Morning came sooner than Edward would have liked.
Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the night felt far too short—for he had not truly slept at all. Ever since dusk had fallen, those images and that voice had turned over and over in his mind, giving him not a single moment of rest.
Soft morning light filtered through the cracks in his bedroom window, brushing against his skin and making him blink slowly. His head felt heavy, as if filled with thick, stubborn mist. His eyelids weighed down as though burdened with stones. All night he had lain in the dark with his eyes closed, yet his mind had remained wide awake. Every time he drifted close to sleep, the voice echoed clearly within him, as if whispering directly into his ear:
"I knew you before you were even born."
"You are not yet ready to learn the truth."
"I have known you longer than you have known yourself."
Edward let out a long breath, trying to shake off the tightness in his chest. He stared up at the plain, empty ceiling—but his mind was anything but empty. It was full, far too full, swirling with questions, fear, and a curiosity he could not quiet.
Slowly, stiff and heavy-limbed, he pushed himself out of bed. His hair was a wild mess, his face pale, and deep dark circles had formed beneath his eyes—clear proof of how exhausted he felt.
As he made his way downstairs, the scent of freshly baked bread drifted toward him, warm and inviting. Normally, it would have made his stomach growl at once. But this morning, he felt nothing at all.
Several of the orphanage's children were already gathered around the long dining table, eating breakfast and laughing as usual. Yet the moment Edward appeared in the doorway, the room fell silent for a few heartbeats. Every eye turned toward him.
Then Alex spoke, narrowing his eyes as if he could hardly believe what he saw.
"Goodness…"
Edward paused and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Alex pointed a finger at his face. "You look like a corpse that just crawled out of its grave."
Thomas, who was drinking milk, choked hard and began coughing violently, pounding his chest. "Cough! Cough! More like a zombie, I think."
Alex nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Look at your eyes. Didn't you sleep at all last night?"
The other children watched with curiosity, then quiet giggles broke out here and there. Alice even covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hold back her laughter before finally letting out a soft snicker.
"Brother Edward looks scary," she said.
Edward rubbed his face, feeling a little annoyed but also secretly amused. "You are all absolutely ridiculous."
"But it's true," Thomas insisted, still nodding firmly. "If I saw you walking down a dark hallway last night, I probably would have fainted from fright."
"Thank you for your wonderful support," Edward replied dryly.
"Always happy to help," Alex said quickly.
"THAT IS NOT HELPING!"
Laughter erupted freely through the room. For a brief moment—just a moment—Edward felt as though his life had returned to normal. There were no strange terms like Vessel or Destrover, no lurking danger, no mysterious voice haunting him. It was just him and the small family he had found here at the orphanage. But he knew this peace would not last. Deep in the farthest corner of his mind, the echo of that voice still lingered, waiting to return.
Several hours later, Edward stood in the training field behind the orphanage. Morning dew still clung to the grass, leaving the ground cool and damp beneath his feet. The air was fresh and crisp, yet it could not fully lift the heavy weariness in his body.
Silvia was already there waiting, her arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze was as sharp and observant as ever, but this time there was a faint glint of curiosity in her eyes.
"You're earlier than usual," she said.
Edward picked up a wooden staff from the pile resting nearby and held it loosely. "I couldn't sleep."
Silvia raised one eyebrow. "That is a terrible excuse."
"Why?"
"Because training will feel far harder and more painful when your body is already tired."
Edward swallowed, feeling a twinge of regret. "I'm starting to think I should just go back inside."
"Too late to turn back now," Silvia said with a faint smile. "Begin."
The training began. There were no complicated moves, no grand strikes, no spectacular bursts of energy—only the most basic, fundamental lessons: how to stand firm, how to place one's feet correctly, how to keep one's balance, and how to regulate one's breath. Yet these simple things proved to be the hardest to master perfectly.
"Lower your shoulders a little," Silvia instructed, tapping Edward's shoulder lightly with the tip of her staff. "You're too tense—that will only slow you down."
Edward adjusted his posture.
"Bend your knees slightly. Don't stand as stiff as a post."
He shifted again.
"Keep your back straight, but stay relaxed."
Edward let out a long sigh. "How many mistakes do I have left to fix?"
"Plenty," Silvia replied simply.
Edward groaned softly, but he kept trying. Silvia chuckled quietly at his expression.
