Night had fallen deep.
All the children at the orphanage were fast asleep, lost in their own dreams, leaving the entire building wrapped in quiet stillness. But in one room, the soft glow of a candle still burned. It was Edward's room.
The boy sat on the edge of his bed, his blanket crumpled and discarded beside him. In his hand, he clutched tightly a pendant shaped like a sword—an old trinket that had been with him for the past ten years, one he had always thought was nothing more than an ordinary keepsake. But tonight felt different. Very different.
Because for the first time… the relic had spoken.
Edward stared unblinking at the worn metal surface, his mind racing as it replayed the two words that still echoed clearly in his ears.
"Heir…"
"Have you finally begun to remember?"
That ancient voice had sounded so real, so distinct, that it was impossible to dismiss as mere imagination or a dream. Edward rubbed his face gently, trying to steady himself.
"I must be losing my mind…" he whispered softly.
Yet even as he said it, deep down he knew that was not the truth. Too many strange things had happened lately: mysterious voices, the existence of Destrover, visions of wars from a forgotten age, the image of a mighty Guardian, a sword of black and silver that radiated immense power—and now… this pendant.
The more he searched for answers, the more new questions arose, piling up in his mind without ever offering a glimmer of clarity.
"What exactly are you?" he murmured to the object in his hand. "Please… give me just one answer…"
Of course, no reply came. The pendant remained silent, looking like nothing more than ordinary, weathered metal. But Edward knew—deep in his heart—that this trinket was anything but ordinary.
Edward eventually lay back down on his mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chest, and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come. But it was no use. His thoughts were too restless, filled with a heavy, unrelenting worry.
He thought of all the faces of those who had loved and protected him: Silvia, Mrs. Selner, Alice, Thomas, Alex, Serly, and everyone else who lived at the orphanage.
What if one day they discover there is a terrifying creature living inside me?
What if they learn about Destrover?
Will they still accept me for who I am? Or will they turn away and fear me, just as the villagers had done years ago?
Edward's chest felt tight, as if a heavy weight was pressing down upon it.
"I just want to live like everyone else… a quiet, ordinary life," he whispered faintly.
For a moment, he longed for the days when his biggest worries were helping fix the orphanage's leaky roof or running and laughing alongside Alice. Not forgotten ancient wars, not the burden of being an heir, and certainly not the being called the Destroyer of Worlds.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hoping the darkness would bring him peace—but sleep still refused to come.
Finally, Edward gave up. He sat up again and looked toward the slightly open window, revealing the dark expanse of the night sky. The full moon hung high above, its soft light filtering through the gaps in the curtains and casting a faint glow across the room.
Edward took a deep breath, trying to calm his still-racing heart, and spoke in a quiet but clear voice.
"Destrover."
There was no answer.
He waited for several moments, but silence remained.
"Destrover," he called again.
Still, there was no response.
Edward frowned. Until now, the being had always been present—whether to annoy him, mock him, or offer clues that only seemed to confuse things further. But tonight… there was nothing at all.
"If you can hear me…" Edward said again, breaking the stillness. "I have questions."
Silence.
"What was it that I really saw?"
Again, no reply.
The quiet felt far more unsettling than the sound of Destrover's voice ever had.
Slowly, a sense of unease began to creep into Edward's heart. It felt strange. For so long, he had wished for Destrover to fall silent forever—but now that his wish had come true, he felt as though something was wrong. It was as if a part of himself was missing, or at least that a presence he had grown accustomed to had suddenly vanished.
The thought made him feel annoyed with himself.
"No," he said firmly. "I don't need answers from him."
He shook his head vigorously, trying to push the thought away. But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. Because the only being who seemed to hold the key to all the hidden truths… was Destrover. And that realization only made everything feel more complicated and burdensome.
Time passed, and the night grew deeper and quieter. Edward finally decided to try closing his eyes once more. He lay back, took a long breath, and let his eyelids fall shut.
A few minutes went by…
Suddenly, he felt something strange. A warmth that slowly spread through his chest.
Edward's eyes snapped open wide.
It was more than just warmth. The pendant resting against his chest was growing hotter.
He sat up straight at once, his hand reaching for it. "What is it now?"
Slowly but steadily, the pendant began to glow. At first the light was faint and dim, but it grew brighter by the second. Two colors—crimson and sapphire—shone in turn, pulsing in a steady rhythm like a living heartbeat.
Edward's eyes widened in disbelief. The light slowly filled the entire room. The walls began to tremble softly, the wooden wardrobe creaked, and the windowpanes rattled violently as if they might shatter at any moment.
CRACK…
A thin line appeared in the air, directly in front of his bed. It widened, spreading out in all directions, looking exactly like glass beginning to shatter into countless pieces.
Edward backed away slowly, his breath catching in his throat. "What in the world is this?!" he cried, his voice trembling.
More cracks appeared, spreading across the ceiling, the walls, and even the floor. The entire room seemed to be splitting apart into thousands of shimmering fragments of light. Edward reached out to grab the bedside table, hoping to steady himself against something solid—but his hand passed right through it as if it were nothing but smoke.
The world around him was changing, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Then, amid the chaos, a voice spoke. It was very faint, as if coming from a great distance away, yet it sounded clear and cut straight to his heart.
"Heir…"
Edward froze. It was the same voice—the one that had come from within the pendant.
