The heavy echo of Gajeel Lionheart's footsteps slowly faded down the winding library corridors, leaving behind an oppressive, absolute silence.
Only then did Albion allow his knees to buckle.
He slid limply down against the sturdy wooden bookshelf and curled inward on himself. He drew his small knees tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around them like a protective shield against the world.
For a long moment, he simply remained there, his breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs as his fuchsia eyes stared vacantly into the empty air.
Gajeel's parting words returned to his mind, entirely uninvited, echoing like a curse.
[And if you can't live like that? Then you're no wizard at all. Blame your own pathetic pride for keeping you weak.]
Albion's lips twisted into a bitter, sour line.
"What do you fundamentally know about me, anyway…" he muttered under his breath to the vacant room. "You are merely an arrogant person who happened to be blessed with an exceptionally resilient body."
He was fully aware that he was talking to himself.
"…Seriously," he whispered, tightening his grip on his legs. "I utterly despise that guy."
He violently tugged the hood of his deep-purple sweatshirt over his head, burying his face into the darkness of his crossed arms. His eyes slipped shut. With absolutely nothing left to distract his senses, his consciousness turned sharply inward.
To the dark architecture of his past. To the fragile concept of his own identity.
Before he could consciously register the transition, Albion began sinking rapidly into the memories he had spent his entire short life trying never to touch.
'I do not possess a father.'
'I am entirely incapable of recalling his facial features. I do not even know his name, his lineage, or his magical identity.'
'As far back as my cognitive memory stretches… I have never possessed parents.'
'Well… that is not entirely accurate. I do possess a mother. But I suppose what I mean to articulate is… I do not possess biological, blood-related parents.'
'I am not entirely certain how my mind possesses this specific data. I simply know it to be an absolute truth.'
'It is akin to how a newborn infant somehow instinctively comprehends exactly who to cry out to in the dark. Or how a person instinctively registers that a situation is fundamentally wrong before their brain can analyze the precise reason why.'
'Regardless… What was I currently processing?'
'Ah. Right.'
An image surfaced within the dark theater of his mind. A sterile, high-tech laboratory.
'The earliest memory I can recall is being trapped inside some variant of a reinforced glass container.'
'I did not comprehend the methodology of how I arrived there. I did not know my own designation. I did not even understand the core reason for my own existence.'
'There were multiple figures standing outside the glass. Men and women clad in pristine white coats.'
'Scientists… I believe.'
His internal playback stuttered violently, replaying the distorted audio waves of their voices in broken, jagged pieces.
"Are you completely certain of these metrics?" an anxious voice echoed. "I was under the firm impression that specific lineage was thoroughly eradicated over four hundred years ago."
"I am entirely positive," a colder voice responded instantly. "The subject fits the structural criteria perfectly."
"But how can you verify the bloodline so easily? According to the ancient records, their physical appearance are almost entirely indistinguishable from ordinary humans."
"The eyes. Their ocular pigmentation is never uniform. Each individual subject displays a unique, highly volatile blend of colors. And once their physical appearance reaches full maturity, they develop what can only be described as an 'otherworldly' visual appearance."
'That is… the maximum amount of data my brain can recall.'
'It is exceptionally difficult to explain the exact state of my cognitive mind back then. It felt remarkably akin to a dream. A distant, faded simulation. It was as though my physical body was present, but my consciousness wasn't truly awake.'
'I remained suspended within that fluid container for an immense duration of time.'
'Then, one day, the status quo shifted entirely.'
The piercing memory of a shrill, deafening emergency alarm tore violently through his thoughts.
'The laboratory came under active assault. I do not know why they targeted the facility. I do not know what specific asset they were attempting to acquire.'
'There were three attackers in total. Two boys… and a single female, if my memory serves.'
'Their facial features were heavily blurred by the distortion of time. But one of them wore highly unorthodox garments. Almost resembling the stealth gear of a ninja.'
'They successfully neutralized the garrison of scientists.'
'Then… the female ally suddenly betrayed her own comrades.'
