Chapter 53 – A Memory Before the Fall

Darkness.

Not the gentle kind.

Not the kind that lets you rest.

This darkness feels old.

Ancient.

Watching.

I stand on nothing, yet I am not falling. The air tastes metallic, like blood mixed with lightning. Above me, the sky is fractured — cracked like shattered glass suspended in space. Between the cracks, stars flicker… and disappear.

Then I see him.

Uncle.

But not my uncle.

He looks the same — the same face, the same sharp nose, the same eyes.

But younger.

Much younger.

His hair flows down past his shoulders. His posture is straight, disciplined. His presence presses against the air itself.

This isn’t the laid-back uncle who drinks tea and avoids attention.

This man radiates power.

Authority.

Calculation.

Yet I know.

I know that’s him.

“…Uncle?”

He doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t even blink.

He’s staring at something floating in the distance.

A massive circular construct suspended in midair.

Rings within rings.

Thousands of them.

Each rotating at different speeds.

Symbols etched along their surfaces glow in shifting patterns — not magic scripts.

Not mana circuits.

Something else.

Something deeper.

It hums.

Low.

Resonant.

Like the vibration of reality itself.

He finally speaks.

His voice is calm… but it carries the weight of centuries.

“In time immemorial… a line was forged.”

The fractured sky trembles.

“A line of time… space… and even dimension.”

The rings accelerate.

Faster.

Sharper.

“A line connecting worlds that were never meant to touch.”

What the heck is he talking about?

Suddenly—

The world shifts.

The darkness dissolves.

I’m standing inside a grand research chamber carved from floating stone. The entire structure hovers above a sea of clouds. Giant crystal pillars stretch upward, channeling beams of energy into the sky.

Ancient machinery is fused with arcane inscriptions. Science and magic intertwined.

At the center stand two men.

One is him.

Xorvath.

Not Uncle.

Xorvath.

The other—

Tall.

Fair-skinned.

Long silver hair flowing elegantly down his back.

Spectacles rest neatly on his nose.

His expression is calm.

Not prideful.

Not arrogant.

But burdened.

An aura of wisdom surrounds him.

Authority born from responsibility.

Before anyone says it, I already know.

Archantus.

Xorvath slams his hand against a floating projection of the rotating ring.

“Archantus!!! This is what we are researching on!! Why do you not listen?!”

His voice echoes across the floating continent.

Archantus closes his eyes slowly.

“This is not something to play with, Xorvath.”

His voice isn’t angry.

It’s exhausted.

“You are tampering with forces beyond comprehension. First the Homunculus project… and now this.”

Behind them—

Inside a massive glass containment cylinder—

Something moves.

A humanoid shape.

Incomplete.

Wires embedded into flesh.

Artificial veins glowing faintly.

A being that shouldn’t exist.

“Certain things,” Archantus continues quietly, “are not meant for us to dig that deep.”

So that’s what he looks like…

Regal.

Not in arrogance.

But in responsibility.

Xorvath turns sharply, eyes blazing.

“This is proof that we are not alone in this existence!”

The rotating construct behind them expands.

The rings open outward.

Inside—

Other skies.

Other stars.

Other continents.

And—

Buildings.

Cars.

Skyscrapers.

Earth.

My Earth.

My chest tightens.

So that’s it.

The line.

The bridge.

This wasn’t random.

Archantus’s composure cracks for the first time.

“And that,” he whispers, “is what I feared.”

The chamber trembles violently.

Energy spirals upward like a tornado of light.

The floating continent beneath us begins to shake.

Mountains crack.

Stone splits.

“I will not give myself up!” Xorvath roars. “Progress demands sacrifice!”

“You mistake obsession for progress.”

Archantus steps forward, silver hair whipping in the storm of mana.

“For the sake of knowledge, you are willing to fracture reality itself!”

The sky cracks.

Literally.

A line tears across the heavens.

A wound.

Through it—

Earth becomes clearer.

Traffic.

Neon lights.

A normal city night.

My world.

“If you proceed,” Archantus says, voice now carrying divine authority, “the worlds will bleed into each other.”

Xorvath smiles.

Not insanity.

Conviction.

“Fear,” he says softly, “is what makes you small, Archantus.”

The ground rises.

The entire landmass lifts into the sky.

Mountains tear free from the earth.