"You must see it."
"See what?!" Edward shouted, hoping his voice would carry.
But the voice did not answer his question. Only one final phrase rang out clearly before everything shifted.
"Before it is too late."
And in that instant, the world around him crumbled completely.
Edward felt himself lifted, then falling freely. He fell, and fell, endlessly.
There was no ground beneath him. No sky above. No light, no shadow—only endless darkness. A biting, cold wind swept over his face and body.
Yet this time was different. Very different. The visions he had experienced before had felt like distant, hazy dreams—but now… he could feel everything. The pressure of the wind, the chill in the air, even the rapid pounding of his own heart. It felt too real. Far too real to be dismissed as an illusion.
"What is really happening?" he whispered, his voice shaking.
He tried to move his arms and legs, but his body continued to drift downward. Far below, a single point of light slowly began to appear. At first it was tiny, but it grew larger and brighter as he drew closer—until finally, Edward realized what it was.
It was a city. A vast, magnificent city, yet one that lay in utter ruin. Its entire surface was covered in a thick layer of ash, and in places, faint embers still glowed, refusing to die out completely.
As his gaze fell upon the sight, his chest suddenly ached and tightened. It was as if he had once lost something very precious in this place. Before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then another followed.
He did not even understand why he was crying. But deep within the very core of his soul, something was grieving. Grieving for a past that had long been buried and forgotten.
Cold.
That was the first thing Edward felt.
Not the chill of the night air in Hougwe, nor the sharp wind that swept down from the mountain peaks. This was a different kind of cold—one that seeped deep into his very bones, as if the entire world around him had lost its pulse of life.
Slowly, Edward opened his eyes. And in that instant, he froze, unable to move.
Stretching out before him was a city so vast and magnificent that it made the Kingdom of Valencrest look like nothing more than a tiny village tucked at the foot of a hill. Crystal spires rose high enough to touch the clouds, glowing with a soft light that illuminated the sky. Graceful bridges arched through the air, connecting towering structures. Even the rivers did not flow along the ground, but drifted like shimmering blue ribbons suspended in mid-air.
This was the city he had seen in his earlier visions. A city from a long-forgotten age, one that existed only as whispers in ancient legends.
But now… this city was dying.
Thick black smoke choked the sky, blotting out the sun. Fire devoured every corner of its buildings, leaving behind nothing but ruin. The sound of distant explosions echoed through the air, like the mournful wail of a city tearing itself apart.
Edward swallowed hard, his heart pounding so fiercely it felt as though it might leap right out of his chest.
"What is this place…" he whispered softly.
There was no answer—only the rumble of collapsing structures, sounding like a long, sorrowful cry.
Edward took a slow step forward. Each movement felt heavy, as if an invisible weight was pulling him down. For some reason, this place seemed to hold a sadness so profound that he could feel it settling in his own heart, even though he had never set foot here before.
Edward paused for a moment, frowning.
"How strange…" he murmured.
He could smell it. The faint scent of fine ash, of burning wood, and rusted iron—and beneath it all, unmistakable even in its faintness, the metallic tang of blood.
Logically, he knew this was nothing more than a memory. A vision from a time long past. Yet everything felt so vivid. Too vivid.
He knelt down and reached out to touch the ground. A handful of black ash lifted and drifted slowly through his fingers. Edward's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"I can actually touch it…"
A soft breeze stirred, carrying the ash into the air. And beneath the roar of the flames, he could hear other sounds—faint but clear. The cries of children, screams of terror, desperate prayers, and the sobs of people who had lost everything. They blended together into a single, haunting chorus, as if the entire city itself was weeping with unspoken grief.
A shiver ran down Edward's spine. For the first time, he realized he was not merely watching the past. He was experiencing it. It was as though he had been there, standing in the very same moment when everything fell apart.
Edward walked deeper into the city. With every step, the sight before him grew more heartbreaking. The crystal spires that had once stood tall and proud now lay shattered in heaps of rubble. Fire raged unchecked along the streets, consuming whatever remained. Shards of crystal that had once sparkled like stars now lay scattered everywhere, reflecting the crimson glow of the flames.
The sky was completely shrouded in smoke, leaving no trace of the sun. The only light came from the flickering red of the fires that burned endlessly.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion rang out.
BOOM!
One of the largest spires in the distance crumbled, crashing down onto the buildings below. Edward instinctively stepped back, even though deep down he knew the falling debris could never touch him. Still, the sight was enough to make his entire body tremble.
"What truly happened here…" he whispered hoarsely.
There was no answer. Only destruction. Only death, wrapping itself around everything.
In the middle of a ruined main road, Edward's gaze fell upon something. A large flag lay crumpled atop a pile of rubble, its colors faded, torn in many places, and charred along the edges. Yet the emblem stitched onto its fabric was still clearly visible: a sword flanked by outstretched wings, beneath which a blazing sun was depicted. It was a symbol he had never seen before.
Edward approached slowly. Just as his hand was about to touch the cloth, a voice suddenly echoed inside his head—a voice he knew all too well.
"Long ago, this symbol flew high in every corner of the world."
Edward stiffened. "You again."
"Of course," the voice replied calmly.
This time, its tone was different. There was no mockery, no threat, and no rage. It sounded like someone looking back upon a time that had long since vanished.
Edward clenched his fists tightly. "Was this your home?"
