Night had draped its full darkness over the land of Hougwe, just as the official conclusion of the investigation into the Mana Stone was announced. Yet for Edward, the silence felt heavy rather than calming. He did not immediately lie down to rest. Instead, he walked slowly to the window of his room and sat cross-legged there, letting his gaze pierce the dark, starless sky.
The night wind blew gently, slipping through the cracks in the old wooden walls of the orphanage. Usually, its soft rustle was like a lullaby, able to soothe any restlessness in his heart. But tonight, everything felt different. Something hung in the air — cold, uncertain, and full of questions. His mind was crowded with events that had unfolded far too quickly, leaving him barely able to keep up.
Three names repeated endlessly in his thoughts: Vessel, Destrover, and Equilibris. Just a few weeks ago, these words had never even reached his ears. Now, as if fate had abruptly turned his life upside down, they had become the very axis around which everything revolved. Every question, fear, and uncertainty seemed to center around these three unfamiliar yet strangely familiar terms.
With slow, careful movements, Edward took out an old pendant he had worn around his neck since he was a small child. He held it, then opened his palm so the object rested quietly there. It gave off no faint glow, no strange vibration, no reaction at all. Yet deep in his heart — ever since he had heard a faint voice calling from within it a few days earlier — Edward felt certain: this pendant held a great secret. Something not yet ready to reveal itself, as if waiting for the right moment to lift its veil.
"What exactly are all of you?" he whispered softly, his voice almost swallowed by the night breeze.
There was no answer. Only the chirping of crickets from the bushes outside filled the silence. Edward let out a long, heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. But deep within his heart, he understood one thing with certainty: the peaceful days and quiet nights he had always known might never return.
The days that followed passed slowly.
At least, that was how it seemed on the surface.
Edward tried to carry on as normal. He helped with the orphanage chores — drawing water from the well, repairing the warehouse roof that often leaked when it rained heavily, teaching Alice to read letters and syllables, and occasionally lending a hand to Thomas and Alex in tending the vegetable garden at the back, where cassava and chili peppers grew.
But the harder he tried to return to his old life… the more the world reminded him that everything had changed.
Take that morning, for example. Edward was walking toward the market carrying an empty woven basket. As he passed a group of villagers sitting on the porch of a small shop, their conversation fell silent instantly — as if someone had suddenly turned off all sound.
Edward kept walking, looking slightly down and pretending not to hear. But his sharp ears still caught the faint whispers drifting through the air like a soft breeze:
"There he is…"
"Edward Briar."
"The boy from the Hall."
"The one who destroyed the Mana Stone."
"I heard he carries a curse."
"Don't speak so loudly."
"What if he hears?"
Edward held his breath. His steps did not falter, but each word felt like a small stone thrown directly at his back. He wanted to turn around, to explain, to shout that he too had no idea what had truly happened that night. But what would be the point? They would not believe him. They had already made up their minds about who he was — even before he had come to understand himself.
By afternoon, the orphanage returned to its usual liveliness — laughter and cheerful chatter slowly easing the tightness Edward had carried with him since morning. In the backyard, Thomas, Alex, Rian, and Dina had gathered around a tub of leftover washing water, their faces full of excitement as if they had made a great discovery.
"Ed! Come look quickly!" Alex called out, waving his hand and nearly dropping the dipper he was holding.
Edward walked over, wiping sweat from his forehead. "What is it now? Did you find a fish in the water tub?"
"Even better!" Thomas exclaimed, his eyes shining. He pointed to the gently rippling surface. "This is magic water! Rian says if we sprinkle it on ourselves, our wounds will heal and we'll be able to run as fast as the wind!"
Eight-year-old Rian nodded vigorously, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "It's true! I heard it from an old man who passed by yesterday. Water touched by the afternoon sun like this has special power!"
Dina, sitting cross-legged nearby, chimed in with a serious expression as if giving a lecture: "But you have to be careful. If you pour it on your head, your hair might grow all the way down to the ground — just like the old witch in the stories!"
Hearing this, Alex burst out laughing until his sides hurt. "So you mean if I pour it on myself, I'll end up with hair as long as the Matron's shawl? Then I'll never be able to play tag properly!"