Yet as time passed, something strange became clear. The movements that had felt so difficult yesterday, that had made him stumble and lose his balance time and again, now felt far lighter and easier. His body was adapting with incredible speed—far too fast for a boy his age. Silvia began watching him with growing seriousness and focus.
A few minutes later, Silvia called for him to stop.
"Take a short break. Drink some water and catch your breath," she said.
Edward set down his staff and walked over to the bucket of water in the corner. As he splashed cold water onto his face, a strange sensation suddenly crept up his spine—like a warm current flowing slowly, yet feeling entirely unfamiliar.
He froze.
His heart beat a little faster.
It was not pain, nor was it exactly comfort. It felt as though something deep within him was throbbing gently, beating in time with his own pulse yet slightly slower. It was as if a power that had long been asleep was beginning to stir.
Edward closed his eyes and tried to feel it more deeply. As he focused, the current became clearer—moving up from his chest, down through his abdomen, then spreading slowly through his arms and legs. He felt lighter, as if the heavy weight he had carried for so long was slowly lifting from his shoulders.
But just as quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished.
He opened his eyes, breathing a little heavily. He glanced around—nothing had changed. Dew still glistened on the grass, the wind still blew softly, and Silvia stood in the same spot, watching him calmly.
Yet Edward knew. Something had changed.
He wiped his face again, trying to convince himself it was just a trick of exhaustion. But deep down, he felt certain that something great, something hidden, was slowly beginning to awaken.
"Very well," Silvia said once she saw Edward had settled. She twirled her staff deftly in her hand. "Now we will practice evasion."
Edward nodded and took a ready stance.
Silvia stepped forward. SWISH! The wooden staff sliced swiftly toward his shoulder. With sharp reflexes, Edward shifted aside and dodged it easily.
A second strike came, faster this time. He evaded again with fluid ease.
A third, fourth, and fifth blow followed—all avoided without any real difficulty.
Silvia increased her speed. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! The air whistled with every movement. Yet strangely, Edward continued to dodge each one. It was not just because his reflexes were quick; it felt as though his body already knew where the attack would come from, as if something had warned him in advance.
Suddenly, Silvia changed direction entirely, swinging the staff from behind—an angle impossible to see with normal eyes. But just before the wood could strike his back, Edward was already moving. One quick step to the side, perfectly timed, without the slightest waver.
Silvia froze, her staff hanging in mid-air. Edward stopped too, looking at her with faint confusion.
"What is it?" he asked.
Silvia narrowed her eyes, staring at him intently. "How did you know I would strike from there?"
Edward blinked, searching for an answer. "I… I don't know."
It was the truth. It had happened entirely on instinct, as if his body had moved on its own without waiting for his mind to command it.
Silvia kept watching him, searching for any sign of deception—but found none. Edward was telling the truth, and that was exactly what made a quiet worry grow in her heart. She recalled the secret conversation she had once shared with Altheon—about the term Vessel, about the great power lying dormant, and about something hidden deep inside Edward that was slowly beginning to wake.
Silvia tightened her grip on her staff. What is truly stirring inside you, Edward?
Far from the training field, hidden among the thick trees surrounding the village of Hougwe, someone watched in silence. The black cloak they wore blended perfectly with the shadows, making them nearly invisible to the naked eye. No villager sensed their presence, no guard had seen them pass. They stood tall upon a high branch, looking down with sharp, unwavering attention.
It was the same man who had appeared before Edward that night—a member of the secret organization known as The Hidden Order.
Slowly, he drew an ancient object from beneath his cloak. It looked like a worn metal disc, etched with faint, archaic symbols. At its center was a clear mark: an eye encircled by a ring and flanked by two crossed blades.
At first, the artifact lay dim and lifeless. But the moment Edward moved again in the field below, lifting his staff, the carvings on its surface began to glow. A faint red light appeared, growing steadily brighter and clearer.
The man in black froze, his expression shifting. For the first time since arriving in the village, true surprise showed on his face.
"Impossible…" he whispered so softly it was almost lost to the wind.
The red light pulsed steadily, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. The harder Edward trained, the stronger the artifact's reaction became. The man stared closely at the object in his hand, then turned his gaze back to the boy training in the distance. Slowly, a faint smile touched his lips.
"That energy is growing stronger," he murmured.
The wind rustled through the leaves, sending dry ones swirling gently to the ground. Yet the man did not move. His eyes remained fixed on Edward, as if he were looking upon something he had sought for years—or perhaps something his organization had hunted for centuries.
