That night felt long.
Far too long.
It was as if time itself moved with excruciating slowness, dragging each second on without any sign of coming to an end.
In the dimly lit room, Edward sat quietly on the edge of his bed. His eyes never left the palm of his left hand—its skin looked perfectly ordinary, smooth and unmarked just as it always had.
There were no glowing red-and-blue lines. No faint, pulsing light. No mysterious words etched into its surface.
It was almost as if what he had seen earlier had been nothing more than an illusion.
But his mind could not be fooled. He knew what he had seen was real. And those two words kept repeating endlessly in his thoughts, like a whisper that refused to fade: Find Me.
Who was calling him?
Why was he meant to search?
And why did this message appear only for his eyes, invisible to everyone else—even to someone as knowledgeable as Grandmaster Altheon?
He tried closing his eyes, hoping weariness would finally take hold and carry him off to sleep.
But every time his eyelids grew heavy and his consciousness began to drift, the visions returned, pushing their way back into his mind.
A sea of swords glinting beneath a dark sky.
The horizon turning the color of blood, as if the entire world was burning.
An ancient city crumbling beneath flames and thick smoke.
And in the midst of all that destruction—a pair of glowing red eyes, staring sharply at him from deep within the darkness.
Those eyes waited.
They watched his every move.
As if they held a great secret, as if they knew something that even Edward himself did not yet understand.
And so he remained awake through the night, caught between reality and visions, until slowly the darkness outside his window began to fade.
The deep black softened into pale gray, followed by a faint light that began to seep in, announcing the arrival of dawn.
And just as the morning light began to touch the corners of the room, there came a soft yet firm knock upon the door.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"Edward."
It was a voice he knew well—the voice he had always turned to with questions, the voice that always sounded calm and full of certainty.
Grandmaster Altheon.
Edward quickly stood and stepped forward to open the door. There stood the old man, tall and straight in his formal white robes, which were as immaculate as ever.
But at a single glance, Edward immediately noticed there was something different about the figure before him.
Usually, Altheon's face always held an air of peace, as if no burden could ever shake his composure.
Not today. The lines on his face seemed deeper than usual. His eyes, normally so steady and clear, looked weary, heavy with exhaustion—as if he too had not slept a wink all night, consumed by thoughts of something weighty and complex.
"Grandmaster?" Edward asked softly, slightly taken aback by the change in him.
"Come with me."
That was all he said. No explanation, no faint smile that usually touched his lips. His voice was flat, yet carried something that made the atmosphere feel even heavier.
And for some reason, without knowing exactly why, this simple command made Edward's heart beat faster than before.
An unexplainable feeling of foreboding slowly crept into his chest. Something told him: today, something of great significance was about to happen.
They left the orphanage just as the sun was beginning to rise. Its soft golden rays had only just touched the tops of the tall trees, not yet strong enough to chase away the chill of the morning air.
A thin mist still hung lazily between the branches and roots, as if reluctant to leave, shrouding the path they walked. In the distance, the forest birds had only just begun their gentle song, greeting the new day.
Yet despite the beauty of the morning, the journey felt quiet—very quiet. Only the sound of their footsteps upon fallen leaves and the soft rustle of the wind could be heard.
Edward walked beside Altheon, glancing now and then at the old man's face, trying to read what lay hidden behind his stern expression.
Several times he parted his lips, wanting to ask the questions that had been swirling in his head since the night before.
But every time his eyes met Altheon's weary, heavy gaze, the words seemed to freeze in his throat, unable to make their way out.
He knew there were things that could not be spoken lightly, especially not to the man who had guided him for so long.
Until finally, the weight in his chest grew too heavy to bear. He let out a soft breath and found the courage to speak, his voice trembling slightly.
"What truly happened?"
Altheon continued walking, his steps steady but not as brisk as usual. He did not answer immediately, as if carefully choosing his words, or perhaps weighing whether the time had finally come to speak of them.