Rivers bend upward like ribbons.

The floating continent ascends into the clouds.

Energy explodes outward.

The ring spins violently—

Then—

Detonation.

Blinding white.

Shockwaves tear through the sky.

Xorvath staggers but looks upward at the rising continent.

“STUBBORN OLD MAN!!!” he shouts, voice cracking with fury.

“MARK MY WORDS — I WILL SHOW YOU!!”

Why is he so angry…?

Why does it feel personal?

Then—

The scene shifts again.

The light dissolves.

I stand inside a throne chamber.

Massive pillars.

Black marble floors.

Red banners hanging between golden frames.

My breath catches.

Wait.

I know this place.

This is—

The palace I attacked before.

The Northern Kingdom.

Xorvath sits on the throne.

Not as a researcher.

Not as a scholar.

But as a king.

His expression is no longer passionate.

No longer furious.

It’s cold.

Controlled.

Strategic.

So that’s it.

He didn’t fall.

He adapted.

He survived.

And he ruled.

The throne room doors open slowly.

A shadow enters.

Two figures stand beyond the light.

The same silhouettes Inul once mentioned.

Xorvath leans back slightly.

“…So,” he murmurs, “the line still exists.”

My heart pounds.

Does that mean—

Was I—

Brought?

Chosen?

Or engineered?

The dream begins to collapse.

The palace crumbles into fragments of light.

Xorvath’s gaze suddenly shifts.

Directly at me.

He sees me.

“…Ah,” he says quietly.

“So you finally remember.”

My eyes snap open.

Inside the Nautilus.

My breathing is uneven.

Cold sweat drips down my temple.

The engine hum sounds louder than before.

“…Xorvath…”

The founder of the Northern Kingdom.

The man who that started the war in the past.

And somehow—

Connected my world to this one.

Outside, the sea remains calm.

But here—

Inside this memory—

War is tearing the heavens apart.

And I still don’t understand it.

The floating continent trembles beneath marching armies.

From the highest ridge, Xorvath watches.

Still.

Silent.

Calculating.

Beside him stands Asteria.

Nyx.

She looks exactly the same as she does now.

Same dark hair.

Same unreadable eyes.

So she was already here.

Already involved.

“Gather the warriors,” Xorvath says calmly. “Asteria… we need Cleo.”

Nyx exhales.

“Sure. But what exactly are you planning?”

A pause.

Then—

“Sing.”

“…Sing?”

“Get her to the top pillar.”

My eyes follow his gaze.

At the center of the battlefield rises a massive black pillar that pierces the sky. It isn’t stone. It isn’t metal.

It looks alive.

Veins of faint crimson light pulse beneath its surface, as if something inside it is breathing.

I’ve never seen a structure like that before.

Then she appears.

Cleo.

Short dark-silver hair swaying gently in the wind.

Turquoise eyes glowing like deep ocean crystals.

She looks small.

Smaller than Harmonia.

More child than warrior.

But her presence—

It weighs on the air.

Heavy.

Unnatural.

She steps onto the ascending platform that carries her toward the top of the pillar.

And then—

She sings.

The first note is soft.

Almost fragile.

But it spreads.

The sound doesn’t travel through air.

It travels through bone.

Through blood.

Through thought.

It’s dark.

Not chaotic.

Not demonic.

But commanding.

Devotional.

It feels like the song is asking—

No.

Ordering.

Die for me.

Fight for me.

Become mine.

The warriors below stiffen.

Then their eyes glaze with glowing intensity.

Their movements sharpen.

Brutal.

Fearless.

Reckless.

Even when pierced—

They do not fall.

Her voice deepens.

It no longer sounds like a child.

It sounds ancient.

Nyx narrows her eyes.

“You’re pushing her too far,” she mutters.

Xorvath doesn’t answer.

From the opposite side of the battlefield—

The enemy advances.

Orcs.

Dark Elves.

Beastkin.

But they’re not charging like invaders.

They’re defending something.

“Mad Priestess!!! It’s time for you to die!!!” an Orc commander roars.

“Foul bastard!!! What have you done to this world?!” Dark Elves scream toward Xorvath’s forces.

What?

Mad Priestess?

This isn’t Demon versus Holy.

This is something else.

Then I see her.

Floating above the opposing army.

A woman in regal white-silver robes.