'She terminated their lives without a fraction of hesitation. To this very day, I fail to comprehend the logical reason behind her actions. I still wonder what specific thoughts were processing within her mind.'
But a single, hyper-clear moment stood out from the static, sharper than all the rest.
'She approached my shattered capsule. She looked directly down at my form and spoke—'
"You don't even possess a name, do you?"
"…Albion."
'I believe that is the exact way of how I received my name.'
'Then, she uttered a secondary phrase.'
"You may simply call me Mother."
'There is absolutely no statistical probability that I could ever forget that day.'
'After all…'
'It was the day I met the woman I now call Mother.'
"Hnn…" Albion groaned softly as his eyes slowly fluttered open. "Eh?"
A completely blank, unreadable expression spread across his gentle face. Without shifting his head, his fuchsia eyes rapidly scanned his new surroundings.
He was no longer in the library. Instead, he stood in a vast, infinite expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly in every physical direction.
"Was I not just resting within the archives?" he muttered to himself, his eyebrows furrowing. "By what way did my body traverse to this location…?"
Looking down, Albion realized with a jolt that the ground beneath his bare feet wasn't solid earth at all. It was a perfectly dark, seamless surface—a liquid so incredibly black that it actively seemed to swallow the light.
He lowered his small hand, gently touching the surface. "…What is the composition of this substance?"
The dark plane rippled fluidly beneath his fingertips. It wasn't a solid structure, yet it wasn't a standard liquid either; there was a distinct, heavy resistance to it, like water, but significantly denser. Thicker.
"…The viscosity feels remarkably akin to water."
Slow, perfect concentric ripples spread outward from the point where his hand disturbed the mirror-like surface.
"So it is indeed water…" Albion reasoned quietly, standing back up to his full height. "But… it is entirely devoid of color. Pitch black. A black ocean, I suppose."
He slowly turned his head from side to side, his analytical mind processing the environment. "There are no structural walls… no visible horizon line…"
His voice echoed faintly into the vast nothingness, completely swallowed by the distance. "Everything simply stretches forward into infinity…"
A deep, instinctual curiosity tugged at his chest, forcing him to look directly upward.
High above, hanging perfectly stationary in the endless pale sky, was a celestial object that resembled a sun.
Except, it did not radiate warmth or shine.
Its center was entirely hollow—a pitch-black, empty void that resembled a massive, unblinking eye staring down from the heavens.
The outer rim of the sun was a pure, blinding white, almost painfully pale… yet somehow, it functioned as the sole source of illumination for this entire realm.
The light it emitted was profoundly unnatural; everything across the black ocean was perfectly visible, yet absolutely nothing cast a shadow.
"Woah…"
But Albion's gaze didn't remain fixed on the hollow sun for long. Wrapped tightly around exactly half of the inverted sphere was a living creature.
"…An Eastern dragon?!" Albion's eyes lit up instantly, practically sparkling with childlike wonder. "But I was under the impression that dragons were nothing more than fictional bedtime stories…"
The dragon's massive body was long, elegant, and serpentine, coiling through the pale sky with a slow, deliberate grace.
Four slender, powerful limbs extended from its heavily scaled form, each ending in sharp talons that gripped nothing but the empty air.
Its scales were a pristine, bone-white color resembling polished porcelain, perfectly mirroring the outer rim of the hollow sun.
Yet, they were faintly translucent, as though the dragon itself were constructed from woven light and frozen mist rather than physical flesh and blood.
"…Why is it failing to circle the sun completely?" Albion murmured, analyzing its trajectory.
The white dragon traced only half of the hollow sun's orbit. No closer. No farther. Its orbital path was precise—unnervingly perfect—as if it were actively guarding a cosmic balance that could never be disturbed.
After a long moment, the initial awe faded from Albion's face, his features settling back into their usual calm, stoic neutrality.
"I believed dragons to be mere fabrications," he muttered to himself, taking a step forward in a completely random direction. "So for what purpose is one manifesting here?"