The silence that followed felt increasingly suffocating. Edward swallowed hard, then asked again—this time with more resolve, though still carrying an unmistakable trace of fear.
"Am I truly different?"
Altheon's pace gradually slowed, until he nearly came to a complete halt. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if bearing an invisible burden.
Yet he still did not turn around; his eyes remained fixed straight ahead, piercing through the mist that was beginning to thin.
A moment later, a heavy voice finally came from his lips.
"You will see for yourself soon enough."
It was a short, vague answer, leaving more questions in its wake than it gave answers. Yet it was all he could bring himself to say.
And for some reason, those words only made the anxiety in Edward's heart grow stronger, wrapping around him thicker than the morning mist that was now vanishing beneath the sun.
They arrived at the Hall of Awakening. Once known as the most magnificent and sacred place in all the land, it now looked like a great, open wound in the heart of the city.
Much of the structure still lay in ruins, leaving behind a dark memory that refused to fade. The massive pillars that once rose proudly to hold up the high ceiling now lay shattered and scattered—some split in two, others reduced to nothing more than broken stumps rooted in the earth.
The sturdy stone walls were crisscrossed with deep cracks, as if holding onto a profound pain. And in several corners shielded from the sunlight, dark stains still lingered—the marks of dark energy that had once laid waste to this place, seemingly refusing to disappear entirely.
Edward stood frozen, staring out over the expanse of rubble before him. Unbidden, the guilt he had tried so hard to bury deep within rose up again, striking his chest with overwhelming force.
It felt as though his breath was being squeezed from his lungs. If not for him… If only he had been able to control what lay inside him that day… Then perhaps this place would still stand whole and strong, shining as it once had.
Altheon watched every shift of expression on the young man's face. He let out a soft sigh, filled with understanding yet also with great weight. "You still blame yourself," he said, his voice calm yet piercing straight to the core of Edward's heart.
Edward lowered his head, his gaze fixed upon the broken stones at his feet. His voice came out quiet, heavy with unspoken burden. "I do not know who else to blame."
The old man fell silent for a moment, seeming to understand that ordinary words of comfort would never be enough to heal such a deep wound.
He did not reply, only nodded slowly, then began to walk forward once more. But he did not head toward the remains of the main hall that could still be seen from outside.
Instead, he turned toward the rear of the building, which lay hidden in shadow.
There, concealed behind piles of debris and what appeared to be a plain stone wall, was a narrow passageway that was almost invisible to the naked eye.
Edward frowned, stopping in his tracks for a moment. "I have never seen this place before," he murmured, filled with curiosity.
"Because most people never have," Altheon replied simply, without turning back.
He slowly raised his palm, bringing it close to the rough stone surface. In an instant, faint ancient carvings etched into the stone began to stir to life.
Runes glowed softly, casting a gentle yet distinct silver light that illuminated the surrounding area. Slowly, accompanied by a low, rumbling sound that echoed through the passage, a large stone door began to slide open.
A bone-chilling cold air rushed out to greet them, as if it had been waiting for them for countless years.
The stone staircase descended deep into the earth, cutting through darkness that slowly gave way to a faint glow emanating from the walls.
The further they walked down, the more it became clear that this place had existed long before the building above was ever constructed.
The atmosphere felt ancient and silent, as if it held the very breath of thousands of years past.
The walls on either side were covered in fine carvings—ancient symbols of unknown origin, unlike anything Edward had ever seen or studied.
Some were so old, worn away by time and the dampness of the underground, that their lines had almost blended into the stone itself, barely visible unless one looked very closely.
"What is this place?" Edward asked, his voice echoing softly in the narrow space.
"The Forbidden Archives," Altheon replied briefly, his steps remaining steady.
Edward stopped walking immediately. His eyes widened slightly. "Forbidden?"
Altheon nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed ahead. "This place holds the history that is never taught to anyone—not even to the most gifted students."
