Just like with the ants before, the powers I absorbed from the bird felt eerily familiar—like I had known them my whole life, like our lives had merged into one.
It was a mystery. A strange feeling, as if I was taking their memories, becoming part of them as they became part of me.
Most small animals, like birds and rats, seemed to have tiny pearls—smaller than dust. They had few powers, unlike dragons or other species. There was a thin line between them, a shallow life, a quiet rule preventing them from growing stronger.
And yet, ants killed far more of their own kind than I had ever thought possible. I couldn't help but wonder—shouldn't they have larger cores ?
After all, they killed in droves, fought relentlessly for dominance, and yet it seemed they always thrived in numbers. Their numbers must have meant something.
At least, that's what I hoped. I hoped that, somewhere in the midst of this strange and unnatural world, humans still clung to the qualities I remembered.
The warmth, the friendliness, the camaraderie.
But maybe this world had changed humans too, just as it had changed me. After all, how could anyone remain the same after witnessing what I had? A world so alive with Var, with power, with skills—how could the people who inhabited it not be affected?
The hunger for strength, for control, it lingered in the air. The very fabric of this world made it impossible to stay untouched.
If it had made me something else—something distant from the person I had once been—then surely it had done the same to everyone else.
A world with skills like this would never be the same. A world with powers like these was bound to breed a different kind of humanity.
It was a fight for something deeper, something far more dangerous—the soul itself. How could humans maintain their kindness when they were pitted against beings with the raw power to rip apart worlds?
It made perfect sense. Power is a temptation. A force that could erode the very fabric of who you were.
I wanted to believe that humanity could resist that temptation. That they could hold on to the things that mattered—their bonds, their memories, their kindness.
But the longer I stayed in this world, the more I doubted it. Even the smallest creatures had succumbed to the violence.
The ants killed in swarms, without hesitation, driven by a ruthless instinct that cared nothing for the lives of others.
"Humans aren't ants," I whispered to myself.
I got up, stretching my back and arms after sitting for so long. I hadn't even noticed the time.
Kundra, Eghiss, and Ryllie were still gone, and I was tired of waiting. I wanted to explore, to test my skills.
I stepped into the forest. At night, it was different. My senses sharpened—I could hear every inch of the surrounding trees, every shift in the air. Frogs hopped by, their bodies pulsing with faint traces of Var.
A small creature, hidden in the underbrush, flickered with a thin barrier of Var—only for it to shatter moments later. Its energy dissipated into the air, and the other creatures around it immediately pounced. Dragging it away.
I watched, cloaked in my own Var. Even without willing it, the energy clung to me, surrounding me like a second skin.
I was always aware of it—the way it pulsed, the way it breathed with me. Even just waking, I could feel its presence, wrapping around me like an extension of my body.
CRUNCH.
I froze.
A bear. A large one. A mother.
Scars ran across her thick fur, old wounds layered over fresh ones. Her muscles tensed, her eyes locked onto me, unblinking.
Between her teeth, she held a single wing. Torn, limp—jade-green.
Eghiss.
My breath hitched. Had they survived? Were they still out there?
The bear didn't move.
I exhaled slowly. If there was ever a good time to fly, this was it.
Ryllie must have gone after the child, I thought.
I didn't move. The bear didn't either. It just stood there, staring—not at me, but at my pearl. Its dark eyes fixed on it like it could see something beyond the surface, something I couldn't.
Then it lunged.
I barely dodged, Var surging around me as I flung myself back. The bear's claws tore through the air where I had just stood, slicing deep into the ground. It wasn't just brute force—it was fast. Too fast.
I gathered Var, ready to counter—when the bear's jaws snapped open, and the wing in its mouth twitched.
The jade-green feathers lifted, animated by something unseen. The wing moved like it was still alive, its shredded form flapping weakly before lunging at me like a striking snake.
The bear was using Var.
I barely managed to twist away before the wing scraped past me, sharp as a blade. My gaze snapped to the bear's chest, searching—there. A core, faintly glowing beneath its scarred hide.
The color was orange.
The light pulsed with chaotic energy, wild and untamed. I didn't know what Law it belonged to, but it felt like conflict itself—a force ready to tear everything apart.
The bear lunged again, and this time, I wasn't fast enough. Its claws raked across my side, pain flaring through me. I struck back, Var flaring, but the moment my energy touched its fur, something cracked.
Like glass shattering.
I barely had time to react before the bear's jaws closed around me.
Pain.
Darkness.
Then a throne.