The warm water had rinsed off the exhaustion and terror of transmigration, but it hadn't cleansed the uncertainty gnawing at his chest. After drying off and taking one last reluctant glance at the unfamiliar familiar face in the mirror, he stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped around his waist.
The maid who had prepared his bath was waiting just outside, hands neatly folded in front of her, eyes downcast in respectful poise. Upon his arrival she lifted up her gaze from the ground and looked straight at him. Seeing her piercing gaze he started to get uncomfortable and under the guise of folding his hand, he covered his bare chest. Her gaze was piercing and uncomfortable making him suddenly cold.
"Would you like me to assist you in dressing, young master?" she asked gently, voice soft as a breeze but trained like a professional.
He blinked. Then, reflexively took a half step back.
"Ah—No!" he said quickly, then added awkwardly, "I mean, no thank you. I'll do it myself."
"As you wish." She nodded with neither surprise nor offense.
He moved to the wardrobe which looked like an entire room, a polished black armoire etched with silver vines and the same ominous insignia he'd seen on the bed's headboard: a coiling serpent biting its own tail, surrounded by black flame. The emblem of the Demios clan.
He pulled the doors open and was immediately greeted by a row of clothes that screamed nobility. Black, crimson, and dark silver tones dominated. He chose a high-collared shirt, form-fitting trousers, and a long coat trimmed in deep red, the inner lining patterned with faint ember-like trails. The coat's shoulder bore the Demios insignia, crisp and embroidered with eerie precision.
As he slipped it on, he felt something inside him—whether it was discomfort or acceptance, he couldn't tell. But one thing was clear— he looked like a gothic prince. No... like a vampire lord out of an old novel.
"Dracula cosplay," he muttered under his breath. "Cool... terrifying, but cool."
The maid waited with her back politely turned. When he finally adjusted the last strap of his boots, he cleared his throat.
"Alright. I'm dressed."
She nodded with smooth elegance, then raised a brow ever so slightly at his appearance—not in judgment, but in what looked like faint approval. "The outfit suits you, young master."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks... I think."
Suddenly his body temperature increased sharply, the rust that has receded came back clogging his windpipe Making it hard to breathe, his eyes started to spin and he stumbled into the body of the maid who held him with care and affection, he wanted to ask for help but his clogged throat didn't stop only his breathing but also his talking. He started to gasp as pain started to ravage his body, his bone became brittle and achy, energy snapping out of his body as if he has ran a marathon.
'What is wrong with me'. Even his thoughts started to become disjointed.
Then the metallic structure entered his hand again, and he directed it to his mouth, with a clicking hiss clean, cold, fresh breathe escaped into his mouth, it first wiped out the rust from his throat, then his high temperature, then his brittle bone.
He continued inhaling the thing even after he was alright, with a quick maneuvering the maid layed him down on his bed and quietly stood at his side, her expression sad.
'What just happened, it like that first time'. Before he could comprehend what had happened further, a memory slithered into his mind like a half-forgotten dream. A blurry recollection from the body he now inhabited.
In this world Aether is the primal life‐energy that underpins all reality in Vaeltherium. According to legend, it first poured into the world through the Aether Rift, a cataclysmic tear in the veil between the Mortal Plane and the Aether Womb—the realm of pure emotion and unshaped souls.
Millennia ago, mortal hubris—an attempt to bind raw emotion as a weapon—shredded the boundary between worlds.
The resulting Rift spewed Aether into Vaeltherium's land, seas, and sky, triggering the Era of Rupture: rampant curses, living storms of grief and rage, and the rise of curses.
To survive, small communities forged pacts with fragments of Aether—some aligned with primordials.
Different people, each embracing a different facet of Aether, later founded the Grand clans and Great Clans. In exchange for a sliver of their humanity, they gained the power to exorcise or command curses.
Every ability, ritual, and technique in Vaeltherium is an Aether Art—a disciplined application of raw Aether to achieve supernatural effects. The nature of an Art depends on both the practitioner's Aether affinity or their clan bloodline.
Practitioners advance through a ranking (Zeta → Epsilon → Delta → Gamma → Beta → Ωmega → Alpha).
Zeta: unlock one beginner Art tied to their affinity.
Epsilon & Delta: Unlock a second and third Art, respectively.
Gamma & Beta: Unlock a fourth and fifth Art respectively. (At Gamma gains a forbidden art that retraces their bloodline back to their Ancestors thereby gaining features or attributes relating to them)
Ωmega: Gains a sixth art and Environment‐altering signature Arts.
Alpha: possesses a Domain and have Accesses to taboo Arts that can reshape reality (Basically Gods).
Now Zephyr condition relates to Aether, as the Aether womb torn open, human became twisted with Aether overceeding their previous capabilities, Aether then became their life line. It was intertwined with their life force, making them inseparable. What happens when someone is born with a body that can not hold Aether, that was the condition zephyr found his self in.
His body could not hold Aether and the situation whereby it becomes difficult to breathe and his bones become brittle is the Aether and his vitality leaving his body, he would gradually become weaker and then die due to vitality exhaustation. That where that smooth object comes in, the object is shaped like an inhaler, tha cold air is made of Aether, extremely purified Aether, this then refills his body with Aether, without it he wouldn't have survived ever since he was born.
'What the hell is wrong with this world'. He was starting to panic, the memories he was receiving was starting to make him anxious, only one word could describe this world— broken, this was a broken world and he was in a broken body. And then his condition has drawn his attention to an issue he has been avoiding.
'I don't have Aether, how will I survive in this world'.