Night had fallen deep.
Nearly all of Hougwe Village lay wrapped in silence. Only the chirping of crickets and the soft sigh of the wind brushing against the wooden rooftops broke the stillness. Yet in one quiet corner of the village, a single room remained untouched by darkness.
It was Altheon's study.
Candlelight flickered gently, casting a golden glow that danced across the stacks of ancient books and scrolls covering every surface of the large desk. Long shadows stretched along the walls, like silent witnesses to the secrets kept within these walls. Altheon stood with his back to the window, his posture still straight despite the years that had etched deep lines into his skin. His gaze remained fixed on the final page of an old book—one that had opened on its own several hours earlier.
There, clearly drawn, was a symbol that had haunted his thoughts far too often of late: an eye formed by two contrasting yet perfectly blended colors—crimson and sapphire. For centuries, this mark had only been whispered of in legends, something meant to be buried and forgotten, something that should never have risen to the surface of the world again.
But reality told a different story.
That very symbol now lived within Edward.
The old wizard let out a long, heavy breath, laden with the weight of years. His wrinkled, weathered hand reached out slowly, brushing against the fragile, time-worn page.
"It is far too soon…" he murmured softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the night wind. "This was never meant to happen now."
In an instant, memories of the Hall of Awakening came flooding back—the deafening blast that had torn through its walls, the screams of terror from wizards once known for their courage, and the suffocating aura of darkness, cold as a tomb and heavy as a mountain, that had engulfed the entire chamber. And in the heart of all that chaos stood a young boy, confused and lost, with no understanding of what had just unfolded around him.
Edward.
Altheon closed his eyes, trying to steady the turmoil rising in his chest. With each passing day, the signs grew clearer and harder to conceal. Destrover was slowly stirring from its long slumber. The seals forged at such great cost over generations were weakening, little by little. And the time they had left to prepare, to find a way forward, was slipping away.
At last, he opened his eyes once more. Standing tall, he tapped the end of his wooden staff lightly against the stone floor. The sound echoed clearly in the quiet room, as if marking a decision finally made.
"It is time to open the archives."
The words felt heavy, as if he had just spoken aloud something he had spent decades avoiding—something he had always considered a last resort, never to be used unless all else failed.
But before he could take a single step, he paused. His eyes fell upon an old photograph resting neatly on a small shelf in the corner. It had faded slightly with age, yet the face within remained clear: Selner. The woman who had raised Edward with endless kindness, the friend who had stood beside him for decades, guarding the same secrets and promising to protect this heavy destiny together.
A bitter smile touched his lips—one that never reached the depth of his eyes.
"I have failed to keep my promise," he whispered.
Old memories stirred, as vivid as if they had happened only yesterday. A stormy night, years ago, at the door of the orphanage. A woman with silver hair stood there, holding tightly to a small bundle wrapped in thick cloth—a baby who carried within him a destiny that could one day reshape the very course of the world. That night, Altheon had sworn to himself and to Selner: no matter what happened, he would protect that child with everything he had.
Yet now, the secrets they had buried so deeply, the truths they had locked away, were beginning to stir once more. And for the first time in his long life, he wondered if he still possessed the strength to stop what was coming.
Not long after, Altheon made his way toward the ruins of the Hall of Awakening. Once a grand and majestic structure, it now stood in a state of sorrowful disrepair, still bearing the scars of the incident weeks before. Great cracks split its walls, sections of the ceiling had collapsed into piles of stone and dust, and many of the ancient runes that once glowed with bright magic had dimmed, their power fading.
The silence here was profound—too profound. Even the night wind seemed reluctant to pass through this place, as if afraid to disturb the stillness that hung over it. Altheon stepped into the main hall, his footsteps echoing loudly through the empty space. Once, this place had been filled with wizards deep in study, brimming with light, hope, and life. Now it held nothing but the shadows of the past and the haunting weight of memory.
As he reached the center of the ruined chamber, Altheon stopped. He knelt slowly, placing his palm against the cracked stone floor. This was where it had all begun. This was where Edward had unknowingly awakened something that was meant to remain asleep forever.
The faces of the terrified wizards that night were still vivid in his mind. He could still hear the thunderous roar of the explosion. He could still feel the oppressive, suffocating darkness that had made it hard to breathe. And most troubling of all were the words he had read in ancient texts decades before:
"When the Vessel opens its eyes…
Darkness shall rise with it."
Altheon squeezed his eyes shut, wishing with all his heart that the prophecy was nothing more than a frightening tale. But with every passing day, that hope grew thinner and thinner.
Deep within the ruins, hidden away and almost forgotten by time, lay a secret passage. There was no ordinary door, no lock, and no visible guard—only a massive stone wall covered entirely in ancient runes, arranged in a great circle. Many of the symbols had faded with the ages, yet the magic woven into them still hummed with power, sharp and cold enough to chill the bones.
Altheon stood before the wall, calm and steady. From beneath his robes, he drew a small, sharp dagger. Without hesitation, he pressed its tip against the palm of his hand. Fresh red blood welled up and dripped slowly onto the cold stone.
In an instant, the runes along the wall began to glow. One by one, they flared to life in shifting hues of crimson, sapphire, and gold. The ancient light filled the narrow passage, illuminating every shadowed corner. The ground beneath his feet trembled gently, followed by the low, grinding sound of a great mechanism turning behind the stone.
