Nothing but darkness.
Not a single ray of light. No shape, no direction. It was as if the entire world had vanished, leaving behind only an endless void.
Edward felt himself floating. It was a strange sensation—his body felt as light as cotton, yet as heavy as a massive boulder.
Like someone slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean, yet he knew: this ocean had no floor. He could fall forever, endlessly.
Then…
Something reached his ears.
Faint. So very distant.
"…Edward…"
It was a girl's voice. Soft, yet trembling as if holding back tears.
Silvia.
Her name surfaced unbidden in his mind. He tried to reach out, tried to grasp the source of that voice—but the harder he tried, the further it drifted away, carried off like dust in the wind.
Not long after, another voice rang out. Deeper, heavier, and filled with unwavering resolve.
"…Hold on…"
Altheon.
Grandmaster Altheon.
Yet even this voice sounded as if it came from somewhere far beyond, as if from a world separated by a thick, impenetrable veil.
Then came more sounds. Weeping. Not from one person, but from many. Blending together into a single, piercing echo that stung the heart and felt unbearably sad.
Edward wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted to shout and call out their names. But his body felt foreign, rigid, utterly immovable.
The darkness pressed down on him, pulling him ever deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper still—
"Edward…"
Silvia's voice came again. This time… closer. Much closer.
It grew clearer.
And for the first time after being trapped in that endless darkness for so long, Edward felt something.
Pain.
Not ordinary pain. It felt as though his entire head had been struck repeatedly by a giant hammer, until every beat of his heart sent throbbing agony coursing through his body. His throat was parched like barren land untouched by rain for years. His chest felt tight, as if weighed down by a heavy burden, making every breath a struggle.
Then slowly…
So slowly, as if moving a mountain that had slumbered for thousands of years…
He opened his eyes.
White light flooded his vision—too bright, sharp, blinding. Edward winced, his face turning pale, and his eyelids snapped shut again instantly.
"Ugh…" he groaned softly, the sound even foreign to his own ears.
A few moments later, he dared to try again. This time more carefully, opening his eyes little by little, letting his vision adjust gradually.
His vision remained blurry. Everything around him looked like overlapping shadows, moving slowly as if through murky water. There was a straight line above—probably the ceiling. A flat surface beside him—the wall.
And from all directions, soft silvery light glowed, coming from small crystals neatly embedded in the stone, casting a calming radiance that still made his head spin.
"Water…" he called out, barely a whisper. His voice was hoarse, cracked, and so weak he could hardly hear it himself.
He tried to lift his right hand, reaching for something to steady himself. But he failed. His arm felt as if weighted down with lead, stiff and utterly devoid of strength—as though it no longer belonged to him.
What happened? Where am I now? How long have I been lying here?
These questions raced wildly through his still throbbing mind. His memories were fragmented, incomplete. Only small flashes darted past like lightning: the Hall of Awakening. The enormous crystal at its center. Light so bright it seemed ready to consume him whole. Pain that struck without warning. Then… nothing. Only endless darkness.
His heart began to beat faster, a growing unease spreading slowly through his chest.
"What…"
The words died in his throat.
Slowly, the haze before his eyes began to clear. His vision sharpened and focused, and the sight that greeted him made his breath catch—his entire body freezing as if turned to stone.
There, beside the bed draped in soft cream-colored fabric, sat two figures he knew well.
The first was a young girl with long golden-brown hair cascading neatly over her shoulders. Her large honey-brown eyes were red and swollen, clearly from hours of crying. The moment she saw Edward's eyes open and look toward her, the tears she had been holding back spilled over again. Yet beneath them, a beautiful, relieved smile curved her lips.
"Edward…" she called softly, her voice still trembling but filled with hope.
Lucy.
Standing beside her was a middle-aged man in a long deep-blue robe embroidered with silver thread. His face, usually stern and serious, had softened—though deep worry still lingered plainly in his expression. His sharp eyes now held warmth and profound gratitude.
Grandmaster Altheon.
Edward looked from one to the other, slowly realizing he was still alive. Gradually, though it took great effort, the corners of his mouth lifted into a faint but genuine smile.
"I… I'm still here," he whispered weakly, trying to widen his smile despite the pain still throbbing through his body. "Are… are you all right, Lucy?"
Lucy nodded quickly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand before breaking into a bright smile.
"Yes, Edward. I'm fine," she replied, her voice still shaking but heavy with relief. "You're the one who had us so worried. So very worried."
Grandmaster Altheon stepped closer, placing his large, warm hand gently but firmly on Edward's shoulder.
"Thank the heavens, you've finally awakened," he said, his tone softer than usual.
He did not finish the sentence, but the depth of his gaze spoke volumes.
