Scratching his head, Los pondered the question before ultimately deciding to give up.

"Whatever. There's no point in trying to understand something I don't know," he muttered.

Ignoring the race, Los shifted his attention to another section, reading its description aloud:

Vaiyrid: Unbound by the chains of the earth, the ancient power stirs within you. With a single thought, you defy gravity and rise effortlessly from the ground—no wind or external force is needed, for this ability is an extension of your will.

He squinted at the line, confusion flickering in his eyes. Suddenly, a panel popped up.

Ding!

Item received

Would you like to claim it?

would i like to claim it? He thought inwardly.

Slightly confused, he hesitated a moment before speaking. "Yes, accept."

Weapon has been received

Weapon Rank: Seeker

[Weapon Description]

[Retrieved from the corpse of a "Devote" who belonged to a clan known as the Scermin, this weapon is bound to the thoughts of its user doing so though there soul. Though weathered and worn, its edge remains sharp enough to cleave through any foe.]

Los frowned, glancing between the description and the screen. Where is the weapon?

Waving his hand through the menu, he grew even more puzzled. It said I received a weapon, right? So where is it?

In the manhwas he'd read, there was always an inventory system. But here? Nothing.

Sighing, he pushed the thought aside and focused elsewhere.

"Levitatos!"

…

"Winds, lift me!"

…

"Up!"

Shouting the first words that came to mind, Los started jumping around the room. Using the couch as a platform, he launched off it, an idea forming in his head.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The system said I can fly, right? And all I need is the will to do it. So maybe I have to strengthen that will first?

Unsurprisingly Los wasn't far from the truth.

"Fly!" he shouted.

However Instead of falling like before, he floated. "I… I actually did it," he said, voice trembling as he wobbled in mid-air, struggling to find his balance. Flying was one thing—controlling it was another.

Inevitably, gravity reclaimed him, and he crashed face-first into the ground. Groaning, he pushed himself up, his body trembling—not from pain, but from sheer excitement.

A grin spread across his face. Like a child with a new toy, he started running and jumping around in celebration.

"I actually flew. I actually did it."

Forcing himself to calm down, he took a deep breath. "Fly," he commanded again. This time, he lifted off the ground with ease.

Still adjusting to the weightless sensation, he floated toward the kitchen, a lingering doubt creeping in. This is real… right?

To make sure, he grabbed a knife and, without hesitation, drove the blade into his skin.

Pain flared through his hand. He recoiled, sucking in a sharp breath before licking the blood from his palm, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

"This… this isn't a dream," he whispered, breath hitching. "I'm actually flying"

A sudden surge of power sent him shooting in a random direction.

With a loud thud, he crashed into the wall, groaning as he slid to the floor. But he barely registered the pain. Scrambling to his feet, he ran into another room.

Opening a drawer, he retrieved a first-aid kit and hastily wrapped his bleeding palm. Dissatisfied with the sloppy job, he grabbed his phone, searched for a bandaging tutorial, and followed the steps meticulously, disinfecting his wound before rewrapping it properly.

Examining his hand, he nodded. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than before.

Slowly, he lifted off the ground again, floating toward the couch, still adjusting to the sensation.

Then, the entire apartment shook.

Los barely registered the quake—he was still hovering. But when he reached the window, his breath caught.

Two massive creatures were battling in the streets below. One had long, vine-like arms whipping through the air with terrifying force. The other was grotesque—three massive human heads atop a frail yet muscular body, its torso crawling with smaller creatures.

As Los processed the sight, the floor trembled beneath him. A nearby apartment took a direct hit from a stray attack, collapsing under the force.

"Damn it! I need to get out of here!" he shouted.

Rushing to his room, he grabbed a black bag before sprinting to the kitchen, stuffing knives into his pockets.

Another quake sent him tumbling. The battle outside grew more chaotic, and the building showed signs of collapse.

Standing at the door remembering something, he cursed. "Shit! My clothes!"

But before he could move, a deafening screech pierced the air. His body seized up, ears ringing as he collapsed to the floor.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand, bag in hand, and stumbled toward the balcony. The entrance was blocked—the ceiling had caved in during the monsters screech, rubble piling in front of the door.

With no other choice, he stepped onto the balcony, carefully manoeuvring around shattered glass and debris.

Before he could think of his next move, the three-headed monster crashed into his building.

Los clenched his jaw. "Damn it!"

The structure groaned, tilting dangerously. It was coming down.

No time!

Holding onto his bag, he braced himself. The building leaned further, gravity pulling it toward destruction.

His grip tightened.

This better work!

And then, he jumped.