GRRRRRR—
Slowly, steadily, the massive stone door began to slide aside, sending clouds of dust swirling into the air. It was as if the place itself had just woken from a slumber lasting thousands of years.
Altheon glanced at his bleeding palm, then offered a faint, ironic smile.
"How strange…" he murmured. "The older one grows… the higher the price one must pay for the truth."
He knew full well what opening this door meant. Once he stepped through, there would be no turning back. For there were truths in this world so heavy, so dark, and so painful that they could shatter the mind and heart of anyone who dared to uncover them. But tonight, he was resolved to learn everything.
At last, the stone door slid fully open, revealing the space beyond. Altheon fell silent for a moment. Though he had set foot here decades ago, the sight before him still took his breath away.
The room was vast—far larger than it appeared from the outside. Towering shelves of black stone rose high toward the shadowed ceiling, holding thousands of books and scrolls, carefully preserved. Ancient texts were sealed within crystal tubes that glowed with a faint, soft light, while strange and dangerous artifacts were encircled by protective magical wards. Some radiated such intense power that the air around them felt thick and heavy to breathe.
This was no ordinary library. It was a tomb of history—a place where the world's greatest secrets had been buried, never to be revealed.
Altheon walked slowly between the rows of shelves, his eyes scanning the titles on the spines of the books. Many bore names long forgotten by the wizards of the present age—names of kingdoms swallowed by the earth, races that had vanished forever, and terrible wars deliberately erased from history so that they might never be repeated. The deeper he went, the more he understood a sad truth: the world as it was known today was only a small fragment of the past. The rest had been buried, hidden, or intentionally forgotten, all to keep fear at bay.
At the very back of the library, concealed behind seven layers of glowing, fading seals, stood a shelf of black stone unlike any other. Carved into its surface was an ancient symbol that instantly dropped the temperature around it, cold enough to bite through the skin. And there, engraved in the center, were words that made Altheon's heart race:
FORBIDDEN RECORDS
Texts that even the highest-ranking wizards were forbidden to read.
Altheon stood tall before it, his gaze sharp and serious. His heart beat faster than usual. He knew it was here that he would likely find the answers he had sought for so long. And perhaps, too, the reason why the fate of this world had been forever altered thousands of years before.
The air inside the Forbidden Library felt heavy, as if thick with the dust of time that had settled there over thousands of years. A strange, watchful presence lingered in every corner—as though each stone shelf, each weathered book, and every carefully stored artifact was silently observing every step Altheon took.
The light cast by the magic crystals hanging high above was dim, illuminating only a small portion of the vast room. The rest remained swallowed in deep shadow, guarding secrets the world was never meant to know.
At last, Altheon stopped directly before a large chest carved from black stone. Compared to the shelves and storage containers surrounding it, this one appeared far older. Its surface was crisscrossed with fine, irregular cracks—the indelible marks of time that no force could erase. But what made Altheon tense instantly was the symbol clearly engraved upon its lid.
The Eye of Red and Blue.
The very same symbol. One that had existed only in legend for centuries, yet now appeared again and again, inextricably bound to Edward.
"So you have kept it here all this time…" Altheon murmured softly, his voice echoing gently through the silence.
His wrinkled hand reached out to brush the chest's surface. At once, the thick layer of dust covering it stirred and fell away, revealing the faint, ancient luster of the stone that had remained sealed for so long. When he tried to lift the lid, it gave way with a long, heavy groan—as if reluctant to surrender its contents.
CREAK…
Inside, there were no stacks of documents, nor any treasure. Only one object lay resting alone: a scroll made from material so dark it was almost pitch black. Its hue was so deep it seemed darker than the shadows around it, as though the scroll itself possessed the power to absorb all light that drew near.
Altheon stared at it for a long time. He recognized this scroll. He knew exactly what it contained. And precisely because he knew it so well, his heart was filled with profound doubt. He did not want to touch it.
"Thirty years…" he whispered again, drawing a long breath to steady his quickening pulse. "For thirty years, I hoped I would never have to open this again."
With hands that trembled slightly, he slowly lifted the black scroll. The moment his fingertips brushed its surface, a sharp, biting cold shot upward, creeping slowly all the way to the very marrow of his bones. It felt strangely alive—as if something that had slept soundly for thousands of years was now beginning to open its eyes.
The instant his skin made contact with the scroll, a memory he had long buried deep within himself surged forth, vivid and sharp as if it had happened only yesterday.
He saw himself as a young man—back when he was still a spirited royal wizard, with thick dark hair and an unshakable belief that everything in the world could be explained and understood through knowledge and logic.
But in that memory, he also recalled clearly the night his wise and respected master had shown him this very same scroll. The old man's face had been ashen, and his hands had shaken violently as he held it, as if the object itself bore an unimaginable weight.
"Never read this alone," his master had warned, his voice grave and heavy.
"Why, Master?" young Altheon had asked, his curiosity burning bright.
"Because there is knowledge in this world that will change how you see everything. Once you know it, you will never be able to look at the world the same way again."
At the time, young Altheon had merely laughed softly, dismissing his master's words as an overzealous warning. But now? In his old age, he no longer laughed. He understood fully what his master had meant. Those words were a bitter, unvarnished truth.
