The sky beyond the window was still wrapped in thick darkness, as if night was reluctant to take its leave. A thin mist drifted softly, shrouding the village of Hougwe as it lay deep in silence. Beneath that veil of fog, the houses stood like motionless shadows, waiting for the first light of dawn.
Inside that simple room, Edward suddenly jolted awake, as if struck by a harsh truth.
"Haah…!"
His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. His entire body was soaked in cold sweat, which trickled down his forehead and neck, leaving his skin clammy even though the morning air still held a chill.
His heart pounded so fiercely he could feel every thud, as if it might burst right out of his chest.
For a long moment, he sat frozen on the edge of his bed, his eyes staring blankly at the wooden wall before him. His hands hung limp at his sides, trembling uncontrollably.
Yet what he saw was not the familiar wall of his room. Behind his wide-open eyes, those images remained vivid—so clear they seemed to have happened only moments ago.
An endless void of blackness, where the darkness felt alive and pressing. Massive chains coiled tightly, glinting faintly as if holding back rage that had simmered for thousands of years.
And at the very center of it all, a pair of eyes burning bright red—glowing like embers that would never die—eyes that seemed to see every secret hidden deep within his heart.
But most terrifying of all was the voice. The voice that now had a name.
Destrover.
Edward gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. He bowed his head low, clutching his own hair as hard as he could, trying to force those visions out of his mind.
"No…" he whispered over and over, like a mantra he hoped could rewrite reality. "No. No. No."
Yet the voice echoed again, clear and real as if whispering right beside his ear.
"I have waited ten long years for you."
"I don't believe you!" he cried out softly, his voice hoarse.
He shook his head violently, trying to convince himself. "It was just a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare."
But deep down, he knew he was lying. It had felt far too real—too vivid, too alive, so tangible it sent shivers down his spine. Something like that could never be called merely a dream.
He glanced down at his chest, where the small sword-shaped pendant rested quietly. It looked exactly as it always had—no glow, no movement, no reaction at all. As if nothing extraordinary had just occurred.
"What is truly happening to me…?" he murmured into the silence.
No answer came. Only the quiet hush of the early morning, which oddly brought him a little relief. At least for now… that voice had faded back into the stillness.
Edward stood slowly, his legs feeling weak as if he had just traveled a great distance. He stepped carefully toward the simple clay basin in the corner of the room, picked up the dipper, and poured cold water over his face.
The sharp chill of the water helped wake him slightly, calming his still-racing heart. He rubbed his face with both hands, hoping the fear would wash away along with the water.
Without meaning to, his gaze fell upon the still surface of the water. He saw his own reflection—pale face, dark circles beneath his eyes, messy hair, and a look of utter exhaustion.
And then, he froze.
It lasted only a split second. So brief it could have been an illusion. But he was certain he had seen it. For just a moment, one of his eyes flashed bright red—exactly like the eyes he had seen in his vision. Burning sharp, brimming with immeasurable power.
Edward stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. The water in the basin rippled wildly, shattering the reflection into a thousand shifting waves. When it finally settled again, only his own frightened face stared back.
"I-it was just my imagination," he said aloud, trying to steady himself. "Yes. Just a trick of the mind from lack of sleep. That's all."
Yet fear slowly began to take root in his chest, spreading like the roots of an ancient tree. What if one day… he could no longer tell what was real from what was merely that voice whispering in his mind? What if the line between himself and the thing trapped inside him slowly began to fade?
By the time the first rays of sunlight began to slip through the cracks in the window, chasing away the shadows from the corners of the room, Edward had already made up his mind. A decision that seemed, to him, the only logical path forward.
To forget everything. To ignore it as if it had never happened. To bury it as deep as possible in the darkest corner of his memory.
"He only wants to manipulate me," he muttered, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms. "I will not give him even the smallest chance."
He recalled every word Destrover had spoken. The offer of unimaginable strength, the promise of power, the vow to answer every question that had haunted him for so long. It all sounded so tempting, so easy—as if all his troubles could be solved in an instant.
But he knew better. Nothing ever came easily without a terrible price to pay. Mrs. Selner had told him that often, and he believed it.
Edward drew a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
"I will not speak to him again," he vowed silently. "I will not listen. I will not believe."
For the first time since the incident at the Hall of Awakening, he chose to fight. Not against some monster that might come from outside, but against something that had lived within him all this time.
The dining hall of the orphanage soon filled with cheerful laughter and chatter as the morning brightened. The children gathered around the long wooden tables, and the warm scent of soup and freshly baked bread filled the room, bringing its usual comfort.
Alice waved happily when she saw Edward enter. "Brother Edward!"
Edward forced a smile, though it felt heavy on his face. "Good morning, Alice."
Alice tilted her head, studying him with concern. "Are you feeling unwell? You look… strange."
Several other children sitting nearby nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's true. You look kind of scary." "Like a walking corpse that just woke up." "Not a corpse—more like a zombie!" "You're the silly one, there's no such thing as zombies here."
