The Hamoa Mountain Range stood as the natural barrier between our kingdom and the Northern Alliance. It was said the mountains could weaken even the fiercest storms, breaking their force before they ever reached the lowlands.
Deep within Hamoa's forest lay a cave.
Explorers claimed it wasn't just a cave, but a labyrinth—one that shifted, expanded, and swallowed those who ventured too far inside.
As I studied the map, a detail caught my attention.
The mountain range curved into a crescent shape, and at its center rested a dense forest. At first, it seemed meaningless. The longer I stared at it, however, the more unsettling it became—not because it revealed something… but because it didn't.
"This isn't useful at all…" I muttered, scratching my head.
I folded the map and set it aside.
"…I wonder," I said quietly.
"Does the Sun Artifact even exist?"
The artifact was said to play a crucial role in reviving a spirit. Solana's sudden disappearance had shaken every kingdom.
Without the Witch of the Sun, the balance of the world had begun to crumble.
If peace was to be restored, then reviving Solana might be the only path forward.
A gentle knock broke my thoughts.
I opened the door to find Elra, holding a massive book that nearly covered her chest.
"Here," she said softly. "The book you asked me to find."
She handed it to me.
Despite the world standing on the edge of war, it was relieving to see her still standing strong.
The book was a documentary on the Hamoa Labyrinth. As I opened it, six unfamiliar monsters stared back at me from the pages. Detailed records filled the margins—maps of the sixth and seventh floors of the labyrinth—but beyond that, the text was faded, torn, or completely erased.
"If you need help," Elra said, "we can search together."
I didn't hesitate.
Soon after, I called the others. Vellia, Yulleus, Crystella, and Elra gathered in the room.
Yet something felt wrong.
"…Right," I murmured. "She's not with us anymore."
Clara.
Even now, I couldn't fully grasp what she had given me since the day I arrived in this world—two years ago. And yet here we were, preparing to save a world that was already breaking apart.
Two years ago, wars erupted across the continent after Solana vanished.
The world's temporary god had disappeared.
I took a breath and faced them all.
"Listen carefully," I said. "Today marks the beginning of our mission. Ever since Solana vanished, she left us with nothing—no clues, no guidance. But today… we finally have a lead."
I placed my hand on the book.
"The Hamoa region is more than just mountains and forest. Our true objective lies beneath it."
I looked at each of them in turn.
"Our plan begins with clearing the Hamoa Labyrinth."
The journey to the Hamoa Mountains would begin at dawn.
Under the guidance of Commander Vellia, Riureas and the others prepared to move out quietly. She knew the mountain paths better than anyone — routes unseen by merchants, scouts, or foreign eyes.
This was not a march.
It was an infiltration.
No banners would be raised.
No messages sent.
No kingdom would be informed.
The mission had to remain hidden.
If word spread, every nation would interfere — some out of fear, others out of ambition. And if the truth about Solana or the Sun Artifact reached the wrong ears, it could shatter the fragile balance holding the world together.
So they would travel as shadows, moving through forgotten trails and storm-worn passes, trusting only each other.
At first light, they would leave the safety of the capital behind.
And once they crossed into the Hamoa Mountains…
there would be no turning back.
The mountains were finally in sight — jagged silhouettes cutting into the horizon — close enough to feel real, yet still far beyond reach.
They stopped among scattered rocks and weathered boulders, using the uneven terrain as cover. No one spoke much. The wind carried a thin chill, brushing past armor and cloaks, as if urging them forward.
After a short rest, they stood again.
Packs were tightened. Weapons checked. Vellia gave a brief nod, and without another word, they moved on.
Step by step, the Hamoa Mountains drew nearer.
We were almost there.
We could've ridden horses when we left the capital, but that would've drawn too much attention. Spies were everywhere now. Traveling on foot was slower, exhausting—but safer.
At last, we reached the forest at the base of the Hamoa Mountains.
What stopped us cold wasn't the trees.
It was the road.
A marble path, pale and smooth, stretched straight into the forest, untouched by moss or cracks, as if time itself refused to erode it. That was when yesterday's unease finally made sense.
The crescent-shaped mountain range…
The forest enclosed within it…
It wasn't just geography.
It was a hidden kingdom.
As we followed the road deeper, the truth revealed itself. Houses were built into towering trees, suspended by bridges of stone and vine. Others clung to sheer mountain cliffs, carved directly into the rock. Light glowed softly from windows high above, and faint movement told us we were being watched.
I was stunned.
When we established the Federation, only Hydromenia agreed to join us—along with the City of Dusk-Land, now our capital. No records mentioned a place like this. No envoys. No alliances.
And yet… here it was. Thriving. Silent. Hidden in plain sight.
"This explains the labyrinth," I muttered.
Vellia raised a hand, signaling us to stop.
"If this truly is a kingdom," she said quietly, "then every step we take is being judged."
I nodded.
We weren't intruders by accident anymore.
"We talk to their leader first," I said. "No blades. No magic."
Everyone agreed.
Whatever secrets the Hamoa Mountains were hiding, they didn't want to be found—but they had allowed us to enter.
And that meant one thing.
They wanted something from us, too.
We arrived at the front of their guild hall.
It was… normal.
Too normal.