Her expression is calm.

Resolute.

Her face—

It looks almost identical to Aethone.

Luminaris.

She raises one hand.

A summoning circle erupts across the sky.

Golden. Vast. Divine.

From within—

Metal descends.

A colossal machine.

Towering.

Humanoid.

Armored in radiant plates etched with holy sigils.

A giant mechanical guardian.

The Colossus.

It lands.

The impact shatters the battlefield.

Shockwaves fling soldiers in all directions.

Cleo’s singing rises in pitch.

The black pillar pulses violently.

Light shoots upward—

Splitting the clouds open.

The warriors under her song enter a complete frenzy.

They fight without hesitation.

Without pain.

Nyx’s wings burst open in a surge of dark energy.

“So that’s Archantus’s answer,” she says quietly.

Xorvath’s eyes narrow.

“The Colossus…” he mutters. “That machine that protects her… damn you, Archantus.”

Airships emerge from the clouds.

Cannons charge.

“Fire.”

Beams of concentrated energy rain down upon the Colossus.

Explosions consume its torso.

Smoke engulfs it.

For a moment—

Silence.

Then the smoke clears.

It’s still standing.

Luminaris remains above it, robes flowing.

“You cannot sever what the heavens have bound,” she declares.

Nyx launches forward—

A streak of dark light collides with divine metal.

The impact splits the sky.

Cleo’s voice reaches a terrifying crescendo.

The pillar begins to shake.

Cracks spread across its surface.

Thin at first.

Like veins.

Then wider.

The crimson glow inside intensifies.

Reality itself warps around the structure.

Space bends.

Air distorts.

The battlefield slows—

As if time is hesitating.

Xorvath looks up.

Not in fear.

In anticipation.

“…There it is,” he whispers.

The cracks spread higher.

Higher.

Across the entire length of the pillar.

The sky above fractures—

Mirroring it.

The line between worlds trembles.

And then—

The pillar cracks.

A deep, thunderous fracture runs from its peak down toward its core.

The sound is not stone breaking.

It’s reality splitting.

Cleo remains afloat at the summit.

But something has changed.

Her presence—

It’s no longer small.

No longer childlike.

Her body glows faintly, light wrapping around her like flowing silk.

Like Harmonia when she channels divine authority.

Her turquoise eyes burn brighter.

Calm.

Cold.

Absolute.

Damn.

One thing for sure—

She is not a walk in the park.

Below, the battlefield becomes hell.

Dead everywhere.

Bodies layered upon bodies.

Armor shattered.

Limbs torn.

Blood mixing into mud.

How many people died on this day?

For belief.

For pride.

For fear.

For someone else’s ideology.

Luminaris raises her staff high.

Her voice echoes across the sky.

“May you knaves and foul creatures return to earth!!!”

A blinding white light erupts outward.

It sweeps across Xorvath’s frontline like a divine wave.

Warriors caught in it freeze—

Their skin hardens.

Cracks appear.

They turn to stone.

Then—

They crumble.

Dust.

Gone.

The air fills with ash.

Nyx’s eyes flare with rage.

“Uh huh—!! Not on my watch!!”

Dark wings explode outward from her back.

She rockets toward Luminaris.

Divine light clashes with abyssal shadow.

The collision shakes the heavens.

Shockwaves ripple across the battlefield.

The Colossus moves again—

Swinging a massive arm toward Nyx.

She dodges mid-air, twisting gracefully, but beams of holy energy fire toward her from below.

She barely avoids them.

And still—

Xorvath stands still.

Watching.

Always watching.

Calculating.

Then—

The cracked pillar pulses.

The fracture widens.

A vortex forms above it.

Not divine.

Not demonic.

Mechanical.

A portal.

Different from the dimensional tear earlier.

Structured.

Stabilized.

Controlled.

Then—

Something drops out.

A metallic cylinder.

Spinning.

Falling.

Wait.

That shape—

No.

No way.

“…A warhead?” I whisper.

It detonates mid-air.

A modern explosion.

Orange fireball.

Shockwave.

Mushroom cloud.

Both armies freeze.

Even Luminaris and Nyx pause.

From the portal—

More shapes emerge.

Heavy armored vehicles roll out of thin air.

Tracks grinding against stone.

M1 Abrams tanks.

Leopard 2s.