With great care, Altheon began to unroll the scroll. Its material felt incredibly ancient, yet strangely it showed no sign of decay—as if time itself held no power to damage it. Slowly, ancient script appeared one character at a time, as though ink that had long lain dormant was now stirring back to life, glowing faintly in the dim light.
Altheon read in silence, absorbing every sentence with utmost care. But as he continued, his eyes slowly widened in disbelief.
"When the heavens are torn asunder…"
"…Destrover shall descend upon the world."
The room seemed to grow even quieter. Only the sound of Altheon's breathing could be heard—steady, yet heavy with dread. He swallowed hard and pressed on to the next line.
"The stars shall fall from their places."
"The great oceans shall turn pitch black."
"And the balance maintained for thousands of years shall slowly begin to crumble."
Altheon gripped the edges of the scroll so tightly his knuckles turned white. The words written here were far older than any official record kept by any kingdom. Far older than the history taught in all schools of magic even to this day. If what was written here was true… then nearly all the history the world believed in was nothing more than a carefully constructed lie.
Overcome with unease, Altheon hurried to another shelf and retrieved several volumes of ancient historical texts stored there. He laid them out upon the stone table and began comparing their contents line by line, his movements quick and urgent.
The official records, long accepted as fact, stated:
Destrover appeared in the world as a demon of destruction, bringing ruin and calamity.
But the words in the black scroll told a different story:
Destrover shall descend upon the world.
Descend.
Not born. Not simply appearing out of nowhere. But descend. A single word, seemingly simple, yet one that could alter the entire meaning and perception of everything.
Altheon muttered softly, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the text.
"What are you, truly…"
He returned his attention to the scroll and continued reading, delving deeper into its contents. The more he read, the more unsettled he became—and the more terrifying the truths he uncovered seemed.
One detail stood out most strikingly: nowhere in the text was Destrover ever referred to as a demon. Not once. Not even a single time.
Instead, the words read:
The First Calamity.
Altheon froze in place. He read that phrase again, and again, to be certain his eyes were not deceiving him. It remained the same. There was no mention of a Demon King, Lord of Darkness, or God of Destruction. Only a title: The First Calamity.
A title. Not a race. Not a type of being. Not an identity. It was as if Destrover was not someone who had been born into the world at all—but rather a great event, a catastrophic phenomenon that had simply come to pass.
"This cannot be…" Altheon whispered, his voice trembling. But he knew, with a sinking feeling, that the most terrible truths were yet to come.
In the corner of the page, there was a short note written in someone's own hand. The script was extremely old, faded almost to the point of being illegible. Altheon leaned closer, focusing his vision, and read slowly.
"If Destrover is the First Calamity…"
"…then is there a Second?"
For a heartbeat, Altheon's heart seemed to stop beating entirely. For the first time that night, he felt genuine, bone-deep terror—the kind that seeped into the very core of his being.
With hands that shook noticeably, Altheon turned to the next page. There, a large illustration depicted a harrowing scene: a vast battlefield, the world laid waste and shattered, the sky split in two, oceans boiling with fire, and great mountains crumbling into dust. At the center of the chaos stood two immense forces facing one another, radiating opposing currents of red and blue light that pulled and clashed against each other.
Beneath the image were the words:
The War of Balance
Altheon frowned. He had heard this name before. He had seen it in the visions Edward had experienced, scattered across separate ancient documents, in the very meaning behind the Eye of Red and Blue symbol, and even linked to the name Equilibris.
His hands began to tremble violently. The more pieces of the puzzle he uncovered, the clearer it became that everything was tightly connected. And all those threads ultimately led back to one single person: a ten-year-old boy.
Edward Briar.
Altheon leaned back against the stone chair, his gaze fixed blankly upon the dark room. In his mind, Edward's face appeared vividly. He saw the boy who willingly helped wash dishes in the orphanage kitchen, who quietly shared his own meager rations with little Alice, who always tried to wear a smile even when his life was filled with hardship and loneliness.
That boy. It was always him.
Why did all these ancient records point toward him? Why did every prophecy and warning from the past revolve around his existence? Why did it feel as though the greatest secrets of the world had waited thousands of years only to be revealed when he came of age?
"Who are you, truly, Edward…" he murmured softly, barely audible.
Altheon turned the next page. But he stopped short. It was blank. He turned another. Still blank. Page after page, dozens of them in a row—all empty.
Not because they had been damaged by time, nor burned or rotted away. They had been deliberately torn out and removed. Someone in the past had intentionally erased specific parts of this history. And whoever it was knew exactly which sections to remove, so that the full truth would never be known.
Altheon clenched his jaw tightly.
"Who would dare do such a thing?"
He turned until he reached the final page that remained. At the very bottom, a single short sentence was written—a line that made the blood in his veins turn cold.
"If this record is found…"
"…then history has failed to protect the truth."
The room fell once more into thick, heavy silence. Altheon slowly rolled up the black scroll, yet the weight upon his chest felt far heavier than before.
He realized something that sent a shiver running down his spine: they were not merely facing legends. They were not dealing with ancient tales that existed only in stories. They were facing something that had truly happened long ago. And most of that long-buried truth… was now slowly beginning to awaken within Edward Briar.