A short while later, they reached the bottom of the stairs. And the moment Edward's eyes took in the full expanse of the room before him, he fell silent, unable to find any words.
The chamber was enormous—far larger and grander than he could ever have imagined. Shelves made of solid black wood rose high up, reaching toward a ceiling lost in shadow, as if touching the darkness above.
Thousands of books were neatly arranged upon every level, their bindings ranging from deep brown to black, testifying to their great age.
Some were even bound in thick iron chains, as if those who had placed them there long ago feared their contents might be lost or taken away.
Yet among the rows of filled shelves, it was something else that caught Edward's attention most: there were many empty spaces.
The spots that should have been filled with writing and knowledge stood bare, as if the books that belonged there had been taken and vanished without a trace.
"What happened to these shelves?" Edward asked, pointing toward one of the empty rows.
Altheon looked toward where he was pointing, his expression growing somber. "Time," he answered simply.
Edward shook his head slightly, unconvinced. "That is not the real answer."
The old man gave a faint smile—one that never quite reached his weary eyes. "No," he admitted.
Then his tone grew heavier, more serious, as if every word he spoke carried its own weight.
"They were erased."
Edward froze in place. "Erased?" he repeated, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.
"Countless records of history were deliberately destroyed," Altheon continued slowly. "Burned, hidden away, or taken and carried off so that they would never be found by anyone."
"Why?" Edward asked, his heart beginning to race again, sensing that something vast and dark was about to be revealed.
Altheon turned his head slightly, looking at the young man with a deep, searching gaze.
"Because some people believe there are truths that are simply too dangerous to be known."
They stopped before a large stone table, carved simply and looking as though it had stood in that very spot for centuries. Upon its smooth, slightly dusty surface lay several ancient books with hardened, faded covers.
Altheon reached out and opened the thickest one, then turned to Edward and gestured for him to sit in the stone chair placed before the table.
"Edward."
The Grandmaster's voice was heavy, echoing softly through the vast, silent chamber.
"There is something I must explain to you."
Edward nodded slowly. His chest felt tight, as if something was pressing down upon it from within. He knew this explanation would not be like any ordinary story.
He could feel it—something hidden for ages was about to be revealed, and it would change his entire understanding of who he was.
Perhaps forever.
Altheon began to turn the first page. The writing inside was extremely ancient, yet the faint light from the runes on the walls was enough to make it clear.
"In the history of the world," he began, his voice calm yet filled with meaning.
"There have been some individuals born different from others."
"Different how?" Edward asked, unable to contain his curiosity mixed with anxiety.
"They are called Vessels."
The word echoed in Edward's ears once more. But this time, in this place full of secrets, it felt more real, heavier—as if it touched something hidden deep within his own being. Edward swallowed against his dry throat, then asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"What exactly is a Vessel?"
Altheon leaned back slightly, looking ahead as if trying to find the simplest yet most accurate way to explain something so complex.
"Imagine a cup," he said softly.
Edward nodded, trying to picture it.
"Every person is born as an empty cup."
"And then?"
"And then, as time passes, they fill it themselves."
"With power?"
"With anything. With power, with knowledge, with experience, with the life they choose to live."
Altheon turned his gaze, looking directly into Edward's eyes, as if to ensure every word he spoke reached the very core of the young man's heart.
"But a Vessel is different."
Edward began to form a vague understanding in his mind. He dared to venture a guess.
"Because their cup is already filled from the very beginning?"
"Yes," Altheon answered firmly.
The room, which already felt cold, suddenly seemed to grow even colder, as if the air around them was also holding its breath.
"Filled with something far greater than themselves."
Altheon began to walk slowly around the stone table, his steps calm yet carrying the weight of thousands of years of hidden stories.
"In the records of history," his voice rang clear, hanging in the still air.
"There have been Vessels who grew up to become heroes, honored for all time."
"There were those who risked their lives to save kingdoms from destruction."
