The darkness inside the alcove felt thicker than the night itself. Luciel lay there, eyes open, staring into the void beyond the jagged rock ceiling.
The low, constant hum of distant beasts prowling the forest seeped into his senses like a quiet storm. The oppressive air of the Unique Gate pressed against his skin, heavier than the suffocating tension of any noble hall he had once endured.
He could feel it — the difference.
This world, this prison, was unlike anything his mind could fully comprehend.
Back in his native world, Nexus Gates had always followed a system. They appeared suddenly in the form of swirling rifts and ranked themselves upon manifestation — from the lowest F-rank to the highest SSS-rank, each representing the severity of monsters and the difficulty within. Those who entered were required to clear the Gates within a set time or risk being consumed alongside it.
Nexus Gates were further divided into different types depending on the rank and nature of the gate.
The most common among them were the Rank-Sync Gates, designed with strict entry protocols. Only those whose rank fell within two levels—no more than two ranks higher or lower than the gate's classification—were permitted to enter.
This wasn't merely a regulation; it was a built-in safeguard to maintain balance within the gate's internal realm and prevent the chaos that could come from overwhelming force or underqualified intrusions.
Following closely were the Countbound Gates, nearly as prevalent but with an added layer of restriction. While they shared the same rank limitations as Rank-Sync Gates, they also imposed a fixed limit on the number of individuals allowed inside. Once that threshold was reached, the gate sealed shut, permitting no further entry.
This made strategy, preparation, and team composition absolutely critical—especially when every decision could mean the difference between life and death.
Less frequently encountered, but far more dangerous, were the Sealbound Gates. These gates came with a grim rule: once entered, there was no way out unless the gate was cleared. That meant defeating the final boss that anchored the realm and collapsing the gate from within.
Typically ranked C or higher, some of these gates even imposed participant limits, adding further pressure to already high-stakes situations. For many, stepping into a Sealbound Gate was a gamble with survival as the prize.
Lastly, there existed the Open Gates, deceptively named for their accessibility. Unlike the others, these gates had no rank restrictions and were usually classified below D-rank, making them accessible to any awakened individual. They were often used for training or low-risk material gathering.
Still, their rarity hinted at something deeper — perhaps that even the weakest anomalies in this chaotic world were never truly safe.
However, every gate came with a timer.
Invisible. But deadly.
If a Nexus Gate wasn't cleared within the given time, collapse became inevitable.
The time limit wasn't random either. It was determined by the gate's mana signature — the pressure it emitted, the density of mana surrounding it, and how fast it grew. Advanced instruments constantly measured these values, warning of incoming breaches.
When a gate collapsed, the veil separating its realm from the native world tore open.
Monsters poured out.
What followed was chaos—warped landscapes, strange weather, corrupted vegetation. The world twisted under the influence of mana it wasn't meant to bear.
In those cases, the gate never closed again.
It became a permanent wound in reality.
Hunters were forced to set up containment zones, entering regularly to thin out the monsters. The area turned into a warfront — constant, brutal, necessary.
But sometimes... even that wasn't enough.
Sometimes, the only option left was to abandon the entire region.
To seal it off.
And pray it wouldn't spread.
The rules were clear, structured, and known.
But this place wasn't a Nexus Gate.
Unique Gates were rare — unstable anomalies without formality or limitation. They bore no rank, no time limit, and no guarantees. Most vanished as abruptly as they came. And within them… the laws of mana, survival, and death were left unchecked.
Fewer than twelve Unique Gate occurrences had ever been observed, and even among those, only a few who entered managed to return — after an indefinite amount of time.
Luciel didn't need a scholar's lecture to feel it. His senses told him everything.
A deep, frigid aura saturated the air, unlike anything he'd experienced. The mana here felt ancient, raw, and chaotic. Its pressure gnawed at his nerves, numbing his extremities even now.
Luciel exhaled slowly, feeling the sharp pain ripple through his ribs with every breath. He welcomed it. Pain was a constant reminder of function. Of existence.
He closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to sharpen in the silence. The sheer difference in mana density, the lack of structured flow… it was as though the world itself rejected balance. That rejection extended to him, an invader in a land that didn't welcome outsiders.
'Unique Gates don't follow rules. They devour them.'
He let the thought settle. There was no way to predict when — or if — this Gate would open again. And yet, this world didn't intend to make that wait easy. The sounds in the distance weren't distant enough. The occasional snap of branches or rustle of leaves carried weight, promising predators.