Edward let out a long sigh, feeling a little weary but also faintly amused by their banter. Thomas chuckled softly as he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth. "Up all night reading again? Or secretly seeing someone?"
Alex, who was drinking water, nearly choked in surprise. Alice swatted Thomas lightly on the head. "Don't be ridiculous! Don't say such things!"
The room suddenly erupted into laughter and noise, just like any other ordinary morning. And for a brief moment, the weight on Edward's chest felt a little lighter. But as he watched them laugh freely, without worry or fear, a single thought suddenly crossed his mind.
If Destrover truly woke up… what would become of them?
Edward's smile slowly faded, replaced once more by a heavy sense of dread. And the fear grew again, stronger than before.
After breakfast, Edward walked alone toward the backyard. He sought peace, hoping to quiet his swirling thoughts. Birds sang brightly from the branches, the morning breeze brushed gently against his skin, and everything seemed to move as it always did. The world felt calm and peaceful.
But then, the voice came. Without warning, without footsteps, without any sign at all.
"You look quite pitiful."
Edward froze in his tracks. For a moment, his heart seemed to stop beating. No. Not now. Not here.
He quickened his pace, walking faster as if he could outrun his own shadow. "Ignoring me will not change the truth," the voice continued, calm and unbothered.
Edward clamped his hands tightly over his ears. "Be quiet! Leave me alone!"
"I am still here. I am not going anywhere."
"BE QUIET!" he shouted louder. Yet strangely, the voice only grew clearer, closer—speaking directly inside his mind.
"You cannot run from me. We are bound, you and I."
"BE QUIET!"
Several children playing nearby stopped and turned to look. They saw Edward standing alone in the middle of the yard, shouting loudly at empty air. The laughter died instantly.
Thomas blinked, confused. "Who… is he talking to?"
Alex shrugged, looking equally puzzled. "I don't know. Maybe he's talking to himself?"
Alice looked worried, her eyes filled with sadness. "Brother Edward…"
Edward suddenly realized all eyes were on him. His face paled, overcome with embarrassment and confusion. He said nothing, only turned and walked away as fast as he could, leaving the others staring after him in bewilderment.
Once Edward was far enough away that the children could no longer see him, a soft laugh echoed. It was not loud or mocking, but far more unsettling—the laugh of someone who believed they had already won.
"You see? How quickly they begin to look at you differently."
Edward gritted his teeth, struggling to hold back his anger. "They are not afraid of me."
"Are they not?" The voice remained casual, as if discussing something trivial. "Then why do they look at you as if you are already a stranger to them?"
Edward did not reply. Deep down, a small part of him knew the voice was right. Ever since the events at the Hall of Awakening, since the Mana Stone shattered, since his name began to be linked to the disaster that had befallen that place… he had felt the change in the way people looked at him.
"You hate me," the voice said softly. "But the truth is, the world hates you far more than you could ever hate me."
Edward stopped walking. His hands clenched so tightly his nails nearly broke the skin of his palms. "Be quiet," he whispered, his voice low and thick with suppressed rage.
But this time, the voice said nothing more. It simply vanished, leaving Edward alone beneath the shade of a large tree, lost in his own thoughts. And strangely, the silence it left behind felt far more painful than the voice itself.
Toward midday, Silvia found Edward in the training ground. He was swinging a wooden staff over and over, yet his movements were different today. Usually, he trained with focus, regulating his breath and motion carefully. But today, his strikes were rough, forceful, and filled with emotion—as if trying to vent all the weight pressing down on his heart.
Silvia stood several paces behind him, watching in silence. Strike after strike came, but each one was too heavy, too rushed, too consumed by unspent anger.
"Edward."
He started, his motion halting so suddenly the staff nearly slipped from his grip. He turned, breathless. "Oh… Silvia."
Silvia crossed her arms, looking at him with sharp yet caring eyes. "You did not sleep at all last night, did you?"
"I did sleep," Edward replied quickly.
"You are lying."
Edward fell silent, unsure what else to say. Silvia sighed softly and walked closer until she stood only a few steps away.
"What is wrong? Something is troubling you."
"Nothing. I am fine."
"Edward," Silvia's tone softened but remained firm. "I have known you for a long time. I know what it looks like when someone carries a burden too heavy to bear alone."
Edward turned his face away, trying to hide his unease. "I am fine, truly."
Silvia studied him for a long moment, as if trying to see what lay hidden behind his eyes. At last, she spoke gently.
"You know… I will not force you to speak if you are not ready. But remember this: never carry everything by yourself. A weight too heavy will eventually make anyone fall."
Her words made Edward's chest ache. He wanted to tell her everything, to release all the fear and confusion swirling inside him. But how could he explain that the voice of a legendary monster feared across the entire world now lived inside his own mind?
Edward managed only a faint smile—one that never reached his eyes. "I just did not sleep well, that is all."