"There were those who stood at the front lines, ending bloodshed and bringing lasting peace."
Edward listened to every word without blinking, as if afraid to miss even a fraction of their meaning.
"But on the other hand," Altheon's tone shifted, growing heavier.
"There were also those who brought great cities to nothing but rubble."
"There were those who caused the deaths of thousands in an instant."
"And there were those who changed the course of world history forever—not through peace, but through the shadow of fear."
Edward's fingers tightened into fists upon his thighs, his nails nearly digging into his skin.
"So… Vessels are not always evil," he said quietly, trying to understand the line that separated the two.
"No," Altheon answered firmly and with certainty.
"A Vessel is nothing more than a container—a place where something great resides."
"Then what ultimately determines the path they take?" Edward asked again, his voice shaking as he held back his anxiety.
The old man stopped walking and turned to look at him, offering a faint smile—one full of meaning, yet still holding deep secrets.
"It is not what lies within them. It is the person who is the container. The choices of their heart. The choices they make for themselves."
A deeper silence settled over the entire room, as if time itself had stopped moving. The soft sound of their breathing was clearly audible.
Then, with a voice that nearly caught in his throat, Edward finally spoke the question he had feared most for so long—the one that had lingered in his heart ever since he first heard that word.
"So… I am a Vessel?"
For a moment that felt like an eternity, there was no sound at all. No movement. Even the wind seemed to stop blowing.
Then Altheon nodded. A single, steady nod, without the slightest trace of hesitation.
"Yes."
Just one word. Simple, short. Yet to Edward, it felt as though the entire world had stopped turning in its place. The beating of his heart sounded like thunder in his ears.
Edward lowered his head slowly, looking at his own hands resting loosely upon his knees. They looked exactly as they always had.
His body had not changed in the slightest. He still felt like himself—Edward, the boy who had grown up just like anyone else.
Yet somehow, from that very moment, everything felt different. Something had shifted in how he saw himself.
Because at last, he knew for certain. He truly was different. Not just a vague suspicion. Not just a frightening or hopeful possibility. But a reality that could no longer be denied.
Several minutes passed in a heavy silence before Edward finally found his voice again. The words he wanted to speak seemed stuck in his throat, until finally they emerged almost soundlessly, like a whisper carried on the wind.
"If that is so…"
He swallowed hard, trying to steady the turmoil in his chest.
"What is it that lies inside me?"
For the first time since their conversation had begun, Altheon seemed different. There was an unmistakable hesitation in his expression—so clear it seemed as if the word he was about to speak held the power to change everything.
The old man closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long breath as if gathering all the strength he had left.
Then he reached out and took a thick book with a faded cover, opening it carefully.
"We are not entirely certain," he said softly, his eyes fixed upon the ancient writing on the page.
"But…"
Edward held his breath, his entire body tensing. The world around him seemed to slow down, waiting for the words that would decide everything.
"Every clue, every record, and every trace of history that remains points to one name."
The room fell once more into a profound silence. It was so quiet that the sound of both their breathing echoed clearly among the stacks of books and old stone walls.
Altheon lifted his head, looking straight into Edward's eyes, then spoke slowly, one syllable at a time—as if afraid that the name itself held power.
"Destrover."
The moment the name was spoken, it was as if a faint vibration rippled through the air. The steady, bright flame of the candles immediately began to flicker wildly, casting strange, dancing shadows across the stone walls.
A bone-chilling cold wind suddenly swept through, appearing from nowhere in the sealed chamber.
Every hair on Edward's body stood on end. A strange feeling crept over him—as if the world itself had paused for a moment, then reacted with a deep, hidden fear toward the name that had just been spoken.
"Who is he?" Edward asked, his voice sounding heavy and slightly unsteady.
Altheon gazed at the still-unsteady candle flame, his eyes seeming to look far into the past, thousands of years ago.
"Long ago…" he began slowly, his voice low yet clear in the silence.