Several seconds passed in silence before the voice spoke again.
"No."
"Then whose is it?"
"It was theirs."
Edward continued walking until he reached the city's main avenue. And there, for the first time, he saw its people. Thousands were running in a panic, filling the narrow streets—children, women, the elderly—all fleeing without direction, their faces etched with terror.
A man's voice rang out above the noise, trying to calm the crowd.
"Lead them toward the northern gate! We must leave now!"
"The shadow forces have broken through our defenses!"
Children's cries filled the air, mingling with the shouts of adults. A little girl tripped and fell in the middle of the road, and her mother immediately knelt to lift her up, holding her close.
"It's all right, my dear," the woman whispered, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. "We will be safe. I promise."
Yet it was clear to see that she did not truly believe her own words.
Edward watched it all, his chest growing tight with sorrow. Their faces looked so real, so full of emotion. They were not just figures from history, dead and gone for centuries. They were people—just like him, just like Alice, Thomas, Alex, and everyone else he knew back at the orphanage. And now, they were losing everything.
Amidst the rushing crowd, Edward's eyes caught sight of a young boy. He looked to be about the same age as Edward himself. The child stood frozen in the middle of the street, sobbing uncontrollably, his eyes darting wildly as he searched for someone.
"Mother! Mother, where are you?!"
But there was no reply. The crowd surged past, no one stopping to help.
Edward instinctively ran toward him. "I'm here!" he shouted, even though he knew full well the boy could not hear him.
The child kept crying, calling out for his mother, until he was swept away by the stream of people and vanished from sight.
Edward stopped in his tracks, his chest aching. For a moment, he saw the reflection of his own younger self—an orphaned boy standing alone, calling for parents who would never return.
A short while later, his attention was drawn to two more figures. A young woman and a small girl had taken shelter in the corner of a building whose walls were already cracked and crumbling. The mother held her daughter as tightly as she could, as if she would never let go.
The child cried in fear. "Mother… I'm scared…"
The woman gave a faint, trembling smile, even as tears continued to fall. "I know, my love. But I'm right here. Don't be afraid."
Edward froze. Those words… they reminded him of Mrs. Selner, who had always comforted him, of Silvia, who had always protected him—of everyone who had ever made him feel safe.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed from above.
CRACK!
The wall above them began to split apart and collapse.
Edward's eyes went wide. "NO!"
He ran as fast as he could, no longer caring whether this was real or just an illusion. He reached out, trying to pull them away, trying to save them.
But his hand passed straight through the woman's body as if she were nothing but mist or a shadow.
BOOM!
The building crumbled instantly. Dust and smoke filled the air, blocking his view. When it finally began to clear, there was nothing left where they had stood.
Edward stood rooted to the spot, his body shaking violently. He had been too late. Though from the very beginning, he had never possessed the power to change anything at all.
Edward sank to his knees upon the dusty ground. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, his eyes burning with suppressed anger and grief.
"Why…" he whispered hoarsely. He struck the ground gently with his fist. "Why do I have to see all of this?"
There was no answer—only the roar of the spreading fire and the constant rumble of destruction. And for the first time since entering this vision, Edward felt a burning anger rise within his chest. He was not angry at Destrover, nor was he angry at himself. He was angry at this world. Angry at the fate that had allowed all of this to happen.
Edward stood up again, his breathing ragged. His gaze swept across the entire city, now transformed into a sea of fire and rubble. Thousands of lives lost, homes reduced to dust, and all the life that had once flourished here gone in an instant. And he could not understand why.
He lifted his head and shouted as loudly as he could toward the dark sky.
"WHY?! WHY DID ALL OF THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN?!"
His voice echoed between the crumbling buildings, then faded away, swallowed by the wind.
Several seconds passed in silence before Destrover's voice returned—calm, deep, and sounding incredibly ancient, as if it had traveled through thousands of years to reach him.
"Because people were afraid."
Edward gritted his teeth. "Afraid of what?!"
The answer came slowly, heavy with meaning.
"Afraid of something they could not control."
Edward fell silent. "That makes no sense."
"Does it not?" Destrover countered. "Tell me, Edward. When the Hall of Awakening was destroyed, when they saw me appear… what did they do?"
Edward paused. He remembered the faces of the mages, the guards, and the villagers. He saw the fear flash in their eyes—the panic, the sheer terror.
"They were afraid…" he murmured.
Destrover let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"It was not just then. Since the dawn of time, fear has always been the root of all ruin."
Edward stared out over the vast expanse of flames before him. And for the first time, a question began to form in his mind. What if the history he had been taught all his life was incomplete? What if part of the truth had been deliberately hidden from the world? And what if… the being everyone had always blamed as the source of all evil and destruction… was not the only one at fault?
The hot wind blew once more, carrying clouds of ash into the dark sky. And far in the center of the ruined city, hidden behind the smoke and flames, something began to move slowly. Something that was watching Edward's presence. And the boy was completely unaware of it.
The scorching wind continued to blow without rest, carrying ash and glowing embers high into the sky—now stained a deep, ominous red, as if the entire horizon itself were burning.
Edward still stood rooted in the middle of the ruined city street. Slowly, he took a step forward, moving away from the residential district with its piles of rubble. The farther he walked, the quieter his surroundings became. No more children's cries, no more screams of terror, no more sounds of people fleeing for their lives. All that remained was a heavy silence, thick with the shadow of death.