Down in the field, Edward remained completely unaware of the watchful eyes from afar. He continued training, striving to correct every movement, striving to grow stronger. He did not know that every step he took, every effort he made, was drawing him closer to the great truth the world had long hidden. And without realizing it, he was also drawing ever nearer to the danger and destruction that had waited so long in the dark.
Late afternoon at Hougwe Orphanage felt far warmer than it had in recent days. The sun began its slow descent behind the low, rolling hills, spilling soft golden light that draped over the entire grounds.
For a moment, everything felt so ordinary. It was as if the Hall of Awakening had never been reduced to rubble. As if the red-and-blue symbol of an eye had never appeared in the air. As if strange words like Vessel—let alone Destrover—had never been spoken. All of it felt like a nightmare long since passed.
Edward sat cross-legged beneath the shade of an old tree, helping Thomas read a picture storybook. Again and again, the boy paused, furrowing his brow as he struggled to sound out the words on the page.
"Puh… puh… puh-tu…"
"Adventure?" Edward asked with a faint smile.
Thomas scratched his head, even though it did not itch, looking both frustrated and amusing. "Yes, that one. It's so hard to read."
Edward chuckled softly. "You just need to practice more. Before long, you'll be reading with ease."
"But I'd rather climb trees," Thomas retorted quickly.
"That is no excuse to be lazy."
"Trees never tell me to read books!"
"That's because trees can't talk," Edward replied casually.
Thomas pouted. "That's not fair."
Not far away, Alice sat on a small wooden bench, trying to write simple letters on a tiny wooden slate. Her little tongue peeked out slightly as she focused intently on moving her piece of chalk.
Edward glanced over at her work, which leaned crookedly in every direction, and smiled in amusement. "Your letter A is backwards, Alice."
Alice immediately covered her slate with both hands. "It is not!"
"It is too."
"It is not!"
"It is."
Alice puffed out her cheeks in a frown. "Brother Edward is mean."
Edward laughed, a sound that was warm and genuine. The laughter of the other children filled the yard, creating an atmosphere of peace and comfort. Something he had not felt in a very long time began to grow in his chest—a sense of calm, safety, and belonging.
But that peace lasted only a moment. Deep in the quietest corner of his heart, he knew all too well that this could vanish in the blink of an eye. If the fallen kingdom truly rose again. If the mysterious hunters watching from the shadows finally dared to draw near. If whatever lay dormant within him were to fully awaken. Then this place, the home he had found, would be dragged into danger as well.
That was why he wanted to grow stronger. Not for personal glory, not to seek power, but for them—the children, the caretakers, and the simple life he cherished.
"I will protect you all," he murmured so softly it was barely audible.
Alice looked up, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Hm? What did you say?"
Edward snapped back to the present and shook his head quickly. "Nothing at all. Go on with your writing."
But in his heart, he repeated the words with firm resolve: I will protect you. No matter what happens.
Night fell slowly, wrapping the village in soft darkness. The children began to retreat to their rooms, oil lamps were lit in every corner of the building, and the chirping of crickets rose from the undergrowth. The world grew quiet. Too quiet.
Edward woke instantly. His eyes flew wide open, no trace of sleep remaining. There was no nightmare to startle him, no loud sound to break the silence, no strange light filtering through the cracks in the window. Yet he knew—something was wrong.
The air in the room felt different. Very different.
It was silent. Far too silent. Even the sound of the night wind, which usually brushed gently against the outer walls, had vanished completely. It was as if the whole world had stopped breathing.
Edward sat up slowly in bed. His heart began to beat faster, pounding heavily in his chest. He recognized this feeling—the cold sensation creeping up his spine, the sudden sharp alertness. It was exactly what he had felt the night before, when that mysterious voice had first appeared.
He stared into the darkness surrounding him, waiting, his breath caught in his throat. And sure enough, a few seconds later, the voice returned.
Soft. Deep. So close. As if whispering directly beside his ear.
"At last, you are awake."
Edward's body went rigid. His breath caught in his throat, and he gripped the edge of his blanket so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"You…"
The voice chuckled softly, without the threatening edge it had held before. "We meet again."
Edward swallowed hard. Fear lingered, but now curiosity and the need to understand were far stronger. This time, he was determined not to run or shut it out.
Silence settled over the room for a moment. Edward tried to steady his still-racing heart. He focused again—where exactly was this voice coming from?