Edward drew a long breath, though his chest still felt tight. He looked back at Lucy, then turned to Grandmaster Altheon, his smile growing a little wider—still heavy, yet wrapped in a quiet sense of peace that slowly settled over his heart.
"Thank you… for not leaving me," he said softly, yet clearly enough to be heard in the quiet room.
He lay in a vast, spacious chamber.
This was no ordinary bedroom.
Every wall was covered in carved runes that glowed with a faint silvery light. In each corner, layered magic circles were etched, all interconnected.
The floor surrounding his bed was completely covered in sealing symbols that hummed with a strange vibration. Even around the bed itself stood four solid pillars of clear crystal, radiating a cool, crisp energy.
It was almost as if…
this room had been purposefully built to contain something.
Or someone.
Edward swallowed, his throat still dry. With what little strength he could muster, he slowly turned his head toward the door.
There stood two mages clad in black robes that concealed nearly their entire faces. They were standing guard.
At the slightest movement from him, their sharp eyes immediately fixed upon him. One turned and hurried out of the chamber, while the other remained perfectly still, keeping a watchful gaze.
Edward's heart filled with deeper confusion.
"Why…" he murmured softly, his eyes fixed on the strange markings on the floor. "…am I being guarded like this?"
There was no reply. Only a heavy silence settled over the room, making the atmosphere feel increasingly oppressive and uneasy.
A few moments later, hurried footsteps approached from outside. The door was pushed roughly open, and a figure stumbled in, breathless.
"Edward!"
He recognized that voice. It was Silvia.
For a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and soon after, tears began to well up in her eyes.
"You… you're awake…"
Edward looked at her closely, and instantly realized something was different—very different.
Silvia's face was extremely pale, dark circles were clearly visible beneath her eyes, and she looked much thinner than he remembered.
She appeared utterly exhausted, as though she had not slept properly for days.
But before Edward could ask anything, Silvia had already rushed to his bedside.
Thud.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"Hey—"
Edward barely had time to react.
"I thought…" Silvia's voice trembled violently, catching in her throat. "…I thought you would never wake up again…"
Edward fell silent.
For the first time since opening his eyes, he felt something warm.
No longer the cold of darkness, no longer the strange weight pressing down on his body—instead, a warmth born of genuine feeling.
He realized: there was someone who truly cared, someone who did not want him to leave.
Slowly, with what little strength he still possessed, he lifted his hand. His movements were sluggish, still weak and heavy, yet he managed to reach her back. He patted it gently, softly.
"I'm still here," he whispered.
Silvia let out a small laugh, though it was mixed with quiet sobs.
"You fool," she said, pulling back slightly but her eyes still glistening with tears. "You've only just woken up and you're already joking."
Her tone shifted, becoming more serious and unsteady. "I mean it, Edward. You almost… you almost left us."
Edward blinked slowly. Almost died? The words felt foreign, yet for some reason, a chill spread through his chest. He looked closely at her face.
"Silvia."
"Hm?"
"What really happened?"
In an instant, her expression changed. The faint smile that had formed slowly faded, replaced by sorrow and uncertainty.
Her gaze dropped, unable to meet his eyes. The room, which had briefly felt a little warmer, was once again wrapped in a heavy silence.
"Silvia?" he called again, a little more firmly.
She bit her lower lip, as if struggling to choose the right words. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before finally answering in a quiet voice.
"The Awakening process… failed."
Edward froze in place. It felt as though his breath had been caught in his throat.
"Failed?" he repeated, disbelieving.
Silvia nodded slowly. "The Hall of Awakening was severely damaged. Most of the structure inside collapsed completely. Everyone panicked back then—no one knew exactly what had occurred."
Edward tried to process every word she spoke. His mind was still foggy, yet he began to piece together the faint fragments of events drifting through his thoughts.
"Then… what happened to me?"
"You collapsed instantly, and have been unconscious ever since."
"For how long?"
Silvia fell silent for a moment, as if reluctant to speak the answer.
"Four days," she finally replied.
Edward looked straight at her, his eyes widening slightly.
"Four days?"
"Yes," Silvia nodded again. "You have lain unconscious for four full days."
The air in the room grew colder. Four days. Four days of time lost, as if it had never existed. A part of his life had slipped away without him knowing.
"What caused it?" he asked again.
This time, Silvia remained silent much longer—far longer than before.
"I don't know everything," she answered softly.
There was an odd tone in her voice. Edward could sense it—Silvia was clearly hiding something. There were parts she did not wish to tell. But his body felt utterly drained, his head still throbbing faintly, and he lacked the strength to press her further.
He simply closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He struggled to remember, to piece together the memories that felt lost, searching for whatever lay hidden behind that darkness.
And right at that moment—
CRACK!
A sharp, searing pain suddenly shot through his head, as if a massive spike had been driven straight into the center of his brain.