The soft sound of old pages being turned broke the heavy silence inside the Forbidden Archives. Altheon remained standing tall before the great stone table, his gaze fixed and unblinking upon the open black scroll before him. His mind raced with a flood of grim possibilities, each darker than the last. The more he read and understood, the deeper he wished he had never uncovered these secrets at all.
But that fragile calm did not last long.
CREAK…
The faint groan of an old door echoed through the silence. Altheon turned sharply. Standing in the doorway, frozen in place, was a figure.
Silvia.
The girl looked slightly out of breath, as though she had walked quickly or even run a long distance. Her brown hair was disheveled, blown by the wind and her own haste. But what stood out most was her expression—sharp, determined, and unyielding. For the first time since Altheon had known her, Silvia did not come as a young person seeking advice or help. She came as someone demanding answers that had long been kept from her.
"So this place really does exist," she said firmly.
Altheon let out a long, weary sigh.
"I suspected you would find me and make your way here eventually."
Silvia stepped slowly inside, her eyes sweeping across the vast room. She took in the towering rows of ancient shelves, the strange artifacts sealed away, and the scrolls holding centuries of hidden knowledge. But eventually, her gaze settled directly on the black scroll lying open upon the stone table.
"Is this the place you have been hiding from all of us?" she asked again.
Altheon did not reply. He remained silent, watching her with an unreadable expression. Yet his silence itself served as the clearest and most convincing answer.
Silvia drew closer to the table, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. Over the past few days, a sense of unease had lingered in her mind. She could feel that something was wrong—something slowly shifting, yet hard to put into words. Edward was changing. He drifted off into thought more often, as if his mind were somewhere far away. He frequently tried to hide a deep-seated fear, and often clutched his head tightly when he thought no one was watching. And every time Silvia tried to ask what was truly happening—Edward would smile. But it was a smile that felt forced, a smile that only made Silvia's heart ache all the more.
"I followed you from early this morning," Silvia said, breaking the silence.
Altheon raised an eyebrow, surprised but not entirely taken aback.
"You followed me?"
Silvia nodded firmly.
"Because every time I try to ask about Edward's condition…" She clenched her fists tightly, struggling to contain the emotions welling up inside her. "…everyone seems to have agreed that I should stop asking and that there are things I do not need to know."
The room fell once more into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Finally, Silvia's patience reached its limit. She could no longer hold back the questions and fears weighing heavily on her mind.
"What is truly happening to Edward?" she asked, her voice trembling—not from anger, but from deep, unshakable fear. "Why does he keep changing like this? Why does he always seem to be hiding some kind of pain he will not speak of? Why does he suffer through terrible nightmares every single night?"
Altheon closed his eyes tightly, still offering no answer.
Silvia took another step forward, her tone growing more resolute.
"Does all of this have something to do with the incident at the Hall of Awakening some time ago?"
Still, there was no reply.
"Answer me!"
At last, her voice rose, breaking into a shout that echoed sharply off the stone walls.
"I am family to him! If he is in danger, I have the right to know what is threatening him!"
Altheon slowly lowered his head. The heavy burden he had carried for decades seemed visibly etched upon his now slightly hunched shoulders.
For what felt like an eternity, not a single word was spoken. Silvia bit her lip, trying to hold back her disappointment and fear. She hated this silence. The longer Altheon remained quiet, the stronger the conviction grew in her heart—that her worst fears might indeed be true.
At last, Altheon spoke, his voice soft and heavy with gravity.
"I am not silent because I do not know the answers, Silvia."
Silvia froze where she stood, looking at the old man with a mix of confusion and desperate hope.
"Then why will you not explain it to me?"
Altheon looked deep into her eyes.
"Because there are truths in this world… that are far more dangerous and painful than the lies we tell to protect others."
Altheon slowly reached out and picked up a sheet of old parchment carefully stored inside a wooden box. The paper was incredibly thin and fragile, nearly crumbling away with age, yet the image drawn in its center remained clear.
A symbol she knew all too well.
Two eyes—one burning bright red, the other deep, vivid blue.
Silvia instantly went still, her breath catching in her throat.
"That…"
She recognized this symbol perfectly. Far too well. It was the same mark that had briefly appeared on Edward's palm when he had fallen unconscious. The same symbol that pulsed with light upon the pendant he wore. The same image that often filled Edward with terror whenever he saw it in his dreams.
"It is exactly the same symbol," she whispered.
Altheon nodded slowly.
"Yes. It is the very same."
Silvia stared at the image a moment longer. Strangely, the longer she looked, the more an unsettling feeling crept up her spine. It was as if the symbol was not merely drawn upon the paper, but was watching her back from the shadows of the distant past.
Altheon then turned to another page of the document. There, an illustration even older than the previous one was visible. It depicted a young boy, appearing to be around the same age as Edward was now. And clearly etched upon his palm was the exact same Eye of Red and Blue.
Silvia's throat suddenly felt dry.
"Who is that boy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Altheon gazed at the drawing for a long time, as if searching for an answer that was not there.
"I do not know his name."
"Then why is his image kept in such a secret place as this?"
"Because someone in the past believed him to be either too important to be forgotten, or perhaps too dangerous to be remembered."
The answer only caused Silvia's fear to grow deeper.
