OBLIVION'S RADIANCE

The light returned, peeling away the void of black like the lifting of an eternal curtain. At first, it was blinding, a sharp contrast to the consuming darkness, but soon it dimmed, revealing a floating, translucent screen that hovered before him. The screen shimmered, as if composed of liquid light, its edges soft and pulsating, and at its center was an interface displaying stark, clinical text.

The information was minimal, almost mocking in its emptiness.

Name: No Data

Species: No Data

Age: No Data

Identity: No Data

It was as though the very essence of who he was had been stripped away, leaving him faceless and undefined in this strange realm. Yet, amidst the void of information, a single line stood out:

Skill: Universal Eternal Linguistic – Knows and translates every language.

The words glowed faintly, the only anchor in the sea of emptiness. Before he could begin to process what he was seeing, the interface shifted. The smooth transition of text felt alive, as if the system itself had an awareness beyond his comprehension.

"You have died in the previous realm. As you have fulfilled the goal given, your consciousness has been transferred to a new realm."

The words struck like a hammer. Died? Previous realm? The weight of the statement pressed into his thoughts, but the screen offered no pause for reflection.

"A new goal is now being generated..."

For a moment, the screen flickered, its light growing erratic as if the process itself carried significance beyond the ordinary. Then, the next message appeared:

"New goal generated: You are to become the strongest in the Realm."

The simplicity of the words belied the enormity of their meaning. The strongest? What realm? What strength? The questions surged through him, but the system continued without care for his confusion.

"Till the goal is reached, the system is not obliged to answer any call. However, the skill Universal Eternal Linguistic will remain passive. Thank you."

Before he could react, the light of the screen began to fade. The words dissolved into motes of shimmering energy, dissipating into the air like fading stars. Then, without warning, the blackness returned, a void so absolute it felt suffocating.

But this time, he did not return to nothingness. Instead, his sight adjusted to something entirely alien—something impossible. The darkness was replaced by a flowing substance, a liquid of white and shifting colors that seemed to pulse with life itself. It twisted and turned, forming strange, surreal shapes around him.

The floor beneath him was cracked obsidian, its surface jagged and uneven. Glowing fissures spread like veins through the stone, leaking chaotic aether that shimmered with every color and none at once. The walls were irregular, rising and falling without rhyme or reason, their shapes defying logic as though space itself had been twisted and broken.

The ceiling, if it could even be called that, spiraled and bent downward, forming arches that merged with the ground in a seamless, impossible loop. Floating above him were pulsing black and purple tears in space, their edges surrounded by halos of radiant energy. These rifts breathed faint whispers, their words incomprehensible but undeniably present, brushing against his mind like forgotten memories.

The air was thick with energy, vibrating with a constant, low hum that resonated through his being. Flickering lights bathed the space in an eerie rhythm, alternating between soft, comforting glows and sharp, ominous darkness. It was as if the very world pulsed with an unstable heartbeat, teetering on the edge of collapse.

His thoughts were a tempest of chaos. The events he had just witnessed felt unreal, like a fevered dream too vivid to dismiss but too impossible to accept. The screen, the words, the blackness—it all seemed to blur together into a single, overwhelming moment.

His voice, though silent, screamed in his mind. "Something just happened, but I can't understand it at all. What was that? What is this? Who am I? Who was I? Where am I? How did these things happen?"

A thousand questions tore through him, each more urgent than the last, yet no answers surfaced. His very existence felt fragile, as though it was slipping through his grasp like sand in a storm. Every thought, every memory, every sense of self seemed to have been unraveled, leaving him a hollow shell filled only with uncertainty.

And yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one truth remained: this was no dream. This was real. The fissures, the whispers, the goal—they were a reality he could neither deny nor escape. As he stood amidst the chaotic beauty of the aetheric realm, he felt both awe and dread. Whatever awaited him in this realm, it would not allow him to remain the same.