Silvia did not believe him. She could clearly see that something dark and heavy was weighing on the boy's mind. But for now, she chose not to press him. She could only hope that one day, Edward would choose to share.
Yet even so, a sense of unease began to grow in her heart. As if something dark and dangerous was slowly drawing near, threatening to overshadow the boy's future.
The sun had climbed high, casting its warm glow over the training ground behind the orphanage. The earth beneath still held a faint dampness, leftover from the morning dew that had only just evaporated in the day's rising heat. The air felt fresh and calm, yet inside Edward's chest, everything felt cold and stiff.
His mind was still filled with the visions from the night before—that dark realm of consciousness, the massive chains, and those burning red eyes that had stared at him as if they could pierce every secret hidden in his heart. Destrover. The name felt like a thorn lodged deep within him—unable to be pulled out, impossible to ignore, spinning endlessly through his thoughts.
Not knowing where else to channel his fear and confusion, Edward turned to the one thing he always did when his mind was in turmoil: he trained. This time, harder than ever before.
"A hundred laps around the field," he murmured to himself, drawing a long breath to steady his nerves. "Then a hundred strikes with the staff."
Silvia, who sat leaning against a large tree nearby, flipping through a few notes, raised an eyebrow at the number. "A hundred? That is quite a lot for this early in the day."
Edward gave a firm nod. "I can do it."
"If it becomes too much, stop. No one is forcing you until you hurt yourself."
"I will not stop," he replied quickly, without a hint of hesitation.
Silvia watched him in silence for a moment. There was something different about the boy today. His gaze was sharper, more restless, as if weighed down by some heavy burden. But she chose not to press him further—she knew there were times when a person had to carry their own weight before they could let it go.
Edward began to run. One lap, two laps, five, then ten. His breath grew ragged, his legs feeling heavier with every step, as if some unseen weight pressed down upon him. Still he pushed forward, step after step, as if trying to leave something terrible far behind him.
Yet the faster he ran, the clearer that voice became inside his mind.
"You cannot run from me."
Edward gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. "No."
"I am right here."
"No."
"Inside you."
"BE QUIET!"
He quickened his pace, hoping the rush of wind and the sound of his own breathing would drown out the whisper. But suddenly, his foot caught on a small stone hidden in the grass.
THUD!
He tumbled to the ground, dust swirling all around him.
"Edward!" Silvia was on her feet in an instant, rushing toward him.
"I'm fine!" Edward scrambled up before she could reach him. His knee was stinging and scraped, and his palms were raw and bleeding slightly from scraping against the rough earth. Yet he stood tall, brushing the dust from his clothes, and prepared to continue as if nothing had happened.
Silvia returned to her seat, but her eyes never left him. Nearly an hour had passed, and still the boy showed no sign of stopping. Sweat soaked his entire body, clinging his shirt to his skin, and his breath came in heavy, labored gasps. Yet he kept moving—strike after strike, step after step—without a single word of complaint.
Silvia gave a faint, weary smile, seeing his determination. "Stubborn boy," she whispered softly.
But the smile did not last long. Beneath that resolve, she saw something else. Edward was not training to improve, not practicing to hone his skills with calm focus. He was training like a man trying to outrun himself, trying to beat away something that haunted his thoughts. And that thought made a quiet worry begin to grow in her heart.
Edward stood tall in the center of the field, gripping his wooden staff. He raised it, striking with all his strength, repeating the movement Silvia had taught him only a few days before. Yet his form was messy—unbalanced, using far too much force, and lacking all control.
Then the voice returned, clear and steady inside his mind.
"Your stance is wrong."
Edward pretended not to hear. He repeated the motion once more, but the result was just as clumsy.
"You are putting all your weight on your front foot. That makes you easy to knock over, and wastes your strength completely."
Edward swung the staff harder, but the movement went off course, nearly causing him to lose his balance.
"Foolish."
A vein in Edward's temple throbbed as he fought to hold back his anger. He remained silent, determined to ignore the voice's existence.
"If that were a real sword and you faced an enemy, you would have been killed three times already making the same mistake."
Edward gritted his teeth. "Be quiet. I don't need your advice."
"I am only stating the truth."
He struck again with even greater force, but the more he relied solely on raw power, the more his movements became erratic and ineffective.
Several minutes passed. Destrover continued to speak, but his tone held no anger or demand—it was calm, almost casual, as if observing something ordinary.
"Turn your shoulders slightly back. Do not hold them so stiff."
Edward ignored him.
"Lower your center of gravity so you cannot be easily thrown off balance."
Edward remained silent.
"Move your left foot half a step back, then drive the force from your hips—not just your arm."
Edward scoffed in irritation, refusing to take instruction from the being he despised. Yet without realizing it, his body shifted just slightly into the position described. Barely noticeable.
And for the first time that day, his strike felt more stable, lighter, and the power flowed through it properly.
