The eternal sunset stretched like an endless canvas, painted in shades of gold, crimson, and violet that flowed into one another like living ink. In that dimension suspended between the real and the impossible, the sky was an ocean of endless clouds—soft and radiant, like mountains of cotton bathed in the light of a sun that would never die.
There, in the midst of that silent immensity, existed only a small patch of grass. A gently sloping hill, surrounded by a warm wind that never changed direction, as if it respected the very center of that world.
At its peak, two figures stood in stark contrast to the majesty of the landscape.
Jay Baker, the black‑haired human, sat cross‑legged. His posture was straight, firm, disciplined. His deep breathing made his chest rise and fall slowly, as though following the rhythm of the eternal sunset itself. His eyes were closed, surrendered once more to the meditation he had learned to master through desperation, through rage, and finally through patience.
Before him, yawning with shameless laziness, was the Fire Elemental.
A jaguar wrapped entirely in living flames. Its fur was liquid fire, a sea of dancing embers forming the dark rosettes of a real jaguar. Each mark glowed like burning coal, pulsing with its own life. Its crimson eyes were like twin rubies, watching everything with a mix of mockery, curiosity, and a wisdom so ancient it did not belong to the mortal world.
Above its head floated a halo of fire. No larger than its feline skull, yet burning with a majestic brilliance, as though it carried the crown of the sun itself.
The two remained there, tiny points against the vastness of the world… and yet, their mere presence seemed to influence the sky itself.
The jaguar raised a fiery brow and let out a sigh dripping with eternal sarcasm.
"It's been a year and six months, Jay Baker," the jaguar said, lazily flicking its burning tail in a gesture that mixed boredom with mockery.
The human slowly opened a single eye, glaring with barely concealed irritation. His iris shifted, flickering from ordinary black to incandescent red. It was an unstable flame, blinking in and out of existence, revealing the evidence of an incomplete transformation.
At its center, a tiny burning emblem appeared—the mark of fire. A symbol that seemed to breathe, to pulse, to struggle to be born.
Jay exhaled wearily.
"Don't talk, cosmic cat. You're distracting me," Jay muttered, his tone mocking, though his brow remained tense and a vein throbbed at his temple.
The jaguar's mouth curled into a wide, dangerous grin, revealing teeth forged of sharp flames.
"Oh, really?" the jaguar tilted its head with malicious amusement. "Then it's time for the penultimate trial."
Jay frowned, raising a hand as if to signal "wait."
But he had no time.
Something shattered inside his mind.
The sunset, the clouds, the hill, the fire… all were ripped away from his perception, as though someone had violently torn down a curtain.
Jay gasped.
And then, he saw.
A torrent of images consumed him, striking without warning or mercy.
Screams. Blood. The stench of iron. Twisted shadows.
First, he saw his own death. Then another. And another. And another.
His body falling. His throat pierced. His bones breaking. His voice fading.
But it didn't end there.
Daru appeared.
His brother… His laughter… His confident gaze…
And then his eyes went dark.
Nekotyna appeared.
The small one, with silver ears… Her brave expression… Her trembling voice…
And he saw her fall. Again and again. In terrible, unjust, cruel ways.
Jay screamed. He tried to rise, but his hands shook so violently he could barely hold himself up. His breathing turned frantic, violent, as though he were drowning.
He clutched his chest desperately, as if he could tear out his heart to stop the absurd, alien pain.
And then, suddenly, it ended.
The visions vanished. The hill returned. The sunset as well. The clouds swayed gently once more.
Jay gasped, sweating as though he had run for days.
"What the hell was that…?" Jay knelt, clutching his chest with both hands, trembling.
The jaguar watched him without mockery. Its crimson eyes were now cold, serious, deep as a silent pool of lava.
"It's time to strengthen your endurance against things like this, Jay Baker," the jaguar said gravely, like an unyielding master who accepted no excuses. "You must learn to remain calm in places where death itself lingers in the air."
The warm wind swept across the hill. Jay, still trembling, lifted his head. His eyes flared red for an instant.
And the eternal sunset continued to watch them both— a silent witness to the fire that was about to be born.
The eternal sunset lingered above the floating hill, as if the sun stubbornly refused to sink behind the ocean of clouds. A golden glow caressed the sloping grass, illuminating the outlines of Jay and the fiery jaguar resting before him.
Jay, his pulse still unsettled after the mental trial, blinked a few times before speaking.
"Are we going to do that all the time?" His voice carried a faint tremor, his brow furrowed as he tried to shake off the last fragments of the nightmare that had invaded him.
The jaguar shook its head, its flaming halo swaying gently as though the wind made it dance.
"No. I only wanted to show you once, so you don't grow careless in the other world," it said in its usual lazy tone, tail flicking idly from side to side.
Jay let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warm air brush against his face.
"Then… what will we do for these last six months?" he asked, curiosity and nerves mingling in his voice.
The jaguar studied him in silence, crimson eyes gleaming with a mysterious, almost anticipatory light.
"…It's time you train with this."
The words had barely left its mouth when the sky reacted.