He glanced left, then right, looked at the bedroom door, then at the tightly shuttered window. There was no one there. No shadows, no figure to be seen. Yet the voice remained, clear and real.
Suddenly, he felt the same sensation he had experienced during training that morning—a warm current throbbing gently, flowing from his chest and spreading through his entire body. The difference was that tonight, it felt clearer, closer, as if it were directly connected to the voice speaking to him.
As if… the voice came from the same source as that strange warmth.
"Why do you not speak?" the voice asked, breaking the silence.
Edward blinked. "I… I am trying to understand."
"What is it you wish to understand?"
"Where are you?" Edward asked, his voice steady though slightly trembling. "Why can I not see you?"
The voice let out a soft sigh. "Because I am not out there. I am not hiding behind the door, not standing beside your bed, not lurking in the dark."
Edward frowned. "Then… where?"
"In the place closest to you. The place you can never leave, never cast aside, and never escape."
Edward shook his head in confusion. "That makes no sense."
"In time, you will understand," the voice replied quietly. "But tell me, Edward—have you felt something different within you lately? Something beginning to stir, something that feels both foreign and strangely familiar?"
Edward's heart raced. He remembered how his body had adapted so quickly during training, the sensation of that warm current, and the sudden instinct to dodge attacks he could not even see.
He did not answer, but his silence spoke volumes.
The voice chuckled softly once more. "You are beginning to feel it, are you not? That is a sign that our bond grows stronger."
Edward drew a long breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions in his chest. He needed clear answers.
"Why do you keep appearing to me?" he asked firmly.
Silence. Several seconds passed, stretching long in the darkness. Then the voice replied. Its tone was different tonight—no mocking, no provocation, no threat. Instead, it sounded weary. Deeply weary.
"Because I have nowhere else to go."
Edward frowned, growing more confused. "What do you mean?"
The voice laughed softly, yet the sound was strange. It was the laugh of something ancient, carrying countless memories and a loneliness that ran deep. It sounded like something that had lived far too long, alone and separated from the world.
"Because I am inside you."
For a moment, Edward's heart seemed to stop. Inside me? What does that mean?
"Do not jest," he hissed.
"I am not jesting."
"You lie."
"Then why is it that you can still hear me? Why has no one else ever heard my voice but you?"
Edward had no reply. This was what frightened him most. The voice did not come from outside the room. Not from behind the window, not from beneath the bed, not from the yard outside. It came from a place he could not see, could not touch, and could not avoid. It felt as though it originated within his own mind, from its deepest, most hidden depths. And that was far more terrifying than any creature standing before him.
Silence returned to the room, heavier and more oppressive this time. Then the voice spoke again, softer but deeper and more resonant.
"I have been here for a very long time."
Edward swallowed hard. "Since when?"
The voice laughed gently, though without joy. "Far too long to count."
"How long is 'far too long'?"
"Hmm…" The voice seemed to be turning back through time, reaching into the distant past. "Longer than any kingdom you have ever heard of has stood."
Edward froze in place. "What?"
"Longer than all the history you have studied and memorized."
A chill ran down Edward's spine. "That is impossible. No being could live that long."
"Who said I was human?"
The room suddenly grew much colder. Every hair on Edward's body stood on end. For the first time, he felt true fear. The voice no longer sounded like that of an ordinary person. There was a deep, ancient, terrifying tone hidden beneath every word it spoke.
Edward gritted his teeth, his hands clenching tightly atop the blanket. He had to know who—or what—was speaking to him, no matter the cost.
"Who are you, truly?" he asked, his voice trembling yet resolute.
Silence. This time it lasted longer than before, as if the voice were weighing whether to reveal the truth. At last, the answer came.
"Long ago, I was called by many names."
Edward waited, his breath held.
"They called me… the Monster."
His breath caught completely.
"The Calamity."
His heart beat faster, threatening to leap from his chest.
"The End of the World."
His entire body began to shake violently.
"And most often… the Destroyer."
The four words echoed and swirled in his mind. Monster. Calamity. End of the World. Destroyer. Somehow, they felt so strange and yet so familiar. As if he had heard them once, only to forget.
Suddenly, a memory rushed forward: the Hall of Awakening, Altheon's grave expression, the shelves of ancient books and hidden records, and one word spoken in a trembling voice filled with dread: Destrover.
