Savin's breath hitched.
'Earth.'
"Th— that's Earth. Then where exactly am—"
He didn't finish the thought. The realization struck him before he could even form the words. His mind pieced it together like a puzzle that had been sitting in front of him all along, unnoticed until now.
The endless fields of green stretched far beyond the horizon, untouched and unnatural in their uniformity, the first tree he encountered was massive and golden, unlike anything that should exist and an endless stream of water flowed into a shallow pool that never overflowed or drained.
This was no dream.
This was real.
And there was only one place in all the known universe that fit such an impossible description.
The closest planet to Earth,
'The Nether World. The Nether World? Why would I be in the Nether World? How did I get here?'
Savin had been calm, relaxed even, despite everything. But now, the truth shattered that fragile composure, replacing it with sheer, unfiltered panic. Ending up in an unfamiliar place was one thing, waking up in the Nether World, a place of horrors beyond human comprehension, was another.
His chest tightened as his mind spiraled, conjuring nightmare after nightmare. His thoughts grew heavy, pressing down on him like gigantic steel chains.
His gaze darted around, scanning the landscape as his hands trembled, clenching into fists, then relaxing, then clenching again.
'Damn, damn, damn it all. I don't want to die, I don't want to die.'
Savin took deep, steadying breaths, forcing himself to push past the panic that clawed at his mind.
'Deep breaths. Yeah… deep breaths.'
The effort to remain calm was like fighting against a raging current, but after a few moments, he managed to steady himself. His heart still pounded, his body still trembled, but at least he could think.
'Alright. Let's think this through. What is going on here?'
His mind raced, searching for answers, and then it struck him.
'Damn Bell of Transcendence… haven't you punished me enough? Why did you bring me here again?'
The Nether World was not a place one simply ended up in. There was only one path that led here, and that path belonged to the Seekers—those who had received the bells' gifts. If he was here, then that meant…
'I've fully assimilated the bell?'
The thought unsettled him. Becoming a Seeker wasn't this simple. He had heard stories, learned of the process—none of it matched what he was experiencing.
When an individual successfully assimilated their Bell of Transcendence, they were supposed to receive a gift—ether, a force that fused with every fiber of their being, down to their very soul. And after the ether came the Seal. The Seals were timers. A countdown for how much time Seekers had left on Earth. Once mundane became Seekers, they were no longer just people of Earth—they were beings of two worlds, half-earthers. Their duty, however, lay with the Nether World.
Earth could not sustain them. Because of the lack of the suspect, unnatural energy called ether in the Earth's atmosphere, Seekers were almost unable to live there because it was a lifeline for them. That was the purpose of the Seals—to act as a bridge, an oxygen tank of sorts, so they could survive on Earth. But when the Seal ran dry, they had no choice but to return here.
To the Nether World.
That, right now, was the problem.
He should have received a Seal. He should have waited for it to deplete before ever setting foot into this place. There were shelters, safe zones on Earth, where fresh Seekers could receive guidance, maybe even secure extra Seals to delay their inevitable descent into the Nether World. There were ways to prepare, ways to survive.
Yet here he was, completely unprepared and utterly defenseless.
Everything was wrong. And if everything was already wrong, then what was coming next?
'How did it come to this?'
That was the question that gnawed at him the most.
Yes, Seekers could enter the Nether World at will—but that didn't mean they could simply appear here out of nowhere. Transitioning between worlds wasn't some casual flick of the wrist. It required a fixed point attuned to their ether signature known as a Monument and importantly… a Seal which allowed yhem to remain on Earth.
Savin had neither.
No ether signature. No Monument. No Seal.
Then how? How had he come here?
His mind raced, trying to weave a plausible explanation, but the more he thought about it, the more the impossibility of it all pressed down on him like a weight in his chest. Something had forced him here, something beyond the normal rules of a Seeker's transition.
And that terrified him.
The only thing he could come up with was that it had something to do with his Bell—it had to. The Bells of Transcendence varied by grade, not just by color, though the color served as an indicator of their rank.
The lowest and most common among Seekers were the Green Bells, granted to those known as the Sparks of Life. These were the most frequently found and made up the majority of Seekers. The next grade was the White Bells, belonging to those called the Ambitious Flames. They were fewer in number but still relatively common compared to what lay beyond.
The Red Bells came next. These were much rarer than the previous two, and those who wielded them were known as the Embers of Hope. While still found in notable numbers, Seekers of this grade were recognized as being in an entirely different league, possessing the third-highest potential among all Seekers. Their strength set them apart, making them significant figures within the Seeker ranks.