Edward suddenly stopped short. His eyes went wide, and his breath caught in his throat.
Stretching out before him was a vast, open plain. And covering every inch of it lay bodies, motionless and still. Thousands—even tens of thousands—of human and other forms lay scattered as far as the eye could see. There were human soldiers clad in golden armor, mages fallen with their white robes stained dark with blood and dust. There were also creatures he had glimpsed in earlier visions of war—shadow beings with dark forms, and others unlike anything mentioned in any legend. Some had four arms, others bore dimly glowing crystal horns, and some resembled humans but possessed pairs of wings that had once shone with brilliant light.
All were dead. All lay upon ground turned black and sticky from spilled blood.
Edward swallowed hard, his entire body turning cold, as if the blood in his veins had stopped flowing.
"This…" his voice trembled softly. "Is this… a battlefield?"
There was no answer—only a silence that pressed heavy upon his chest.
For the first time in his life, Edward truly understood the sheer scale of the war that had once torn this world apart. This was no mere dispute between kingdoms, nor a struggle for land or power. This was a conflict that had nearly wiped out an entire civilization.
Edward walked slowly between the fallen figures. Every step felt heavy, as if an invisible weight rested upon his shoulders.
He saw a human soldier whose right hand still gripped the hilt of his sword. Beside him lay a horned creature, its body pierced deep by a spear. They lay facing one another, as if even death itself could not sever the hatred that had grown between them.
Edward knelt gently, looking upon the soldier's face. He seemed still young—perhaps not much older than Silvia had been when she first chose to become a Guardian. Perhaps even younger.
"He was just…" Edward trailed off.
Just a man. Someone who might have had a family waiting for him to return. Friends who cared for him. Dreams he had hoped to achieve. Yet now, all of it had come to an abrupt end.
Nearby, the horned creature's face did not look monstrous or terrifying as it was often described in folktales. It did not seem like a bloodthirsty beast. It only looked deeply weary. Utterly exhausted. As if it too had been forced to fight in a war it had never wanted.
"In a war this great…" Edward whispered, his eyes fixed on the scene before him, "…there are no winners, are there?"
This time, Destrover's voice came in reply. It sounded distant, as if rising from the depths of a long-buried past.
"At last, you are beginning to see the truth."
Edward continued toward the center of the battlefield. Before long, something caught his eye. Standing amid the blood-soaked earth and rubble was a flagpole—still upright, though in a sorry state. Half of it was broken, its surface charred black, and it threatened to topple with every gust of wind. Yet the flag still attached to it fluttered gently in the breeze.
Edward drew near slowly. And when he saw the emblem stitched into the fabric, he froze.
He knew it well. A sword standing upright, flanked by a pair of outstretched wings, encircled by a ring of radiating light. It was the symbol of the Guardians—the same mark he had seen clearly upon Silvia's robes. The symbol taught to represent the protectors of the world, the embodiment of goodness and justice.
"The Guardians…" Edward murmured softly.
For the first time, the name felt different. It was no longer merely an honorary title bestowed upon great people. It was part of something far larger, far older, and far more complex than he had ever understood.
Somehow, as he stared at the tattered flag, the image of Silvia suddenly came to his mind. He remembered her smile whenever he stumbled and fell during training. He recalled how she always made sure he ate on time, even when she was busy with her duties. He remembered the moment she had stood firm before the man in black, willing to risk her own life to protect him.
"This can't be…" he whispered faintly.
The Guardians were the world's protectors. Silvia was a kind, sincere person who always tried to do what was right. So surely the organization she belonged to must also serve a noble purpose. Must it not?
Yet deep within his heart, a small but piercing doubt stirred for the very first time. And that doubt filled him with fear.
Suddenly, the scene around him shifted instantly. The world trembled softly, and the images before him blurred and shifted like pages being turned rapidly. Edward stumbled backward, struggling to steady himself. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing upon a wide, paved avenue.
The street was crowded—but not with armed soldiers. These were civilians. Women, children, the elderly, scholars, researchers, and mages. All knelt upon the ground, their hands bound tightly behind their backs, their faces etched with profound fear.
Edward frowned in confusion. "What is happening here?"
Before he could find an answer, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps began to echo.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
They drew closer, growing louder and clearer with every moment. A company of soldiers marched into view. They wore gleaming white-and-gold armor, and upon each breast was stitched the same emblem—the winged sword of the Guardians.
Edward's eyes widened in disbelief. "No…"
One elderly man kneeling at the front of the line shouted with all his might, his voice thick with despair.
"We have done nothing wrong! Please, listen to us! We are only keepers of records and historians!"
But his cries went unheard—or were deliberately ignored. The commander leading the troops raised his hand high, his tone cold and flat, devoid of all emotion.
"By order of the High Council," he declared firmly. "All supporters and sympathizers are to be erased from this world."
A chill ran down Edward's spine. The command was spoken so calmly, as if discussing the most ordinary of matters, without the slightest trace of mercy.
Then, the commander lowered his hand.
"Execute them."
Screams of terror filled the entire street. Swords forged of steel and magic were raised high into the air, then brought down swiftly and lethally. Blood sprayed across the ground, and helpless bodies fell one by one. People who had not even tried to resist were slaughtered mercilessly.
