Unholy Player Chapter 516 One of the lost Paths

Within the infinite shadows, there was only a void. A flicker of consciousness drifted through the silence, suspended in a hollow realm devoid of direction or distance, awaiting the moment it would finally depart this place.

Rhys had lost all track of time. In this state, duration held no meaning. He lacked all physical sensation; there was no weight to his limbs, no air in his lungs, and no pulse in his chest.

Nevertheless, he maintained his composure, enduring the stillness with the discipline of a soldier holding a position on a battlefield, waiting for commands that never arrived.

With nothing but his own mind for company, he allowed his thoughts to spiral back through the history of his life. He revisited his deepest regrets, the brief instances of relief where he felt justified in his path, and the persistent doubts that wondered if a different choice might have altered his fate.

Every memory manifested with piercing clarity, flowing one after another without pause.

He was burdened with an excess of time for reflection. Eventually, even contemplation lost its luster, and a profound boredom took root despite his lack of senses.

"Having something to drink would be wonderful right now!" The thought carried no sound, existing only as an echo in a vacuum where even the concept of 'the void' was meaningless.

From that spark, his mind wandered toward alcohol. He began to reconstruct recipes, recalling familiar aromas, sharp flavors, and the comforting heat that bloomed in his chest after a stiff drink.

It was then that he noticed something peculiar.

He remembered the satisfaction of blending his preferred liquor with the mutation serum and that red powder provided by Adyr.

He began to meticulously recreate the procedure in his mind, visualizing every step until the colors swirled and the textures changed before his inner eye. Soon, these mental experiments with flavors became a small but vital hobby in this desolate place, a way to fracture the endless monotony.

When that distraction also began to fade, his focus pivoted. Noticing that his imaginative powers had sharpened significantly, he started to engage in mental training.

Though he possessed nothing but thoughts, they sufficed. Unbound by physical constraints, he replayed combat maneuvers repeatedly, honing them through mental iteration.

Dagger techniques. Throwing. Unarmed combat. He even delved into weapons he had previously ignored, like bows and axes, gauging their weight and trajectory within his mind.

His psyche nourished this internal world, sharpening his skills with every passing second. He practiced and refined everything he could imagine, all to kill time and prevent his mind from dissolving into the stillness.

Eventually, he turned his attention to drunken combat styles. Utilizing his heightened imagination, he envisioned himself completely intoxicated, swaying with a bottle in hand yet striking with lethal precision.

That was when an external force suddenly invaded his private world of thought.

"What in the hell is that?" Rhys stood in a mental field under a bright sky, but his focus was pulled toward the horizon. Something had manifested that was not of his making.

In the far distance stood a gateway as vast as the firmament, towering higher than any monument he had ever witnessed.

Within the gate stood a feminine, elegant figure, though the intense radiance surrounding her obscured every detail, leaving behind only a shimmering silhouette.

Rhys looked down at the imagined wine bottle in his grip, feeling its phantom weight, and grumbled with a scowl, "Did I drink too much?"

He took a long sip, visualizing the familiar bite and the heat as it went down. When he turned around, he stopped dead. A second gate stood on the opposite horizon, every bit as massive as the first.

This one felt different. Its features were hazy to his mind's eye, but its hue was undeniable. It was an absolute, unsettling black that swallowed light rather than reflecting it.

Rhys felt no fear; instead, he found the spectacle amusing. In a realm forged by his own thoughts, the appearance of something foreign was a welcome break from the eternal quiet.

He continued to sip his wine as the entities within the gates began to stir, their forms becoming more defined with every movement.

The two titanic figures lifted their hands. One seemed to descend from the heavens, immense and glowing, radiating a sense of mercy and warmth. The other ascended from the deepest abyss, shrouded in shadows and carrying an aura of terror and ruin.

Both palms were aimed directly at him. Suddenly, two distinct auras erupted—one pure white and the other pitch black—surging forward in tandem and crushing the space around him as they converged.

Rhys had no time to move. In a flash, he was swallowed by the two energies, their clashing forces squeezing him from every direction.

His mental sanctuary shattered instantly. The field, the sky, and the massive gates broke apart like thin glass. His body and the wine bottle vanished, and everything plunged back into the same empty void as before.

When his consciousness finally reformed, he slowly opened his eyes.

This time, he felt the physical weight of his eyelids and the sensation of his body responding to his will. Light flooded his vision, sharp and jarring after the long darkness.

He stared up at a familiar ceiling. Its stained, weathered surface felt like a distant memory, yet he recognized it at once.

"So I'm back, huh?" His lips moved, and the sound of his own voice confirmed the reality. His mind was back in his physical shell, inside the laboratory.

However, he hadn't returned alone. Something else had followed him back.

Luminous text floated in the air before him.

[Congratulations. The AXION Path has marked you as one of its followers.]

The system notification alone was enough to stun him. It was the undeniable proof that Rhys had successfully awakened as a Practitioner.

Yet, something felt off. He knitted his brows.

The name of the Path was completely foreign, something he had never heard of in all his life.

His confusion deepened as a second message appeared, providing a description of the Path in the same translucent font.

[AXION]

-One of the lost Paths, founded by the mortal Adyr Hellcraft.

-The first being to achieve balance within imbalance, birthing the harmony of Black and White.

-It represents absolute equilibrium.

Rhys studied the text intensely, then raised a hand to his face, rubbing his skin to check for any hidden glass. He even touched his fingertip to his eye, half-expecting to find a contact lens or some trickery.

"This isn't a joke?"

He was almost certain the scientists were playing a prank, projecting fake system alerts to mock his reaction.

But it appeared to be genuine.

He slowly pushed his body up from the table where he had been lying.

Initially, his limbs were sluggish. He was unsteady, as if his body had been abandoned for an age. His legs shook as he stood, and he had to move with caution, regaining his balance with every step.

As he finally stood straight, his vision cleared. That was when he saw the person slumped on the floor in front of him.

Rhys knew Adyr at once. He lay still, his two wings splayed out on either side with their tips touching the cold floor.

Without a second thought, he leaped down from the table.

As his feet hit the ground, his muscles buckled for a second, nearly causing him to fall. He steadied himself, then hurried over to check the pulse at Adyr’s neck.

He was breathing. The heartbeat beneath Rhys's fingers was rapid and strong.

Rhys looked up, scanning the room to understand what had occurred during his absence.

The lab was transformed. New machinery packed the area. Cables dangled from the ceiling, metal surfaces had lost their shine, and everything was buried under thick layers of orange and brown rust.

The researchers were nowhere to be found.

"How long have I been out?" he whispered, his forehead creasing.

Noticing the heavy rust and Adyr’s face—which now looked significantly older, his features more rugged and worn as if he had reached his 40s—Rhys began to fear he had been asleep for decades.

He had every reason to suspect it. The experience of his awakening felt like it had spanned a lifetime, and the decay surrounding him supported that feeling.

Then, the door to the lab began to grind open. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the room as flakes of rust drifted to the ground.

A moment later, figures dressed in bulky protective suits entered the room.

Rhys observed them, focusing on the woman leading the group.

He peered at her face through the visor, looking for a shred of familiarity, and sighed deeply. "You must be Mara's granddaughter."

Dr. Mara and the staff behind her froze instantly. They swapped confused looks, struggling to grasp the meaning of Rhys's words.