A second had passed in the human world—
But in the Realm of Emptiness, time dragged like a slow-burning fire. A month had gone by.
The air here was thick with silence. Mist curled between the shattered remains of temples, broken statues lay buried beneath cracked stone, and the land stretched out in every direction, endless and haunted.
In the center stood a boy.
Sweat traced dry paths through the dirt on his bruised skin. Muscles coiled beneath his torn shirt, and his eyes—once uncertain—now held steel.
Arman rolled his shoulder, wincing as dried blood cracked along his collarbone.
Across from him, a tall man in loose, fluttering robes stood with his arms folded. The wind tugged gently at his long hair, but his gaze remained locked onto the boy with a small, satisfied smirk.
"So," Ievon asked, voice calm, "how are you feeling, kid?"
Arman wiped blood from his lip and straightened. "Better than ever, Master."
"Good," Ievon said, uncrossing his arms. "Then let's spar one last time and end your training."
Arman nodded. "Yes."
He launched forward with full force—a clean, straight lead punch powered by months of relentless training.
This time, he connected.
But Ievon caught the punch, arms crossed in defense. The impact cracked the ground beneath him slightly, yet Ievon held firm.
"Look at you," Ievon said, eyes gleaming. "You couldn't even touch me a month ago."
He smoothly moved Arman's arm aside with one hand and countered with a quick strike aimed at Arman's stomach—but it didn't land.
Arman raised his leg, blocking the punch with his tibia.
Then, without missing a beat, he unleashed a flurry of punches—each fast, precise, powerful.
Ievon dodged and blocked effortlessly, weaving through the barrage with fluid grace.
Suddenly, Arman dipped low, knees bent, and went for an uppercut.
Ievon read it immediately. "Trying to hit my jaw? Impressive… but I've seen it coming."
He leaned backward to dodge.
But Arman changed the punch's trajectory mid-move—twisting his torso and driving the punch into Ievon's gut instead.
Boom.
Ievon skidded back a few steps, dust lifting around his feet from the force.
He let out a soft chuckle, regaining balance. "Nice. You're ready."
Arman bowed low. "Thank you, Master."
Ievon nodded. "Now that your training's done, let's head back to the human realm."
Arman blinked. "Wait… you're coming with me?"
"Not in this form," Ievon replied. "But yes, I can. I just need to change my shape."
"Shape?"
"You know I'm a spirit. Spirit means soul—and souls are made of pure spiritual energy. I can shift into any form."
"Ohh… I get it now," Arman said. "So what are you gonna become? An earring?"
"Do you wear earrings?"
"Hell no."
"Then… a ring? A watch?"
"Watch sounds cool, but maybe too complicated."
"Ring it is."
Ievon took a deep breath, then began to glow.
A deep purple aura erupted from his body, pulsing with spiritual pressure so intense that the surrounding sand and mist blasted away in waves. His body shimmered, breaking apart into glowing particles—like stardust caught in a storm.
The particles swirled and fused—reshaping, reforming—
Until a golden ring floated in the air before Arman.
It was ancient and elegant. A small purple diamond sat atop it, glowing softly from its core. The pressure that had radiated from Ievon moments ago now emanated from the ring itself.
Arman raised his right hand. The ring floated gently onto his finger.
And then—
A surge of purple energy burst through the veins in his hand, rushing up his arm like fire. His heart clenched. Pain exploded in his chest.
"Agh—!" He dropped to one knee, clutching his chest and wrist.
A voice thundered in his mind.
"Hold yourself, kid! Bear the pain. That's a portion of my power merging with your energy. Don't fight it. Let it flow."
Arman gritted his teeth and breathed through the pain. It was intense… but slowly, it began to fade.
He stood back up, panting. "That… was something."
"Good job," Ievon's voice echoed in his head.
"So… how do we leave this place?"
"Same way you came in. Just think about the gate. Picture it opening into your hotel room. That's all."
Arman closed his eyes.
He focused.
He imagined the gate—not as a line in the air like before, but a real doorway, formed from the very ruins around him.
And it happened.
Stones and debris from fallen temples swirled together, forming a giant arch. A glowing portal shimmered to life within it.
Arman smiled faintly. "Guess this is it."
He stepped through—his master now bound to him, and just like that, it was over.
No flash, no dramatic roar of energy—just the simple feeling of stepping through a doorway.
Arman blinked.
His feet landed softly on familiar carpet. The scent of the city, faint pollution mixed with room freshener, hit his nose. Neon lights buzzed outside the hotel window.
He was back.
But the moment of peace shattered instantly.
Arman's eyes widened. "Wait—what day is it? How long was I gone?!"
Panic clawed at his chest. He spun, searching for his phone, his bag, anything—
"Stop panicking, idiot," Ievon's voice echoed in his mind, calm but firm.
Arman froze mid-step, blinking.
"You were gone for a month there, sure. But in the real world? Barely a second has passed."
He stiffened. "A second…?"
"Yes, genius. Time flows differently in the Realm of Emptiness."
A beat passed.
Arman sank to the floor, letting out a breath that turned into a soft laugh. "Thank god… Thought I was screwed."
"You are screwed. Just in general," Ievon muttered. "Also, do you have mood swings or are you always this dramatic?"
"What?" Arman blinked. "Did you say something?"
"Never mind."
Arman scratched his head and stretched. His body ached, the ghost of training pain humming in his muscles. "Alright. I need a bath. Then I'm knocking out."
He made his way to the bathroom, sluggishly peeling off his clothes. Warm water hit his skin and he sighed, letting his mind drift.
Later, towel-dried and shirtless, he fell into bed, letting the comfort swallow him whole.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His eyes snapped open. "What the hell…? Who's knocking this early?"
He glanced at the clock.
8:00 AM.
"What?! I just went to sleep—how is it already morning?"
Thud-thud.
And then a voice. Light. Familiar. Warm.
"Arman? Are you still sleeping? I'm coming in!"
His heart skipped.
"Aayesha?!"
He shot up just as the door opened.
She stepped in, eyes bright—then froze.
Arman blinked at her, confused.
"Hey, what's—"
Then he saw where she was looking.
His bare chest.
He glanced down—and immediately panicked. "Oh, crap—!"
He scrambled for the shirt beside him and pulled it on in one swift motion.
But the damage was done.
Aayesha stood by the door, lips parted, cheeks flushed red. She quickly looked away. "S-Sorry! I didn't know you were—"
"No, no—it's okay," he stammered. "I wasn't expecting anyone."
She peeked at him again, still blushing. "Wow… you've… been working out?"
"Huh?"
"I mean—you didn't look like that last week."
Arman laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… must be my workout routine."
"Yeah. Right. Workout." She smiled, clearly not buying it.
He avoided her gaze, silently praying she wouldn't ask more.
She didn't.
Instead, she walked in casually, like she hadn't just caught a glimpse of a completely shredded version of the guy she knew.
"So," she said, "you hungry? I made parathas."
Arman blinked. "You… made breakfast?"
"Of course." She flashed a grin. "I owe you, remember? For fixing my broken charger?"
He smirked. "Fair enough."
Alright, I have to go," she said with a smile. "I made parathas for everyone, so I need to give them out too."
With that, she stepped out of the room.
As the door closed behind her, Arman let out a slow breath.
"That was close…"
"She has no idea what you just went through," Ievon's voice chuckled in his mind. "Or who you've become."
Arman looked at his ring, then toward Aayesha's fading footsteps.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Let's keep it that way… for now."