"Don't be so disrespectful!" Rian huffed, giving Alex a light pinch on the arm. "When I grow up, I'll find a real magic spring — one that keeps you full all day without eating, and makes sure the orphanage roof never leaks again!"
Edward smiled faintly, the weight in his chest slowly lifting as he listened to their innocent conversation. He picked up the dipper and sprinkled a little water onto the ground. "In that case, you'd better keep this magic water safe. But remember — if you use it to wash your feet, don't forget to rinse them off. Otherwise, instead of getting stronger, you'll end up getting bitten by ants because your skin is too slippery!"
They all laughed loudly. Thomas suddenly pointed at Rian, whose feet were covered in dirt. "Hey, here's a test! Rian, pour some on your own feet! Let's see if tomorrow you can run faster than the neighbor's goat!"
Rian quickly stepped back, hugging his knees. "No way! If the hair on my legs grows long, everyone will tease me forever!"
"All right, all right," Edward said, smiling broadly. "This water is good — but its real purpose is to wash our bodies and water the plants. If you want to grow strong and fast, all you need to do is help carry water and tend the garden every day. That's far more reliable than any magic."
While they continued arguing and splashing water, Alice arrived carrying a stack of clean cloths. She sat down beside Edward and whispered softly so only he could hear: "Ed… I saw you walking home looking sad earlier. Did the people at the market say unkind things again?"
Edward turned to look at her sincere, concerned eyes. He shook his head gently and smiled reassuringly. "It's nothing, Alice. Just a little tired. Better watch them — their laughter can make you feel lighter too."
Near the tub, their playful bickering continued. Alex now pretended to be a powerful sorcerer, sprinkling a little water toward Thomas and shouting: "By the power of this magic water! I curse you to wake up tomorrow morning with only one sock!"
Thomas immediately struck back with a dramatic gesture: "Oh, what a terrible curse! Well then, I curse you too — every time you eat rice from now on, you'll always find a chili pepper in your very last bite!"
Rian and Dina laughed uncontrollably at their antics, until Dina slipped slightly and got her feet wet. "Hey! That must be the effect of your curse, Thomas!" she cried out, still laughing.
Watching them, Edward let out a long breath — the pain and suspicion from the villagers' whispers that morning slowly faded, replaced by a warm feeling spreading through his heart. Even if the outside world saw him differently, here, among these simple children who knew only laughter and togetherness, he still felt like himself.
That evening, after all the children had settled into their beds, their voices could still be heard softly from beneath the blankets, continuing their conversation from earlier.
"Ed, is it true there's magic water that lets you stay awake forever so you can keep playing?" Rian asked from the bed beside him.
Edward smiled in the darkness. "There is, but it comes at a high price. If you drink it, your eyes will feel heavy and your head will ache all day — so you won't be able to play at all anyway."
Thomas chuckled quietly, trying to hold back his laughter. "Then I don't want it. I'd rather sleep, so tomorrow I can help carry water and find more oddly shaped mangoes."
"Or find a tree whose fruit ripens all by itself without having to wait," Alex added.
"And one that isn't too tall, so you don't have to be afraid of falling," Dina chimed in.
Edward simply listened, closing his eyes. Outside, the night wind blew gently against the orphanage walls. Even though the memory of the villagers' whispers still lingered faintly in his mind, he knew one thing for certain: as long as there was laughter and innocent conversation like this, his life here still held meaning — simple, real, and warm.
The next day.
Edward woke up later than usual. All night long, strange, unsettling dreams had haunted him, replaying endlessly in his mind and leaving his sleep restless. When he opened his eyes, he could still feel the lingering discomfort, as if the shadows from his dreams had clung to the corners of his mind.
After washing up, he went out to the backyard. There he found Silvia, who had already been hard at work for some time. Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck, dripping slowly down her clothes — a sign she had been working for quite a while. She was repairing the orphanage's back fence, which had been in poor condition for a long time.
Edward immediately went over to help. The old wooden posts supporting the fence had begun to rot with age; some sections were already leaning and on the verge of collapsing in a strong wind.
Silvia was hammering new planks into place when she noticed something different about Edward. He worked quietly, but had barely spoken a single word since arriving.
"Are you all right?" Silvia asked, pausing her work.
Edward looked up and gave a faint smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Do I look unwell?"