Altheon turned to the next page. Its surface was covered in ancient script, most of which had faded and was difficult to decipher. But in the center, one word remained printed clearly and boldly, as if the ink used to write it possessed the power to resist the passage of time itself.
Silvia read it slowly, sounding out each letter with great care.
"E… Q… U… I… L… I… B… R… I… S…"
Her breath caught instantly.
"Equilibris…"
The room suddenly felt colder than before. The name sounded foreign to her ears, yet at the same time, strangely familiar. It was as though she had heard it in a distant, long-forgotten memory, lingering only as a faint shadow in the back of her mind.
Suddenly, a long-buried memory rose vividly to the surface. She saw herself as a very young child, lying in bed at the orphanage. Beside her sat Mrs. Selner, reading an ancient tale to her before she fell asleep. She could no longer recall the entire story, but she remembered clearly one word spoken by the woman.
One single word.
Equilibris.
And at that very moment, Mrs. Selner had stopped speaking, as if realizing she had just uttered something that children were never meant to know. From that night onward, she had never finished the story.
Silvia's eyes widened in shock.
"That… I have heard that name before," she said, astonished.
Altheon turned immediately, his gaze sharp and attentive.
"What did you just say?"
Altheon looked back at the ancient text before him, reading aloud in a voice heavy with meaning.
"Equilibris is no ordinary human. Nor is it a god to be worshipped. Nor is it a demon to be feared. It is the guardian of balance for the entire world."
Silvia frowned, confused and struggling to understand.
"What does it mean to be the guardian of the world's balance?"
Altheon let out a long breath before explaining.
"This world always moves between two opposing yet complementary forces. There is light and there is darkness. There is creation and there is destruction. There is order and there is chaos." He pointed to the writing on the parchment. "And Equilibris is that which ensures these two forces remain balanced, so that neither grows too strong and destroys the other."
Silvia swallowed hard, trying to grasp the meaning.
"So… it is like a guardian making sure the world remains safe and follows its proper course?"
Altheon did not answer immediately. He simply shook his head slowly.
"Something like that. But something that holds the power to maintain the balance of an entire world…" His expression grew dark and filled with deep concern. "…is certainly not something simple or easily understood."
Silvia studied the expression on Altheon's face. Something felt off. The old man did not sound amazed or reverent when speaking of this being. Instead, his tone was laced with deep caution.
"You are afraid," Silvia observed.
Altheon fell silent for a moment.
"You are afraid of Equilibris?"
Altheon glanced around the room filled with the secrets of the past, then looked back at Silvia with unflinching honesty.
"I am not afraid of the being itself. I am afraid of what will happen if these ancient legends turn out to be true."
Altheon opened the final remaining page—the last one that had not been torn out. The writing here appeared far older than the rest, with most of the letters almost completely worn away by time. Yet one sentence remained perfectly legible.
"When the final Vessel is born into the world…"
"…light and darkness shall meet once more in a single place."
Silvia read the words over and over in her mind, and slowly her face turned pale.
The Vessel.
That word had appeared countless times in the various records they had discovered. And before she even realized it, Edward's image flashed clearly in her thoughts. His glowing pendant, the recurring symbol of the Red and Blue Eye, the strange visions he experienced, the nightmares that haunted him, and all the mysteries surrounding his life. Everything seemed to connect into one long, unbroken thread.
"Altheon…" she called, her voice barely a whisper.
The old man did not reply. He simply stared at the text before him, because for the first time that night, both were thinking the same possibility—the one they had long tried to avoid and deny.
That Edward Briar might not be just another ordinary orphan living in Hougwe Village. That perhaps, from the very moment he was born… he was the center of a great destiny that had waited thousands of years to finally awaken.
The archive room fell once more into a thick, heavy silence. The only sound was the soft rustle of ancient pages being turned slowly between Altheon's fingers.
Silvia stood motionless beside the stone table, her mind still reeling as she tried to process everything she had just learned. Equilibris, the Vessel, the Guardian of Balance—all these names and terms swirled through her thoughts like a relentless storm, crashing against one another. And at the very center of that whirlwind, one figure always appeared: Edward.
"There is more you need to see," Altheon's voice cut through the quiet.
The old man reached out and drew forth a book far thinner than the other records. Its cover was nearly worn away by time, its surface crisscrossed with fine cracks spreading in every direction—as if the object itself had traveled through thousands of years just to arrive here.
"What is this?" Silvia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Altheon did not answer immediately. His gaze held a trace of hesitation, heavy with consideration, as if he understood that what he was about to show them could completely shatter everything they believed about the world and its past.
"This document was discovered within the ruins of an ancient kingdom long since lost to time," he said softly. "It is estimated to be over a thousand years old."
Silvia swallowed hard, and her heart suddenly began to beat far faster than usual.
Altheon turned the first page, then the second, before finally stopping on the third. And as Silvia's eyes fell upon what lay there, her breath caught in her throat.
It was a carefully drawn ancient illustration: the figure of a young boy, no older than ten or eleven. He had dark hair and a slender build, with simple, unremarkable features—nothing about him stood out as extraordinary. Yet there was something about him that made Silvia unable to look away. She felt as though she had seen this face before. Or at the very least… it bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she knew all too well.
"Impossible…" she whispered, so quietly it was almost lost.
