From almost giving up in the apocalypse to somehow gaining small control over time—I wonder what my ability truly is, since I don't really know. Each Specter has six abilities, unlocked alongside the ranks of the Dragon Path.
I don't have access to any abilities right now—not even being an Unborn—but my connection to the world, my realm, and the flow of time feels much stronger.
Looking down at the scythe in his hands, Elios could only reflect on how miserable his life had been so far.
As the thoughts came, a glint of emotion—distant yet deep—crossed Elios's gaze. Yet, unlike before, it did not remain. He understood now: he needed to stop letting his cowardice win.
Everything has the potential to kill you, even if unlikely. And if he let fear dictate his every action, he would never achieve his goals.
So what if I'm scared? So what if my body shakes? I need to achieve my goal. Nothing else matters.
Maybe I'll die someday, but that day is not today. So why should I fear the future when the present is in my control?
With a long sigh, he forced himself to rise from the throne, beginning to explore his realm—searching for anything that had changed after unlocking his Specter. After all, now that he thought about it, his realm was a direct reflection of its existence.
I mean, my realm bends to my will—I command time itself. If that isn't the biggest clue to what my power is, then what is?
His realm was the same as always. Nothing had truly changed in a world where time itself bowed to his command. Time was still because he willed it to be still. Time was fast because he willed it to be fast. Time was slow—because he willed it so.
In this realm, he was the architect, the master of its existence. He decided whether it was day or night. He chose whether the bleeding moon beneath his feet would continue to bleed or if it would cease. Everything in this world was his choice.
But now that he had unlocked his Specter, it felt as though there was more to that choice—more than just control.
Walking toward the golden stairs that rose infinitely into eternity, he pressed his hand against the invisible barrier—his final obstacle before becoming an Unborn.
And he pushed. And pushed.
Every time he did, he could see it—the barrier almost breaking, almost shattering. He pressed his hand deeper, further, until the barrier contorted to the shape of his palm. Yet, the harder he pushed, the stronger it pushed back.
Straining with every ounce of effort he could muster, he tried to force his way through just a little more. But the barrier was unyielding—it shoved him back entirely, refusing to break.
"Okay, man. Come on—you might as well just break."
Sitting down, his gaze drifted upward to the infinite expanse of stairs. His mind churned through everything he had learned recently—fragments of clarity flooding in when he had unlocked his Specter. Knowledge that wasn't his was simply being forced into his brain.
The energy I felt… the energy that guided me from the beginning…
It was Remnant Energy.
His brows knit together as he placed his palm under his chin, closing his eyes in deep concentration. He tried to recall every piece of information he had gained.
Remnant Energy existed everywhere. It was the embodiment of a spirit after death—when someone perished, their spirit became Remnant Energy, later used for abilities, enhancements of physical capabilities… anything, really.
I guess that's kind of impressive, considering literally every ability runs on that.
Then there was the Specter. Normally, people might think of it as a ghost, a wraith—something like that. But this time…
Not this time.
From the very origin of the universe, Specters had existed. Why? Because they were the very concepts that held reality together—at least the higher-ranked ones did.
To be precise, Spiritual and Divine-ranked Specters uphold reality itself, while everything else simply operates within reality.
When such a concept is bestowed upon a person, and that person ultimately dies, the world—Gaia—must choose a new host at birth. This selection process does not consider bloodline or aptitude. It is completely random.
So the probability of someone receiving a Specter completely opposite to their nature? Highly likely.
Yet, despite all of this knowledge, something else held Elios in a state of hesitation.
Something he couldn't quite make sense of.
The more he dwelled on it, the more it resisted comprehension—a concept that applied to everyone yet only to the self at the same time.
What kind of definition was that?
His brows, already furrowed, relaxed momentarily, only to tighten again—harsher this time. The palm he had been resting on his face shifted, cupping his jaw as he fell into contemplation.
Something was wrong.
Maybe… he was missing part of the information.
Because…
"What… what the hell is a Sin?"