Silvia shook her head gently, her gaze sharp yet full of concern. "Since when do you answer a question with another question?"
Edward laughed softly, but his voice sounded flat and forced, lacking its usual warmth.
Silvia carefully set down the hammer in her hand and looked straight at him. "Edward."
"Hm?"
"You can talk to me. About anything."
Edward lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the dusty ground beneath his feet. He fell silent for a moment, as if gathering the courage to speak of what had been weighing so heavily on his heart.
"Do you think they're right?" he asked quietly.
"Who?"
"The people outside. The ones who whisper, who look at me with fear and suspicion."
Silvia fell silent for a moment, letting the wind blow gently between them.
Edward continued, his voice growing softer but filled with uncertainty. "Maybe there really is something wrong with me. Maybe I really am different." He looked up slightly, his eyes confused. "I don't even know what is truly inside my body."
"No."
Silvia cut him off firmly. Her tone was resolute, unwavering, without the slightest hint of doubt.
"Something may indeed lie within you," she said steadily. "But that does not mean it is who you are."
Edward looked at her, as if searching for certainty in her words.
Silvia met his gaze, her eyes clear and full of conviction.
"No matter what Grandmaster Altheon eventually discovers. No matter what the people outside say, or what stories they make up." She paused for a moment, then continued softly but firmly. "You are still Edward. You are still the boy who helps Alice learn to read. You are still the one who always saves a portion of his food for the younger children. You are still the Edward I have known all these years."
For a moment, the heavy weight pressing down on his chest seemed to lift slightly. His chest felt lighter, his breath easier.
But in that very instant —
A sharp, piercing pain suddenly struck his head.
THUD!
Edward stumbled and fell to his knees on the ground. It felt as though his head had been struck hard by an invisible giant hammer. The pain spread quickly, leaving his entire body weak.
"Edward!"
Silvia rushed over immediately, her face filled with panic.
Edward's vision blurred and began to spin into indistinct shapes. Silvia's voice sounded faint, growing further and further away, as if coming from somewhere far beyond a thick wall.
The entire world around him spun wildly. The sky above slowly changed shape, its colors fading and blending into formless mist.
Then…
Amidst the fog clouding his mind, Edward began to see something. Something faint, but slowly growing clearer.
An eye.
Enormous — so vast it seemed the entire horizon could not contain it. It filled the whole sky, glowing bright: deep red like embers that would never die, mixed with dark blue like the ocean at midnight. It was not made of flesh or any ordinary material, but woven from softly pulsing light, mingled with clouds that moved slowly yet remained steady.
Silent.
Utterly silent, so much so that even the wind seemed to vanish into the stillness. Yet that silence felt heavy, as if something was watching him — directly at him, deep into the very core of his heart.
Edward's heart nearly stopped beating. He felt his breath catch in his throat, his entire body frozen in place, unable to move even an inch. The giant eye did not blink. It did not move. No eyelid lowered, no gaze shifted. It simply watched.
Watching in a way that was hard to describe. As if judging every thought in his mind. As if waiting for something — an answer, an action, or simply the right time. And most unsettling of all: it felt as though it knew him. Had known him for a very long time, long before he was even born into this world.
Then…
It vanished.
Just like that. No explosion, no slow fading light. One moment it was there, filling the entire sky — the next, it was gone as if it had never existed at all.
The sky returned to normal. Clouds drifted lazily once more, carried by the breeze. The sun still shone brightly, radiating the same warmth as before. Nothing had changed. The grass remained green, the leaves still rustled softly, the air felt just as it always had. It was as if what he had just seen was nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
"Edward!"
Silvia's voice broke the lingering silence, pulling him back from that distant place.
"What did you see?" she asked again, her tone mixed with confusion and worry.
Edward blinked slowly, as if waking from a very vivid dream. "What?"
"You were staring at the sky for such a long time," Silvia said. "Your face went pale, as if you had seen something terrifying."
Edward looked up again. The sky was clear and peaceful, without a trace of anything unusual. No giant eye, no red-and-blue light — nothing at all.
"I…" He hesitated. The words felt heavy in his mouth. How could he explain something that had disappeared without a trace, something that might even be dismissed as mere imagination? "I don't know."