Silvia stepped closer to the table, leaning in to examine every detail of the drawing. She studied the shape of his face, the line of his jaw, the arch of his brows, even the look in his eyes. The way he stood, the posture of his body—everything felt strangely familiar.
Altheon watched the shifting emotions play clearly across the girl's face.
"You see it too, do you not?" he finally asked.
Silvia did not answer at once. She hesitated, afraid to speak the words aloud—as if saying them would turn all the vague suspicions she had harbored into a harsh, undeniable reality.
"It…" Her voice trembled as she continued. "…it looks like Edward."
Altheon closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long breath, as if he had expected those words to be spoken.
"Yes," he replied simply.
Just one word. Yet it was enough to send a chill racing down Silvia's spine, raising every hair on her arms.
Silvia continued to stare at the illustration in disbelief. Then, a moment later, something in the corner of the drawing caught her eye. Just beneath the boy's eyes, a small symbol was etched. At first it seemed faint and indistinct, but as she looked closer, its shape grew clearer.
Two eyes merged into one—one burning bright red, the other deep, dark blue.
The Eye of Red and Blue.
The very same symbol. The same mark that had briefly appeared on Edward's palm. The same symbol that glowed brightly whenever the pendant he wore reacted. The same symbol that had haunted their thoughts and lives for so long.
Silvia took a step back, as if she had just seen something terrifying, a ghostly apparition.
"No… this can't be…" she murmured, her hands beginning to shake violently. "This cannot be mere coincidence."
Altheon did not argue. He too had tried time and again to convince himself that it was nothing more than chance, a simple resemblance. Yet every time he tried, he could not deny the truth staring back at him.
Suddenly, a memory from a few nights earlier rose vividly in Silvia's mind. She recalled watching Edward as he slept restlessly, his face damp with sweat and twisted with unease. Faint red and blue light had glowed from the pendant around his neck, and for a brief moment, that same symbol had appeared upon his palm, accompanied by an expression of pain that had felt like a knife to the heart.
Those memories now felt far more terrifying than before. For she understood one crucial thing: Edward was not the first person to bear this mark. Someone who had lived thousands of years ago had carried the exact same symbol.
Silvia bit her lip until it stung, struggling to contain the turmoil churning within her.
"Please tell me this is nothing more than a legend," she pleaded, her voice weak.
But Altheon remained silent, not uttering a single word. And once again, that silence served as the most honest—and most painful—answer of all.
Altheon slowly turned to the next page. Beneath the illustration lay several lines of ancient script, most of which had faded almost completely away with time. Yet one part—the date marking when it was created—remained clear enough to read.
Silvia read it slowly, and instantly her face turned ashen. Her eyes widened in shock.
"It can't be…" she whispered. "This year…"
She calculated quickly in her mind, comparing it to the calendar she knew. When she finished, she looked up at Altheon, her eyes filled with terror.
"This was over a thousand years ago."
The old man nodded slowly, his voice heavy.
"To be precise—one thousand, one hundred and thirty-two years ago."
The room seemed to grow suddenly colder, as if the chill of the distant past had seeped in to surround them. Silvia looked back at the drawing of the boy—the boy who shared Edward's face, bore the same mark, and had lived more than a millennium earlier. Her heart pounded so hard it felt painful in her chest.
For the first time in her life, Silvia truly grasped just how vast and profound the mystery they were facing really was. This was no mere secret hidden by a kingdom. It was not the scheme of some ancient order seeking power. Nor was it simply a tale told to frighten children.
This was something that stretched back far longer than all the history she had ever learned. Older than the age of the kingdom that stood today. Longer than the lives of hundreds of generations of people who had lived and died. And somehow, in the midst of this endless river of time—Edward Briar now stood right at its center.
"Why must it be him?" she whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the silence.
Altheon stared at the illustration for a long time, his eyes filled with deep sorrow.
"That is the very same question I have spent so many years trying to answer," he replied honestly.
Silvia stepped back slowly until she sank down onto an old stone chair beside the table. Her legs felt weak, as if all the strength had drained from her body. Her mind raced with possibilities that grew increasingly difficult to accept.
"Is Edward…" She paused, searching for the right words. "…is he the reincarnation of this boy?"
Altheon raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You mean—reborn?"
Silvia nodded uncertainly.
"It could be. Or perhaps he is a direct descendant. Or…" She clasped her hands tightly together, trying to steady herself. "…or there is another explanation we have not yet even imagined or understood."
Altheon glanced around the room lined with shelves of books and scrolls filled with ancient history, then gave a bitter smile.
"For decades I have studied the history and knowledge of this world," he said softly. "Yet the more I learn, the more clearly I realize one truth: we know very little of what is actually real."
Silvia looked back at the ancient illustration. There was another thought she had not yet spoken aloud—something that had been lingering in her mind, far more frightening than any of her previous suspicions.
"Altheon…" she called.
"Yes?"
"What if…" She swallowed hard to steady her voice. "…what if this boy is not Edward's past?"
Altheon frowned, confused by her meaning.
"What do you mean?"
Silvia pointed toward the drawing with a slightly trembling finger.
"What if they are not the same person? Not related by blood? Not even the same soul reborn?"
"Then what are you suggesting?" Altheon asked, his tone growing serious.
Silvia shifted her gaze to the clearly drawn Eye of Red and Blue, then spoke the words that made the room fall into a heavy, tense silence once more.