Edward stepped back, his face turning ashen. "No… this can't be real…"
He wanted to close his eyes, to block his ears so he would not have to hear the screams. But he could not. This memory forced him to watch, forced him to witness every second of this terrible event.
And what hurt his heart most of all was that the Guardians did not appear to enjoy the slaughter. Nor did they seem angry or filled with hatred. They simply carried out the orders they had been given, as if murdering hundreds of innocent people were nothing more than a routine task to be completed.
Edward pressed his hands to his head, his breathing ragged and uneven.
"This is a lie," he repeated over and over. "It cannot be true. The Guardians are the protectors of the world! They exist to keep the peace!"
His voice echoed hollowly in the air, full of denial and fear. For if what he was seeing was the truth, then everything he had ever believed would crumble in an instant. The world he knew, the history taught in schools, the tales of heroism—all of it might be only a small fragment of the real truth.
Edward watched as the Guardians began to march away, leaving piles of bodies behind them. In this memory, they did not look like noble heroes. They looked like cold, obedient executioners.
"The truth is never as simple as you have always believed."
Destrover's voice returned inside his mind. Edward turned sharply, his eyes narrowing.
"I will not believe anything you say."
"Of course not," Destrover replied calmly. "For the first ten years of your life, you have only ever heard one side of this long story."
Edward clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I do not care what you have to say."
Yet the words sounded weak, even to his own ears. The more he witnessed, the harder it became to hold fast to the beliefs he had always cherished.
Silence settled over the scene once more. Then Destrover spoke again. This time, his voice sounded heavier, more weary, and far older than before.
"They call me a monster," he said slowly.
Edward remained quiet, offering no reply.
"They speak of me as a calamity sent to destroy everything."
"They call me a bloodthirsty destroyer of worlds."
All around him, the visions of burning cities, heaps of the dead, and rivers of blood remained vivid. This was a memory preserved for thousands of years.
Then Destrover continued.
"Because it is far easier to hate a single person. It is simpler to have only one enemy to fight, only one cause to blame. Far easier than admitting that the whole world played a part in creating such a great tragedy."
Edward fell silent. For the first time, he heard something in Destrover's voice that he had never noticed before—not raging fury, nor burning hatred. Instead, there was a deep, all-encompassing sorrow.
"Are you saying that all the blame lies with them?" Edward asked softly, his voice uncertain.
"No," Destrover answered firmly.
The reply took Edward by surprise.
"I too have made many mistakes," the voice went on. "Far more than you can imagine."
The wind blew once more against Edward's face, carrying swirling clouds of ash. And for the first time, a new understanding began to take root in his mind. Perhaps Destrover was not merely the monster described in stories. But that did not mean he was entirely innocent either. The truth likely lay somewhere in between. And that was the most frightening, yet most confusing, realization of all.
In the distance, a massive structure drew Edward's attention. It was far larger than any palace he had ever seen in stories or visions. Hundreds of towering crystal pillars supported its frame, and its vast dome pierced through the clouds. Yet now, this magnificent building was being consumed by fire. Flames blazed from every corner; its beautiful glass windows had shattered into pieces, and part of its roof had collapsed onto the floors below.
Edward felt his heart begin to race. Somehow, this place felt profoundly important—so important that his chest grew tight just looking at it.
"What is that?" he whispered.
For a moment, Destrover gave no answer. Then his voice came, so soft it was almost lost to the wind.
"That is the Great Library of Aetherion."
Edward stared at the burning building. Thousands of pages and books swirled out from its broken windows. Some caught fire instantly and turned to ash mid-air, while others crumbled before they could even touch the ground.
"It held all the knowledge this world has ever possessed," Destrover explained. "The history of civilizations, the magic studied over thousands of years, records of wars—and also the truths that were never meant to be passed down to future generations."
Edward's throat felt dry. "What do you mean by truths that were never meant to be passed on?"
But before Destrover could reply, one of the library's tallest towers collapsed with a deafening crash.
BOOOOOOM!
The entire sky was obscured by thick black smoke and ash. And amid the roaring flames, Edward's eyes caught sight of a figure. Someone stood tall and still atop the rubble, not moving an inch—as if watching him. As if this person knew that Edward was looking upon the past.
And as the figure slowly turned its gaze toward Edward, the entire scene began to shake violently. A sign that something far greater and more significant was about to be revealed.
Thick clouds of ash still hung heavy in the sky. Fire continued to devour what remained of the ancient city's magnificent structures, casting a crimson glow over the endless expanse of ruins. And Edward remained rooted in place before the wreckage of the Great Library of Aetherion, his heart pounding wildly and out of rhythm.
The silhouette he had glimpsed atop the burning building had not vanished. On the contrary—with every passing moment, its form grew clearer. Amidst a city that had become a sea of death, amid thousands of bodies lying motionless, amid rubble and flames that refused to die—one figure stood tall. Alone.
Edward frowned, his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon it.
"That…" he murmured softly.
Without realizing it, his feet began to carry him forward. The closer he drew, the sharper the figure became. It was tall and upright, yet the strangest thing was that not a single wound or mark marred its form—even though the entire city had become a place of danger and ruin. How could anyone stand there unharmed?
The scorching wind stirred once more, sending clouds of ash swirling between them. The figure remained utterly still, not moving an inch. As if waiting for something. Or rather… waiting for someone.