Their cannons rotate instantly.

Then—

Attack helicopters descend.

AH-1 Cobra.

UH-1 Huey.

Rotor blades slicing the air.

A Harrier jet screams through the sky.

Missiles launch.

Explosions tear through both sides indiscriminately.

Smoke.

Fire.

Modern gunfire echoes across an ancient battlefield.

Soldiers pour out in formation.

Uniforms.

Kevlar.

Rifles raised.

Blue helmets.

Wait.

That insignia—

United Nations.

This can’t be real.

This can’t—

The battlefield turns into a three-way war.

Divine warriors clash with mechanized infantry.

Orcs charge tanks.

Tanks fire point-blank.

Dark Elves launch shadow spells at helicopters.

One helicopter spirals down in flames.

Nyx dodges tracer rounds slicing through the air.

Luminaris shields herself from missile strikes.

The Colossus takes multiple tank shells—

Metal buckles but does not fall.

Xorvath watches the portal.

“…So,” he mutters softly, “is this your card, Archantus?”

You’re telling me—

Archantus contacted my world before?

Is that what Conrad has been trying to tell me all this time?

Did Archantus gain knowledge from Earth?

Was modern warfare introduced to this world—

Because of him?

The tanks look older.

Late 80s models.

Cold War era.

So this—

This is the past.

I’m watching something that already happened.

These are Xorvath’s memories.

But why am I seeing this?

From one descending Huey—

A figure stands at the open door.

Wind whipping his silver hair.

Archantus.

Older.

More worn.

But alive.

Beside him—

A man in a formal military coat.

Retro sunglasses.

Sharp jaw.

Cold expression.

Definitely government.

Xorvath launches into the air.

His cloak tears through the wind as he flies straight toward the helicopter.

The Huey’s guns fire.

Bullets bend away from him mid-flight.

He lands mid-air, suspended before the open door.

His eyes burn with fury.

“Is this your answer?!” Xorvath shouts.

Archantus looks pained.

“This is not what we wanted!!!”

The government official steps forward, raising a megaphone.

“Lay down your weapons immediately!”

The absurdity of it.

Modern protocol in the middle of divine warfare.

Below them—

The three armies continue to clash.

Tanks burn.

Colossus roars.

Cleo still sings.

And the pillar continues cracking.

The portal widens further.

More light leaks out.

Something unstable.

Something uncontrollable.

Xorvath’s expression shifts.

Not rage.

Not shock.

Realization.

“You’ve invited wolves into a burning house,” he says quietly.

Archantus clenches his fists.

“We were trying to stop you!”

The government man lowers the megaphone slightly.

“What the hell are those things?!” he mutters, staring at the Colossus and divine magic colliding below.

Cleo’s voice reaches another crescendo.

The pillar splits further.

The portal destabilizes.

Lightning arcs between worlds.

Missiles freeze mid-air for a split second—

Time stutters.

The war pauses.

Three civilizations.

One sky.

One fracture.

And something is about to come through that crack—

Something none of them prepared for.

The pillar splits again.

Wider.

And the sky screams.

Something powerful has happened.

The pillar has split.

And the sky is screaming.

Inside the Nautilus

The sea outside remains calm.

But inside—

The air feels heavy.

Unstable.

Randy lies unconscious on the bed, breathing uneven.

Sweat rolls down his temples.

His fingers twitch.

Luna kneels beside him instantly.

Harmonia rushes from the other side.

Elowen and Seraphina stand just behind them, tense.

“Randy!!” Luna grips his hand tightly.

“Xo… rvath… is… this what you…” Randy murmurs, voice breaking.

Harmonia’s eyes widen.

“He’s burning up!”

“Hang on, Randy… I’m coming,” Luna whispers.

Without hesitation, she leans forward.

Forehead to forehead.

Her mana flares.

Soft silver light surrounds them.

And then—

Their consciousness links.

Inside the Memory

“Luna?!” I blink in shock.

She stands beside me in the fractured sky.

Breathing hard.

Eyes wide.

“Randy what happened—?!!” she gasps.

She turns and sees it.

The battlefield.

The tanks.

The Colossus.

The divine light and tracer rounds cutting through ancient warriors.

“What… is this…?”

“This is…” I swallow. “Maybe Xorvath’s memories. From before Drake and Lilith.”

