The shift was instantaneous.
One breath, he stood on Arcanian marble—gleaming, anchored, familiar.
The next… gravity twisted.
Lucavion's boots touched down on soil that didn't belong to any nation, any realm he knew. The sky above shimmered with a dusk-colored hue, not quite night, not quite day. Two suns drifted lazily across opposite ends of the sky, creating a constant twilight effect, casting jagged shadows in every direction. The very air was alive—charged.
He inhaled, slowly.
The mana here didn't just exist—it moved. Swirled beneath the surface like rivers under glass. It responded to his presence, subtle shifts running along his skin like strands of static brushing over old silk.
'Interesting,' he thought, glancing at his fingertips as they glowed faintly with latent energy. 'So it was going to feel like this?'