Luciel shifted slightly, careful not to aggravate the fractures in his ribs. He noted how his muscles felt heavier, bruised and torn beneath the surface. His body wasn't his, and yet it moved with the fragments of his will.
There was no room for weakness. No allowances for hesitation.
The cold bit at his fingertips. He pressed a hand against the ground, feeling the coarse texture of stone beneath his palm. His body remained battered, every joint stiff from trauma and overexertion. Yet his mind… his mind was unbroken.
'Survival first. Recovery second. Control third.'
The plan etched itself into his thoughts — simple and unyielding.
Slowly, Luciel let the darkness consume his sight, the oppressive atmosphere weighing down on him like an endless ocean. And amidst that stifling quiet, exhaustion took hold.
His breath evened out, and he allowed himself to drift into a shallow sleep, surrounded by distant howls and shifting forest sounds that never ceased.
****
Morning came like a quiet ghost.
A soft, pale light filtered through the cracks of the alcove, illuminating the jagged rocks and casting thin, angled shadows. It was neither warm nor kind, but it was light nonetheless.
Luciel's crimson eyes opened, reflecting that faint glow.
Pain settled across his body — familiar now. He flexed his fingers one at a time, testing his physical limits. The muscles in his forearm protested, tendons stiff and aching, but functional. Carefully, he propped himself up against the stone wall, ignoring the sharp ache that pulsed with every breath.
His deductions from last night remained valid. The wounds were manageable — fractured ribs, deep bruises, a cut along his side, and strained muscles.
He focused, drawing in a slow breath. The air here, thick with mana, prickled against his skin.
Time to test it again.
Luciel closed his eyes, sinking into the instinctual pulse of his mana core. It was faint, unstable, but present. He gathered it deliberately, drawing the surrounding energy into himself, threading it through the broken channels within his body.
A thin, silvery mist began to form around him.
His breathing slowed, controlled. The sensation of cold flooded through his chest, following the unstable pathways he attempted to mold. Icy tendrils curled around his wounds, freezing the surface of torn flesh and numbing the pain.
It wasn't perfect.
The control was erratic, portions of the gathered mana dispersing before reaching his core. The residual energy clawed at his insides, leaving sharp, freezing jolts that made his limbs tense involuntarily.
A backlash.
Luciel grit his teeth, enduring it.
The chilling sensation clawed through his veins, flooding his chest with a stabbing numbness. He forced himself to hold, analyzing every sensation.
The mana density here was undeniably higher. His body, even in its weakened state, gathered more mana faster than it ever could before. The problem lay not in the quantity — but in the instability.
It was like trying to grasp water with bare hands.
The mana in this Gate didn't flow the way it did in his native world. There, it moved like a steady current — structured and obedient to his will. Here, it was feral. Rebellious.
He released the gathered energy with a sharp exhale, letting the icy mist dissolve into the air. His body ached, the backlash leaving a lingering numbness in his core.
'Noted. Denser. Faster. Less stable.'
He committed it to memory.
This world's mana would be both a weapon and a threat. Learning to harness it was not an option. It was survival.
Luciel leaned back against the stone, observing his surroundings in the pale morning light. The alcove provided enough cover for now. Jagged rocks formed a crude shelter, its opening partially hidden by thick undergrowth. Not perfect, but sufficient.
The sounds of the forest beyond remained ever-present. Distant howls, guttural snarls, and the occasional flap of wings overhead.
He'd need to move soon. Remaining in one place was a risk.
But not yet.
His body couldn't handle combat in this state, nor prolonged movement. For now, it was observation and careful testing. Understanding his limits.
Luciel shifted his gaze to his palm, still tinged faintly with frost.
Ice. His affinity had remained. He hadn't expected that — or perhaps he had. There were too many unknowns in this fusion of soul and flesh. The memories of Daniel Carter felt distant, fragmented echoes buried beneath his own.
His priorities remained unchanged.
Shelter. Food. Safety.
Mastery.
He'd build his strength here, piece by piece, until he could walk this cursed world without weakness.
Another deep breath.
The oppressive weight of the Gate pressed against him, but he no longer flinched beneath it.
Luciel rose slowly, pain flaring with each movement. His legs felt weak, unstable — but he stood nonetheless. This was no place for hesitation.
The morning light brightened, scattering soft beams across the forest floor. Tiny particles drifted in the air, catching the pale glow like fragments of frost.
Luciel adjusted his stance — careful, deliberate. Every motion planned.
The path ahead was long.
But it was his alone.