Chapter 63 – Memory of the Fallen Hero

The light of the seal consumed the battlefield, so bright it seemed to shatter the very sky. The roar of the Ice Dragon blended with the deafening crack of collapsing magic circles, creating a storm of sound that rattled bone and soul alike. The shouts of Yuna, Sari, Doni, and the support casters struggling to maintain the protective formation were swallowed by the wave of radiance.

And then—silence.

When Zareen opened his eyes again, he was no longer standing on the frozen mountain peak. The biting wind, the smell of frost and magic, the distant echo of battle—they were gone.

He stood in a place that felt foreign yet achingly familiar. The air tasted strange, almost metallic, filled with scents he had not smelled in what felt like years: hot oil, exhaust fumes, and street food.

His eyes widened as his surroundings came into focus. Cars zipped past him, headlights flashing like a stream of stars. Red and green lights blinked above intersections. Towering glass buildings stretched toward the heavens, reflecting neon advertisements that bathed the streets in colors too bright for nature.

“This… this is the real world,” he whispered, almost choking on his own breath.

He took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to touch a passerby. His fingers passed through them like mist. The man didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t even flinch.

“I’m… invisible here.”

A heavy realization sank in. This wasn’t the real world as it currently was. This was someone’s **memory**—a fragment of a life preserved in magic.

---

### Glimpses of a Life

The bustling street dissolved like melting ice, folding away as though someone had turned a page.

And then he saw him.

A young man stood in the middle of a plaza, hair a shining silver-white, eyes a brilliant blue like the heart of a glacier. His back was straight, his presence commanding. People around him cheered as though he were the sun itself. Children ran toward him with laughter in their voices, elders bowed their heads in respect, and soldiers clasped his shoulders with pride.

He was the hero.

Zareen’s breath caught in his throat. He could only watch from a distance as the young man moved through the city, smiling with unshakable confidence, helping a child who had been bullied, standing up against corrupt officials who extorted the people.

“This man… he really was a hero,” Zareen murmured, almost in awe.

But the next memory was darker.

The smiles of the crowd were gone. Their cheers turned to whispers. Fingers pointed, voices hissed.

“You think you’re above us?”

“This disaster is your fault!”

“Prideful! Power-hungry!”

The young man’s steps faltered. The blue in his eyes dimmed.

“Why must I bear this alone?” His voice rang out—not aloud, but inside Zareen’s mind. “Why must every hatred, every drop of malice, fall upon me?”

Shadows began to spread across his body. At first, just a stain on his shoulder. Then it spread like ink in water, crawling over his chest, his arms, and finally reaching his eyes.

The smile that had once inspired nations vanished. His gaze turned hollow.

Zareen wanted to scream. He wanted to step forward, to grab the man by the shoulders, to tell him he wasn’t alone. But his feet wouldn’t move. He was only a ghost here, a spectator trapped in a memory he couldn’t change.

---

### The Cloaked Stranger

The vision shifted once more. Now the young man stood in a deserted lot at the edge of the city.

And there—at the far end—was a figure cloaked in black. Their face was hidden beneath a hood, but their eyes gleamed faintly, like embers in a dying fire.

The figure extended something toward the hero. It was a scroll, or perhaps a tome bound in metal and leather, glowing faintly with ominous power.

The hero hesitated only for a moment before taking it. His hands shook.

Zareen’s heart pounded. *Who is that?*

He strained to hear them speak, but the memory was soundless. Their mouths moved, yet no words reached him. The wind rose, cold enough to sting his skin even though he was not truly there.

Then, just as suddenly, the cloaked stranger faded into the white glow, leaving only the hero standing alone, staring down at the artifact in his hand.

*Was that… the sorcerer Gifa mentioned? Or something far worse?*

---

### The Fall

The memories came faster, each one darker than the last.

The hero no longer stood tall. He trudged through the streets alone, his shoulders slumped, the glow of neon signs flickering over his hollow face. People no longer reached for him. They avoided him. Some hurled curses behind his back.

“He’s no hero.”

“He’s the reason for all this misfortune.”

“Everything was better before he came.”

Each word was a blade, cutting deeper, leaving wounds no sword could inflict.

The hero stopped trying to fight back. The light that had once wrapped his heart flickered and died.

His body fractured. The silver glow of his hair dimmed. His skin hardened into scales of pale ice streaked with black veins. When he raised his head again, his eyes no longer shone with hope. They burned crimson, filled with pain and hatred.

The roar that tore from his throat was inhuman, shaking the very memory apart.

Zareen clutched his chest, falling to his knees. *So that’s how it happened. He didn’t fall because of some great monster. He became the monster—because humanity turned its back on him.*

---

### The Last Message

And then, just as the memory was about to shatter completely, a soft voice reached him.

*Thank you, young one. You reminded me… that I was once human.*

Zareen looked up, and for a heartbeat he saw the hero again—whole, unbroken, with that same gentle smile that had once saved so many lives.

Tears welled in Zareen’s eyes. “No… I should be the one thanking you. You carried this burden alone… but I won’t let your memory be lost.”

The smile faded, but not in sorrow. It was peaceful, as though the man was finally free. Then the light swallowed everything.

---

### Back to Reality

Zareen gasped as his eyes snapped open. He was back on the frozen mountain, standing within the massive sealing circle. The glow had dimmed, but the air still thrummed with residual magic.

At the center of the circle stood a towering crystal of pure white. Inside it, the Ice Dragon slept, its body peaceful at last.

Zareen’s hands trembled. Not from exhaustion this time, but from the weight of what he had just witnessed.

“Zareen?”

Yuna’s voice was soft but wary as she approached. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder. “You were just… standing there. For a long time. We almost thought you’d been caught in the seal yourself.”

Zareen blinked, realizing his face was wet. “A long time? It felt like… years.”

Doni walked up, giving him a light smack on the back. “Don’t scare us like that, man! I thought you’d turned into an ice sculpture or something.”

Even Sari, who usually mocked him at every opportunity, looked serious. “Are you okay? You’re pale as snow.”

Zareen took a deep breath, forcing his heartbeat to slow. “I’m fine. I just… saw something none of you could see.”

He turned back to the crystal, staring at the dragon inside. Beyond the ice, he almost imagined he could see the face of the hero, smiling faintly.

*Rest now,* Zareen thought. *You’ve carried this long enough. I’ll remember you—and make sure no one forgets what you were.*

Snow fell softly around them, as though the world itself was finally at peace.