Missiles streak overhead.

A Harrier screams past us.

Nyx dodges cannon fire mid-air.

Cleo continues singing atop the cracked pillar.

And below—

Modern soldiers fire at orcs and dark elves in pure confusion.

Suddenly—

Xorvath raises his hand toward the portal.

“You have done the unspeakable!!!”

His voice shakes the air itself.

Another vortex forms beside the first.

Larger.

Darker.

Structured differently.

The sky tears again—

And more ships emerge.

Steel hulls.

Naval gray.

Uniformed formations.

Flags I recognize.

“This time…” I whisper. “That looks like British… no… European fleet—wait… that’s American insignia too—”

“What is it, Randy?!” Luna demands.

“It seems Xorvath contacted my world… but who?!”

Cannons roar from the newly arrived forces.

Unlike the UN soldiers earlier, these move with precision.

Strategic.

Prepared.

Then—

A man steps forward through the chaos.

Not in armor.

Not in robes.

A tailored military coat.

Older style.

Confident posture.

Calm gaze.

“This,” the mysterious man says evenly, “is what I was concerned about, Xorvath.”

Xorvath’s expression shifts.

Not anger.

Recognition.

“…Merlin.”

My stomach drops.

Merlin?

Luna stiffens beside me.

“Merlin? As in—?”

“Yeah… that Merlin.”

The government man adjusts his gloves.

“Seems like we have to prevent all of this again,” he says calmly. “We must stop this madness before it escalates beyond containment.”

“Indeed,” Xorvath replies coldly.

Wait.

Again?

Again?

This has happened before?

The battlefield freezes momentarily as two worlds’ powers stare each other down.

Luminaris hovers above, watching both modern armies with wary calculation.

Nyx lands beside Xorvath mid-air.

“You’re multiplying the chaos,” she mutters.

“They started it,” Xorvath replies calmly.

Below us—

A new voice echoes across the battlefield.

“Knights! Warriors! Cease this battle immediately!”

A general on horseback.

Uniform refined.

Red-lined coat.

Silver buttons.

Disciplined formation behind him.

“That’s England,” I whisper.

“Eng… land?” Luna looks at me.

“Another powerful country.”

“So your world wasn’t just one nation…”

“No. It never was.”

Missiles from one side intercept artillery from another.

Modern jets clash in the sky while divine beams slice upward from Luminaris’ forces.

The Colossus roars and fires a holy discharge that wipes out half a mechanized division.

Merlin watches it with sharp interest.

“So that is the construct Archantus described…”

“You will not dissect this world further,” Luminaris declares.

“And you,” Merlin says calmly, “have already destabilized it.”

The cracked pillar pulses again.

Luna grips my hand tighter.

“…Randy.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re seeing something we weren’t meant to.”

“I know.”

She looks at me.

Not as a warrior.

Not as a strategist.

But as Luna.

Concerned.

Scared.

Determined.

“This… is deeper than kingdoms,” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

Something clicks in my mind.

Conrad’s warnings.

Xorvath’s obsession.

Nyx’s silence.

Cleo’s song.

Archantus contacting Earth.

Merlin interfering.

“This wasn’t invasion,” I say slowly.

“This was containment.”

Luna’s eyes widen.

“Containment… of what?”

The pillar splits further.

Energy erupts upward.

The two portals destabilize.

Lightning arcs between dimensions.

The sky begins to peel apart.

Merlin looks upward sharply.

“…It’s starting again.”

Xorvath narrows his eyes.

“No.”

The Colossus raises its arm.

Cleo’s voice reaches an inhuman frequency.

And something—

Massive—

Moves behind the crack in the sky.

Luna squeezes my hand tighter.

“Randy…”

“Let’s observe,” I say quietly.

“Together.”

She nods.

“Together.”

And for the first time—

We’re not just watching history.

We’re standing inside the origin of the fracture between worlds.

And whatever is coming through—

It isn’t human.

We watch a terrible battle.

Three armies.

Three ideologies.

Three worlds.

No one is winning.

Tanks burn beside shattered war golems.

Orcs clash against mechanized infantry.

Nyx duels holy constructs in the sky.

Merlin’s forces reposition.

Xorvath calculates.

The cracked pillar pulses violently above all of them.

And then—

Luminaris descends slowly.

