Nox felt as though he were underwater, simply suspended. He remained still, gazing up toward a distant surface where light streamed through the dark depths.
"How was your first hunt? Exhilarating, wasn't it?" Veil popped up beside him, floating about enthusiastically.
"... I almost died..."
Nox rasped.
"Isn't that feeling glorious?"
Veil's tone was ecstatic. Nox felt a wave of exasperation.
"Anyway," Veil continued, "for your first hunt, you did well. Most would have perished or lost a few limbs, but here you are—alive and intact! One is very pleased with you!"
"Hey, Veil... what type of Ruach Ra'ah was that?"
"An injured Harbinger. You're lucky you didn't stumble upon something worse, or you would be a corpse. But fret not—One would still have snatched you back from the brink of Death!"'
Nox went silent, then asked, "'... Is there anything else I should be worried about?"'
Veil hummed, the sound vibrating through the void like a low cello string. '"... For now, no. You are far too weak. One will explain the basics to you. Imagine two vast oceans occupying the exact same space, yet their waters never truly mix.'"
"'The first is the Physical Plane—the world of bone, stone, and breath. It is the realm of the tangible, where energy is slowed until it hardens into matter. This is where your kind crawls: Men, Elves, Beast Shifters and many more. You are governed by the rigid laws of survival and the slow decay of time."'
'"The second is the Spiritual Plane, where the Ruach Ra'ah and the ancient races dwell. It is a realm of pure essence, a mirrored world that exists simultaneously with your own, yet is unseen by mortal eyes unless the veil is thin. It is home to the Demonic races, Witchfolk, Nephilim and many more.'"
"'By the laws of this world, the inhabitants of the Physical Plane cannot interact the Spiritual Plane directly without rituals or special constitutions. Conversely, the Spiritual Plane can influence your world but we cannot easily manifest in your world of clay without a bridge. Funny enough, the bodies of the Vessels of gods can grant a physical form to these beings. In short you are a beacon of which these creatures desire. So you must get strong-"'
"Why?" Nox interrupted.
"'... What?'''
Nox gritted his teeth, his annoyance flaring. "Why do I have to be the one? Why do I put my life on the line? For what purpose?!''
Veil fell silent as Nox's breathing turned ragged. When the entity finally spoke, the surrounding water grew cold.
"'Because you are Ben HaChoshech. This fate cannot be revoked. You are One's Vessel. You will be scorned by the world and hunted by those you seek to protect. If you wish to live on, you must grow stronger. That is why you must sacrifice."'
Veil leaned in closer, his presence blooming like ink in water.
"'The purpose? Do you wish to remain a wastrel, or show this world that not all saviors are born of the Light? Don't you want to show this world that their Light lies in the very shadows they overlooked?One knows you are not a saint, but even you can see the rot. Do you want these monsters to devour everything you cherish? Answer me Ben HaChoshech, do you follow the Light blindly, or will you carve a path for those like yourself?"'
Nox offered no answer. Veil snickered darkly.
"'Make your choice and seek me out again."'
Suddenly, Nox felt his body being hauled toward the surface. Just as he broke the water's tension, his eyes snapped open.
He stared blankly at the white ceiling, his head spinning. He sat up with a groan, forced himself out of bed, and stumbled toward the bathroom. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and looked into the mirror.
An eighteen-year-old stared back—5'9", bronze skin hidden under layers of grime. His unruly, shoulder-length black curls were matted with dirt and a stray piece of gum. His silver, almond-shaped eyes were clouded with exhaustion. He looked at his chubby frame and his favorite yellow silk pajamas, now ruined and tight against his body.
"... I'm definitely screwed."
He muttered under his breath. He stepped into the shower, letting the warm spray wash away the tension. As he scrubbed, he looked down at his chubby stomach and the lack of definition in his arms.
'Make my choice...'
Ten minutes later, he emerged with a towel around his waist. He threw on some grey sweatpants and a black top, then sauntered out to the kitchen. He immediately regretted it.
Zayne was there, wearing a pink frilly apron, flipping pancakes while a cringey pop song played in the background. Meimei was curled up in a "loaf" on the counter, watching the spectacle. Zayne pranced and twirled, completely lost in the music.
Nox grimaced, but his stomach gave a loud, traitorous growl. Zayne spotted him instantly.
"Yo! Young Master Nox, I made pancakes!"
Despite his sour expression, Nox sat at the counter. Zayne smirked, sliding a plate over and drowning it in maple syrup. Nox didn't hesitate; he devoured the food like a starving animal while Zayne fed a sausage to Meimei.
Halfway through the stack, Nox looked up.
"Zayne,"
"Yes?"
"'I want to train. I need you to be my instructor.'"
Zayne didn't miss a beat.
"No problem... Wait, WHAT?!"