Edward went rigid. His hands slowly tightened into fists until his nails pressed gently into his palms.
"No…" he whispered.
The voice chuckled softly, as if it knew exactly what was passing through Edward's mind. "You are beginning to remember."
"That cannot be…"
"You have heard my name spoken before, have you not? Even if only in whispers, as if afraid the name itself might bring ruin."
Edward rose from the bed, breathing heavily. His heart pounded so fiercely it felt painful.
"You…"
The voice did not reply with words. Instead, for the first time, Edward felt something other than sound—a powerful wave of emotion surging into his thoughts. Burning rage, endless sorrow, loneliness that had endured for thousands of years, and a hatred so deep it felt like an endless sea of darkness.
The feelings rose from the darkest recesses of his mind, from the very source of the voice. And for the first time, Edward realized something terrifying: whatever this being was, it was not merely a spirit or a shadow. It was something that had once shaken the very foundations of the world. Something whose name had been deliberately erased from history so it would be forgotten forever. Something that even a wise man like Altheon feared to speak aloud.
In the quiet hush of the night, the voice whispered again, so soft it was almost lost:
"It has been so long… so very long since anyone dared to speak my name."
And before Edward could open his mouth to ask anything more, the voice slowly faded and vanished, leaving silence to settle over the room once more. Yet this time, the silence felt far more terrifying than any sound he had ever heard.
Silence crept back into every corner of the room.
The voice had faded away—or at least, Edward hoped it had. He sat on the edge of his bed, his chest rising and falling with ragged, uneven breaths. Cold sweat dampened his temples and neck, feeling sticky even though the night air was far chillier than usual. A pale moon hung low in the sky, casting faint silver light across the wooden floor and stretching shadows that looked like delicate hands reaching out toward him.
Edward tried to calm the storm raging inside him.
"This isn't real," he whispered hoarsely, rubbing his face roughly with both hands. "Just a dream. Just my imagination."
Yet even as the words left his mouth, his own heart refused to believe them. The voice knew far too much—secrets he had never spoken to anyone, not even Altheon or Silvia. Things buried deep in the darkest corners of his memory.
And then, the voice returned. Closer now, as if whispering directly beside his ear. Sharper, piercing straight to the core of his emotions. Colder, freezing the blood flowing through his veins.
"You are weak."
Edward instantly clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened, holding back the surge of anger and shame that threatened to burst forth.
"I don't care what you have to say."
"You do care."
"I don't care what you think!"
The voice chuckled softly—a low, rumbling sound, like someone enjoying a performance unfolding exactly as they planned.
"You are angry only because you know I speak the truth."
Edward stood up abruptly.
"Be quiet!"
"You are weak."
"BE SILENT!"
"You are too weak to face the truth."
Each word felt like a sharp blade, twisting before striking deep into the most vulnerable part of his heart. And what hurt most of all was that, deep down, he knew the voice was not entirely wrong.
Images of the Hall of Awakening flashed through his mind. He remembered how he had stood frozen, unable to move an inch as the ground shook and flames consumed everything. He remembered the terrified stares of the villagers, looking to him for help he could not give. He remembered how often Altheon and Silvia had stepped forward, placing themselves between danger and him, while he could only stand still—a burden to be protected.
That reality stung. It hurt so deeply it felt like a fresh wound being constantly picked at.
The voice whispered again, softer this time, yet all the more devastating:
"If others had not always shielded you… you would have died many times over."
Edward bowed his head low. His hands trembled violently. He hated that a small part of him agreed with those words.
Several moments passed in suffocating silence. When the voice spoke again, its tone had shifted completely—calmer, quieter, almost gentle, like a casual invitation. Yet this only made Edward more wary. Such calmness often hid the most dangerous traps.
"Tell me one thing," the voice said.
Edward remained silent. He refused to give this being any room to toy with his mind further.
"If an enemy were to attack tonight… right here, while you lie fast asleep," the voice continued slowly, "could you protect Alice?"
For a heartbeat, Edward's heart seemed to stop. The little girl's face appeared vividly before him—her bright smile every morning, her cheerful voice calling his name, her eyes always shining with the belief that her older brother could overcome anything.
Edward swallowed hard, his throat suddenly turning dry.
"Could you protect her?" the voice asked again, unhurried.
Edward opened his mouth to deny it, to shout that of course he could. But no words came out. Deep in his heart, he already knew the answer.