"GHH!" he groaned, the sound caught in his throat, as his hand instantly clamped tightly over his forehead.
"Edward!" Silvia gasped, her face turning pale at the sight.
But in that split second, before the pain could blind him completely, he caught a fleeting glimpse of something—something etched clearly into his mind.
A single enormous eye, blazing crimson.
It slowly opened amidst a raging sea of fire.
The sky seemed to burn away entirely, and the whole world felt as though it were crumbling and shattering into pieces.
And in the distance stood a shadowy figure so vast it stretched across the entire horizon.
Two burning red eyes stared straight at him, sharp and piercing.
They radiated a coldness that cut to the bone.
They held a hunger that could never be sated.
And they were utterly terrifying.
Then, in an instant, everything vanished.
Edward gasped for breath, his chest heaving. His entire body was soaked in cold, clammy sweat.
"What did you just see?!"
Silvia's voice trembled, thick with panic.
Edward blinked slowly, struggling to refocus his vision on the room around him.
"I…"
The throbbing in his head still pounded fiercely, leaving his thoughts muddled and unclear.
"I'm not sure…"
"I only saw something… vague."
"Something?" Silvia repeated, her voice growing tighter with tension.
Edward stared blankly ahead, as if he could still see that shadow lingering in the air before him.
"Red eyes…"
Silvia's face instantly drained of all color.
But in the very next moment, that pallor shifted into something else. Her jaw tightened, the muscles along her face stiffened, and she clenched her hands tightly behind her back so they would not be seen.
The fear that had shone in her eyes moments ago was replaced by a cold, hard glint—not directed at Edward, but at the dark secret only she knew.
She knew. She knew that shadowy figure with the red eyes was no mere dream or vision. She knew that Destrover was stirring—alive, and dwelling within the body of the young man standing before her.
For an instant, her mind drifted back—clear, sharp, and agonizingly painful. The scene of that place, the roar that was not human, and the exact same red gaze staring out from behind Edward's own eyes.
Back then, the boy she regarded as a younger brother had vanished, replaced by an uncontrollable, savage power.
Silvia remembered how she had been forced to raise her weapon, how she had to strike in order to stop the destruction—even though every blow felt like a knife piercing her own heart.
She had had to harm the person she most wanted to protect, all to prevent something far worse from happening.
Anger tangled with pain swelled inside her chest, but she swallowed it down deep. She could not tell Edward. Not yet—perhaps never. She would not let fear or guilt destroy him before his time.
Silvia turned her face away, struggling to steady her ragged breathing. When she looked back, her expression had smoothed into a mask of calm, though her tone was sharper and colder than usual.
"Do not speak of this again," she said shortly, offering no explanation. "Control your thoughts. It was nothing but an illusion."
Evening began to bleed into night.
And then, a visitor came to see Edward.
Grandmaster Altheon.
The elderly man entered with slow, measured steps. Yet this time, Edward did not see the usual firm resolve that always shone in his eyes. Instead, there was a deep, hidden worry, weighing heavily in his gaze.
"You have awakened."
Edward nodded faintly.
"Grandmaster."
Altheon sat down in the chair beside the bed. For a long moment, he simply observed—studying every small shift in Edward's expression, every faint ripple in his aura—as if searching for something that was trying to stay concealed.
"How do you feel?"
"Exhausted. As if every drop of strength in my body has been drained away."
"That is to be expected. Your body bore a burden that no one should ever have to carry."
"Then why am I surrounded by these sealing wards?" Edward asked again, his eyes sharpening with suspicion.
Altheon fell silent. The question hung heavy in the air, which had begun to grow cool and still.
"As a precaution."
"Against what?"
"Against something we do not yet fully understand."
It was a vague answer—deliberately evasive, as if hiding the truth behind a veil. Edward frowned, a seed of doubt taking root in his heart.
Altheon then leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower and becoming graver.
"Edward."
"Yes, Grandmaster?"
"While you were unconscious… did you hear any strange voices? Something calling your name?"
Edward thought for a moment, faint images drifting through his foggy mind.
"Perhaps. A voice—deep, echoing… but I cannot be certain if it was real or just a figment of my imagination."
"Whose voice was it?"
"I do not know. It was unlike any I have ever heard."
Altheon nodded slowly, yet his eyes grew darker, shadowed with unspoken thoughts.
"In that case… did you dream?"
"Perhaps I did."
"What kind of dream?"
Instantly, the memory of blazing red eyes and a sea of raging fire flashed back. But even recalling it sent a sharp throbbing pain through his temples, making his head pound.
"I am not sure. Everything felt blurred, as if wrapped in a thick, heavy mist."
Altheon looked at him intently, as if trying to peer straight into his thoughts.
"Then…" The old man paused, choosing his words with extreme care. "Did you feel anything different inside your body? Something throbbing, or burning, or as if something alive was stirring within you?"