Waiting for him.
The longer Edward stared, the stronger the sense of unease creeping through his chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Throughout this entire vision, he had seen countless people—soldiers fighting, civilians trembling in fear, mages, even the Guardians. All of them had felt like mere shadows of the past, fragments of events repeating endlessly, completely unaware of his presence. But this figure was different. Far too different.
The way it stood, the slight tilt of its head, the way its robes fluttered in the wind—everything felt… alive. Truly alive, as if it were not just part of a story that had ended thousands of years ago.
"Is it truly part of this memory?" Edward wondered doubtfully.
There was no answer. Even Destrover—who usually never hesitated to interrupt or offer commentary—remained silent this time. And that very silence only deepened the growing anxiety in Edward's heart.
Edward kept walking until he could see the figure more clearly. It wore a long cloak woven from fine silver fabric—not ordinary silver, but a shade that shimmered like moonlight, casting a faint radiance that stood out starkly against the deep red hues dominating the ruined city.
Its face was completely hidden beneath the hood, leaving no trace of its features. Yet somehow, Edward felt as though he was being watched. The sensation was so strong, pressing heavily against his chest, as if the eyes concealed beneath the hood had been observing him for a very long time. An eternity, perhaps.
"Who are you, really…" Edward whispered softly.
The figure did not reply. It stayed exactly where it was, motionless. But suddenly, Edward felt a warmth spreading from his chest. The sword-shaped pendant hanging around his neck began to grow warm, then started to pulse—once, twice, three times—beating stronger with every step he took closer.
Edward instinctively placed a hand over it. "What is happening now?" he murmured in confusion.
The relic seemed to be reacting directly to the presence of the silver-cloaked figure. And that realization slowly turned his curiosity into sharp caution.
For the first time since entering this vision, Edward felt genuine fear—not the kind he had felt facing shadow soldiers, nor the unease that came with hearing Destrover's voice. This was something different: stranger, harder to define. It was the unsettling feeling of suddenly realizing you are being watched by something that should not exist.
He glanced quickly left and right, confirming there was no one else nearby—only himself, the silver figure, and the dead city.
Then, at last, Destrover spoke. His voice was so faint it was almost lost to the wind.
"That cannot be…"
Edward froze completely. Until now, he had always known Destrover as calm, occasionally mocking, sometimes sarcastic, and even angry at times—but never had he heard such a tone, thick with disbelief and shock.
"What do you mean?" Edward asked quickly.
Yet once again, Destrover fell silent. And this silence felt far more terrifying than any answer he could have given.
Edward returned his gaze to the figure before him. And suddenly, something happened—something that made his entire body stiffen and grow heavy.
Slowly, the silver-cloaked figure lifted its head. So slowly it seemed to take an eternity. Then it looked directly at Edward—not at the empty space before it, not in some general direction, but straight into his eyes.
Edward stumbled back a step, his breath catching in his throat.
"No…" he whispered.
It was impossible. The people in these visions could not see him. They never could. He had tried speaking, shouting, even reaching out to touch them, yet none had ever sensed his presence. But now, someone was looking right at him. Truly looking. And Edward could feel that gaze—piercing through his outer shell, seeing all the secrets hidden deep within his heart, looking into his past, and even seeming to know what lay ahead.
The wind stirred gently once more, lifting ash around them. And as it did, the hood of the silver cloak shifted slightly—just enough for Edward to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath.
A pair of eyes. They glowed with a faint light, neither red like fire nor blue like the sky, but a shade of silver-gold unlike anything he had ever seen. They held an ancient wisdom, as if they had watched thousands of years pass, seen civilizations rise and fall again and again.
Strangely, as he met that gaze, Edward felt something unexpected—a sense of familiarity. As if he had seen those eyes before, perhaps in a vague dream, in an uninvited vision, or even in a memory long lost to time.
Edward's heart nearly stopped as the figure began to move. One step forward, then another. Drawing nearer. It did not rush, nor did it appear threatening, yet it was enough to leave Edward tense and alert.
Then, the voice came—clear, real, and directed straight at him.
"So someone has finally come."
Edward's eyes went wide in disbelief.
"What…" he stammered. "You can see me?"
For the first time since entering this vision, someone was speaking directly to him, answering the questions that had lingered in his mind all along.
The silver-cloaked figure tilted its head slightly, as if confused by the question.
"Is it not you who sees me?" it replied calmly.
The answer only deepened Edward's confusion. "What do you mean?"
There was no further explanation—only the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of its lips. And it felt… sorrowful. As if it carried a heavy burden it had borne for countless ages.
Edward mustered his courage and took one step forward. "Who are you?" he asked. "Are you part of this memory?"
A brief silence fell. Several seconds passed before the figure slowly shook its head.
"No longer."
The short sentence sent a chill down Edward's spine. No longer? What did that mean? Before he could ask more, the figure spoke again.
"It has been such a very long time…" it said softly. "So very, very long."
Its tone belonged to someone who had waited for centuries, alone in endless silence.
Suddenly, the entire world around them began to shake violently. Cracks spread across the ash-choked sky, exactly as they had when this vision was about to end.
Panic rose in Edward's chest. "Wait! Don't go!" he cried out.
There were still too many unanswered questions. Too much he did not understand.