However, the last two grades were another matter entirely.
They were so rare, so unfathomably powerful, that they seemed almost like myths.
The Golden Bells and Silver Bells of Transcendence were considered ancient treasures—artifacts of immeasurable value, capable of shifting the balance of power in an instant. They appeared so infrequently that, in the six thousand years since the Nether World's existence became known, the total number of individuals who had possessed them had not even reached fifty.
And when they did appear... chaos followed.
Wars erupted and nations fought to claim them. Blood was spilled over the mere possibility of wielding such a Bell. Those fated to them were seen as gods among Seekers, forces of nature who could rewrite destiny itself. They were worshipped, and feared in equal measure.
And now, somehow, against all odds, against all reason…
Savin had become one of these legendary beings.
Still he was not happy with it because he wanted nothing to do with the Nether World in the first place. The Silver Bells as rare as they were, were more common than the Gold Bells of which only five holders had ever been recorded, Savin being the sixth to appear.
The holders of the Silver Bells were known as the Ashes of Dreams, Ash for a single person, a name that commanded respect and was not to be taken lightly. These Bell titles were not just randomly named by people or the Seekers themselves. Rather, they had an unseen authority that followed every Seeker from the point of their rebirth and gave name and meaning to everything they encountered in the Nether World. Some would call it 'The System', but amongst the Seekers, it was commonly known as the Primordial Law.
Ultimately this Primordial Law had bestowed upon holders of Golden Bells like him the title:
Cinder of Ruin.
What was the point of all this? Why were humans forced to become Seekers and venture into the Nether World? Savin couldn't make sense of it. It felt like an endless cycle of confusion and duty, one that he never signed up for. But as much as he wanted to dive into the answers, that could wait for now. Right now, he was stranded in the Nether World, and aside from the fact that he had obtained a Bell of Transcendence, Savin was no different from a sixteen-year-old human in any way.
His main priority was survival, and to do that, he had to stay vigilant. The creatures that roamed this world, the ones he had been warned about, were called Enigma. These were not mere monsters, but something far beyond human understanding, and their name alone was enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
Details about the Primordial Law—the force that governed all of this—remained a mystery to most. Even the Seekers, those who had dedicated their lives to understanding this strange law, were left with more questions than answers. At times, it was suspected that the Primordial Law wasn't just a concept or a set of rules, but something far more transcendental, something akin to a god.
The image painted by those who speculated was that the Primordial Law was, in fact, a god, and if such a being had named these creatures "Enigma," then surely they were not meant to be understood by mere humans. Perhaps even this god-like entity could not comprehend them fully. What did that mean for someone like Savin, who was now caught in this world? He could only imagine.
Enigma were not to be taken lightly. Even joking about them was considered dangerous, a potential path to trouble. That was, unless you were a Seeker, of course. But even then, such a joke would hardly slide. The gravity of their existence demanded respect and caution, and for Savin, that meant learning to navigate the unknowns of the Nether World with eyes wide open.
Savin took a long, hard look at the tree behind him and frowned. It was massive—too massive. When he first laid eyes on it, he had admired its grandeur, but now that his mind was clearer, he was starting to see that its sheer size was more of a problem than a marvel. The tree easily towered over a twelve-story building, its thick, sturdy trunk stretching towards the sky. Numerous branches jutted out from its enormous stem, but there was one issue—they were far too high for him to reach.
He considered climbing, but even if he managed to scale the rough bark, he wasn't sure he could make it to the nearest thick branch. There were a few lower ones, but they looked frail, unlikely to hold his weight through the night. Worse still, they provided no real cover. If an Enigma appeared, he would be completely exposed—visible from hundreds of meters away, assuming they didn't already have excellent night vision.
Savin knew one thing for certain: in a place like this, the only thing to expect was the unexpected. But based on everything he had heard, Seekers were always far more cautious of nightfall in the Nether World than they were of the day.
As the stories went, more Enigma roamed during the night, and the worst part? The nocturnal ones weren't just more active—they were more deadly, more cunning, more ferocious and more powerful than the diurnal ones. That was what made them so feared.
'What kind of situation is this?' he thought, dejected.
And as if the universe itself wanted to fan the flames of his growing unease, something caught his attention. A shadow. A presence.
His breath hitched as he raised his head.
Far in the distance, atop the hill he had climbed just hours ago, a lone dark figure stood beneath the pale, beautiful glow of the moon...
...watching.