What if the enemy was as powerful as the being that destroyed the Hall of Awakening? What if the kingdom sent skilled magic hunters? What could he do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that was the answer he feared most.
Suddenly, everything around him shifted. The air seemed to spin. The orphanage bedroom vanished as if it had never existed—the wooden walls, the cold floor, the ceiling—all swallowed by darkness, replaced instead by a roaring sea of fire.
Edward recognized the place instantly.
"The Hall of Awakening…" he whispered hoarsely.
An explosion shook the ground.
BOOM!
The earth trembled violently. Screams of terror filled the air. Mages ran in all directions, scrambling to save themselves. Stone walls crumbled and collapsed. Blood stained the ground everywhere. An elderly mage was thrown backward, crashing hard into a pillar before falling motionless.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the vision dissolved.
He was back in the quiet darkness, alone once more—except for the voice.
"You saw it with your own eyes, did you not?" the voice asked softly.
Edward drew a long, heavy breath. "What do you truly want from me?"
"I can give you power," the voice replied without the slightest hesitation.
Edward immediately recalled their earlier conversation. The same offer. The same temptation. And the answer he had made up his mind about long ago.
"I have already refused."
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then the voice laughed—not out of anger or mockery, but with the patience of one who knows their time will surely come.
"I am not asking you to accept it now," it said.
Edward frowned in confusion. "Then what is the point of all this?"
"I only want you to remember my offer. Keep it close in your heart. One day, when you have nowhere left to turn… when fear and helplessness become too heavy to bear… you will remember there is a way to change."
The words sounded so certain, as if the being already knew what lay ahead. The thought sent a chill running through Edward's entire body.
Silence settled once more, but it felt different this time. There was something else in the air—a faint, subtle pressure, barely noticeable but undeniably present. Like a fine crack beginning to form across the surface of glass that had always seemed solid.
Crack…
Edward glanced around. There was no one there. Nothing at all. Yet the sound came again.
Crack… crack…
He pressed a hand to his head, which throbbed faintly. "What is this?"
There was no answer. But suddenly, an image rose in his mind: he was standing before a massive door made of deep black stone, bound tightly by ancient chains wrapped around it in every direction. Etched across its surface were glowing red and blue symbols, thousands of magical runes slowly rotating as if struggling to hold back something incredibly dangerous.
And for the first time, Edward realized something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up: the voice was not roaming freely within his mind. It was… trapped. Locked behind that great door.
His eyes widened in shock. But before he could fully grasp what it meant, the vision vanished instantly, leaving only a coldness that seeped deep into his bones.
Darkness swallowed everything once more. There was no floor, no sky—nothing but endless, empty void.
Then, far in the distance, something slowly began to open. At first it was just a tiny pinprick of red light, but it steadily grew larger, brighter, and drew closer. Edward's heart beat faster, a slow, heavy rhythm echoing in his chest.
Thump… thump… thump…
And at last, he saw it clearly: a gigantic, glowing crimson eye, floating freely in the boundless darkness. Its pupil was vertical, sharp like that of an ancient beast that had lived for thousands of years. Its gaze was cold, deep, and filled with a power that defied description.
Edward froze. He could not move, could not breathe, could not tear his eyes away. The eye stared at him—not like a predator looking at prey, but like a king observing his rightful heir. Judging, measuring, waiting for the right moment.
And strangely enough, Edward felt something far more terrifying than hatred: recognition. It was as if this eye knew him—had known him for a very long time, even before he understood the meaning of the world itself.
The voice spoke again, deeper and heavier than before, resonating from beyond the darkness:
"Someday… you will understand everything. You and I… are bound by the same fate."
The red eye slowly narrowed, then faded until it disappeared completely. The world around Edward crumbled back into total darkness.
Only one question remained, swirling endlessly in his mind and haunting every corner of his thoughts: Who was this being speaking to him? And why… why did he feel certain that it was not lying?
Night had deepened, wrapping the ruins of the Hall of Awakening in a piercing silence. The great structure still stood, yet it no longer held the grandeur of its former days. Long cracks split its massive stone pillars; scars of past battles were still visible across the walls; and a faint residue of the explosion that had occurred some time ago lingered in the air—cold, unnatural, carrying a power that defied explanation.
Altheon walked alone through the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. In his palm, a small orb of golden light drifted gently, illuminating his path without dispelling the solemn stillness of the place.