The silver-cloaked figure looked at him one last time before speaking, its voice echoing across the entire ruined city.
"If you truly are the heir…"
Edward froze. The word had been spoken again. Heir. Always heir. Heir to what? What exactly was he supposed to inherit?
The figure continued.
"Find the sunken city."
The cracks in the sky widened and spread further. A low rumble echoed from all directions.
BOOM!
Shards of light rained down as if the sky itself was shattering into pieces.
"Find the forgotten sword."
Instantly, the pendant around Edward's neck blazed with light—far brighter than ever before—casting a brilliant silver glow that nearly blinded him.
"Find the truth of Equilibris."
That name echoed again and again, as if the very ruins of the ancient city were whispering it. Equilibris… Equilibris… Equilibris…
Edward ran forward, reaching out to grasp the figure's arm even though he feared it would pass right through. "Wait! Who are you? Tell me who you truly are!"
For the first time, the figure smiled openly—an expression heavy with weariness, yet holding a faint glimmer of hope. And just as the entire scene began to crumble completely, it spoke one final sentence that made Edward's blood run cold.
"For my time is nearly at an end… and yours has only just begun."
CRACK!
The sky split apart entirely. The ancient city vanished. The fires died. The ash was swept away by the wind. Everything dissolved into deep, impenetrable darkness.
And just before his consciousness was pulled back to the real world, Edward caught one last image etched clearly in his mind. Standing tall atop the rubble directly behind the silver-cloaked figure was a sword of black and silver—the same blade that had appeared in every vision, the same one that had even silenced Destrover. A sword that seemed to have waited thousands of years just for him.
Then, all was swallowed by total darkness.
The darkness finally shattered.
The roar of explosions, the screams of terror, the roar of fire consuming everything, and the sky stained blood-red—all broke apart like thousands of glass shards struck by a giant hammer.
Edward jolted awake, gasping for breath.
"Hah…!"
His chest heaved violently, and his entire body was soaked in cold sweat that trickled down his forehead and back.
The blanket beside him lay crumpled and disheveled, his dark hair sticking to his damp skin.
For several long, disorienting seconds, he had no idea where he was. Was he still standing in that ruined ancient city? Still surrounded by flames and rubble? Still facing the silver-cloaked figure who could actually see him?
But slowly, the chirping of crickets outside the window grew clear. A soft night breeze brushed his face, carrying the scent of damp earth and trees. The familiar smell of old timber—the building material of the orphanage—filled the air.
Hougwe.
He was back.
Edward lowered his head, his hands trembling as he pressed them against his chest. The memory of the silver-cloaked figure still felt vivid, as if it had happened only moments ago—especially those eyes, a gaze that seemed to pierce straight to the depths of his soul, as though he had not been looking at a mere shadow of the past.
"I don't understand…" he murmured, pressing his palms to his temples. "What was that place? What exactly did I see?"
Normally, after a vision ended, its details would gradually fade, growing as hazy as a forgotten dream.
But this time was different. Every sight, every sound, every feeling remained vivid and sharp, as if this had not been a vision at all, but a real memory he had just lived through.
And that realization only deepened his fear. For if everything he had seen was truly real… then the world he had always known was only a small part of a far greater, far more complex truth.
Edward waited.
He waited for that voice to speak. For a sarcastic remark, a taunt that usually annoyed him, or at least some kind of explanation. But nothing came. Only silence filled his mind.
"Destrover?" he called softly within himself.
There was no answer.
Edward frowned. Until now, whenever a vision ended, Destrover would always speak—whether to tease him, make cutting remarks, or offer confusing clues. But tonight, the being was completely silent, as if he too was lost in heavy thought.
And that only made Edward feel more uneasy. For if even Destrover—who rarely showed surprise—had chosen to remain quiet… then the silver-cloaked figure he had met might be far more important and far more dangerous than he had imagined.
As he was about to rise from his bed, Edward felt a strange sensation in his left hand. A warmth slowly spreading outward, accompanied by a steady, rhythmic throbbing.
He glanced down—and froze.
Upon his palm, the symbol had appeared once more: an eye formed by two intertwining colors—red and blue—complementing each other perfectly. This time, it was far clearer than before. The ancient lines that shaped it glowed faintly, as if it possessed a life of its own.
"What is this now…" Edward whispered, swallowing hard.
The mark was larger and felt far stronger than it had when it first appeared after the incident at the Hall of Awakening. The red and blue light within swirled gently, flowing like blood pulsing through veins. At the same moment, the sword-shaped pendant around his neck also began to beat in exactly the same rhythm.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
Both moved in perfect harmony, as if responding to one another, as if they originated from the very same source of power.
A chill ran down Edward's spine and spread throughout his entire body. For the first time, he realized this symbol was no ordinary mark or scar. It felt as though something that had long slumbered deep within him was slowly beginning to awaken.
Edward walked slowly toward the small mirror hanging in the corner of his room. When he saw his own reflection, he stopped short.
His face was deathly pale, his eyes tired and swollen, as if he had just returned from a long and arduous journey. Though only ten years old, he looked far older, carrying a burden far heavier than his years.
He raised his hand and stared at the symbol upon his palm for a long time.
"Who am I, really?"
The question slipped unbidden from his lips. There was no answer—only his own reflection staring back at him. But for the first time, Edward felt afraid—not of Destrover living inside him, not of the kingdoms that might be hunting him, nor of the Hidden Order he had heard whispers of.
