Alex awoke to the dim glow of twilight filtering through the underground chamber. His body ached from the previous night's ordeal, but his mind was sharper than ever. He flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering pulse of mana beneath his skin—unstable but undeniably his.
Soren and Nyssa were already waiting for him outside the chamber. The moment he stepped out, Nyssa tossed him a cloak. "Come. There's something you need to see."
They led him through a series of winding corridors, deeper into the hidden sanctum of Twilight's base. The passage ended at a heavy steel door reinforced with ancient runes. Soren pressed her hand against one of the symbols, and the door groaned open, revealing a vast chamber lined with relics, old tomes, and holographic projections of past battles.
"This," Soren gestured to the collection, "is what remains of our history. The truth that the Saints buried."
Alex's gaze moved over the aged parchments and digital records. Among them, a single image caught his eye—a battlefield, littered with fallen warriors, both human and Saint. At the center stood a lone figure, a warrior wielding dual blades crackling with elemental energy.
His father.
Soren studied his reaction. "He fought to uncover the secrets they kept hidden from humanity. He knew that the imperial families weren't always in control."
Alex turned to her, confusion lacing his voice. "What do you mean?"
Nyssa stepped forward, placing an ancient scroll onto a pedestal. "Long before the Saints imposed the S-Wall, humans wielded mana freely. Our ancestors fought wars not just against each other, but against creatures and forces beyond comprehension. The imperial families did not always rule. They took power."
She unrolled the scroll, revealing intricate diagrams of mana flows, forgotten spell formations, and battle strategies that bore no resemblance to current imperial teachings. At the bottom of the scroll, a single phrase stood out in an ancient script:
The Nameless Will Rise Again.
Soren's expression darkened. "We don't know exactly what it means, but your father believed it was the key to ending their rule."
Alex clenched his fists. His father had died for this knowledge, for a truth buried beneath centuries of deception. If the Saints hadn't always been in control, then there was a way to break their grip on humanity.
Nyssa watched him carefully. "This fight is bigger than revenge, Alex. Your bloodline places you in the center of something much older than you realize."
Alex exhaled sharply, his mind racing. He had spent years hating the Saints, blaming them for the oppression of humanity. Now, a new thought took root—what if they weren't just conquerors, but usurpers?
Soren placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your father left behind more than memories. He left behind a mission. The question is—are you ready to continue it?"
The weight of the past pressed down on Alex, but for the first time, it didn't feel like a burden.
It felt like purpose.
He lifted his gaze, resolve burning in his eyes. "Tell me everything.