Edward froze where he stood. His heart raced, and a heavy discomfort settled in his chest. He knew exactly what had just happened—without thinking, he had followed Destrover's suggestion.
"You see? It is not as difficult as you imagined, is it?" The voice sounded almost amused.
Edward immediately returned to his original stance, his face flushing with embarrassment and anger. "I do not need your help. I can do this on my own."
"Then continue swinging wildly and failing. I have no objection to watching."
As afternoon drew to a close and the sky turned a warm golden-orange, Edward's training still went on—but it showed no improvement. The harder he pushed himself, the more frustrated he grew. Every mistake made him angrier with himself, and every failure only tangled his thoughts further.
Strike—wrong.
Step—wrong.
Balance—wrong.
CRACK!
Suddenly, the wooden staff slipped from his grasp, flying several feet away and landing in the dust. Edward stood with his head bowed, breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands trembling from exhaustion and pent-up emotion.
Then he heard footsteps approaching. Silvia.
She picked up the fallen staff and held it out to him. But this time, she did not let go right away. She kept hold of the other end, meeting his eyes with a look that was gentle yet firm.
"Edward."
Edward fell silent, staring at the ground, too ashamed to look up.
"You are not training," Silvia said slowly but clearly. "You are punishing yourself."
The words struck him harder than any blow ever could. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.
"I just want to become stronger," he replied, his voice trembling slightly.
Silvia shook her head gently. "Not like this. Strength does not come from pushing yourself until you break—especially not when your heart is filled with anger and fear."
"I have to be strong. I have to protect them."
"Why?"
Edward fell silent. He knew the answer, yet he could not bring himself to say it. He feared Destrover, living inside his own mind. He feared the dark, uncertain future. He feared losing everyone he cared about. But how could he speak of something so impossible?
Silvia sat down beside him, letting silence settle between them for a moment. The evening breeze blew softly, carrying away dry leaves, while the distant sound of children laughing from inside the orphanage felt warm and comforting.
"You know," Silvia said softly, breaking the quiet. "I used to be exactly like you."
Edward turned his head, looking at her with curiosity. "You did?"
"I once believed that if I were strong enough, tough enough, I could protect everyone I loved. I thought strength was the only answer to every danger." Silvia gave a bitter smile, her gaze drifting as if looking back into the past. "But in time, I learned one thing: no one can protect everything forever."
Edward remained quiet. He did not know what to say, yet those words echoed in his mind, making his heart feel even heavier.
Night fell peacefully. The sky above Hougwe village was dotted with twinkling stars, and the air felt strangely calm—almost too calm, as if hiding something unseen.
Edward sat alone beneath the large tree in the backyard, gazing up at the dark sky. Then the voice returned, clear and steady in his consciousness.
"You are afraid of me."
Edward lifted his head sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Of course I am."
"Why?"
Edward let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Really? You ask why?" He stood up straight, his fists clenched tightly. "You are a monster. That is why."
"A monster…" The voice repeated the word slowly, as if weighing its meaning.
"Everyone says so. Every history book records it. You are the disaster the whole world fears."
"And you believe all of it without question?"
"I saw what happened at the Hall of Awakening! I witnessed the destruction myself!" Edward raised his voice.
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Destrover spoke again, but this time his tone was far softer, deeper, and unlike anything Edward had heard before.
"Yes. I saw it too."
For some reason, those words sent a chill down Edward's spine. There was something in that voice that felt deeply unsettling.
For the first time since the voice had appeared, Destrover did not sound angry, nor arrogant, nor threatening. He simply sounded… weary. Utterly weary.
And that was far more disturbing than any threat. Because Edward did not know how to react. A monster was not supposed to sound like that. A being feared above all others was not supposed to sound as if it had carried a heavy, crushing burden for thousands of years.
After a short while, Destrover spoke again.
"Then…"
"Answer me one simple question."
Edward remained silent, waiting cautiously.
"If I truly wanted to kill you, or take control of your body…"
"Why are you still alive?"
Edward froze in place. For a moment, his heart seemed to stop beating. Because the question made sense—far too much sense.
The Hall of Awakening had been reduced to rubble. The mages had been terrified and powerless. The Mana Stone, the source of the place's power, had shattered into pieces. Yet amid all that destruction, Edward had survived—barely even hurt.
"I…" Edward tried to reply, but the words stuck in his throat. He could not find a logical answer.
"If I wanted to take your body completely, I could have tried the very day it happened. If I wanted to kill you, I would not have waited ten long years."
The silence of the night grew thicker and heavier. And for the first time since learning the name, Edward felt something more dangerous than fear: doubt.
A small part of him began to wonder, quietly and fearfully—What if Destrover is telling the truth?
Night had fully fallen, wrapping the land in silent darkness. Beneath the pale glow of the moon, the ruins of the Hall of Awakening rose like a weary giant come to rest.