"What if, throughout all these thousands of years… there has always been a Vessel?"
Altheon froze instantly. For several long seconds, not a single sound escaped his lips. For the possibility she had just voiced was far more terrifying than any theory they had ever considered.
If Silvia was right, then Edward was neither the beginning of this story nor its end. He was merely one link in a long chain that had stretched across centuries. And who knew how many other Vessels had lived, then vanished and been erased from history without leaving a clear trace?
Amidst that suffocating silence, the light from the magic crystals hanging from the ceiling suddenly began to flicker—dimming and brightening slowly. It was as if something ancient, something that had slept for thousands of years, had just overheard their conversation and was beginning to stir awake.
The underground archive room fell once more into silence. The only sound was the faint crackle of the lantern flames illuminating the vast space.
After hours of unrolling ancient scrolls, reading records nearly consumed by time, and uncovering names that should never have been written in the history taught today, Altheon began to feel an overwhelming weariness—one that ran deep. His advanced age was finally showing its limits, yet his curiosity and the gnawing worry in his heart remained unquenched.
Not far from him, Silvia stood still. She too looked exhausted, her eyes heavy after absorbing so much heavy and unsettling information. Yet beneath that fatigue, there still burned a spark of curiosity stronger than any tiredness.
They had discovered the name Destrover. They had found Equilibris. They had uncovered records of the Vessel—the very heart of every prophecy. Yet even so, Altheon felt something was still missing. Something far more important, something that had been deliberately hidden away, never meant to see the light of day.
His gaze swept across the entire room, scanning shelf after shelf, box after box, searching for anything that felt out of place. At last, his eyes came to rest.
In the darkest corner of the library, concealed behind a pile of dusty, forgotten artifacts, sat a chest made of black wood. It was the smallest of its kind, and also appeared the oldest—as if it had been abandoned and forgotten by time itself for centuries.
Altheon slowly straightened up.
"At last…" he murmured softly.
Silvia frowned, confused.
"What do you mean?"
The old man did not answer immediately. Instead, he began to walk toward it, his steps slow and careful, as if approaching a part of his own long-buried past. Silvia followed closely behind, just as cautious.
The closer they drew, the clearer it became just how ancient the chest truly was. Its wood was crisscrossed with fine cracks, its iron lock thick with rust, and parts of it seemed ready to crumble into dust if touched too firmly.
Silvia swallowed hard, feeling a strange atmosphere settle over them.
"It feels… odd."
"What does?" Altheon asked.
"This chest carries a different kind of aura than anything else here," she replied honestly.
Altheon nodded slowly.
"Because it is different."
He reached out and touched its rough wooden surface, then whispered softly, almost as if speaking to himself.
"I have seen this object before."
Silvia's eyes widened in surprise.
"When?"
"Thirty years ago."
"Then what is inside it?"
Altheon stared at the chest for a long moment, then answered in a heavy voice.
"That is exactly what I am hoping to find out now."
For a few moments, neither moved. Even the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if thick with the dust of thousands of years of history. Silvia could feel her heart beginning to race, pounding hard against her ribs. For some reason, her instincts told her that whatever lay hidden inside this small chest would have the power to change everything they thought they knew.
"You are afraid, aren't you?"
The question slipped out before she could stop herself.
Altheon offered a faint smile, though it held no trace of joy—only the heavy weight and bitterness of a man who had carried terrible secrets alone for decades.
"Yes," he answered simply and honestly.
Silvia fell silent. It was the first time she had ever heard Altheon openly admit to feeling fear.
With great care and slowness, Altheon brushed away the thick layer of dust covering the chest's lid. As the dust fell away, a carved symbol slowly began to reveal itself.
Silvia leaned forward to get a better look, and instantly froze in place.
"That…"
The ancient carving depicted a strong, long sword. But what made it strange and different were the two wings etched on either side of its hilt—wings that appeared broken and fractured, as if they had been shattered by some immense force long ago.
The symbol felt unfamiliar to her, yet at the same time, something stirred faintly in her heart. She felt as though she had seen something similar before. Where? She searched her memory, until suddenly an image flashed in her mind.
Edward's pendant.
Though not exactly the same, there was a resemblance that was difficult to put into words.
Altheon closed his eyes briefly, then his expression turned grave and serious.
"This symbol…"
Silvia watched him closely.
"You recognize it?"
Altheon nodded slowly.
"I do."
"What does it mean?"
Altheon drew a long breath, as if preparing himself to speak something that weighed heavily upon him.
"This is the emblem of a kingdom that was deliberately erased from the pages of world history."
Silvia's body stiffened instantly at his words.
"A kingdom that was erased?" Silvia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "How is it possible to simply wipe an entire kingdom from the world's memory?"
Altheon gave a bitter smile.
"This world does not always record what truly happened. Some history is forgotten because it is buried by time. Some is hidden away because it is deemed too dangerous. And some… is deliberately destroyed so that it may never be known again."
He spoke those final words in a tone so heavy and cold that a chill ran down Silvia's spine.
Altheon began to lift the chest's lid with extreme caution.
Creak…
The sound of old wood scraping against wood echoed through the silent room. Fine dust swirled into the air, stirred by the faint draft seeping through the cracks.