"There existed an entity whose power was so great that it nearly destroyed this entire world."
Instantly, the visions from Edward's dreams rushed clearly into his mind—a sky turned crimson, the ground shaking violently, and cities consumed by fire until nothing remained but ash.
"A great war followed, the like of which had never been seen in all of history," Altheon continued.
"Kingdoms that had stood for thousands of years fell in an instant. Millions of lives were lost, leaving behind nothing but ruins and deep sorrow."
"And what happened afterward?" Edward asked, his breath catching in his throat.
"Sorcerers, knights, and all beings with power united as one. After a long and terrible struggle filled with great sacrifice, the entity was finally sealed away."
Altheon let out a long sigh, as if carrying the weight of memories that were not even his own.
"And to prevent new fear from taking root, to ensure this secret was never uncovered again, its name was slowly erased from all records of history. As if it had never existed at all."
Edward swallowed hard, feeling his throat turn dry. He did not know exactly why, but something deep within him stirred. Part of him felt as though he had heard that name before.
Not from the pages of any book he had read.
Not from any story he had been told.
But from somewhere far deeper—hidden beneath layers of memory he did not even know he possessed. Something vague and unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar, impossible to put into words.
Fear began to grow slowly, creeping into the deepest corners of his heart. It was not the usual kind of fear—not of some terrible creature lurking in the dark, nor of the shadow of death. It was a fear far colder and more agonizing: fear of himself.
"What if it is true?" Edward's voice trembled softly, nearly swallowed by the silence of the room.
"What if one day I truly lose control over myself?"
Altheon remained silent, letting the question hang heavy in the air. He knew that no answer he could give right now would be enough to calm the storm raging in the young man's heart.
"What if… I end up hurting Silvia?"
Immediately, the image of her face appeared clearly in his mind—her gentle smile, the way she always stood by his side, protecting him even when she herself was in danger, and the unwavering trust that shone in her eyes.
"What if I hurt Alice? Or Thomas? Alex? Serly?"
His voice grew quieter and quieter, until it was almost a pained whisper.
"What if… I truly become the monster they all fear?"
Those final words were not merely a question, but a confession—an admission of the fear he had kept hidden deep inside from everyone, even from himself.
And for the first time since this conversation had begun, his eyes glistened, holding back tears he had fought so hard to keep at bay.
Altheon walked slowly closer until he stood right beside Edward. With a gentle, tender movement, he placed his palm upon the young man's head.
It was a simple gesture, free of grand words, yet it carried such warmth—cutting through the chill of the underground chamber and bringing a sense of calm, much like a grandfather soothing his troubled grandson.
"Edward," the old man called out, his voice soft yet firm, cutting through the silence.
"You are no monster."
"But I—" Edward began to protest, only to have his words cut short.
"A monster is never afraid of becoming a monster," Altheon continued calmly.
Edward froze in place. Those words felt like a stream of clear water washing away the darkness that had settled over his heart, striking deep into its most hidden corners.
"A truly wicked person does not spend their nights wondering whether they might harm others," he added, slowly but with unshakable conviction.
Altheon gave a faint, sincere smile that brought a sense of peace. "This fear of yours is the truest proof that you are still yourself—that your heart remains your own."
For the first time since the incident at the Hall of Awakening, since all these secrets had begun to unravel, Edward felt the heavy weight pressing down on his chest lift just a little.
He breathed more easily, and a glimmer of hope slowly began to grow amid his doubts.
However, it seemed the surprises of the day were far from over.
Altheon reached deep into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small iron box. It looked heavy and was coated in a thick layer of dust, marking it as something ancient.
He opened it carefully, revealing a crystal shaped like a prism resting inside. It was clearly an ancient artifact—its surface was smooth yet etched with faint runes that seemed to hold a life of their own, radiating energy that had lain dormant for centuries.
"What is that?" Edward asked, unable to take his eyes off the object.