Her robes no longer flow gently.

They flare like banners of judgment.

Her silver-white eyes blaze with conviction.

“You demons called forth champions…”

Her voice resonates like cathedral bells.

“…and so do I.”

The sky darkens.

She raises her staff toward the heavens.

And chants—

“Trwy lais y gwynt a nerth y ddaear, galwaf arnat ti, fy mhencampwr i, sefyll yn eu herbyn!”

The words echo across dimensions.

Wind spirals violently around her.

The earth trembles.

The cracked pillar responds.

Light pours downward—

Not soft.

Not warm.

Blinding.

A divine spear of radiance strikes the battlefield.

Everyone stops.

Even the Colossus hesitates.

The light condenses.

Shapes.

Solidifies.

And we see her.

My breath stops.

“…No way…”

A woman steps forward from the pillar of light.

Long white hair—

No.

Dark silver.

Flowing like liquid moonlight.

Armor gleaming gold and silver, etched with sacred runes.

Twin blades rest at her hips.

Her presence—

Calm.

Absolute.

Her eyes open.

Cold.

Focused.

Then—

She spreads her wings.

White.

Massive.

Feathers shimmer like blades.

The battlefield falls silent.

Merlin adjusts his glasses slowly.

“Good heavens… is that a valkyrie? What an extraordinary sight.”

“Yeah,” Xorvath mutters darkly. “More problems for us.”

Luminaris points forward.

“Go forth, my champion.”

The woman vanishes.

Not flies.

Not runs.

Vanishes.

And reappears in the middle of the battlefield.

Her blades flash once.

A tank splits cleanly in half.

Before the explosion even finishes—

She’s already elsewhere.

An entire UN squad collapses in one movement.

Orcs charge her—

They fall mid-step.

Dark elves launch shadow magic—

She cuts through it like mist.

Even Xorvath’s enhanced warriors—

The ones empowered by Cleo’s song—

Are erased.

Not killed brutally.

Just… defeated effortlessly.

Nyx dives toward her.

Their blades clash mid-air.

The shockwave splits clouds apart.

Nyx is forced back.

Her eyes widen slightly.

“She’s… fast.”

The Colossus fires a divine beam—

She slices through it.

Two movements.

The Colossus’ arm falls.

The battlefield becomes one-sided in minutes.

Archantus’ modern forces retreat under heavy loss.

Merlin steps back toward his command unit.

“I say, the lady is proving to be remarkably powerful,” he remarks calmly despite the devastation.

“I quite agree. A tactical withdrawal would be the most prudent course of action. There’s no sense in being foolhardy, after all.”

“Retreat!” British officers shout.

“Fall back! Fall back!”

Helicopters pull away.

Jets disengage.

Tanks reverse under cover fire.

Xorvath watches silently.

Nyx lands beside him, breathing heavier than before.

“She’s not normal.”

“I know,” Xorvath replies.

Luminaris floats above her champion.

Serene.

Victorious.

One by one—

Opposing forces withdraw.

Even Xorvath signals retreat.

“This battlefield is no longer ours,” he says quietly.

The woman stands in the center of corpses and wreckage.

Unscathed.

Wings slowly folding behind her.

Merlin watches from a distance.

“…A singular entity capable of suppressing three world-level forces,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“This changes the equation.”

The battlefield empties.

Silence returns.

Smoke rises into the fractured sky.

And we—

Luna and I—

Just stare.

“…That is…” Luna whispers.

My throat feels dry.

“Lilith.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

“The hero in legends?”

“Yeah.”

The same silver hair.

The same wings.

The same unstoppable presence.

But this—

This isn’t legend.

This is origin.

“I see…” Luna says quietly. “This is something… even we will struggle to comprehend.”

Luminaris places her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder.

“My champion.”

The woman kneels.

Not out of weakness.

Out of loyalty.

So that’s it.

Lilith wasn’t born a hero.

She was summoned.

Chosen.

Weaponized.

The cracked pillar still pulses above them.

Not fully healed.

Not fully stable.

And something tells me—

That fracture never truly closed.

Luna grips my hand tighter.

“Randy…”

“Yeah.”

“If she existed back then…”

“…then the history we know is incomplete.”

Far below—

In the retreating distance—

Xorvath looks back once.

At Lilith.

At Luminaris.

At the sky.

