— Prologue of Awakening
The sky fractured as a murder of birds tore through the heavens, their wings slicing the stillness like blades through silk. Beneath the canopy, shadows recoiled—not from fear, but from something far older.
A pulse.
The world stirred.
It shivered.
And then… it held its breath.
From amidst the cradle of ancient roots, his eyes opened. Not with surprise, nor panic—no. They opened as if reawakened from eternity. A memory, once buried in the marrow of time, now resurfaced.
The forest bowed to his emergence. Light and darkness wove around his form, as though the air itself sought his favor.
A breath.
Deliberate. Measured.
A thought—fragmented, crystalline.
> "Where am I?"
> "No… Who am I?"
He rose.
Not clumsily. Not with confusion.
With grace. With quiet authority.
A tall, radiant figure emerged from the embrace of moss and earth, silver hair cascading like molten moonlight down his back. His presence did not belong to the forest—no, it commanded it.
> "This land... this silence... I will find its truths."
Each step he took was a conversation with the earth, one it dared not interrupt. The forest stretched before him like a cathedral forgotten by gods—ancient, sacred, and reverent in its stillness. Vines draped from the trees like torn regalia, and petals danced like ghostly echoes in the breeze.
The colors bled into one another—opulent and unnatural. Crimson, amethyst, sun-gold. Flowers bloomed where none should, and birds sang notes that remembered the stars before they were born.
He was alone.
Until… he wasn't.
A lake revealed itself—still as glass, ageless as the moon. Time paused for it. Perhaps the world did too.
> "Water..."
He knelt, cupping the surface with reverence.
Cold.
Unnaturally so.
The sensation crept into his veins like a forgotten oath.
Then—he froze.
Pointed ears.
Hair like woven starlight.
Eyes—resplendent, unnatural. Glowing with an ancient resonance.
The reflection spoke before he could.
> Move.
The surface rippled.
No wind. No sound.
Only the echo of something long buried.
Then—chaos.
Water exploded.
A beast—a monstrosity birthed from the abyss—erupted from the depths. Scales. Fangs. Writhing hatred.
It did not roar—it declared war on existence itself.
The world screamed around them. Trees shuddered. The air caught fire.
But he did not run.
Instinct surged—primordial, absolute.
Power unlike anything mortal.
Darkness answered his call.
His arm moved—no, the universe obeyed his will.
Black tendrils of mana whipped forth, serpents of annihilation howling across the battlefield.
The beast didn't scream.
It vanished.
Ash to wind. Noise to silence.
Only still water remained—disturbed, but no longer defiant.
He stood there. The void of magic receding into his form.
A whisper settled in the stillness.
> "So… this is my strength."
He turned.
The wind bowed.
The shadows stilled.
He was no longer a question in the world—he was its answer.> He was no longer just a man. He was something more. Something... beyond. His form moved with quiet power. Each step—measured. Intentional.
He advanced, eyes locked on something distant—unseen, yet inevitable.
> "My eyes… What am I? The darkness holds no secrets from me."
His thoughts ascended—disconnected from flesh, floating into the sky above.A vault of eternal black, silent and sacred.
Then the air shifted.
Not wind. A whisper.
A scream followed. Sharp. Real. Human.
He moved before thought formed. Not driven by fear. Not by will.
> Instinct.No… memory. But not mine.
He surged forward—like storm and silence fused into motion. A second scream split the dark—closer now. Urgent.
The shadows curled around him, thick like mourning veils. And still—his form glowed. Not in light.But in presence.
> "Who's there?"His voice cracked the night like divine judgment."Speak."
"Help! Please—there's a monster!"
His body coiled—every movement like a predator answering prophecy.
A hundred meters ahead: a girl.Small. Frozen. Terrified.
Beside her—beast incarnate. A hydra with molten-scaled heads.The ground boiled beneath it.
> Distance. Too far....Unless time bends.
Then it came.
> Go.The voice within. No longer fragmented.
He obeyed.
One breath. One thought. One step.
And he was there.
Face to face with the abyss.
The beast roared—flames engulfed the world.
But he had already moved.
"Back, filth."His voice was calm. Final."Return to the pit you crawled from."
Fire licked the air. Blue. Hell-born.He danced through it—untouched.
Then struck.
Bone cracked. Flesh tore. One head fell.
> "One."Three remain.
A voice—hers—called out.
> "Strike the heart!"
He didn't look at her. Only said:
> "Understood."
His knuckles blazed with dark flame.
He soared.
The air folded around him.
Then—impact.
One strike.One truth.The beast shattered.
BOOOOM.
Earth groaned. Trees screamed.He was flung like lightning from heaven.
Stone. Bark. Silence.
> "Sir?! Are you—?!"
She never finished.
He was already beside her.