Silvia reached out and helped Edward stand slowly. "Did you see something? Something strange?"
Edward remained silent for a long moment. He could feel his heart, which had only just slowed, still carrying a strange vibration. He knew what he had seen was real. He had felt it. But if he told her, would Silvia believe him? What good would it do to speak of something that could no longer be seen?
Then he shook his head gently. "No."
But he was lying. And he knew it. Deep in his heart, he held one certainty: that eye was no mere figment of his imagination. He had seen it. And for some reason, he felt it was still watching him — even now, hidden behind the ordinary-looking sky.
That night, Edward lay with his eyes closed for hours, but his mind remained wide awake — replaying the image of the giant eye from earlier that day. Only when exhaustion finally overcame him did he fall asleep, and instantly step into that same dream world.
It was unchanged. Before him stretched a sea of swords, thousands of blades driven firmly into the cracked earth, as if forming an eternal graveyard for warriors whose names had long been forgotten by time. The sky above was deep red, glowing faintly with no visible source of light. The wind blew gently, carrying the faint sound of metal scraping against metal — a noise barely audible, yet enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
This time, Edward did not startle. He even began to recognize the shape of the land, the arrangement of the swords, and the feel of the wind itself. That was precisely what made his fear grow even greater. This place should be completely foreign — impossible for him to have ever seen before. Yet why did a part of him feel as though he had been here, or at least that his soul recognized it?
He walked slowly, step by step, as if afraid to disturb the heavy silence. Then he stopped abruptly.
For there, in the sky, was something.
That red-and-blue eye. This time, it was far larger than what he had seen in the real world. It hovered majestically amid the red sky, its light merging with the clouds and air — formless, yet undeniably real. Silent. Unblinking. Simply watching down below, like a great judge weighing the fate of the entire world before him.
"There you are again…" Edward whispered softly, his voice catching in his throat.
There was no answer. Only silence surrounded him. But a moment later, another voice sounded. Not the hum of the eye's light, nor the voice that had once mocked him in previous dreams. This one was different — ancient, calm, yet seeming to come from an immeasurable distance, as if whispering from behind a veil of thousands of years.
"The time has not yet come."
Edward froze in place. His heart raced. "Who are you?!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Instantly, the wind stopped blowing completely. The entire dream world fell into total silence, as if everything was holding its breath.
"Are you the one showing me all this?" Edward asked again, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.
Still, there was no reply.
"Are you the one who wrote the message Find Me?" he pressed further.
Only silence answered.
Edward clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Weariness and frustration surged within him. "I am tired of all these riddles!" he cried out, his voice echoing softly among the rows of swords. "I only want to know what is truly happening!"
But the dream world remained silent. Slowly, the image of the giant eye began to fade, the colors of the sky blurred, and everything around him dissolved into gray mist — leaving Edward drifting once more between wakefulness and sleep.
Here's the natural, engaging English translation — smooth and immersive, perfect for Webnovel readers:
Edward woke up gasping for breath, as if he had just run a thousand miles. His entire body was soaked through with cold sweat, dampening his clothes and the sheets beneath him. Through the crack in the window, the sky was still wrapped in deep darkness — a sign that the night was still long, and dawn was far from breaking.
He placed a hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. But his movements suddenly froze. His eyes went wide, as if fixed in place.
Beneath the fabric of his shirt, a faint light slowly began to glow — warm to the touch, yet sending a chill down his spine.
With trembling hands, Edward quickly pulled the collar of his shirt down slightly. And in that instant, it felt as though the blood in his veins had stopped flowing entirely.
There, clearly visible right above his heart, was a symbol.
An eye, colored red and blue.
It glowed softly yet distinctly, pulsing gently as if it possessed a life of its own — as if it were breathing in time with his heartbeat.
"No…" he whispered faintly, barely audible, his eyes unable to look away from the sight.
The symbol pulsed once.
Then twice.
Slowly, its light began to fade, growing dimmer and dimmer until it vanished completely, leaving only his skin looking as ordinary as ever.
At that very moment, the door to his room creaked open.
"Edward?"
Silvia stepped inside, carrying a glass of water in her hand. She took a step forward, only to stop abruptly and freeze. Her gaze fixed directly on Edward's chest, exactly where the symbol had just been glowing. Her usually calm face turned instantly pale, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"You…" she stammered, her voice catching in her throat.