A deep roar, as if the dimension itself had inhaled sharply, echoed through the clouds. Then, without warning, a bolt descended.
A bolt of light. Of fire. Of pure energy.
The hill shook beneath Jay's feet. The air burst into heat, and a blinding curtain of white and red engulfed him. Jay raised both arms to shield his face as a scorching gale lashed against him like a whip.
For an instant, everything was light. Light and fire fused into a single, almost divine presence.
When the intensity finally faded, Jay lowered his hands slowly.
And his eyes widened.
There, at the very center of the hill, embedded in the earth like a sacred relic, was a saber.
Its blade curved gracefully, elegant, as though imitating the flow of a shining river beneath the dawn. The steel looked newborn—pure, polished to the point of reflecting the entire sky in a single gleam.
The guard, adorned with golden details, caught the eternal sunset's glow and returned it in a warm radiance. The hilt, a deep brown, carried a strange familiarity—almost human.
Jay felt something stir in his chest. A mix of nostalgia and awe.
It was a weapon that did not belong to this dimension. A memory forged in steel. A whisper of a world he could no longer see.
It reminded him of the sabers of the liberators of the Americas. Of knights of the past. Of the history of his homeland.
It was a weapon that, without doubt, Simón Bolívar himself could have carried.
Jay stepped forward. Then another. His fingers trembled, his breath grew uneven, and his eyes shone with an emotion he rarely allowed to surface.
"…Is that… mine?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly, unable to hide his hope.
The jaguar let out a laugh dripping with sarcasm.
"No, it's mine. Don't you see how well I wield it with my two hands?" It tilted its head theatrically. "Oh, wait… I don't have hands. Obviously, it's a gift for you."
Jay pressed his lips together, ignoring the sarcasm, and leaned toward the saber. When his fingers touched the hilt, a gentle warmth—not burning, but alive—flowed through his hand, as if the weapon breathed.
Before he could draw it, the jaguar's voice stopped him.
"First, give it a name. A weapon without a name does not recognize its master."
Jay closed his eyes.
The wind blew. The eternal sun caressed his face. The clouds seemed to fall silent around him, like spectators of an ancient rite.
He thought. And thought. Five whole minutes, his heartbeat marking the rhythm of his decision.
Finally, he opened his eyes and said:
"I'll call it… Damascos."
At that instant, the blade vibrated faintly. A golden light ran across its surface, engraving the name in Spanish—his native tongue—as though it had always belonged there.
Jay pulled the saber firmly.
The earth yielded. An aura of fire rose from the wound in the ground, surrounding the blade as it was freed inch by inch. It was as if the weapon awakened, its inner spirit igniting in the presence of its master.
When Jay finally lifted Damascos completely, the eternal sun's light reflected off the steel, illuminating his face with a warm, heroic glow.
Jay gripped the hilt with both hands. His heart pounded fiercely. He knew exactly what would come next.
Training. Pain. Growth. Surpassing.
The jaguar's gaze confirmed it.
The last six months would not be mere training.
They would be a forge.
From that moment on, Jay Baker would no longer be just a human lost in a strange dimension.
He would be a warrior wielding Damascos.
The eternal sun continued its descent over the ocean of clouds, painting the sky in shades of orange and violet that blended with the shadows cast by the hill. Jay, his heart still pounding with the thrill of holding Damascos, gazed at the blade with reverence, feeling the weight and history of the saber in his hands. Every glimmer of sunset light reflected across the steel as if the weapon itself absorbed the fire of the heavens.
"And… how long will we train with the saber?" Jay asked, trying to contain the excitement coursing through him. His eyes, which once flickered with the emblem of fire, now shone with sharp focus.
The jaguar, crimson eyes fixed on him, tilted its head slightly and answered with calm, its deep voice resonating across the floating platform.
"Six months should be enough for you to gain some practical knowledge."
Jay nodded, a mix of relief and anticipation swelling inside him. Six months of training might feel endless, but the chance to master Damascos was something he could never waste.
"No more talking. We begin now," the jaguar declared. No gestures, no ceremony—only the weight of its words. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the intensity of the training to come.
Jay planted his feet firmly, slightly apart, the saber pointed toward the horizon. Every muscle in his body tensed, then eased, like the string of a bow ready to release an invisible arrow. He drew a deep breath, feeling the breeze sweep across the hilltop, brushing his black hair and carrying with it a memory of his homeland—an echo of quiet afternoons back on Earth.
The jaguar remained seated, watching with infinite patience. It didn't need to move; Jay's discipline would be forged in his own motions, in the precision and control he had to discover.
The first strike was slow, measured—an elegant arc from left to right. The blade cut the air with a faint whistle, a sound that seemed to merge with the wind of dusk. Jay repeated the movements again and again: turning, stepping with calculated precision, raising Damascos with strength and fluidity, seeking to synchronize body and mind with every swing. Each repetition was a silent poem, a dialogue between him and the weapon he held.
