Like, seriously—what is sin? I mean, the normal definition is something sinful, something that leads to depravity. But why was I given such a strange definition?
A concept that applies to both yourself and everyone else at the same time. I understand that sin can be seen as a concept, but what does it truly mean for oneself and for everyone simultaneously? How does that even work?
Closing his eyes, his brows furrowed even more than before as he focused on gathering as much information as possible. Nothing came to mind—he had already obtained all the available knowledge.
Realizing there was no point in continuing, he stood up. Instead, he decided to do something a little more fun.
Spreading his arms to the sides, he focused on channeling the remnant energy that permeated the air. He could tell it was diluted—after all, he was still inside his realm—but he could still access it.
"All right, let's see… last time, all I had to do was focus on gathering it inside me. Wow, like one big ball of energy. So let's just do that."
As he began to gather the energy, something different happened. Although his body became stronger and sturdier as before, his perception of everything around him changed drastically.
Yet, when he tried to focus on these differences, it hurt him—it was as if his mortal, human mind was too weak to comprehend it.
The more he saw, the more he understood—this was the flow of time. Not just a force, but a vast and unstoppable river, woven through every existence, unbound by perception or understanding.
A mortal was never meant to grasp it.
The pain intensified, a searing migraine burning behind his eyes as if his mind itself were rejecting what it had glimpsed. His vision blurred, flickering between moments of the past that he had buried—all collapsing into a single stream
Then the burning.
A sensation like staring into the heart of a dying sun, his retinas screaming in protest. Gasping, he wrenched his head away, snapping himself back to the present, to reality. He clutched his face with exaggerated motions, his voice breaking into a half-dramatic wail.
"My eyes!"
The sharp agony faded, leaving behind only the lingering echo of something far greater than himself—something untouchable. When he finally refocused, a single thought settled within him:
Time was not just cruel. Time was untamed.
"But seriously… since when has time been so painful? Well, always, I guess—since time is everywhere."
Although he couldn't see it, he could definitely sense it. Even without remnant energy surrounding his body, it felt like a brush of wind—when he moved his hand toward it, he could almost touch it. Yet, it slipped through his fingers, as if it could never truly be grasped.
It was kind of annoying, to be honest. But no matter—that would most definitely change as he advanced through the ranks. For now, though, this was probably the best he could manage.
Time passed as he continued experimenting with his newfound abilities. Although he called it training, to any observer—if there were any—he would have looked like a child playing among the clouds.
He discovered that he could somewhat affect time. Once, as he was about to fall, time distorted around him, slowing down just enough for him to react and catch himself before he could truly get hurt.
But the effect lasted only two seconds. If necessary, it could certainly save his life. However, against someone fast or highly perceptive, the ability wouldn't activate in time—they could catch him or kill him instantly.
Another thing he learned was how to channel energy into specific parts of his body. The technique was crude and needed refinement, requiring immense concentration and exertion. Still, if needed, he could do it.
Finally, standing slightly above the clouds in his realm, panting, he reflected on his current state.
"I still haven't completed my trial. Unlocking my specter will definitely help, but it won't guarantee success."
Nothing in life is guaranteed. If you don't work for it, you will never achieve it. And even then, hard work doesn't necessarily mean success. Many factors come into play—ones that, under normal circumstances, should be accounted for. But in his current situation, he didn't even know what those factors were. His best course of action was to find out.
And the only way to do that was to enter that cave. It was the only place he hadn't gone—so what else was left to do?
"Ohh, besides—it's practically guaranteed that I have a spiritual or divine-rank specter, so what are the odds I actually get killed?"
The words left his lips, carrying a false confidence that felt fragile the moment they hung in the air.
Then, as if summoned by the very thought he had refused to acknowledge, an unwelcome emotion reared its ugly head.
Fear.
Not the fear of death—not yet—but something much more manipulative. The fear that lingers in the gaps between knowledge, the kind that takes root in the absence of understanding. The unknown.
It was instinctual, primal. The very fear that had saved human lives for generations—warning them of things unseen, making them wary of their every step. But here and now, it did not serve to protect him.
No.
It limited him.
It told him to stop, to wait, to reconsider. It gnawed at his resolve, threatening to fracture his will before he could take his next step.
But hesitation meant failure.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, forcing that fear into silence. He did not need its warnings. Not today.
Elios stepped forward—and left his realm behind.