"A Soul-Detecting Artifact," Altheon replied simply.
Edward frowned, not fully understanding. "And what does it do?"
"There is something I wish to see," the old man said as he set the crystal gently upon the stone table. He turned toward Edward and gestured. "Touch it."
Edward hesitated for a moment. A sense of unease crept into his heart, but eventually he nodded slowly. He extended his right hand and carefully rested his palm against the crystal's cool surface.
At first, nothing happened. The room remained quiet, illuminated only by the faint glow from the walls.
But a moment later, light began to emanate from within the prism.
First, a brilliant red flared to life, casting a warm yet sharp glow. Soon after, it faded and shifted into a deep blue, as if mirroring the depths of the midnight ocean. Then it changed back to red.
Red.
Blue.
Red.
Blue.
The colors began to shift more and more rapidly, pulsing erratically, growing increasingly unstable as if struggling against some unseen force.
Altheon, who had been standing relaxed, instantly stiffened and straightened up completely. The color slowly drained from his face, leaving it visibly pale.
"That cannot be..." he murmured softly, his voice trembling almost too quietly to hear.
Within the crystal's swirling core, something briefly took shape—a strange symbol that slowly grew clearer. It was shaped like an eye, radiating a swirling blend of red and blue light.
It was exactly the same symbol that had appeared time and again in Edward's dreams.
The very same symbol he had once seen upon his own palm.
And the moment the symbol formed completely, for the very first time since Edward had known him—this man who was always so calm, steady, and unshakable—Grandmaster Altheon looked truly afraid.
His eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, as if he had just laid eyes upon something that was never meant to exist in this world, something not recorded in any history known to man.
That evening, after Edward had made his way back to the orphanage, Grandmaster Altheon remained inside the Forbidden Archives.
He chose to stay alone amid the stacks of forgotten history, as if compelled by an urgent calling he could not ignore.
With great care, he reached for an old book kept separate from the rest—its cover bound in thin iron chains and covered in a thick blanket of dust, as if it had been abandoned for centuries.
It was sealed with ancient magic that had begun to weaken with the passage of time. As he broke the seal, his hands, usually so steady and sure, began to tremble.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened its pages, which were so fragile they seemed ready to crumble at the lightest touch.
And there, amid writing that had mostly faded and grown difficult to read, he found something that made his heart skip a beat.
It was the same symbol.
The eye-shaped emblem glowing with red and blue light—identical to the one he had seen within the crystal.
Beneath the image, a single name was etched into the page—the letters worn almost completely away by time, nearly invisible unless examined with great care.
EQUILIBRIS
Altheon's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat.
"No..." he whispered, barely audible.
He turned the next page quickly yet carefully. His entire body now shook violently, as if he understood that what he was reading would change everything.
"If this is true..." he breathed, his voice catching. "...then the boy is not merely a vessel for Destrover."
Before his mind could fully grasp the meaning of those words, a flame of pure black suddenly ignited at the corner of the page. It gave off no light; rather, it seemed to absorb the light around it.
It spread rapidly, touching the ancient text and consuming it without a trace. It was far too fast, far too sudden.
Altheon immediately reached out, trying to smother the fire with magic. But his efforts were in vain. The energy he poured forth seemed to vanish instantly, powerless against the advance of the dark flame.
Within seconds, the entire page turned to fine ash. Yet just before the last of the writing burned away, his eyes caught sight of a single faint sentence—clear enough to send a chill through his veins:
"...the last heir..."
The fine ash drifted gently through the air before settling softly upon the stone table. The room fell silent once more, as if nothing had happened at all.
Altheon remained standing there, frozen in place, his body rigid as stone. For the first time in his life, which had spanned more than seventy years, he felt something he had never known before: a profound uncertainty that wrapped around his entire heart.
He realized that the future of the world might be shifting course forever. And at the very center of this change... was a young man named Edward Briar.
To be continued