Chapter 2: Icathia
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Josh finally regained consciousness. His first instinct was to look around—and what he saw left him completely stunned. This wasn't his room.
Panicked, he held out his hands and examined them closely. Relief washed over him when he confirmed he hadn't turned into a child again. That alone was enough to put him at ease—he couldn't bear reliving the nightmare of being helpless and tiny once more. That sense of powerlessness had been unbearable.
Especially back when he lived in the imperial capital—those maids around him, each one more beautiful than the last. But as a child, all he could do was look. The frustration from that time still haunted him.
Later, when he finally gained power, it no longer mattered. Everyone had already labeled him a talentless failure. From then on, no one gave him a second glance. This world, he realized, was cold and brutally realistic.
Josh stood up and carefully examined his surroundings. One thing was certain—he hadn't been kidnapped. Who would even bother kidnapping someone like him? If anything, they'd target his three exceptionally gifted brothers. But his father protected them far too well for that to happen.
Shaking his head, Josh stopped overthinking. Instead, he tried to recall how he'd ended up in this strange place.
"I remember experimenting with my magic," he muttered. "I must've passed out from exhaustion... and then that highly compressed mana sphere exploded right in front of me?"
The memory sent shivers down his spine. Could that explosion have actually killed him? If so, he'd truly become the laughingstock of all transmigrators.
"This is the land of ruin—ancient city ruins lost in endless mist, filled with decayed statues of monstrous, terrifying gods."
Suddenly, Josh heard a whisper—low and chilling.
It raised every hair on his body.
The whisper felt both far away and uncomfortably close. It was a woman's voice, cold and terrifying. Josh swore he'd never heard anything so dreadful before.
But the strangest part was—he could understand what she was saying. Not the actual words—those were incomprehensible. Yet somehow, the meaning of them translated perfectly in his mind. It was as if the knowledge had been downloaded directly into his brain.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Terror surged through Josh. Though bold in some ways, he was still just an ordinary person—he'd never fought in a real battle. So this eerie whisper shook him to his core. Still, he gritted his teeth and focused his mana. Fortunately, he had rested enough to recover both mental energy and mana.
With a wave of his hand, a glowing silver orb formed in his palm, illuminating the darkness around him.
And then he immediately regretted it.
The light revealed what lay around him—bodies. Or rather, skeletons—dozens of them, long dead and crumbled to dust.
Josh's whole body trembled. He felt a creeping dread rising through him—almost enough to make him wet himself. But he forced himself to stay calm. He lifted his head, refusing to look down, and began inspecting his surroundings.
It was like a tomb.
Twisted trees. Bizarre corpses. A landscape straight out of a nightmare. Had he really died and landed in hell? Was his story already over?
No. Josh's will to survive flared up. He didn't want to die here. And even though the silver orb he held wasn't offensive magic—it was just a light—it gave him a sense of safety. Light meant life, right?
To keep it glowing, he had to keep feeding it mana. That was fine—he had enough stored to last a week if necessary. But of course, he couldn't go a week without rest. So he decided to maintain the light while slipping into a semi-meditative trance to recover.
This training technique was one of the few things he had mastered. Though his mana lacked elemental affinity, he had never stopped learning and practicing every proven method available to him.
As he slowly absorbed mana from his surroundings, Josh noticed something odd—his training here was progressing much faster than usual. In a short time, not only had he fully replenished his mana, but new energy kept flowing into his core—filling it to the brim.
If this kept up, Josh believed his mana spring would evolve into a river in no time.
But this place was terrifying.
"This is the land of endless death!"
The whisper returned—this time louder, clearer, and even more sinister.
Josh's eyes flew open—and what he saw nearly made him faint.
He was standing at the center of a vortex of silver mana particles, all swirling around him, drawn to him like moths to flame. One by one, they entered his body in a perfect, terrifying rhythm.
"What the hell is going on?!"
Josh couldn't even scream. He was completely frozen—unable to move or speak. The mana flooded his body faster and faster, and he couldn't stop it.
"This is the land of curses, the forgotten land, the endless void!"
The whisper grew louder and more layered. Josh could feel his body swelling with power to the point of bursting. But he had no choice but to endure.
He glanced downward—only to find a massive magic circle etched into the ground beneath him.
"Am I... being sacrificed?"
That was the only thought that surfaced.
He really did look like he was part of some twisted sacrificial ritual. Completely helpless, no way to escape.
But amidst the pain, Josh realized something else: his mana core was growing—fast. It was already nearly full, with no sign of stopping.
"This is the land of sin!"
Land of sin, my ass! Josh screamed in his mind. He was certain this would be his end. The silver particles kept flooding in, and his body couldn't take much more. He was about to explode, and this damn magic circle was probably forcing him to ascend just to be sacrificed!
Josh had never felt more desperate.
Was this it? Was he really going to die because of a botched spell experiment?
Finally, when what must have been thousands of mana particles surged into him—his mana spring exploded.
A violent tremor ran through his body. Then, everything went quiet. A strange sensation rose in his chest.
His mind grew foggy. He felt as if his very soul was rising from his body.
And once again, that haunting voice whispered in his ear.
"This is Icathia…"
---
Meanwhile, at the War Academy...
"Captain, something happened near Icathia. Last night, people from miles away saw a surge of white energy gather from all directions. What are your orders?"
A young soldier stood before a towering man carrying a massive greatsword. Honestly, he didn't need the report—none of them had slept last night. The sheer intensity of that magical convergence had shaken the entire region.
"It was too big to ignore," the man muttered. "Probably another Void creature awakening."
His eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance—as if trying to pierce through mountains and mist to see the truth.
He was of noble blood, a member of the prestigious Crownguard family of Demacia. A warrior through and through.
His name was Garen.
"I'll go investigate it myself," he said, gripping the hilt of his sword. "No need for alarm."
"And our soldiers posted near the area?" his subordinate asked.
"I'll retrieve them while I'm there. Tell Prince Jarvan not to worry—I'll sweep away whatever darkness I find with my sword and my will."
"But, sir… if it's a new Void entity, I—"
Garen turned, smiling faintly. "Don't worry. If it's a Void mage, then it's nothing I can't handle."
He stepped forward, the massive sword gleaming at his back.
"After all, I am Garen Crownguard of Demacia!"