The rain continued throughout the night.
By dawn, the ashes covering Valthorin had turned into dark mud, staining the boots of every worker rebuilding the city. The once-proud streets of the City of Mana had become a maze of broken stone, collapsed towers, and temporary camps filled with wounded adventurers.
Yet amidst the destruction, life persisted.
Children carried buckets of water.
Blacksmiths repaired damaged armor.
Healers moved tirelessly from one injured survivor to another.
Even after witnessing the end of the world hanging above their heads, humanity continued to rebuild.
Kyūsei found himself wondering if that was humanity's greatest strength.
Or its greatest foolishness.
"You're awake early."
Kazuto approached with two wooden cups.
One contained warm herbal tea.
He handed it to Kyūsei.
"I figured you wouldn't have slept much."
Kyūsei accepted it with a quiet smile.
"Thanks."
The two stood in silence, watching the sunrise paint the broken city in shades of orange and gold.
"You've changed."
Kyūsei looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Kazuto shrugged.
"When we first met, your eyes were always searching."
"Searching?"
"For answers."
He smiled faintly.
"Now they're searching for people."
Kyūsei didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he looked down at the workers rebuilding a collapsed home.
A little girl was helping her father carry bricks that were far too heavy for her.
Despite struggling...
She refused to stop.
Perhaps Kazuto was right.
A loud knock interrupted them.
A young guild employee, no older than sixteen, bowed respectfully.
"Excuse me."
"The Guild Master wishes to see both of you."
Kazuto sighed dramatically.
"I knew peaceful mornings wouldn't last."
Inside the temporary Guild Headquarters, maps covered every table.
Dozens of guild officials hurried back and forth carrying reports.
The atmosphere was tense.
Guild Master Aldren stood near the largest map.
His weathered face looked even more exhausted than yesterday.
When Kyūsei and Kazuto entered, he dismissed everyone else.
"I'll keep this brief."
He pointed toward several red marks placed across the map.
"These reports arrived during the night."
Kyūsei stepped closer.
The marks stretched across different regions of the kingdom.
"What happened?"
Aldren folded his arms.
"Mana disturbances."
Lena, who had been standing quietly in the corner, spoke first.
"The battle affected areas this far away?"
Aldren nodded.
"Not only that."
He placed another report on the table.
"Several ancient ruins that have remained dormant for centuries activated simultaneously."
Kyūsei's expression changed.
He remembered the gate.
The First Prison.
Could they be connected?
"We've also lost contact with three investigation teams."
"Monsters?" Kazuto asked.
Aldren slowly shook his head.
"If only it were that simple."
He unfolded a weathered sketch.
It depicted a humanoid figure wearing a long cloak.
Its face was hidden behind a smooth white mask without eyes or a mouth.
Only a single black circle had been painted onto its forehead.
"No survivor has managed to describe them clearly."
"They appear..."
"...then disappear."
"They don't attack villages."
"They don't rob travelers."
"They simply..."
He hesitated.
"...watch."
A cold silence filled the room.
Lena narrowed her eyes.
"I've never heard of such a group."
Neither had Mira.
Nor Rufus.
Kyūsei felt an uneasy sensation.
It reminded him of the feeling he had experienced when the colorless crystal reacted.
"Who are they?" Kyūsei asked.
Aldren sighed.
"We don't know."
"But according to the oldest records in the Royal Archives..."
He looked directly at Kyūsei.
"...they have appeared before every great calamity in history."
Kazuto folded his arms.
"Wonderful."
"So we've attracted mysterious masked people."
"I was hoping for a vacation."
Even Aldren chuckled.
"You'll have one."
"When you're dead."
After the meeting ended, Kyūsei wandered through the rebuilding district alone.
His thoughts refused to settle.
Everything seemed connected.
The Lonely King.
The First Prison.
The colorless crystal.
The masked figures.
Yet he lacked the pieces needed to understand the picture.
As he turned into a narrow alley, he noticed movement beneath a collapsed building.
A weak cough.
Kyūsei rushed over.
"Barely alive..."
An old man lay trapped beneath a massive wooden beam.
His clothes were covered in dust.
His breathing was shallow.
Without hesitation, Kyūsei lifted the beam using wind mana to reduce its weight.
The old man smiled weakly.
"Still... kind..."
"What?"
"You remind me..."
The old man's cloudy eyes struggled to focus.
"...of someone."
Kyūsei carefully helped him sit up.
"Can you stand?"
"I've stood longer than most kingdoms."
The answer made little sense.
Yet the old man's voice carried an unusual calmness.
Before Kyūsei could ask another question, the old man reached into his torn cloak.
He produced a simple wooden chess piece.
A king.
Unlike ordinary chess pieces, this one had no crown carved upon its head.
"Keep it."
Kyūsei frowned.
"I can't take this."
"You already have."
The old man gently closed Kyūsei's hand around it.
"Every king loses his crown eventually."
"But only a true king..."
"...can continue walking without one."
Kyūsei's heart skipped a beat.
Those words...
They reminded him of the Lonely King.
He looked up.
The old man had already begun walking away.
"Wait!"
"What do you mean?"
The old man didn't turn around.
Instead, he raised one hand.
"Never mistake authority..."
"...for leadership."
Moments later, he disappeared into the crowd.
As though he had never been there.
That evening...
Kyūsei sat alone inside the shelter.
The wooden chess piece rested beside the colorless crystal.
He stared at them both.
Neither belonged in this world.
Yet somehow...
Both had found their way into his hands.
A soft knock came from the door.
It was Lena.
She entered quietly before placing an old leather-bound book onto the table.
"I thought you should read this."
Kyūsei looked at the faded title.
The Twelve Sovereigns of the Ancient Era
"I borrowed it from the Guild archives."
"What is it about?"
Lena's expression became unusually serious.
"I think..."
She looked at the colorless crystal.
"...the Lonely King wasn't the only king history forgot."
The candle flame flickered.
Outside, thunder rolled across the distant mountains.
Far away, hidden within the deepest chamber of an abandoned fortress, twelve stone thrones stood in perfect silence.
Eleven were empty.
On the twelfth...
A masked figure slowly opened its eyes.
"The First Sovereign has fallen."
Its voice echoed through the chamber.
A second figure stepped from the shadows.
"Then shall we begin?"
The first figure rose.
"No."
"It has already begun."
And somewhere beyond the stars...
Something answered.