Irin.

That was the name the boy had been given. Not by his parents– or anyone from his family for that matter- but by the elderly woman that had taken him in.

His hometown had long been washed away by the Hollow Tide before he even knew what the word “Possibility” meant. 

He had grown up in a small unnamed town of an unnamed world, because it was already rare enough for anything in the Outer Realms to be given a name.

Even two of the three party members that successfully made it to the next world didn’t have names. They both agreed it would’ve felt weird to receive a name this far into their life, so the nameless adventurers instead identified themselves as the roles they fulfilled in combat.

But thinking about them right now would be getting ahead of himself.

He continued tracing back through his life, wondering where, if anywhere, he went wrong.

He was probably about 13 when he first laid his eyes on adventurers. It was already extremely rare for anybody to pass through that village, so he burned that sight into his memory.

They were people who had the power to choose who they were. To choose where they went. To choose what they’d become.

Irin envied that. He had no particular dream to chase, so he had no reason to want power, but even so, he still wanted it.

So, he resolved to train. He trained his mind, his body, his techniques, all alongside a dull sword some other nameless person had left behind. 

Whenever he got the chance, he’d sneak out into neighboring worlds and scavenge for any abandoned [Skills] dropped by unfortunate adventurers. No matter how dangerous the situation or how many times he got scolded by the villagers, he kept trying.

Then, his worldview changed at 18.

For the second time in the Outer Realm’s history, someone made it past the First Frontier and into the Central Realms.

He didn’t know why, but he could feel that here and now, all of Possibility was shifting, and for better or for worse, it was shifting towards the Outer Realms.

Despite barely being able to call himself a Shaper, he left that village and joined a party of others that sought to reach the First Frontier.

Just maybe, if he could reach that expanse that adventurers dreamed of– if he could reach the Central Realms, he could gain the power to make everything he existed for matter.

“So this is what death is like.”

How unfortunate it was that only in his final moments did he realize what had shattered his journey.

“Everything I existed for…? Hah. I never felt a purpose in the first place…”

Maybe it was this acknowledgement that turned his fear into acceptance as echoes of the 12 spears that once fought beside him now soared to tear his body apart.

But that acceptance didn’t last long, for recognition now awoke a deeper desire within him.

As if calling out to him, a foreign yet familiar desire welled in his heart.

“...then my purpose will now be to survive. I’ll survive and make it to the top.”

A declaration of defiance against a world that punished dreamers.

The beast hesitated.

A dream spoke out from the core of who he was, and for the first time, the world decided to listen.

Folding. The air collapsed in on itself.

Tearing. The sky rifted.

And in that instant, a column of blazing force descended before Irin’s eyes, shattering the spears and fracturing the ground.

He could only squeeze his eyes shut and shield his face with his arm as the now airborne sea of dirt swallowed his surroundings. 

“Is it gone?”

Squinting, he tried his best to scan the area, but couldn’t manage to see anything more than a couple feet ahead of him.

No– the air was still the same. If the beast had truly been destroyed, the air itself would’ve eased up, but that wasn’t the case.

In fact, it only felt as if gravity had shifted over more in that direction.

Whatever was happening in this obscurity, the only thing that remained clear was that whatever he had managed to pull off had at least stunned the beast.

One, two… Slowly, gently, Irin began testing the ground, stepping backwards and probing for a response.

Nothing.

He had just performed a feat of shaping, but even with that emotional high, he knew any attempt at fighting back would be suicide–

After all, who knew how much Possibility that thing had already absorbed?

If there was ever an opportunity to run towards a chance of survival, it was right now.

Shifting his weight, he turned as fast as he could and channeled every last ounce of his strength into his legs.

He could see the dust beginning to clear up, but–

Fwoosh!

“Now?!”

The rushing of air told Irin all he needed to know.

That beast had started to move again– much more ferociously than before as well.

Maybe, if he continued blindly running without looking back, he could’ve gotten out alive and unchanged, but for whatever reason, he chose to look back.

And for that choice, Irin now found himself frozen in place, not out of fear, but because of the incomprehensibility of what he faced.

With the gust of wind clearing his vision, he could now clearly behold a woman dressed in foreign garb and sporting unkempt hair standing directly in the path of the beast.

Perhaps the most notable thing about her appearance was her glasses, the frame of which seemed to slightly ebb and shimmer with a bluish-greenish hue. It was either that or her one rolled up sleeve.

Beyond that, Irin, even with his usual obliviousness to Possibility, couldn’t help but notice that her presence displaced none of it.

***

Elena felt as if she were falling. It was a sensation she had grown accustomed to, having experienced it way too many times across her life thus far.

However, this time, something was different.

She was falling, but not just falling. She was falling with weight.

Instead of darkness, countless colorful, and some colorless, sceneries flashed by her eyes, before her vision was filled with pure blue sky.

Then, she felt the descent.

Whatever was happening, her body was rapidly accelerating towards what seemed to be a jungle.

Slow down.

It wasn’t a phrase nor thought that she coherently strung together, but it was a necessity she understood.

Before she collided with the ground, the weight accelerating her body eased away, allowing her to make gentle footfall, but the force surrounding her continued nonetheless.

“Ugh, so much dirt…”

That was about when she noticed it. Another presence– both there and not there– watching.

Her vision still obscured, she turned to face the presence.

“The air here feels lighter… Almost like it’s listening to me.”

She reached to readjust her glasses, but instead, her fingers slipped straight through a misty haze that only vaguely reconstructed their shape around her face.

“Right… I left those on the nightstand.”

Then, the unknown presence turned hostile.

A terrible shriek filled her ears, accompanied by a biting wind that slammed against her.

Finally, she could see it.

A humanoid entity that she could only describe as being devoid of what made existences real. A negative error. An absence.

In its face, she could glimpse distorted reflections of other humans, all of whom seemed to gaze right back at her with the same empty eyes.

As the creature leapt into the air towards her, one of its arms extended and took on the shape of a gleaming scythe.

I can’t let it touch me.

Almost by instinct, her arm extended towards her aggressor, palm open. 

And the world responded.

She felt a gentle, warm resistance, almost like dipping one’s hand into a heated pool.

The air before her distorted, forming a pressure that screamed back at the beast– reality itself bending outwards and away from herself.

And as the beast screeched, its blade futilely pushing against that invisible plane, the world had made it so that none could pass.