Edward blinked, then tried to focus on the flow of energy deep inside himself. At first, everything felt normal—but in the very darkest corner of his being, there was a faint, unexplainable vibration. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—like something sleeping, waiting, ready to wake.
"What kind of feeling?"
"Anything out of the ordinary. Something that was not there before."
Edward searched deeper, but there was nothing clear enough to name. Only a vague, unsettling sensation lingered.
"I do not know. It feels as though there is nothing… or perhaps I am just not yet able to sense it."
Altheon fell silent again, letting out a quiet, heavy breath. He knew Edward was not lying—at least, not consciously.
But he also knew the seed of that power had already taken root, slowly growing, unseen and unknown, within the young man before him.
"Very well," he said finally, trying to steady his tone even as his mind raced with concern. "Rest as much as you can. Do not force your mind to recall painful memories. We will keep watch over your condition."
Yet for some reason, that vague reply only deepened the worry weighing heavy in Grandmaster Altheon's own heart.
Edward caught the subtle shift in the old man's expression.
"Grandmaster."
"Hm?"
"What is it that you are all hiding from me?"
Altheon gave a faint smile—but it was cold, empty, never reaching the darkness of his eyes.
"For now… it is enough that you rest."
"And later?" Edward pressed, unsatisfied.
"In time, you will know."
Altheon slowly rose from his chair.
"When the moment truly comes."
Without adding another word of explanation, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Leaving Edward lying there alone—surrounded by glowing seals, and with far more questions hanging in the air than answers he had received.
Night slowly crept down.
The entire chamber was wrapped in a thick, heavy silence—so tangible it almost felt as though it could be touched. Only now and then came the sound of Silvia's long, weary breath as she finally turned to leave, stepping out to get some rest at last.
Beyond the tightly closed wooden door, the two guards remained standing rigidly in place, their shadows stretching long and thin in the dim, flickering glow of the candles.
Edward was left completely alone.
He lay back against the bedding, yet his eyes remained fixed, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling above. Sleep felt utterly impossible.
There had been far too many strange events, far too many unanswered questions, and secrets that seemed to hang thick in the air—ready to swallow him whole at any moment.
With slow, weak movements, he raised his left hand before his face.
And in that exact instant, his pupils widened in shock.
Across the back of his hand, a faint light appeared, throbbing gently—like the steady beat of a heart that was not his own.
Edward froze. His breath caught sharply in his throat.
Slowly, glowing cracks began to spread and weave together, forming an ancient symbol that looked entirely unfamiliar yet felt strangely, disturbingly close to his memory.
Its shape was exactly like a pair of eyes: one half burning with a sharp, blood-red light, while the other shimmered a deep blue, as dark and endless as the midnight ocean.
The symbol lingered for only a few seconds, yet it was clear enough to send a chill racing through his veins and make his heart hammer wildly—so hard it felt as though it might leap right out of his chest.
"What… what in the world is this…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely more than a breath.
He brought his right index finger closer, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to touch it.
The very second his skin made contact with that glowing light—
Everything vanished in an instant.
It was gone without a trace, as if it had never existed at all.
Edward stared at his hand over and over, turning it this way and that, rubbing the skin roughly with his other palm.
There was no mark, no scar, no lingering warmth or cold. Yet deep in his heart, he knew with absolute certainty. He was not dreaming, nor was he imagining things. Something had awakened inside him. Something that had long lain dormant.
Night deepened, and a chill began to seep in through the cracks in the stone walls.
At last, his body surrendered to its overwhelming exhaustion. His eyelids slowly drifted shut, and his consciousness drifted down, sinking gently into darkness.
But this was no ordinary sleep.
He found himself standing upright in the middle of an endless, empty void. Pitch black, with no sense of direction. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above his head. No wind, no scent, no sound of any kind—only a silence so profound it felt deafening.
Then…
Thud…
A single heavy footstep broke the stillness.
Edward froze completely.
Thud…
It grew clearer. Closer.
Thud…
Someone was approaching from beyond that endless sea of darkness.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
With every step, the air grew heavier, pressing against his chest; colder, seeping deep into his bones; and a creeping fear rose slowly from his stomach, coiling tight in his throat. He wanted to move, to run, but his feet felt rooted in place, as if bound by invisible chains. He wanted to shout for help, but his voice was trapped, swallowed whole by the emptiness.
Then…
From the depths of the thick darkness, two points of crimson light slowly flared open. Two eyes, sharp and piercing, staring straight into the very core of his being.
And a deep, heavy voice echoed through the entire void. It was cold, ancient, and carried a weight as old as the beginning of creation itself.
"So… you have finally awakened."
For a heartbeat, Edward's heart seemed to stop entirely.
And in that instant, the thick darkness closed in, swallowing everything whole.
To be continued