He paused, a deeper question taking root. "And more importantly…"
"…Why am I present within this space?"
At that exact millisecond, a chillingly familiar voice called out from the empty expanse directly behind him.
"Hey there… King."
Albion froze.
His unique eyes went wide, his mouth parting slightly as a wave of pure, paralyzing shock mixed with a sudden, sickening realization crashed over him.
A cruel woman's words echoed violently in his skull.
[Your very life belongs to me.]
Slowly, mechanically, he turned his body around, his facial features entirely frozen in utter disbelief.
She stood there, precisely as he remembered. She was roughly 5'7" in height, possessing an average, lean frame. It was a wiry, highly disciplined body built through years of brutal physical training—not soft, yet not overly bulky.
She radiated a quiet, lethal strength. Her long black hair was shaggy and unkempt, pulled back into a low, messy ponytail with loose strands framing her pale face and neck.
And her eyes? They were deep. Pitch black. Entirely vacant.
Another dark memory clawed its way out of his subconscious.
[I suppose you and I are destined to curse one another until the end.]
'I… I don't understand this,' Albion thought, his internal processors reeling in panic. 'How… for what reason is she manifesting inside this space?'
Noticing the absolute terror in his expression, the woman tilted her head slightly to the side, a hollow gesture.
"What's wrong, Albion?" she inquired calmly. "By the specific look on your face, you seem completely shocked to see me."
It was his mother's exact voice.
'Her voice. Her appearance … every single metric about her is identical,' Albion analyzed frantically. 'Could it truly be her…?''
Then, like a barrage of bullets, every single memory of her systemic abuse tore through his mind.
[Someone like you could never truly be my son.] The words echoed again. And again. And again.
Slowly, Albion's shocked expression twisted into something raw, dark, and furious. "…Who are you?"
"Hm?" The woman blinked innocently. "What are you talking about? Don't tell me you've gone and forgotten your own mother already?"
"…Everything about you," Albion said quietly, his small voice trembling violently with a lifetime of restrained fury, "the specific way you articulate words… the way you shift your weight… it is all identical to her."
He stared at her, a burning rage igniting within his fuchsia eyes.
"But my heart… and my very soul… reject your presence completely!" His voice cracked under the immense strain as he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Now answer my query immediately!"
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
"Heh… heh… haha… hahaha—" A laugh slipped out from the woman's throat. It was controlled at first, but then it began to crack, break, and warp into something deeply unnatural.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The sound was utterly unhinged. Manic. Echoing across the black ocean like shattering glass.
"Tch—now that is just thoroughly creepy," his 'mother' stated casually, her voice shifting into a slightly deeper, mocking tone.
She reached up with her pale fingers, grabbing the skin at the base of her own neck.
And she tore
The flesh peeled away fluidly, exactly like cheap fabric.
"You want to know my true designation?"
Albion stood completely paralyzed with horror as the entity before him ripped its own flesh apart as if it were nothing more than a theater costume.
"I have no name!" With a wet, sickening, tearing sound, the creature violently ripped off its own face.
"It cannot be…" Albion whispered, his eyes widening to their physical limits. "Y-you are…"
"…Me?"
The being now standing before Albion was unlike anything he had ever witnessed in the waking world.
At a primary glance, it was unmistakably Albion. They shared the exact same height, the same slender skeletal frame, the same posture, and the same distinct silhouette. From a distance or in dim illumination, one would easily mistake the two for identical twins.
But up close, the structural anomalies became impossible to ignore.
Where Albion's hair was a smooth, deep black, this version's hair was a stark, unnatural bone-white—a shade so violently pale it seemed to reject the darkness of the inner world.
The strands were entirely uneven and irregular, cut at jagged, crooked angles that gave him a feral, broken symmetry.
His eyes burned a deep, unsettling crimson red, vivid and hyper-alert, moving with a predatory awareness. His skin was pale to the point of looking entirely drained of life, a colorless, deathly pallor that gave him a corpse-like quality.