Part of the structure still stood, though crisscrossed with deep cracks, while the rest had crumbled into piles of broken stone and shattered pillars—silent witnesses to the destruction that had once unfolded there.
In one of the few rooms still intact deep within the ruins, a faint blue mana lamp cast a dim light over stacks of ancient documents neatly arranged upon a stone table.
Altheon sat there alone. His white robes, usually kept immaculate, were now creased and dust-covered. His eyes looked weary, rimmed red from lack of sleep—for days he had barely closed them, consumed by his search.
Before him lay dozens of old records, written on paper yellowed by hundreds, even thousands of years. Some pages were torn, others charred by fire, and on many the ink had faded until it was nearly illegible.
Yet Altheon refused to give up. He turned page after page, his eyes scanning every remaining mark, driven by a growing intuition deep in his heart.
There was something the history they had always been taught did not reveal—something deliberately hidden, even erased from the memory of generation after generation.
His hand suddenly froze over a sheet of paper so old it had turned brown and had grown brittle with age.
The writing upon it had almost vanished with time, yet if one looked closely enough, it could still be made out. Slowly, holding his breath, Altheon read the words written there.
In an instant, his expression shifted—from curiosity to shock, then slowly to deep concern.
"The bond between the Vessel and the Entity is not one-sided…"
Altheon frowned, hardly daring to believe what he had just read. He continued on to the next line:
"Just as the Entity influences the Vessel's thoughts, feelings, and power… so too does the Vessel exert influence upon the Entity in return."
The room suddenly seemed to grow much colder, as if the night air was seeping in through every crack in the walls. Altheon froze in place, his fingers tightening around the fragile page.
"This cannot be…" he whispered softly.
For as long as anyone could remember, all the historical records studied by elders and mages alike had always stated the same thing: the Vessel was merely a container, a prison, or a passive victim.
It held no power to change anything. Yet this ancient document told a very different story. It claimed the bond worked both ways. That Edward was not only being influenced by Destrover.
From a certain perspective… Edward also held the power to affect the being trapped within him.
Altheon slowly leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting into the distance as his mind raced to grasp the meaning of those words. If this was truly the case… then the future was not yet entirely set. There was still hope.
Carefully, Altheon turned to the next page—only to find it blank. He turned again, and that page was roughly torn, as if it had been ripped away by force. The page after that was nothing but charred scraps, not a single word remaining.
Altheon let out a long, heavy sigh, a wave of disappointment washing over him. "Who would do such a thing…" he murmured.
He had encountered this same pattern countless times in his research. Every record related to Destrover, to the power of balance known as Equilibris, or to the role of the Vessel… all were damaged, incomplete, or deliberately erased.
This was not decay caused by time or age. This was intentional. It was as if some powerful force in the past had gone to great lengths to ensure the truth would never be known by those who came after.
Altheon clenched his fist upon the table. "The more they hide… the more certain I am that this is of great importance—and great danger if left unknown."
Several minutes later, as he continued sorting through the piles of documents, his eyes fell upon a scroll of leather that looked far older than the rest.
The writing upon it was in an ancient tongue long since nearly forgotten, a language very few could still understand. It took him a considerable amount of time to translate each word, comparing them one by one with the ancient dictionary beside him.
But when he finally finished reading one line of warning inscribed there, it felt as though his blood had stopped flowing for a moment.
"A Vessel who loathes himself, who feels worthless, and who is consumed by guilt… shall become the crack that hastens the Awakening of the Destroyer."
Altheon shot to his feet so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the stone floor, shattering the silence.
"No…" he whispered, his voice trembling.
His face hardened. His mind immediately turned to Edward. Ever since the incident at the Hall of Awakening, the boy had constantly blamed himself.
He felt he was the source of all trouble, that he had brought disaster upon those around him, that he was unworthy to be near the people he cared for.
And now this ancient text claimed that those very negative feelings would only serve to strengthen the bond between them, while at the same time weakening the seal holding Destrover in place.
Altheon looked toward the window facing north, in the direction of Hougwe Village. It was a great distance away, yet in his mind he could picture its peaceful appearance. But his thoughts immediately turned to one young boy, struggling all alone.
"Edward…"
For the first time in a very long while, Altheon felt true fear. Not fear of Destrover's power, nor fear of threats from the kingdoms—but fear of one thing: the passing of time. He was afraid he might be too late.
Until now, he had always believed the greatest threat was Destrover's full awakening. But now he realized something far more terrifying.
What if the true danger was not the being itself, but the state of Edward's own heart and mind? What if every pang of guilt, every haunting fear, and every trace of self-loathing he felt… were all small cracks slowly eating away at that ancient seal?
Altheon squeezed his eyes shut, drawing a long breath to steady his racing heart. He had to find the complete answers. And he had to find them quickly.
That same night, far away in Hougwe Village, in the simple room of the orphanage, Edward finally drifted off to sleep. His body was utterly exhausted after training as hard as he had all day, yet his mind never truly found rest. He slept, but his consciousness hovered somewhere between the waking world and the realm of dreams.
