Mia tried to breathe.
She couldn't.
[Arthur]'s fingers remained locked around her neck, far too firm, far too cold, wrapped in that black smoke that seemed alive. Her feet scraped across the shattered floor of the chamber while her hands instinctively struggled to pry his arm away.
— Ar... thur...
Her voice came out broken.
Barely audible.
Her eyes trembled.
Alexius charged forward.
The Primordial Sword burned with blazing flames.
Shirō, Ayame, and Kidero moved as well.
But to Mia, everything felt distant.
Very distant.
As if the world itself were sinking.
As if reality itself were becoming dark water.
And then—
Arthur opened his eyes.
Not inside his body.
Not inside the chamber.
Not before Mia.
He awakened while sinking.
The first sensation was weight.
Then cold.
Then pressure.
As if he had been submerged within an endless ocean, yet not one made of ordinary water. There were no waves, no surface, no sky. Only a vast, silent darkness pierced by countless points of light in the distance.
Memories.
He didn't know how he knew.
But he did.
Fragments shimmered around him like stars trapped beneath a bottomless sea. Some were small, almost extinguished. Others pulsed with vivid colors, carrying images, voices, faces, and emotions that did not belong to him.
Arthur tried to move his arms.
His body answered slowly.
Heavy.
As though every movement had to cross centuries.
{Where... am I...?}
Even his own thoughts seemed to disappear into the endless void.
Then something echoed far away.
A scream.
Muffled.
Distant.
— Ar... thur...
Mia.
Arthur's eyes widened.
{Mia!}
He tried to swim upward.
He tried to return.
He tried to tear that place apart through sheer force.
But the current seized him.
Not a current of water.
A current of memories.
It wrapped itself around him from every direction and dragged him toward one of the most distant lights. Arthur struggled against it, but there was nothing to hold onto. No ground. No air. No direction.
The memory swallowed him.
The darkness opened.
And Arthur saw.
A vast hall inside an ancient mountain.
But it was not Mount Arf as he knew it.
It was more alive.
Less ruined.
The walls shimmered with natural veins of silver crystal, while enormous webs, as delicate as silk and as resilient as steel, stretched across stone pillars in intricate patterns. There was beauty there. There was order. There was a quiet grandeur that seemed built not to frighten, but to protect.
At the center of the hall stood a Zaraqnil.
Arthur felt his breath catch.
It was her.
The same presence.
The same essence.
Yet completely different.
There was no corruption.
No pain.
None of that uncontrollable aura of destruction.
She was imposing.
Majestic.
The lower half of her body possessed both elegance and strength, each leg resting upon the stone with serene precision. Her humanoid torso stood tall and noble, adorned with natural ornaments of silk and pale plates, as though her very race fashioned garments from their own bodies and the world around them. Long white hair flowed in graceful waves, immaculate, radiant, almost luminous.
Her crimson eyes held no madness.
They held life.
Authority.
Weariness.
And concern.
{She... used to be like this?}
At that very instant, knowledge pierced Arthur's mind.
It did not arrive as an explanation.
It arrived as a borrowed memory.
Zaraqnil.
A race composed entirely of females.
No males.
Born from eggs.
Only queens laid eggs.
Only queens carried the future of their race.
Arthur raised a hand to his head.
{How do I know this...?}
The knowledge remained.
Heavy.
Far too natural to be unfamiliar.
Far too wrong to belong to him.
{This isn't mine.}
Before the queen, another Zaraqnil bowed respectfully. She too was beautiful. She too was powerful. But her presence was smaller. Not weak. Simply different. Like a warrior standing before someone carrying an entire people upon her shoulders.
— The Shadows have increased once again throughout the outer territories, — the second Zaraqnil reported.
The queen remained silent for several seconds.
— How many?
— More than during the last moon. They used to be scattered. Weak. Nearly mindless. Now they attack in groups.
The queen narrowed her eyes.
— Only against us?
— Against every race... and now they have begun approaching the mountain itself.
The hall suddenly felt colder.
Arthur floated there, invisible, unable to interfere.
The queen slowly turned her gaze toward one of the chamber's openings. Outside, the ancient world seemed to breathe beneath a bluish light.
— Strengthen the defenses at the lower entrances and the hunting tunnels. I want scouts along every route. No youngling is to leave alone.
— Shall we prepare an offensive?
The queen closed her eyes for a brief moment.
— No.
Her answer was firm.
— We will not begin a war before discovering who is directing these things.
— Do you believe someone stands behind them?
— Hungry Shadows attack by instinct. These ones are choosing their paths.
She opened her eyes.
— This is not hunger.
The memory trembled.
Arthur tried to move closer, but the invisible current dragged him backward.
The voices became distorted.
The hall shattered into strands of light.
— Wait—
Everything collapsed.
Arthur returned to the ocean.
This time, the cold felt even deeper.