Most terrifyingly, a row of thin, dark stitches ran across his lips, crudely binding his mouth shut. The stitching wasn't surgical or neat; it looked hurried, violent, and cruel, the thick black thread biting deeply into raw, irritated skin.
This entity also wore the exact inverse of Albion's attire. Where Albion wore his signature loose, deep-purple hoodie, this doppelgänger wore a tight, short-sleeved top of a washed-out, faded white.
The fabric clung tightly to his lean frame, leaving his pale arms fully exposed. Where Albion wore loose black trousers, the other wore light-colored pants that fit just a bit too tightly around the legs.
And where Albion walked completely barefoot, this white Albion wore heavy, dark, heavily scuffed shoes.
"They love to say 'all for one, and one for all,'" the white Albion spoke, his voice vibrating through the space despite the stitches binding his lips. "Yin and yang. Two distinct halves of the same operational whole."
He tilted his jagged white head slightly. "I am you. And you are me."
He let out a muffled chuckle. "Humans are obsessed with their little philosophical sayings. They love to make blatant contradictions sound beautiful."
"I–I fail to comprehend," Albion stammered, stepping back. "How can you possibly be… me?"
"Call it philosophy. Call it fate," White Albion replied carelessly, idly twirling a jagged strand of his bone-white hair. "No matter how you choose to dress it up in vocabulary, the core truth remains absolute."
"We share the exact same physical shape. We were born from the selfsame shadow. We look identical; that part is a factual truth." His crimson eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "But the specific way we look at her? That is where your vessel is fundamentally weak."
"…" Albion fell entirely silent, his breath catching.
"You look at that woman and you hesitate," White Albion continued, his voice sharp as a razor. "Your internal feelings regarding that pathetic worm shift every single time you draw breath."
"Some days you harbor pure hatred. Other days, you almost seek to forgive her. I never do." He stopped playing with his hair, violently hooking his thumb toward his own chest. "I do not fluctuate. I despise that absolute worm with every single fiber of my being."
"That is the core difference between us."
The moment the word worm left the entity's lips, Albion's eyes went incredibly wide. His pupils trembled violently, his brows knitting together with an explosive mixture of hatred and deep, unresolved pain.
"I cannot help but wonder why that is…" White Albion mused mockingly. "Perhaps it is because your side represents the fragile, human component of our bloodline, while my side represents the—"
"What did you just say?" Albion ground his teeth together so hard a clicking sound echoed. "I am not certain I heard your words correctly."
A terrifying, bloody smile slowly carved its way across White Albion's face.
The dark stitches along his lips pulled taut, snapping and splitting open one by one. A thin line of fresh crimson blood beaded along the tears, trailing slowly down his pale chin.
"Oh? What was that?" White Albion cupped a hand to his ear in a theatrical, mocking gesture. "I didn't quite catch your query, King."
"If you dare to mock my mother a single time further," Albion snarled, his voice echoing across the infinite dark ocean, "I will ensure you pay an immense price for it!"
"I will scream it a thousand times over!" White Albion fired back, his bloody smile widening to an impossible degree. "Your mother was entirely worthless! And you are equally pathetic—for still harboring a single shred of care for her existence!"
The remaining stitches tore completely free, blood spilling freely down his jaw. "Do not dare to overestimate the value of a single human life—especially when your own existence is practically worth zero!"
"Nrrgh…!"
With a furious, primal grunt, Albion rocketed off the surface of the black water. The raw force of his kinetic launch sent a massive, surging tidal ripple expanding outward across the realm.
He shot forward like a literal missile, his small fist drawn back, closing the infinite distance in a single millisecond.
CRACK.
A sharp, deafening shockwave rang out as a wall of black water exploded fifty feet into the air at the point of their collision.
"Excellent," White Albion whispered, smiling like a demon as he effortlessly caught Albion's flying fist directly in his open palm. "Utilize that anger."
"Within this realm, compassion is entirely unnecessary."
White Albion drew back his own free hand, curling it into a heavy fist. At the same exact time, Albion, still burning with an all-consuming rage, pulled back his opposite hand to strike.