And once again, the dream came to him.
The world around him shifted violently. The dark sky turned a deep, blood-red. In the distance, great fires roared high into the air, burning bright as far as the eye could see.
Magnificent buildings crumbled into ruins, great towers collapsing one after another in clouds of thick dust. The air grew hot and stifling, filled with fine ash swirling everywhere, mixed with screams of terror, the sound of weeping, and the sharp, metallic stench of death.
Edward stood alone in the midst of this devastation. His heart pounded in time with the rumbling sounds echoing all around. He felt as though he had seen this place before, time and time again in the same dream.
Yet this time, everything was far clearer, far more vivid, and far more terrifying. He could even feel the heat of the flames brushing against his skin.
"W-why do I always return here…" he whispered softly, his voice swallowed by the roar of the fire.
No answer came. Only the endless crackle and blaze of the flames.
Edward walked slowly, his steps heavy as if a great weight pressed down upon his feet. He made his way through the rubble, until suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening at the sight that stretched out before him.
There, as far as he could see, lay thousands upon thousands of motionless bodies. There were soldiers clad in armor, mages in tattered robes, and strange creatures he had never seen before—all lying still, forming a vast, silent sea of death.
Edward felt his stomach turn, a deep dread seeping into his very bones. "What city is this…?" he breathed.
No one answered his question. Yet the longer he stared at the horrific scene, the stronger a strange feeling grew within him. It was as if this was no ordinary dream. It felt like a memory. A memory belonging to someone else.
In the distance, right at the heart of the greatest blaze, stood a single figure, tall and imposing, with its back turned toward Edward. Its black cloak fluttered wildly in the scorching wind. In its hand it held a sword far larger than any ordinary blade. The metal was dark and deep, seeming to swallow all the light around it as if it held immeasurable darkness within.
Edward held his breath, unable to tear his eyes away. There was something familiar about the figure, something that made his heart beat wildly. It was a feeling of recognition, as though he had seen this person before—yet he was certain he had never laid eyes on them in his entire life.
Slowly, the figure began to move. As if it had sensed Edward's presence there, it started to turn, slowly revealing its face.
Edward's heart raced faster, the thud echoing loudly in his own ears. "I must see his face…" he murmured, equal parts curious and afraid.
Just a little closer… just a little more…
But the moment the shadow of the face was about to come into clear view—the entire world around him suddenly shattered. The flames vanished, the red sky broke into countless shards, and everything dissolved into endless, pitch-black darkness.
In the vast darkness that swallowed everything, Edward heard a sound he knew all too well. The clinking of chains rubbing against one another.
Clang…
Clang…
Clang…
It was exactly the same sound he heard in the realm of consciousness, the place where Destrover was imprisoned. The noise made his entire body stiffen instantly.
Then, for just a fleeting moment, he saw the silhouette of a pair of glowing red eyes in the distance. They watched him calmly, observing, waiting.
And Edward knew with absolute certainty. This dream was not yet over. There was something it had not yet shown him. Something deliberately kept hidden.
Edward jolted awake with a start.
"GASP!"
He sat up, his breathing ragged and heavy. His entire body was soaked through with cold sweat. The room around him was still dark, lit only by moonlight filtering through the window cracks, casting faint shadows across the walls. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady his breath and calm his still-thundering heart.
But before he could truly settle, the voice returned. Right inside his mind, very quiet yet unmistakably clear.
"I know that man."
Edward's entire body went rigid. No. Not again. He did not want to hear it. He clamped his hands over his ears, as if that could block out a voice that came from within himself.
"Be quiet!" he snapped in a low voice.
"I have seen him. Many years ago."
"BE QUIET!"
"In fact… I once fought him."
Edward swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood abruptly, his eyes burning with a mix of terror and rising anger. "I said be quiet! Leave me alone!"
Silence fell once more over the room. But a moment later, the voice let out a soft laugh—not mocking or cruel, but the laugh of someone who held a great secret no one else knew. And that was precisely what made it feel so much more terrifying.
Edward stood frozen in the darkness. And for the first time, he began to fear one thing: that the dreams he was seeing were not his own. They belonged to someone living and trapped inside him. Someone named Destrover.
Morning arrived in Hougwe Village just as it always did. Birds chirped cheerfully from the orphanage roof, as if singing to welcome the new day. Children ran chasing each other across the front yard, their bright laughter breaking the quiet of dawn. Mrs. Selner was busy sweeping the veranda, occasionally calling out to Thomas, who was trying to sneak a piece of cake from the kitchen table before breakfast.
Everything looked normal. Completely normal. Almost too normal. And that was exactly what made Edward feel increasingly uneasy, as if something lay hidden beneath the surface of this peace.