The distant lights drifted like schools of fish, thousands of memories circling within the darkness. He reached toward one where he glimpsed the queen smiling among young Zaraqnil children, but the current shifted before he could touch it.
Another light opened.
And Arthur was pulled inside.
The second memory welcomed him with war.
He saw the mountain from afar.
Smaller.
Older.
Less scarred by time.
Yet surrounded.
Shadows climbed its slopes like living stains, scaling stone, pouring through tunnels, falling upon the defenders. Zaraqnil fought across the walls, the entrances, and the ceilings of the outer caverns, wielding spears, webs, and illusion magic to confuse the invaders.
Outside, Orcal fought as well.
Arthur recognized the race by their massive builds, enormous bodies, and overwhelming physical strength.
But one Orcal was different.
Larger than all the others.
Heavier.
Far more imposing.
A single horn rose from the center of his forehead, broad and dark, marked by ancient scars. He wielded a colossal weapon—not because he depended on it, but because he looked like someone who could shatter stone with his bare hands if he wished.
The leader of the Orcal.
Arthur knew.
Again.
Without learning.
Without asking.
The knowledge simply appeared within him, as though the memory itself had poured it directly into his consciousness.
{Stop...}
{Why am I seeing this?}
The clash of steel against Shadow exploded throughout the mountain.
The vision shifted.
Now Arthur stood within the mountain itself.
The Zaraqnil Queen was wounded.
A dark gash crossed part of her torso, and two of her legs trembled beneath the burden of battle. Even so, she remained standing.
Beside her, the Orcal leader breathed heavily. Blood streamed down his forehead around his horn, yet a fierce grin remained upon his face.
Before them stood a greater Shadow wielding two swords.
It was unlike the others.
Denser.
Taller.
Almost fully formed.
Its eyes were empty slits of violet darkness, and its voice seemed to come from countless places at once.
— I am a General of the Shadows.
Both swords rose.
— And every one of you will fall.
The Zaraqnil Queen spread her legs into a battle stance.
The Orcal leader spun his weapon across his shoulder.
— He talks too much, — the Orcal muttered.
The queen did not smile.
But something within her eyes softened for a fleeting instant.
— Then make him stop.
The General charged.
The memory became violence.
Blows.
Impacts.
Severed webs.
Shattered stone.
The Orcal leader blocked one blade with his own weapon, only to be driven several meters backward. The queen descended from the ceiling with impossible speed, her spear-like limbs piercing the Shadow General's body.
He dissolved into smoke.
He reappeared behind her.
The Orcal roared.
His weapon struck the General from the side, smashing the Shadow against the wall. The queen seized the opening and launched glowing silk threads, binding the creature's arms for a single moment.
One moment.
It was enough.
They attacked together.
The memory faltered.
A Shadow crossed Arthur's vision.
Everything turned black for half a second.
When the image returned, the battle was over.
The hall lay in ruins.
The remains of the Shadows dissolved across the floor.
The Zaraqnil Queen sat against a shattered pillar, breathing with difficulty. The Orcal leader lay nearby, covered in wounds.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he laughed.
Quietly.
Hoarsely.
— That... was easy.
The queen looked at him.
Then at her own blood.
Then at the destruction surrounding them.
She laughed as well.
A weary laugh.
Almost disbelieving.
— If that was easy, I'd rather never see difficult.
The Orcal turned toward her.
There was something there.
Something beyond alliance.
Something that still had no name.
The memory dissolved before Arthur could understand.
He returned to the current.
But now something had changed within the ocean.
Dark stains.
Small at first.
Then larger.
They drifted among the memories like oil spilled across invisible water. Arthur felt his body grow cold. Those stains did not belong there.
The corruption existed there as well.
Inside the memories.
The current pulled him once again.
But before the next memory fully formed, flashes crossed his vision.
The Zaraqnil Queen and the Orcal leader meeting upon a stone bridge.
The two arguing.
Then talking.
Then walking side by side beneath caverns illuminated by emerald crystals.
Him handing her a broken weapon as a joke.
Her failing to understand.
Then understanding far too late.
Then laughing.
Another fragment.
Him fighting beside the Zaraqnil.
Another.
Her healing one of his wounds with strands of enchanted silk.
Another.
The two standing silently before one of the mountain's entrances, watching distant Shadows upon the horizon.
Another.
Her hand touching his.
The ocean darkened.
Arthur was dragged into the next memory.
This time, the atmosphere was more intimate.
A tall chamber draped with white silk veils, where several Zaraqnil watched their queen in silence.
She stood before them.
Still in her original form.
Yet a different tension filled the room.
Not war.
Tradition being broken.
— My decision has been made, — the queen declared.
One of the Zaraqnil stepped forward.
— To unite with an Orcal would already be impossible for any other. But for a queen...
Another continued.
— Our race has no males. We do not follow such unions.