He stopped before a massive stone door hidden in the deepest corner. Carved from an unknown material, its surface was etched with ancient runes that had faded with the passage of time. For decades, this door had remained untouched—seldom even spoken of.
"If my suspicions are correct…" he murmured quietly, his voice heavy in the hush. "Then everything we have believed for so long may be wrong."
With a calm yet resolute gesture, Altheon channeled a small amount of his power. The runes upon the door immediately flared with a faint silver glow, turning slowly as if unlocking a secret long sealed away.
GRRRKKK…
The door groaned as it swung open, sending clouds of dust drifting down from the high ceiling. Beyond lay a room known to almost no one: an ancient library of staggering size. Towering wooden shelves rose all the way to the vaulted roof, holding thousands of books, scrolls, and stone tablets—many believed to be older than the Kingdom of Huinjou itself.
Altheon let out a long breath, gazing around with a mix of hope and dread. "It has been so long…"
Years had passed since he had last set foot here. But tonight, he had no other choice. He had to find answers—before it was too late.
Hours slipped by in silence. Altheon moved between the endless rows of shelves, opening one dusty volume and scroll after another. Most of the writing had faded beyond recognition; pages were brittle and crumbling; some had even been deliberately torn or erased. It was as if some force in the distant past had worked to ensure certain truths would never be found by future generations.
At last, his hand paused upon a scroll of aged leather. Its surface was nearly disintegrated, yet the magical seal wrapped around it remained intact, radiating a faint protective energy.
Altheon unrolled it with extreme care. The moment the text came into view, his eyes widened. There, clearly drawn, was a symbol he knew all too well: two interlocking circles, one glowing crimson, the other deep blue—the Mark of Balance.
His heart began to race. His hands trembled slightly as he read the words inscribed upon it. Most of the script had worn away with time, but one line, written in a special ink, remained sharp and clear:
"When the Vessel begins to hear the voice whispering from within…"
Altheon froze. His breath caught in his throat. He read on, his eyes unblinking.
"…then the First Seal has cracked."
Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. The world around him felt as though it had stopped turning.
"No…" he whispered, barely audible. "It cannot be…"
Altheon stumbled back several steps until his back pressed against the shelves behind him. His mind raced, trying to piece together the weight of what he had read.
For years, he and the other elders had always believed that the Destrover remained in a deep slumber, sealed tightly within Edward's consciousness, unable to move or communicate. But this ancient record told a different story. If Edward could already hear the voice—if they were already speaking—then the barrier was no longer whole.
And if the seal was cracked… the entity within was no longer asleep. It was awake. It could observe. Think. Plan. And wait.
The thought turned Altheon's blood to ice. A slumbering Destrover was a threat that could be contained. But an awakened Destrover, able to speak with its vessel… that was a catastrophe beyond imagining.
"No…" he murmured again, his gaze fixed upon the red-and-blue symbol. His face, usually calm and commanding, had turned ashen. "It is not trying to rise… it is waiting for the right moment."
Altheon set the scroll carefully upon a stone table, then walked toward the innermost section of the library—the place where the most dangerous, forbidden artifacts were kept. He raised his hand, and the golden light in his palm flared brighter, illuminating a large, tightly sealed stone chest.
With deliberate movements, he lifted its lid. Inside rested a small mirror carved from black crystal—the Mirror of Seeing, an ancient relic capable of detecting hidden, primordial energies.
Altheon channeled a wisp of power into it. The dark surface slowly cleared, revealing a distant scene: the backyard of the orphanage, and the figure of a young boy sleeping in his room.
But instantly, the mirror shook violently. Fine cracks appeared along its edges, and the image began to distort. A faint dark aura surrounded Edward's form, throbbing slowly like a heartbeat—slow, yet powerful.
"Its energy grows stronger…" Altheon whispered, his eyes narrowing. "The bond between them deepens. If left unchecked, the seal will eventually shatter completely."
He closed the stone chest firmly, as if fearing the mirror might continue to reveal something dangerous. In his heart, he knew their time was running short. They must find a way to reinforce the seal—or at least prepare for what was to come.
Not far from the ruins of the Hall of Awakening, hidden beneath the dense canopy of trees, a figure in black stood motionless. They had watched from the moment Altheon entered the forbidden library.
In their hand, the disc-shaped artifact pulsed with a red glow that grew steadily brighter. They could feel the same vibration—the sign that the ancient barrier was beginning to weaken.