No wound.No burn.Only breath—measured. Eyes—sharpened.
The earth behind him lay broken.
But he stood—untouched.
> As if the world itself refused to harm him.
— The Girl
She looked up, breath catching as the figure before her stood motionless, his silver hair burning with the last fire of the dying sun.
He did not speak.He did not move.
He existed.
And the world around him dared not.
Angela's body trembled, but not from cold.
> She had just witnessed a monster—a beast of nightmares—reduced to nothing.A creature that should have killed her a dozen times over, erased by a single strike.By him.
She couldn't stop replaying it—how the flames never touched him, how the wind bent around his form, how time itself seemed to pause when he moved.
> "That thing… it was going to kill me.""And then—he was there.""He looked at it... and the world answered."
The heat of the hydra's breath still lingered in her lungs.The sound of its roar echoed in her ears.And yet, the man beside her stood as if nothing had happened.Unshaken. Untouched.
> "He faced it like it was nothing.""He moved as if the world obeyed.""And then… it was gone."
She couldn't decide whether to run, fall to her knees, or whisper thanks to the stars.
Instead—
> "W-What… are you, sir?"
Her voice cracked the silence, more prayer than question.He turned his head slowly, like a monument shifting after centuries of silence.His gaze met hers—steady, unreadable.
> "I don't know," he said.
No hesitation. No regret. Just truth.
Yet his voice carried a weight far older than his words.It settled in her chest like prophecy.
The girl felt her pulse quicken.There was something terrifying about the honesty in his tone—something final.A force unshaped by memory, but not without purpose.
She lowered her gaze, trying to make sense of what she felt.There was awe, yes—but also fear.Not of him harming her… but of being seen.
Completely.Utterly.
As if the creature before her looked not at her body, but into the threads of her soul.
> "I… I'm Angela. Thank you… for saving me."
The silence returned.
Not awkward.Not cruel.But immense.
A pause as vast as the space between stars.
She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for.For her life?For the silence that followed?Or for the terrible, beautiful certainty that nothing would ever be the same again?
There was blood on her palms.Dirt beneath her nails.Her breath came in shallow bursts—yet in his presence, it felt irrelevant.
He wasn't like the others.Not the ones who begged.Not the ones who fought.Not even the ones who ruled.
He stood like judgment made flesh.
Then, at last:
> "Why were you alone?"
His voice sliced through the quiet like a blade through silk—sharp, deliberate.
Angela blinked, shaken.
> "My mother," she said softly. "She's ill. I was searching for a rare herb. Without it… she won't last the night."
Her throat tightened. Eyes burned.But she did not look away.
He observed her with unnerving stillness.As if weighing her life… and finding it neither light nor heavy.Merely something that was.
Seconds passed.Each one loud inside her chest.
Then:
> "Take me there."
It was not a request.Not quite a command.Something in between—an inevitability.
Angela hesitated, caught between instinct and confusion."You… want to help?"
> "Take me," he said again.
Colder now.Not unkind.But stripped of empathy—like a being for whom mortal concern was an abstract concept.
She stared into his eyes and felt the last remnants of resistance dissolve.Not from persuasion.But because something in her soul had already yielded.
> "Thank you," she whispered again, before turning to lead the way.
---
The Forest's Gaze
The forest closed around them—tall and silent.
But it was not the silence of peace.
It was the silence of reverence. Of something watching.
They walked for nearly an hour. Shadows stretched beneath them like dark limbs.The girl moved quickly, driven by urgency.He followed like a specter made flesh—fluid, precise, untouched by time or fatigue.
No birds sang. No beasts stirred.
The wind, once curious, now trembled.
Even the light filtering through the canopy dared not fall upon him.
Angela's thoughts were anything but calm.Her feet moved on instinct, but her mind reeled with images she couldn't suppress.
The hydra.Its roar. The heat.The moment she thought she would die.
Then him—Silent. Unmoving.Impossible.
> "He faced it like it was nothing.""He moved as if the world obeyed.""And then… it was gone."
And now… he walked in silence.
Angela felt small beside him.Not just physically—but in spirit.As though she were a flicker of candlelight beside a star that had forgotten how to die.
> "Why is he helping me?""Does someone like that… even think like us?""Would he vanish again, just as suddenly?"
She pulled her arms closer around herself, chilled not by cold, but by awe.
He didn't look at her.Didn't speak.
But then—
He stopped.
And turned his head.
His eyes met hers—like frozen constellations awakening.
He had seen her fear.
Not in her posture.Not in her words.
But in her soul.
> "Let no fear reach you, not while I still draw breath."
Angela froze.
No one had ever spoken like that to her.Not like a man.Not like a savior.
Like a force.
And somehow, that one sentence…...felt like safety.
The kind that didn't ask.Didn't promise.
It simply was.
They walked again.