People laughed as they drank from wooden mugs, cards and dice clattered on tables, coins exchanged hands in friendly wagers.
Conversations overlapped in a low, comfortable hum. No panic. No tension. No sign that this place was hiding beneath an entire mountain range.
If I didn't know better, I would've thought this was just another frontier town.
"That's unsettling," Yulleus muttered.
No one paid us much attention. A few glances, curious but indifferent, then back to their games. Either outsiders weren't rare here—or they were confident enough not to care.
We didn't stop.
The municipal building lay above the city, carved directly into the mountain itself.
To reach it, we had to climb.
Stone stairways spiraled upward along the cliff face, narrow and steep, disappearing into mist. Far below, the guild hall and streets grew smaller, the sounds of laughter fading with every step.
The higher we climbed, the quieter it became.
Wind howled through the gaps in the rock, cold and sharp. The air thinned. I could feel the weight of the mountain pressing in, as if the land itself was testing us—measuring our resolve.
Crystella glanced down once, then quickly looked away.
"So," she said, breaking the silence, "a hidden kingdom, a labyrinth, and a leader who lives closer to the sky than the ground."
Vellia's expression remained unreadable.
"Leaders who choose height," she said, "either fear being reached… or want to see everything."
I tightened my grip on the stone railing.
By the time the municipal hall came into view—an enormous structure fused seamlessly with the mountain—we were breathing harder, legs burning, minds sharp.
Whatever awaited us at the top, one thing was clear:
This kingdom didn't hide because it was weak.
It hid because it could afford to.
Then the door opened—slowly, deliberately.
A man stepped out.
A cape shaped like layered bird wings draped from his shoulders, the feathers stiff and elegant, as if carved from the idea of flight itself. His posture was relaxed, yet commanding. Sharp eyes—keen as an eagle's—studied us in an instant, missing nothing. A faint smile rested on his lips, calm but serious, the kind that never fully let its guard down.
His eyes were gold.
Not reflective. Not glowing. Simply gold.
He wore a long white coat that flowed slightly in the mountain wind, a black shirt beneath it, clean white trousers, and worn brown shoes that suggested he valued practicality over display. On the back of his coat, a bold coat of arms marked the symbol of this hidden city. A smaller version rested over his right chest, close to the heart.
He looked like someone who belonged above the clouds.
The man took one step forward, the stone door grinding shut behind him.
"So," he said, his voice smooth and steady, carrying easily through the thin air,
"the ones who walk openly into a kingdom that prefers to remain unseen… finally arrive."
His gaze settled on Riureas.
A knowing glint flashed through his golden eyes.
"Welcome," he continued, the smile sharpening just enough to be dangerous,
"to the Crescent Kingdom."
He placed a hand over his chest and gave a slight, respectful bow.
"Reguila Aguila," he said. "Aguila will do."
The name carried weight—old, measured, and unmistakably authoritative.
"I am the current king of the Crescent Kingdom," he continued, his golden eyes steady, "and the elder of the Reguila clan. A dominant clan in this region… and its quiet guardian."
There was no pride in his tone, only certainty.
"The mountains, the forest, the roads you walked upon—none of it exists by accident," Aguila added. "This land survives because it chooses when to be seen."
His gaze briefly swept over the group before returning to Riureas.
"And you," he said calmly, "did not arrive here by chance either."
Aguila's smile thinned, as if the wind itself had whispered your purpose to him.
"You've come for the Sun Artifact," he said plainly.
The room went still.
He turned away, walking toward the tall windows carved into the stone, where pale light filtered in from the crescent-shaped mountains beyond.
"That relic has a will of its own," Aguila continued. "It reveals itself only when the world stands at the edge of collapse. Which tells me enough about the state of things outside these mountains."
He looked back at Riureas, golden eyes sharp.
"Solana's disappearance did not go unnoticed here. Nor did the distortion of time you now carry."
A pause.
"If you seek the Sun Artifact," Aguila said, voice calm but heavy, "then you are prepared to challenge not just a labyrinth… but a truth that may burn you alive."
Silence followed.
"Tell me, Riureas," he asked at last, "are you ready to save the world?"
Riureas did not hesitate.
"I'm ready," he said, voice steady. There was no bravado in it—only resolve, forged by loss, by loops, by the weight of a world that refused to stay saved.
Aguila studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod.
"Then the crescent has chosen wisely."
Far to the north, beyond frozen plains and iron-gray skies, another power was stirring.
Within the halls of the Northern Alliance, banners snapped in a cold wind as generals gathered around a map marked with ancient symbols. At its center burned a single mark—golden, radiant.
The Sun Artifact.
But their reason for seeking it was not salvation.
Seated upon the throne was a figure thought lost to history, his presence alone enough to unsettle the room. His posture was relaxed, almost amused, yet his eyes carried something old… and dangerous.
Virroga.
A name that should not have returned.
A ruler who, before the Rewrite, had stood on the opposite side of fate itself.
He tapped the armrest of his throne, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"So," he murmured, "Riureas still walks this world… and now he seeks the sun."
The generals remained silent.
Virroga leaned forward, shadows stretching behind him.
"Good," he said softly. "This time, I won't be erased so easily."
And in the north, as in the south, the light of the Sun Artifact began to stir—
caught between two hands that would shape the future very differently.