"Grandmaster Altheon has finally opened his eyes to the truth," the figure murmured softly, a faint smile playing beneath the hood. "But does he have the strength to accept what comes next?"
They lifted their gaze to the dark night sky. "The seal will not hold for long. The Destroyer has awakened from its long sleep. And when it at last speaks with a clear voice… the fate of this world will be forever changed."
The night wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the words away into the darkness as if no one had ever been there.
For the first time in the decades he had served as Grandmaster, Altheon wore an expression few had ever seen: genuine fear.
He did not fear war, nor injury, nor death. He had survived countless battles, witnessed ruin, and faced horrors beyond count. But this time, he feared something far greater—the possibility that the dark history they had spent thousands of years trying to bury would repeat itself.
He stepped toward the library's tall window, gazing north toward the village of Hougwe, visible only as a faint smudge in the distance. There, in a simple room, slept a boy who did not yet fully understand the burden he carried.
"We have so little time left…" he whispered, his voice heavy with worry.
In his mind, he pictured Edward—the boy who always tried to smile even when afraid, who sought to protect those around him even without understanding the power within himself. And that was what made it all the more painful.
At the same time, far away in Hougwe Orphanage…
Edward lay upon his bed, his eyes tightly closed. But his sleep was far from peaceful. Cold sweat dampened his brow and neck, and his breathing came in ragged gasps, as if he had been running for miles.
Beneath the moonlight filtering through the window, the small sword-shaped pendant around his neck began to glow with a faint, almost imperceptible light. A moment later, directly above his chest, the symbol of two interlocking red and blue circles appeared briefly, shining brightly for a few seconds before fading back into his skin.
No one saw it. Not Silvia, keeping watch in the hallway. Not Mrs. Selner, tending to the hearth. Not a single soul in the village.
Yet far away, in a hidden place, the ancient artifact belonging to the hooded figure reacted violently. The red crystal at its center blazed with light, pulsing rapidly as if it possessed a life of its own.
The figure straightened, eyes narrowing sharply toward the village.
"The seal…" they murmured, their tone laced with keen interest. "…is beginning to stir."
Within Edward's subconscious, in a dream that felt terrifyingly real, he stood once more before the massive black gate he had seen before. It rose so high its top was lost in shadow, bound by thousands of heavy chains etched with magical runes that turned slowly as if straining to hold back something terrible.
But this time, there was a clear change. One of the thickest chains at its center… was cracked.
KRAK…
The sound echoed through the vast emptiness, sending a vibration deep into his bones. Edward stared, breath caught in his throat. From the fissure oozed a thick, ominous red light, like flowing blood.
Then came the sound of footsteps from beyond the gate—heavy, slow, yet unwavering.
THUD…
THUD…
THUD…
Something was drawing closer from the other side. And for the first time, Edward felt such overwhelming fear that his entire body went rigid. He wanted to run, to flee, but his feet felt rooted to the spot.
Darkness suddenly swallowed everything, erasing the gate and chains. There was no floor, no sky—only endless, empty blackness.
Edward stood alone in the void.
Then, slowly, two enormous crimson eyes opened before him. They were far larger, brighter, and more imposing than any he had seen before. Their vertical pupils stared directly into him, as if seeing every thought and memory hidden within his mind.
Edward trembled violently. His deepest instincts screamed for him to run as far as he could, yet his body refused to obey.
Then the voice spoke. This time, there were no riddles, no wordplay, nothing hidden.
"It has been so long…"
The sound resonated through his entire consciousness, like a faint but powerful earthquake.
"Heir of Balance."
Edward's eyes went wide. His heart pounded so hard it ached. How could this voice know an ancient title scarcely mentioned in history books?
The red eyes narrowed slightly.
"I have waited for you… for a very long time."
Edward's breath caught in his throat. And then, in a deep, clear tone, the name was finally spoken—the name that existed only in legend, forbidden records, the fears of mages, and the nightmares of history.
"I am…"
Silence seemed to fill the entire dream realm, as if the world itself held its breath.
"…the Destrover."
BOOM!
The entire void shook violently. The red eyes blazed even brighter, radiating such immense power it felt as though it pierced straight to his bones. And in the real world, Edward jolted awake with a start, gasping for air, his body drenched in cold sweat.
But what sent a chill down his spine was this: the name was now etched clearly into his memory. And he knew—their true meeting had only just begun.