He sat alone on the back steps, holding a cup of warm tea that was slowly losing its steam. Ever since waking from his dream the night before—since seeing that mysterious figure standing amid a sea of fire, and since hearing Destrover say he knew who that man was—Edward's mind had found no true rest. Those images kept swirling through his thoughts, refusing to fade.
"I will not listen to you," he murmured softly, more to himself than anything else. He tried to steady his heart, trying to believe he could still live as he always had, as if no heavy burden hung over his shoulders.
But just as he prepared to stand—
CRASH!
The world around him suddenly spun violently. His head felt as though it had been struck from within by a giant hammer, sending a sharp, spreading pain through his entire skull.
"Argh!"
Edward collapsed to his knees. The cup slipped from his hand and shattered against the hard ground.
"Brother Edward!"
Alice's voice rang out in alarm. The little girl ran over quickly, her face filled with worry. "Brother Edward! What's wrong?"
"I… I'm fine…" Edward stammered. But even as he spoke, his vision began to blur and waver. This was no ordinary ache—it felt as if something vast and powerful was pressing against his mind from the inside, trying to force its way through.
And deep within his consciousness, in that hidden place, he heard that familiar voice.
"You are so stubborn."
Edward clenched his teeth tightly. "No."
"Still trying to ignore me even when your own body is showing you the truth?"
"Be quiet."
"I haven't even said anything to you yet."
"BE QUIET!"
Alice jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide with fear. "Brother Edward?"
Edward suddenly realized he had shouted loudly. Alice's face had gone pale, her eyes glistening as she stared at him in confusion and fright. His chest tightened with regret. He had never meant to scare her. Never.
"A-Alice… I'm sorry. I'm really okay."
Yet even he knew those words were nothing but a lie.
A short while later, Silvia hurried over. She had just finished training at her usual spot when she heard the commotion from the backyard. The moment she saw Edward kneeling on the ground clutching his head, her expression turned serious.
"What happened here?" she asked firmly.
Alice pointed toward Edward with a trembling hand. "Brother Edward… he suddenly fell and grabbed his head."
Silvia immediately knelt before him, looking at him with sharp yet caring eyes. "Edward, look at me."
"I'm fine," Edward insisted again, trying to stand despite his weak legs.
"You always say that whenever something is wrong," Silvia said, her tone carrying a hint of frustration. But Edward knew her well enough—this was not anger, but deep concern.
She gently lifted his chin so he would meet her gaze. The dark circles beneath his eyes were clear, his face ashen, and his breathing came in uneven, ragged gasps.
"You have barely slept properly for days. You push yourself to train far beyond your limits, and now you have fallen ill like this."
"I really am fine."
"You are lying."
Edward fell silent. He could not argue any longer.
Silvia let out a long sigh, then spoke more gently but firmly. "You know, Edward… you do not have to carry everything by yourself. A burden too heavy will eventually make anyone fall."
Her words stirred something deep within him. In the quietest part of his heart, he longed to tell her everything. To speak of Destrover, of the voice that lingered constantly in his mind, of all the fear and doubt that haunted him. But he dared not. What if Silvia thought he had lost his mind? What if, once she knew the truth, everyone turned away from him in fear?
And so he offered only a faint smile that never reached his eyes, and lied once more. "I'm just tired, Silvia. That's all."
As afternoon drew near, Edward decided to go alone to the hill behind the village. It was the place where Silvia usually trained him—quiet, and far from the noise of the village. He hoped he might find some peace there, or at least that was what he told himself.
But the moment he reached that high, open spot, the pain in his head returned. This time it was far sharper and stronger than before, as if countless fine needles were pricking him from within.
"Argh…" he groaned softly, dropping to his knees in the grass. His left hand dug into the earth until his nails pressed hard against his palms.
And then, something unexpected began to happen.
At first it was just a faint, flickering glow—bright red, followed by a deep shade of blue. The two colors slowly swirled around one another, forming a pattern he knew all too well. An eye. The Red-Blue Eye—the symbol of Balance.
But this time was different. The symbol was not just the size of a palm, nor did it appear only briefly before vanishing. It formed clearly right before him, floating in mid-air untouched, and pulsed gently as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Edward froze in place. His heart raced so fast it felt as though it might leap right out of his chest.
"What… what is this…" he whispered in disbelief.
The symbol slowly turned. And as he stared directly into its center, he felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if the symbol was staring back at him, watching his every move, judging who he was.
For the first time since seeing this mark, Edward truly felt as though it was alive.
Suddenly, the small sword-shaped pendant around his neck began to vibrate softly. Edward reached for it with trembling hands. It felt warm—unusually warm, as if it had just been pulled from a fire. Golden light began to seep through the cracks in its ancient engravings. The magical runes that had long appeared dull and lifeless began to glow one by one, flickering like stars awakening from a long slumber.
Edward's eyes widened in disbelief. "What is truly happening?"