Inside, there were no gleaming treasures or magical artifacts. Only a few sheets of ancient parchment lay resting—and all of them… were nearly falling apart.
Silvia stared in disbelief.
"How could they have been damaged this badly?"
Altheon picked up one sheet with careful fingers. Half of it was missing entirely, other sections were charred black as if burned, and many of the sentences that could still be made out had been deliberately scratched out until they were almost unrecognizable. It was as if whoever had done this had truly intended to erase every trace of what was written—not because time had worn it away, but by deliberate choice.
Silvia clenched her teeth, feeling a sudden surge of anger.
"Someone did this on purpose."
"Yes," Altheon replied simply.
"But why?"
Altheon looked down at the ruined remains of the document, his gaze deep and thoughtful. Because what was written there… was perhaps considered too dangerous for anyone to ever know.
Silvia picked up another sheet that was slightly more intact. There were traces of what seemed to be a name—or at least, fragments of letters. Most had been erased completely, leaving only a few faint, indistinct parts:
"…ORG…"
"…OTT…"
"…SWO…"
Silvia frowned, trying to piece them together.
"I cannot make out the name."
Altheon could not read it clearly either. Yet for some reason, deep in the back of his mind, he felt as though he recognized it—and that very feeling was what caused his face to grow even paler.
Then, at the very bottom of the chest, they found one last sheet. It was the smallest, the most fragile, and almost entirely destroyed. Yet by some small miracle, one single sentence remained complete and perfectly legible, as if it had been protected by something to keep it from fading away.
Altheon read it slowly, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of its meaning.
"When the heir of the forgotten sword returns…"
He paused. Silvia swallowed hard, feeling her heart begin to race even faster. Altheon continued.
"…the lost kingdom shall rise once more."
A profound silence settled over the room. No one spoke, no one moved. Even the flames of the lanterns seemed to freeze, flickering not at all. Silvia felt a cold chill slowly spreading through her entire body.
"The lost kingdom… will rise again?" she whispered.
Altheon did not reply. For the first time, even he did not fully understand the true meaning of those words. Yet one thing was painfully clear: all of this was inextricably linked to Edward. And that realization made everything feel far more terrifying.
Silvia slowly sank down onto the stone chair beside her, her legs feeling weak as if all her strength had drained away.
"Edward…" The name left her lips softly, almost like a faint prayer—or perhaps more accurately, an expression of fear. "Does all of this have something to do with him?"
Altheon closed his eyes tightly. Several long seconds passed in silence before he finally answered in a voice heavy with dread.
"I hope it does not."
Silvia looked at him sharply.
"And if it does?"
The old man did not answer immediately. His gaze fell upon the carving of the broken-winged sword on the chest's lid, then he spoke with utmost seriousness.
"Then… the future of this world may be changed forever."
That night, after a long and exhausting day, Edward finally fell into a deep sleep. But that peace did not last long. Once again, he felt himself falling, slipping into that endless expanse of darkness—a place that was becoming increasingly familiar, and which he visited more and more often in his dreams.
There was no sky, no ground, no source of light. Only thick, suffocating darkness and silence. Edward stood alone in the emptiness.
"Destrover?" he called softly.
There was no answer.
"Are you here?"
Still, nothing but silence.
Then suddenly, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble gently.
Thump…
Thump…
Thump…
A heavy, steady rhythm—like the beating of a giant heart, waking from a sleep that had lasted for ages. Edward turned his gaze toward the distance, where something began to emerge from the shadows. At first it was only a faint outline, but slowly it grew clearer and larger.
Edward froze in place.
Before him stood an enormous sword. Forged from dark silver metal, it was planted firmly atop an ancient stone altar. It was as tall as a tower, radiating an aura of such immense and ancient power that it made Edward's breath feel heavy and labored.
Yet it was not its size that was most shocking. The sword was tightly bound, wrapped in millions of thick chains that coiled around it from every direction, stretching off into the darkness as if holding it prisoner.
Edward stumbled back, gasping for breath.
"What is that…?" he murmured.
No reply came.
But a moment later, a voice began to echo. It was incredibly old—far older than the voice of Destrover he had heard, far older than the whispers that had come from his pendant. It felt as though it had existed since the very beginning of creation.
"It has been far too long…"
Edward's entire body went rigid. The voice spoke again, this time clearer and closer, right beside his ear.
"My heir…"
Edward's eyes widened in shock. My heir? Who was being addressed? What did it all mean?
Then the voice whispered once more—soft, yet commanding.
"Come to me."
CRACK—
The world of darkness suddenly shattered and broke apart. Edward jolted awake with a start.
"HAH!"
He gasped for air, his heart pounding wildly as if it might burst from his chest. Cold sweat soaked his entire body. The room around him was still dark, everything appeared exactly as it had been, and nothing seemed to have changed.
But one thing was different. Resting against his chest, something was glowing brightly. The sword-shaped pendant he always wore. It shone with a light far stronger and more brilliant than he had ever seen before.
Edward reached for it with trembling hands, then froze instantly.
For the first time since he had owned it, a new symbol appeared on its ancient metal surface—one he had never seen before. A sword with two broken wings.
And for some reason, as he stared at the emblem, Edward felt something strange stirring deep within his heart. It was as though a part of himself that had slept for thousands of years… was slowly beginning to wake.