He was afraid of the possibility that everyone who had ever said it was true: that he was no ordinary child. That the more he learned of the truth, the further he would drift away from the normal life he had always wanted and known.
The next morning, as the sun rose and cast its soft golden light over the land, Edward sat alone on the back steps of the orphanage. His gaze was distant, fixed blankly upon the trees swaying in the breeze.
Even Alice—who could usually make him laugh or set aside his worries, if only for a little while—could not capture his attention that morning.
From a short distance away, Silvia watched him. She sighed softly, sensing that something was troubling Edward deeply. She walked over and sat down beside him.
"Daydreaming again?" she asked, breaking the silence.
Edward jolted slightly, as if suddenly becoming aware of her presence. "Ah… Silvia."
They fell quiet for a moment. The morning wind blew gently, carrying the sound of birds singing among the branches.
The surroundings felt peaceful and calm, yet Edward's mind was still in turmoil, replaying everything he had witnessed the night before.
"You look as though you haven't slept at all," Silvia said gently.
Edward offered a faint smile, but it felt hollow and never reached his eyes. "I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar," Silvia replied, watching him with deep concern.
She studied him for a long moment, like an older sister worrying over her younger brother.
"Did you have another nightmare?"
Edward fell silent. The question sounded simple, yet it was far harder to answer than he had imagined.
For what he had experienced last night was no ordinary nightmare—and he did not even know where to begin explaining it. At last, he simply nodded slowly.
Silvia let out a long breath, then gently brushed her hand through Edward's hair—a simple, warm gesture that reminded him of Mrs. Selner and the kindness she had always shown him.
"You don't have to face everything alone, Edward," she said softly.
Her words filled his heart with warmth, yet also with pain. For there were so many things hidden deep inside him—things he dared not tell anyone.
Before turning to leave, Silvia paused and looked back.
"Edward."
"Hm?"
"If one day you feel afraid, or feel as though something is weighing too heavily upon you…" Silvia gave a faint, reassuring smile. "…don't run away and bear it all by yourself. Remember, we are all here for you."
Edward looked at her. For a moment, he almost opened his mouth to tell her everything—about Destrover, about the visions that kept coming, about the ruined city, and about the silver-cloaked figure who had seen him.
But the words seemed to stick in his throat, unable to come out. Instead, he simply nodded slowly.
"I'll try," he replied.
Silvia smiled with relief and walked away. And for the first time since waking up the night before, Edward felt a little calmer.
Far from Hougwe, amid the silent ruins of the Hall of Awakening, Altheon sat alone surrounded by towering piles of ancient documents and scrolls. His white hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and weary from days of barely any sleep.
He continued to study records long buried, searching for answers to the many mysteries that had arisen. Yet the more answers he found, the greater the fear growing in his heart.
His hands trembled as he unrolled an ancient scroll, its parchment yellowed and brittle with age. And when he saw the illustration drawn upon it, he froze completely.
There it was—a scene he knew all too well: a city consumed by fire, magnificent crystal spires now shattered into rubble, and a sky stained deep red—exactly as described in the forbidden records that had long been hidden away. And at the very bottom of the image was a symbol: an eye formed from red and blue light.
Altheon stood up abruptly. "It cannot be…" he whispered in disbelief.
He quickly turned to the next page, and his breath caught in his throat. There, drawn in detail, was a long sword of black and silver, with lines of light shimmering along its blade—the very same blade mentioned in legends that had been deliberately erased from the world's official history.
"You are beginning to remember…" he murmured softly, as if speaking to someone unseen.
At the very bottom of the page, there was writing that had nearly faded away with time and moisture. Altheon read slowly, squinting to make out each barely legible letter. When he finished, his face turned ashen.
"No…" he whispered. "Impossible…"
A single name was written there—a name that was forbidden even to be spoken within the kingdom's archives. A name deliberately erased from history books, dismissed for hundreds of years as nothing more than a fairy tale.
Equilibris.
The entire room fell into complete silence. And for the first time in his life, Altheon hoped that what he had read was wrong. For if that name had truly returned, if what was written in these ancient records was real… then the world was heading toward something far greater and far more dangerous than merely the awakening of Destrover.
Night once again settled over the land. All the residents of the orphanage had fallen asleep, but Edward remained awake. He sat near the window of his room, gripping the sword-shaped pendant tightly in his hand.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
The faint rhythm continued, accompanied by a soft glow pulsing from within the old metal. Edward stared at it for a long time, letting his thoughts drift through all the unanswered questions.
Suddenly, a voice echoed—not Destrover's, nor that of the silver-cloaked figure he had met the night before. This was a voice he had never heard before—one that sounded incredibly ancient, as if it had traveled from thousands of years ago, resonating like an echo in an empty hall.
"That city is not entirely dead…"
Edward stood up straight, his eyes widening.
The voice spoke again, clear and calm.
"And someone is waiting for you…"
The pendant in his hand shone brighter than ever before, then slowly dimmed and returned to its usual dull appearance. Silence settled over the room once more, as if nothing had happened at all.
But that night, Edward could not close his eyes. For the first time, he felt as though the path of his life was being drawn toward something far larger than himself—a city lost to history, a sword forgotten by time, and a truth deliberately buried for thousands of years.