Angela's thoughts slowly settled.Not gone—just muted.She glanced toward him again.Still quiet. Still unreadable.
> "Sir…" she began cautiously. "Where are you from?"
He did not answer at first.
His gaze lowered—eyes like frozen stars.Still. Unblinking.
> "I don't know."
His voice held no shame. No doubt. Only stillness.
But within that stillness: a silence too vast to name.
Angela hesitated.
"Do you… know your name?"
He looked ahead.
> "Enough."
Not cruel. Not dismissive.
Just absolute.
Then, with calm finality:
> "Your mother. That's why we walk."
Angela lowered her head.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
> "It's fine."
No warmth. No scorn.
Just steadiness.
> "I want to help."
— A Village in Ruin
Angela's breath caught in her throat. She pointed with trembling fingers, voice tight with hope.
> "There—down by the river. That's my village!"
They stepped through the final veil of trees, and the world beyond unfolded like a forgotten painting, weathered and blurred by centuries of neglect.
The village lay broken—its bones jutting skyward in silent protest. Homes, once proud, now sagged beneath the weight of time. Roofs collapsed inward like caved-in hearts. Stone paths crumbled under their own history. Wood, rotting and bowed, clung to rusted hinges as if afraid to let go entirely.
> This was not a place of life.It was a monument to suffering.
The air was thick—drenched in mildew, soot, and resignation. Smoke lingered not as warmth, but as memory. The scent of damp earth clung to every wall like despair.
Children watched from behind torn curtains, gaunt and silent, eyes hollow with questions they no longer dared ask. Adults froze mid-motion—tools still in hand, shoulders hunched—as two strangers pierced their daily silence.
He did not speak.
He moved.
With grace that did not belong here. His steps rang hollow against the cracked stone, yet each one echoed with purpose—each stride an intrusion into a world that had long forgotten power.
Eyes followed him. Fearful. Curious. Silent.
> "This… is where she lives?"
His gaze swept over the decay—withered faces, splintered homes, and ash-colored skies.
> "This is what passes for survival?"
Something within him stirred. A heat. Subtle. Cold. Controlled.
> "Disgraceful."
The word did not pass his lips. It thundered within him—like judgment echoing in the vault of an ancient temple.
He did not know why it angered him so deeply. But the sight—this reality—offended something fundamental inside him.
> "How could any ruler allow this?"
His fists tensed, ever so slightly. Then loosened.
He said nothing.
But the silence around him grew heavier. As though even the air sensed what he withheld.
The door creaked open.
Angela pushed it gently, revealing the dim interior of what could barely be called a home. The walls leaned inward, the ceiling sagged. A single candle fought back the darkness.
In the center of the room lay a frail woman—skin pale, breath shallow. Her eyes fluttered open just long enough to glimpse the towering figure behind her daughter.
She smiled, weakly.
> "A... stranger?"Her voice was threadbare.
Angela rushed to her side. "Mother, please—hold on. I brought someone. He saved me. I… I don't know if he can help but—"
He stepped forward.
Silently.
The room darkened for a heartbeat. Not because the light faded—but because his presence eclipsed it.
He knelt beside the bed, saying nothing. His eyes scanned the woman's face.
> So weak. So mortal.So… fragile.
And yet…
His hand hovered inches above her chest.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know what drove him.
But something deep within him whispered—no, commanded.
> She suffers.
> You can end it.
The candle flickered.
The air changed.
And in that moment, it happened—
A sudden pull.
The world around him faded.
His vision blurred… then bent.
---
[Vision Sequence]
He stood in a garden made of starlight.
Petals of silver drifted around him.
Before him: a pool of shimmering white, calm and deep. Within it, light pulsed—alive, aware.
A voice—his own, yet not—spoke from the void.
> You have forgotten what you are.You were born to restore.You are not destruction… not only.
His hands—glowing. Alive. Etched with symbols in languages lost to time.
The pool rose, tendrils of light wrapping around his arms like vines of divinity.
> Remember...
---
He gasped.
Back in the room.
His eyes—glowing, not with power, but with purpose.
Angela stared. Her mother, barely conscious, could only breathe.
His hand lowered.
Softly. Reverently.
It touched the woman's chest—
And light spilled out.
Not bright. Not violent.
Warm.
Gentle.
Real.
The decay receded. The shallow breath deepened. Color returned to her skin.
Tears formed in Angela's eyes as her mother stirred, her eyes clearing.
> "Angela…?"Her voice was whole again. Her mind, clear."I… I feel no pain."
Angela fell to her knees, sobbing with relief.
But he stood.
Silent.
Watching his hand, as though it had acted without him.
> "That… was not magic."
> "That was… memory."
He turned to leave, the candlelight flickering in his wake.
Behind him, the woman wept softly—grateful.