The Red-Blue Eye before him pulsed even stronger, while the pendant in his hand reacted with increasing intensity. The two seemed to respond to one another, as if they were two pieces of a great puzzle finally recognizing each other.
And for just a fleeting moment, Edward heard a clear ringing sound—the clash of two blades striking against each other. It came from far away, yet felt strangely familiar—as if he had heard it countless times long ago.
Silence settled over the entire hill. The gentle breeze that usually blew suddenly died away. The birds singing in the trees fell silent. Even the world around him seemed to freeze in a heavy stillness.
Then Destrover's voice returned. This time it lacked its usual mockery, sarcasm, or arrogance. Instead, it sounded grave, heavy, and full of intent.
"I do not care whether you hate me or not."
Edward did not reply. His gaze remained fixed upon the floating symbol.
"Nor do I care whether you believe me or not."
Silence hung between them once more.
"But there is one thing you must understand: you must start listening."
For the first time, Edward felt something strange and unexpected. Fear—but not fear born from within himself. He sensed it coming from somewhere else—faint, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably there.
And that made him feel even more uneasy. How could a being as powerful and dangerous as Destrover feel fear?
"I will not listen to you," Edward said firmly.
"In the end, you will."
"Never."
"Because what is coming cannot be stopped simply by closing your ears and pretending not to know."
Edward clenched his fists tightly. "I do not need you. I can face everything on my own."
Destrover remained silent for a long while. At last, he spoke again, his voice very soft, almost like a heavy sigh.
"That is what I fear most."
Far away, hidden among the thick trees at the edge of the forest, someone stood watching silently. The dark cloak they wore blended perfectly with the shadows of the approaching dusk, making them nearly invisible to the naked eye.
He saw the Red-Blue Eye pulsing in the air, the golden light shining from the pendant around Edward's neck, and the confused, frightened expression on the boy's face.
Slowly, the man pulled a circular object made of ancient metal from beneath his cloak. The moment it appeared, it began to glow with a bright, pulsing red light. The man narrowed his eyes, gazing intently at the glow.
"So what was written in the old records is true," he murmured softly. "The seal is beginning to react… and weaken."
His gaze grew sharp and calculating. "Then time is running short. Everything will soon change."
A moment later, his figure slowly faded into the darkness of the forest, as if he had never been there at all.
As Edward turned his eyes back to the symbol still floating before him, the world around him suddenly began to tremble violently.
CRACK—
The sky above seemed to split like shattering glass. The hill, the grass, the trees, and the fresh air all vanished instantly, replaced by a place completely unfamiliar.
Edward found himself standing in the middle of a magnificent ancient city. Tall white towers rose high as if reaching for the sky, wide streets paved with sparkling crystal stretched as far as the eye could see, and giant statues stood proudly at every corner. At its center stood a palace so grand and beautiful it surpassed anything Edward had ever seen in his entire life.
Edward stared at the sight before him, breath caught in awe. "What is this… what place is this…"
But suddenly, the atmosphere shifted drastically. Loud sounds erupted—screams of terror, deafening explosions, the clash of weapons, and the roar of fire consuming everything. The beautiful city slowly transformed into a scene of ruin. The once-clear sky turned blood-red, the ground beneath cracked and split open, and terrifying shadowy creatures began to emerge from the darkness.
And amid all the chaos and destruction, a voice rang out loud and clear, as if coming from a great distance. One name spoken with both power and despair.
"EQUILIBRIS!"
BOOM!
The vision shattered and vanished instantly. Edward stumbled backward, finding himself once again standing on the quiet hill. He gasped for breath, his entire body trembling violently as if he had just escaped a terrible nightmare.
"Equilibris…" he whispered softly, repeating the name he had just heard. It felt foreign to his ears, yet strangely familiar—as if it had once been a part of him in a distant past.
And for some reason, the moment he spoke that name, the sword pendant around his neck began to glow once more—far brighter and stronger than before.
Night fell once more over Hougwe Village. Edward stood alone in the backyard, gazing up at the sky filled with twinkling stars. Yet his heart found no peace. He gripped the pendant tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white.
"I do not care who you truly are," he said softly, speaking into the darkness as if Destrover could still hear him. "I do not care what you know or what you want. I will never trust you."
The night breeze blew gently, carrying away dry leaves around him. No answer came. No whisper, no voice—only the quiet stillness of the night.
But deep within that dark realm of consciousness, behind the ancient chains that were beginning to show faint cracks, behind the seal whose power was slowly fading… a pair of red eyes slowly opened and burned bright.
Destrover remained silent for a long time. Then, for the first time since they had met, his voice held no anger, no mockery, and no arrogance. It sounded only disappointed.
"If that is how it must be…"
Silence filled the darkness there.
"Then you will be forced to see the truth with your own eyes."
The two red eyes glowed even brighter, casting a faint but heavy light. And far away, in a place long lost to history and hidden behind the thick mist of time… something that had slept for thousands of years began to slowly awaken.