— We lay eggs, — the queen answered. — I know.
The chamber fell silent.
— But I also know what he has done for us.
No one replied.
— He fought when he could have fled. He bled within tunnels that were never his. He protected hatchlings that were not of his race. And when the Shadows came, he never asked what he would gain in return.
The queen placed a hand over her chest.
— I made my choice.
The silence remained.
Heavy.
Then one of the Zaraqnil lowered her head.
— He has proven his worth.
Another followed.
— And if this is the will of our queen...
More heads bowed.
The queen closed her eyes for a brief moment.
Not from weakness.
But from emotion.
The memory trembled.
A new image appeared.
The queen in her humanoid form.
Tall.
Pale.
Long white hair.
Crimson eyes.
Six smaller eyes across her forehead.
Exactly as Arthur had seen her within the chamber.
Yet different.
More alive.
More serene.
Her hand rested upon her abdomen.
A visible pregnancy.
Perhaps four months.
Arthur felt his throat tighten.
{She...}
Before he could finish the thought, the memory changed.
The hall was now on alert.
The queen sensed something.
Her expression hardened.
She raised both hands.
And moved her fingers.
The world changed.
Arthur saw dozens of Zaraqnil appear all around them.
Along the walls.
Upon the ceiling.
Between the pillars.
Each one armed with a spear.
Each one ready to strike.
Yet something was wrong.
They were not truly visible.
It was an illusion.
Layers of images woven over reality itself.
Without turning around, the queen spoke.
— Remain hidden.
The warriors did not answer.
— If they are enemies, attack when I open my hand.
She moved her fingers once more.
The Zaraqnil vanished.
Yet Arthur could still feel them there.
{Illusion magic...}
He looked around in astonishment.
{She hid an entire army inside this chamber.}
Then they arrived.
Four figures.
Azuri.
Arthur did not know how he recognized them.
But he did.
Their presence differed from anything else in that place. It was neither arrogant nor threatening. Yet an immeasurable depth surrounded them, as though every step carried entire ages within it.
From afar, they resembled humans.
Up close, their skin bore a faint blue glow, as though the light came from within rather than from without. Their eyes were calm, yet impossibly ancient. Their garments did not resemble ordinary fabric, but something suspended between matter, mana, and memory.
The Zaraqnil Queen studied each of them.
— You have come far too deep into my mountain.
One of the Azuri inclined his head.
— We came with no disrespect.
— Then why have you come?
— Because of the Shadows.
The tension inside the chamber deepened.
The hidden warriors remained perfectly still.
Yet Arthur could feel them poised to strike.
The queen narrowed her eyes.
— Everyone speaks of the Shadows now. Very few reveal what they truly seek.
Another Azuri glanced around.
Not directly toward the hidden warriors.
But toward the places where they stood concealed.
— You may keep your illusion, Queen Zaraqnil.
The air itself seemed to stop.
— We know your warriors are here.
The queen's hand moved almost imperceptibly.
— Then you also know I can order them to attack.
— We do.
The first Azuri stepped forward.
— And yet we entered anyway.
The queen remained silent.
— We did not come to fight you, — he continued. — We came to help.
Arthur heard a sound behind him.
Not inside the memory.
Within the ocean.
Something wet.
Dark.
Wrong.
He tried to turn around.
But something seized his leg.
A black hand.
Arthur's eyes widened.
Its touch burned.
Not like fire.
Like liquid hatred.
He tried to pull his leg free, but another hand appeared.
Then another.
One seized his arm.
Another his shoulder.
Another his throat.
— Ah—!
Pain tore through his very essence.
Not the pain of flesh.
Not the pain of bone.
It felt as though something was burning the very thing that made him who he was.
The memory continued before him.
The Zaraqnil Queen still faced the Azuri.
The Azuri continued speaking.
But Arthur could no longer follow.
The black hands pulled.
Squeezed.
Crawled higher across his body as though trying to drag him into a place even deeper.
{No...}
He tried to use dimensional magic.
Nothing answered.
{Mia...}
The sound returned.
Distant.
Muffled.
As though it came from another world.
Someone struggling to breathe.
A body fighting for air.
Mia.
Arthur tried to scream.
But the black hands tightened around his throat.
The memory began to distort.
Darkness spread along its edges.
And then—
One of the Azuri stopped speaking.
The Zaraqnil Queen noticed.
The other three Azuri noticed as well.
But that one no longer looked at her.
Nor at the hidden warriors.
Nor at the hall.
He slowly turned his head.
Toward Arthur.
Arthur froze.
The black hands continued burning him.
Continued dragging him down.
But for a single moment, he forgot even the pain.
Because that gaze did not pass through him.
It did not look at a memory.
It did not look into empty space.
The Azuri looked directly at Arthur.
As though he could see him.
As though he knew Arthur was there.
As though that memory had just looked back.