As the sun descended further, Jay's movements grew more fluid. The stiffness, the fear of damaging the blade, the clumsiness of his grip—all of it faded little by little. His feet found the firmness of the ground as though each blade of grass guided him invisibly, and his body moved in harmony with the hill's gentle slope, as if the earth itself understood his purpose.
From time to time, the jaguar let out a low growl—a silent reminder that he could still do better, that perfection lay in every detail: the pressure of his fingers on the hilt, the tension in his shoulders, the way the blade sliced the air effortlessly. Jay sweated, every muscle pushed to its limit, fatigue weighing on his legs and arms—but determination and exhilaration burned brighter than exhaustion.
Hours passed in relentless rhythm. The saber moved in arcs, circles, thrusts, and blocks—each gesture more confident than the last, each step more assured. The hill's wind played with his hair and the thin veil of dust rising from the grass, and every ray of light that touched Damascos seemed to bless his effort, illuminating his progress as if the eternal sun itself applauded each strike.
Jay began to feel the bond with the weapon. Damascos was no longer just steel—it was an extension of his body, a silent companion responding to every thought, every impulse. The raw joy of training without spells or artifice—only body, mind, and blade—gave him a sense of freedom and power he had never known.
The jaguar watched, satisfied. Every imperfect motion Jay corrected, every repetition etched into his muscles, every small detail learned was another step toward something far greater. And as the sun sank behind the horizon, painting the sky in impossible colors, Jay kept moving, knowing this was only the beginning.
The training with the saber had begun. And with every strike, every turn, Jay felt a new chapter of his story being written in the wind and fire of the sunset—one that would carry him beyond anything he had ever imagined.
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Six months had passed since Jay began his training with the saber. The first three months had been nothing short of clumsy spectacle—like watching a rookie trying to debut in the major leagues. Every movement was uneven, his legs shaky, the saber's hilt trembling in his grip, striking more air than cutting with precision. Yet, as time went on, something began to change.
In the following three months, that initial awkwardness slowly transformed into a faint harmony between body and blade. It wasn't spectacular, but there was a glimpse of affinity; each step, each turn, each flick of the wrist showed that Jay was beginning to understand the dance of combat.
On the final day of training, the sun sank slowly behind the clouds, painting the sky in orange and violet, while a gentle breeze caressed the grass of the hill. Jay lowered the saber for a moment, breathing deeply as he looked at the jaguar who had guided him for so long. His black eyes still flickered with intermittent red, like tiny flames glowing within. His voice was firm, heavy with gratitude and a trace of emotion he could barely contain:
"Thank you for training me all this time… and thank you for lending me your power."
The jaguar, its fiery pelt dancing in the light of sunset and its crimson eyes gleaming, regarded him with an air of prideful arrogance—raising Jay's ego with every word.
"Of course. Anything for a son and a brother. I'm glad you agreed to come," it said, tilting its head slightly, a gesture mixing sarcasm and pride.
Jay couldn't help but think bitterly to himself: I didn't really agree… he kidnapped me without asking.
Before opening the rift that would send him back, the jaguar leaned closer, its voice firm and deep, carrying both warning and advice:
"Listen, human. You're stronger now than the average man, but you still lack training. When you return, keep practicing. You're not the strongest on that planet—many people still are. And believe me… many."
Jay frowned, replying with a touch of irony, playing with the clichés of isekai stories:
"Oh, I get it. This is the part where the protagonist gets a buff because he's too weak for the world he's in, right? Makes sense… no wonder it takes two years here, but only two days back where my brother and Nekotyna are."
The jaguar raised a brow and let out a low growl, clearly annoyed.
"Please… stop breaking the fourth wall."
"What are you talking about?" Jay shot back, unable to hide his ironic smile.
Before he could continue, a rift began to open beneath his feet, glowing with violet and blue light that resembled the infinite cosmos. The radiance pulsed, swirling and bending as though time itself folded around it. Jay felt himself falling, his world vanishing in an instant. Looking up, he saw the jaguar watching from the grassy platform, its gaze firm yet serene.
"Good luck, brother," the jaguar said, solemn and warm. "I'll always be with you if you need me. And remember—don't oversaturate your elemental energy."
The sensation of falling intensified until, suddenly, Jay found himself standing on the grass of Daru's mansion courtyard. He had landed on his feet, shirt in one hand, Damascos in the other. Night surrounded him; the mansion's lights flickered softly, casting long shadows across the lawn. Jay looked around, confused and astonished.
"Only two days passed here…?" he thought, as the cool night air brushed against his skin and the distant sounds of nature reminded him of calm after hardship.
Ahead of him, his brother and Nekotyna stood at the mansion's entrance, turning back cautiously. The rift glowing in the courtyard shimmered with violet and blue, but along its edges flickered tongues of fire—reminding Jay of the fiery dimension he had just left. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and unable to contain himself, he puffed out his chest and shouted with playful pride:
"Did you miss me?"
The echo of his words mingled with the whisper of the night wind, while the rift behind them pulsed with latent energy—reminding them all that worlds and dimensions were merely pieces of the same board… and that the true adventure was only just beginning.