After returning home, Aryan quickly fell asleep, his body too exhausted to stay awake any longer. For a while, everything was quiet, and it felt like normal rest—until a voice suddenly echoed through the darkness.
"Hello, Aryan."
His eyes opened instantly as he sat up, heart racing. This was not his room. Not his home. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction, with no ground beneath him and no sky above—only a suffocating, endless void.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice tense. "What is this place?"
"Do not worry, Aryan. You are not going to die," the same calm voice replied.
His expression hardened. "Then why did you bring me here? Who are you? And why can't I see you?"
For a brief moment, silence lingered—then a figure slowly appeared in front of him. It was humanoid but unnatural, its entire body formed from soft white light, with no clear features except a faint outline of a mouth.
"Welcome, Aryan, to my domain," it said. "You may call me Mr. White."
Aryan frowned. "White? Your body is literally white, and your name is White?"
The figure showed no reaction. "You may call me Mr. White. Now, let us begin."
Aryan exhaled impatiently. "Then stop wasting time and tell me. What do you want from me?"
"I am aware of your life," Mr. White said calmly. "You live alone, with no one to take care of you."
Aryan's eyes narrowed. "Why bring that up? Just get to the point."
"I like your directness," Mr. White continued. "So I will be direct. I want you to find something for me—not from you, but from your world."
Aryan frowned. "And if I find it?"
"I will help you uncover the truth about your world."
He stayed silent for a moment before speaking again. "If it's so important, why don't you find it yourself? And why choose me?"
"I cannot enter your world. I am banned from it," Mr. White replied. "And I chose you because you desire the truth… and the power to change your world."
Aryan didn't deny it, but his expression remained guarded. "So what exactly do you want me to find?"
"Something that arrived in your world one hundred years ago."
"And why do you need it?"
"I cannot tell you that."
"Then I'm not interested," Aryan said firmly.
There was a pause before Mr. White spoke again. "Don't you want to know what happened to your family?"
Aryan froze. "…What do you mean?"
"You do not know anything—not even about your father."
"My father…?" Aryan's voice lowered. "My mother never told me anything."
"If you help me, I will give you answers," Mr. White said. "If not, I will choose someone else."
Aryan stood still for a moment, then answered without hesitation. "I'm ready."
Mr. White nodded slightly. "Good. But first, you must prove that you are worthy."
"How?"
"There is an exam held every three years in your world—the Council Legion Exam. Pass it."
Aryan stared at him. "Are you serious? That exam is deadly. People like me can't even participate—I don't have any power."
"Do not worry. I will help you awaken," Mr. White said.
Aryan frowned. "What kind of awakening? And how?"
"You will undergo a ritual."
Before Aryan could question further, a cube appeared between them, floating silently in the void. It was made of white light, with strange symbols glowing faintly on each face.
"What is that?" Aryan asked.
"A choice… and fate," Mr. White replied.
The cube stopped spinning, and whispers filled Aryan's mind—not voices, but meanings. Images flashed before him: flames burning through everything, shadows twisting unnaturally, time slowing, wounds healing, senses sharpening beyond human limits.
Compared to the others, one felt… unimpressive.
"You will choose five," Mr. White said. "The sixth will be chosen by the void—not what you desire, but what you can endure."
Aryan thought for a moment, then made his choices. Flame, shadow, regeneration, speed, and sense. The cube trembled before selecting the sixth ability on its own.
Copy.
Aryan clicked his tongue softly. "Seriously…?"
"…Interesting," Mr. White murmured.
The cube began spinning again, faster and faster, as the darkness itself trembled. Then it stopped, the symbol glowing brightly—Copy.
"Prepare yourself," Mr. White said.
Before Aryan could react, a sharp pain shot through his arm. He clenched his teeth as a thin line of blood floated into the air, twisting into a strange symbol.
"What is that…?" he asked, but Mr. White didn't answer.
Instead, he raised his hand and began speaking in an unfamiliar language. The moment the first word echoed, pain exploded through Aryan's body.
"Ghh—!" His body trembled violently as something forced its way inside him. His heartbeat became erratic, his vision blurred, and his mind felt like it was breaking apart.
Images flooded his thoughts—unknown people, unknown battles, powers being used again and again.
"STOP—!!" Aryan screamed, but the voice continued, cold and relentless.
The symbol burned brighter as the pain intensified. His breathing became unstable, his body unable to endure it any longer.
At this rate… he was going to die.
Then everything stopped.
Silence replaced the chaos. No pain. No sound. Nothing.
Aryan collapsed, gasping, his body barely holding together.
"You are fortunate," Mr. White said calmly. "With your current state, this ritual should have killed you. But you survived—barely."
Aryan struggled to stay conscious.
"The power you received is incomplete," Mr. White continued. "Your body could not fully accept it. What you possess is only a fragment."
"…So I failed?" Aryan asked weakly.
"No. You succeeded—but at a cost."
Mr. White looked directly at him. "Your ability, Copy, allows you to replicate powers. However, you cannot handle it."
Aryan's expression tightened.
"If you use it recklessly, your heart will fail. If you push further, your mind will collapse. And if you ignore both… you will die."
Aryan slowly closed his eyes, his body still trembling.
"Train your body. Strengthen your mind," Mr. White said. "Only then will you be able to use what you have been given."
The darkness began to fade.
"My time is up," his voice echoed. "Become strong enough."
His figure slowly disappeared. "Goodbye… for now."
Aryan's eyes opened again.
He was back in his room, staring at the familiar ceiling as silence filled the house. For a few seconds, he didn't move—then slowly sat up, his mind racing.
"…What just happened?"
But deep down, he already knew.
Something had changed.