Edward looked back at her, his heart pounding with a sudden, heavy realization.
For the first time, someone else had seen it.
This symbol was no longer just a vision in his dreams. No longer a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. No longer a figment of his own imagination.
It was real.
And Silvia had just seen it.
The following night.
The orphanage had fallen completely silent; all the children were fast asleep. It was then that Silvia slipped quietly outside, walking through the dark of night toward the Hall of Awakening.
Inside the hall, lit only by the dim glow of ancient lamps, Grandmaster Altheon sat at a long table, reading through sheets of old documents whose writing had begun to fade with the passage of time. He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching.
"Grandmaster."
Altheon looked up, slightly surprised to see who had come. "Silvia?"
"I need to speak with you," Silvia said, her tone heavy and serious.
The way she spoke, and the clear tension etched across her face, immediately made Altheon set down his work. He sat up straight, looking directly at her.
"What has happened?"
Silvia took a long, steadying breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Then she told him everything — holding nothing back. About the faint glow she had seen beneath Edward's shirt. About the symbol that had appeared directly above his heart. About its clear shape: an eye, red and blue. About how it had glowed and pulsed as if it were alive.
The longer Altheon listened, the graver and heavier his expression became. The fine lines on his forehead deepened, as if the weight he had carried for countless nights had suddenly grown heavier still.
When Silvia had finished speaking, the room fell into a profound silence — so deep it felt as though even time itself had stopped.
"Grandmaster?" Silvia called softly, waiting for a reply.
Altheon did not answer immediately. He turned his face away and looked out through the large window before him. His gaze pierced through the darkness, toward the far north — toward lands that no longer appeared on any maps of the present day. Places lost to history, erased from the memories of generation after generation. Places no one had spoken of in ages, as if they had never existed at all.
"If that is so…" he murmured softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the gentle night wind. "The time draws near."
Silvia frowned, confused. "The time for what?"
Altheon remained silent for a long while. It seemed as though he was debating within himself, wondering whether these words should ever be spoken aloud. At last, he spoke in a voice so quiet it was as if he feared even the ancient walls might hear and carry his words across the world.
"For the long-buried past… to rise once more."
Far away in the heart of the royal capital, within a grand office with high ceilings and walls lined with finely carved wood, a high-ranking official sat behind a large desk piled high with documents. He had just received a confidential report sent from afar. Slowly, he turned over page after page, his eyes scanning every line with utmost care.
The report spoke of the Hall of Awakening, of the strange events that had befallen a boy named Edward, and matters concerning the Mana Stone — an object whose existence had long been kept a closely guarded secret. He read on until he reached the very last page.
And there, his hand froze mid-air. His breath caught in his throat.
Drawn clearly on the paper was a symbol. One he knew all too well — even though he had hoped never to see it again. An eye, red and blue, encircled as one. It felt as though the blood in his veins had turned to ice; his usually stern and dignified face went deathly pale, draining of all color.
"Impossible…" he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with disbelief.
He stood up so suddenly and quickly that the chair behind him tipped over and crashed to the floor, the sound echoing loudly through the silent room.
This symbol. The symbol that for centuries, rulers and elders of old had ordered to be erased from every record. To be burned if found drawn on paper. To be destroyed without a trace if carved into stone or wood. And most of all — to be forgotten by every soul who had ever known of it.
Yet now, it had appeared again. And worse still, the report clearly stated it was connected to a boy named Edward Briar.
With hands that still trembled, as if gripped by a fear as old as time itself, he reached for a quill and a special sheet of parchment reserved only for matters of the highest secrecy. At the very top, he wrote in bold, firm letters:
KINGDOM OF LINGBERT
ROYAL INTELLIGENCE BUREAU
CLASSIFICATION: HIGHEST PRIORITY
CONFIDENTIAL REPORT
SUBJECT: Edward Briar
STATUS: Active Surveillance Recommended
REASON: Reappearance of a Forbidden Historical Symbol
AUTHORIZED RECIPIENT: His Majesty the King
NOTICE: This document contains information restricted under Royal Decree 7-A. Unauthorized disclosure is punishable by death.