"The precise moment a person surrenders entirely to their rage," White Albion whispered, his crimson eyes gleaming with a terrifying light, "that is the exact moment they are at their most powerful."
BAM.
Their fists met in a brutal, direct clash, knuckle crushing against knuckle.
The black ocean beneath their feet trembled violently, sending a secondary shockwave rippling outward across the infinite plane.
A heartbeat later, another wave surged as Albion rapidly raised his left forearm to block a lightning-fast follow-up strike from the white doppelgänger.
"I am going to win this engagement," Albion growled through tightly clenched teeth. "I am most definitely going to crush your existence!"
He leapt into the air, twisting his torso with precise momentum mid-flight and snapping his leg out in a ferocious roundhouse kick.
SNAP.
A sharp, wet crack echoed as White Albion effortlessly caught the flying kick with a single pale hand.
"You have fun attempting that!" White Albion laughed wildly, looking genuinely, ecstatically amused. "Meanwhile, I am going to thoroughly enjoy breaking your spirit down!"
While his foot was still firmly trapped in the entity's iron grip, Albion clenched his free hand and drove a desperate punch forward, only for White Albion to intercept that arm as well.
"And then, I will construct you anew from the absolute ground up!"
With brutal, terrifying physical leverage, White Albion hoisted the five-year-old entirely into the air by the caught foot and fist.
*'Oh crap!'* Albion realized, his tactical mind panicking.
Using both hands, White Albion violently slammed Albion downward into the black ocean. A massive geyser of dark liquid erupted into the air.
Albion sank rapidly beneath the surface, his small body floating weightlessly in the pitch-black abyss.
'Am I… am I fated to lose yet again?' The dark thought twisted painfully within his chest. 'No… I reject that outcome. I want to win…!'
Suddenly, a pale hand plunged fiercely through the liquid surface.
It gripped Albion by the collar of his purple hoodie and violently yanked him back up into the air just enough for him to gasp for oxygen.
Then, in one continuous, fluid motion, White Albion dashed entirely around his frame, creating a vortex that dragged him right back under the dark water.
"Hahahahaha!" White Albion's maniacal laughter echoed wildly through the depths.
With a violent, spinning swing, the entity hurled Albion forward, sending his body flying several yards through the air before he breached the surface again.
"Right now, you are a absolute zero," White Albion stated coldly, his voice losing its amusement as he evaluated the boy. "An individual who possesses no capacity to even reach the value of one."
He kicked off the surface of the black ocean, shooting straight upward into the pale sky and closing the distance instantly. White Albion drove a crushing, high-velocity kick straight into Albion's stomach.
OOF.
Albion choked out a spray of saliva as the immense physical impact sent him hurtling violently backward, crashing into the black ocean with a massive splash.
White Albion landed lightly back on the liquid surface, rolling his shoulders casually.
"Let me guess," the entity spoke aloud to the empty expanse, looking almost thoroughly bored now. "You are the specific psychological archetype who claims to utterly despise the act of fighting, correct?"
"..."
Only the rhythmic lapping of the dark water answered him.
"But the exact millisecond you are fueled by pure, unadulterated rage… the moment you are granted a subjective reason… you do not hesitate a single fraction to throw hands. Am I factually correct, Albion?"
The black water remained completely still.
"I find that specific mindset to be utterly pathetic," White Albion continued, narrowing his crimson eyes. "The weak can scream and philosophize all they want. The strong will always rule the parameters of this world."
He spread his arms wide, gazing up at the hollow, lightless sun hanging in the pale sky.
"Who you subjectively deem to be 'worthy' means absolutely nothing!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Do both of us an immense favor…"
"Stop underestimating the absolute value of your own life—"
"And stop overestimating the value of someone else's!"
Beneath the heavy surface of the black ocean, Albion drifted weightlessly in the dark. Hearing those final words echo through the water, his unique fuchsia eyes slowly, heavily opened.
'Is this truly the absolute end of me…?'