Damien woke up slowly, his vision hazy. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in his room. The space around him was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

  Everything was bright white, yet not plain—the walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to stretch into infinity, twisting and folding in ways that made him feel dizzy. Strange symbols floated in the air, glowing faintly and spinning, some overlapping, some vanishing and reappearing in patterns that didn't make sense.

  It was as if the room existed both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, every muscle screaming in protest. His head throbbed, black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shirt and jacket smeared with dried blood.

  Then he noticed the man standing a few feet away. He was imposing. Blond hair fell just above his eyebrows, and his lean, muscular frame looked like a bodybuilder compressed into a smaller form. His shoulders were broad, but every muscle was sharp, defined, and coiled as if ready to spring. Damien felt suddenly small and exposed next to him.

  Damien tried to sit up but groaned at the pain. "What… what's happening?" he croaked, voice rough from sleep and fever.

  The man didn't rush to answer. He tilted his head slightly, scanning Damien from head to toe like a predator assessing prey. "We'll get to that," he said finally. "But first… how are you feeling?"

  "Like shit," Damien admitted, wincing.

  "That's expected," the man said, almost casually. He stepped closer, eyes still analyzing him. "Okay. Let me explain from the beginning. Are you aware of the Devil?"

  "Duh. Who isn't?" Damien muttered, rubbing his temple.

  The man nodded slowly. "Good. What you hold is one of seven fragments of the Devil's very being. I won't go into all the details, but demons will be hunting it. You can probably guess what will happen if they succeed."

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  Damien's heart sank. He swallowed hard.

  "The reason you feel this way," the man continued, "is because your body, mind, soul, and affinity are merging with the stone. You may have noticed your body changing."

  Damien frowned. Then he realized. Yesterday he had been about 5'8". Now he was roughly 5'10". His hair had grown slightly longer, and his muscles were subtly firmer, more toned than before. He flexed a hand instinctively and frowned.

  "Don't worry," the man said. "These changes will settle soon. As for what will happen at the end… that is unknown. You and your friend will need to prepare."

  Damien's thoughts immediately went to August. "Is he… okay?"

  "He's fine," the man said. "We've debriefed him, and he's in a secure dorm at headquarters."

  "Headquarters?" Damien echoed, still trying to take it all in. "Where even is this?"

  The man's face remained calm. "This is a Time Frame. Exactly what it sounds like. A frame in time captured by our ancestors. This one is the oldest in history, from when the world itself was just beginning. Reality here doesn't behave like your world. It stretches, folds, repeats, and shifts. That's why it feels infinite."

  Damien stared at the floating symbols, trying to focus. "That makes… no sense."

  "What about that thing you mentioned? The demon?" he asked, nodding toward the shadowed corner of the frame.

  "Yes," the man said. "It is a demon. But I am tired, so I'll let Nyx explain further. For now… you've been asleep longer than expected. Your condition is far worse than the other one. I'll take you to her. She'll explain everything."

  "My condition… sleeping? What do you mean?" Damien asked, panic rising in his chest.

  "How long have I been out?" he added, voice shaking.

  "About three months," the man said .

  Damien's jaw dropped. Three months. He felt like the world had shifted beneath him, and his mind was still foggy. He tried to move, but every motion was slow and awkward, like wading through invisible water.

  The man stepped aside, gesturing for him to follow. "Come. Nyx will explain. There's much you need to understand, and time here… behaves differently than you think. Seconds in the real world do not always equal seconds here."

  Damien glanced around again, the white space stretching endlessly in every direction. Symbols flickered like distant stars, some swirling in circles, others dissolving and reforming, giving him a sense that the room itself was alive—or at least aware of him. He felt small, exposed, and utterly disoriented, but also strangely awake, as if the place itself was amplifying his senses.

  As he began walking toward the man, he realized something chilling: every step he took seemed to echo infinitely, yet left no trace. Every movement felt deliberate, purposeful, and yet the space around him refused to be pinned down, he knew the next moments would change him forever.