealed.
Darkness didn't settle gradually. It arrived all at once, absolute and suffocating.
Nekeili's breath caught in his throat, stopping just shy of reaching his lungs—not from fear, but from necessity.
He needed to move, stopping here meant death.
The realization was immediate, leaving no room for hesitation. He raised his arm, covering his mouth as dust forced its way into his airways, his throat tightening as he fought the urge to cough. Each breath scraped against him, dry and heavy, filling his lungs with more than just air.
His eyes remained open, they endured and adapted to the harsh winds.
Through the storm and the darkness, they became his only guide, cutting just far enough ahead to keep him moving in the right direction.
Inside his mind, his thoughts narrowed into one singular thought.
To *keep moving.*
---
A faint awareness surfaced within him.
The system.
It didn't fully activate—no display, no notification—just presence. He felt it shift internally, making small adjustments subtle enough to go unnoticed if he hadn't been paying attention. His breathing changed slightly, becoming more controlled despite the strain. His movements refined, conserving energy where they could.
It wasn't guiding him. It wasn't helping him directly.
It was adapting him, merely showing him what his body was already capable of on its own.
He could feel his nostrils contract subtly, then constrict. Turning his perception inward, Nekeili realized that if he breathed through them right now, it would be better than using his mouth.
A sharp pain struck his nose suddenly, and a wet, fresh feeling emerged as he walked onward. Reaching for his nose, he poked at it—a thin membrane of sorts blocked his nostrils about an inch in.
It shocked him.
Utterly shocked him.
When he tried to inhale through them, it felt easier and more fulfilling than any other breath he had before. The air no longer tortured his respiratory system. Now neither sand nor debris made it through the thin membrane. His inhales felt clean, intoxicating in a way that felt almost nourishing.
Nekeili noticed that this system—and whatever he might be, Was just the beginning.
The tip of the iceberg for what was to come
---
Nekeili questioned the system.
"…so you're not just showing me things."
The thought settled naturally, carried more by observation than surprise.
Nekeili thought deeply for a moment.
"I know I adapted before, when I was on the cliff wall fighting to escape. I could climb better and grip harder. But this feels like borderline evolution. Is it because of my void physiology or abyss adaptation? But it couldn't be abyss adaptation, because the system said it was locked."
Suddenly, a system prompt appeared.
---
**System Update Notification**
**Passive Skill Update**
**Passive Skill: Void Resonant Physiology**
**Status: Evolving skill**
Skill experiences evolution only when wielder has progressed in Tier or exceed physical limitations.
Efficiency Increased
12% → **20%**
---
**New Adaptive Functions:**
* Internal Respiratory Filtration
* Increased Resistance to Airborne Particulates
* Accelerated Micro-Adaptive Response
## System Skill Observation
Host's physiology skill has **high adaptive potential**.
Warning:
Rare side effect: Perfect Spontaneous Mutation due to extreme conditions. Further mutative growth can be gainned, if host is subjected to continued exposure in a variety of lethal environments.
---
Nekeili spoke to his system once again.
"…you're changing. You seem to have some form of conscious thought, almost as if you're replying to me by sending me this update."
There was no response.
But there didn't need to be. He'll just have to wait and see about all these unanswered questions he has.
He let it go, and continued his death march.
---
Time blurred beneath the weight of the storm. Minutes stretched and distorted, measured only by each breath he took. His legs grew heavier under the weight of the storm, its density thickening and tightening, restricting his already strained mobility.
The pain returned with each step as his body strained against the environment.
Yet he ignored it.
Step after step, he pushed forward until something beneath him changed. At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable beneath the chaos of the storm—but then it became clear.
The ground steadied.
The shifting stone gave way to something more solid, more stable. The wind still raged, but its movement shifted slightly, breaking around something ahead instead of striking directly through.
Nekeili slowed, his gaze sharpening as it cut through the storm.
There, a shape came into being. Unmoving and unnatural.
His body tensed instinctively as he approached, each step controlled, measured, ready for anything. The shape became clearer through the dust and darkness.
Stone.
A structure, Worn yet standing.
A ruin.
He stopped just outside it, the wind still tearing around him but weakened here—disrupted, redirected. It wasn't safe, he could feel it.
But it was better.
He stepped forward, crossing into its edge.
The difference was immediate. The wind dulled, the pressure easing just enough for his body to relax. The storm still raged beyond it, but it no longer consumed him entirely.
For the first time since nightfall—
He stopped.
Not fully.
But enough.
His body responded instantly, healing accelerating now that constant movement wasn't tearing it down. The damage in his feet began to close again, slow but steady, while the strain on his mind eased just a bit.
He reached for the wall, leaning lightly against the ston. Not resting, but allowing himself a moment.
Just one.
---
His thoughts continued, steady and unrelenting, going over everything he had witnessed repeatedly. The system, the storm, and this place.
Whatever Adramadeus had been before—or more specifically, the land he currently stood on. it wasn't this. It felt hostile, as if this part of the world the gate inhabited was broken, lashing out at any life.
How could it be like this?
He could still see the gate occasionally when he studied his surroundings before the storm hit. It was gigantic—but could its influence really have done this?
His gaze shifted deeper into the ruin, the darkness inside heavier than the storm outside, untouched by even the faintest trace of light.
And yet—
He pushed off the stone and stepped forward anyway. Because stopping was no longer something he could afford.
Not here, and not ever again.
And whatever this place was…
It wasn't like he could leave until the hellsrom outside quieted. So he might as well explore, and see what could be found in these ruins.
His visage slowly receeded, deeper into this dark and ancient structure.