And for the first time—

He looks… concerned.

The White-Winged Champion has entered history.

And the balance of worlds has shifted forever.

The memory shifts again.

The battlefield fades like smoke pulled by wind.

The fractured sky dissolves.

And another place forms.

“What happened here!? Is there more?” Luna asks beside me.

“I think… so,” I answer.

The air stabilizes.

Clouds part.

And below us—

A fisherman town.

No cloud wall.

No isolation barrier.

Open skies.

Wait.

“…That’s Eligos,” I whisper.

But different.

Older.

Unprotected.

We’re floating again—this time aboard an airship.

Xorvath stands at the helm, arms folded behind his back.

Nyx stands beside him, silent as ever.

They are observing.

Not interfering.

Below—

Luminaris’ armies descend upon the city.

Holy banners.

White-gold armored knights.

Winged constructs.

Luminaris floats before the city gates.

Her voice echoes like divine thunder.

“Convert your faith to us!! We are the sound of justice… and the true form of this world!!”

The people gathered at the gates look… familiar.

Wait.

My heart skips.

“Hey— isn’t that—”

Luna squints.

“…Lady Tikka.”

“And Lady Garnet!”

They’re younger.

But it’s them.

Tikka stands firm, eyes burning.

Garnet steps forward, staff raised.

She begins chanting.

“E te toa, e te mana, kawea mai tō kaha hei whakangungu rakau mō mātou. Āraia mai te kino, tiakina mātou!”

The air trembles.

The ground beneath the city cracks open.

Lightning explodes upward in a pillar of blue-white fury.

Wind spirals violently.

Luminaris narrows her eyes.

The explosion intensifies—

And when the light fades—

He stands there.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dark ponytail tied loosely.

A pirate hat tilted lazily over sharp eyes.

Two swords at his hips.

A dagger tucked into his belt.

A flintlock pistol hanging casually.

And—

A bottle in his hand.

He takes a slow sip.

“…A pirate…?” I whisper.

Luna blinks.

“…Drake?”

The man rolls his shoulders slightly.

“So that’s how Drake looked like…” Luna murmurs.

He scans the battlefield lazily.

His eyes land briefly on Garnet.

And I swear—

For a split second—

He smiles differently.

I glance at Garnet.

Her expression freezes.

Eyes wide.

Heart caught.

Yeah.

That look.

“Love at first sight,” I mutter.

Luna looks at me.

“That must be why she…”

“What?”

“…Never mind.” She smiles faintly.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Nothing.” 😌

We both watch.

Firsthand.

The truth of the past.

Luminaris raises her hand.

“Strike them down.”

Holy knights charge.

Drake doesn’t move at first.

He sighs dramatically.

“Arr, indeed. What is the meaning of this?”

He takes another sip.

“There is a certain distinction, you see, between relieving a galleon of its gold and this… distasteful business.”

He steps forward.

“To prey upon those who cannot offer a proper fight? There’s no sport in it. No honor.”

His hand rests on his sword.

“It’s the work of crude brutes, not of men who rule the seas.”

His grin sharpens.

“A truly disgraceful display.”

He disappears.

No flash.

No divine aura.

Just speed.

One slash.

Five knights collapse.

Second blade drawn.

Ten more fall.

He fires his pistol mid-spin.

The bullet curves unnaturally, striking three targets in a line.

Luminaris conjures a massive holy spear and hurls it toward him.

It strikes—

And dissolves.

Like water hitting an invisible wall.

“…It did nothing,” Luna whispers.

“Basically Drake is the one who possessed that ability…” she adds.

“Yeah,” I nod.

Anti-divinity.

Or nullification.

Or something even weirder.

Drake cracks his neck.

“Now then.”

He charges straight into Luminaris’ frontline.

He fights dirty.

Kicks sand into eyes.

Uses fallen shields as springboards.

Headbutts one knight.

Throws his dagger backward without looking—perfect hit.

Steals a knight’s sword mid-combat and uses it against another.

Laughing the whole time.

He’s not fighting like a hero.

He’s fighting like a pirate.

Unpredictable.

Chaotic.

Stylish.

Annoyingly charismatic.

Even Tikka watches in stunned silence.

Garnet—

Is absolutely gone.

She stares at him like the world just shifted.

Drake jumps onto a collapsing tower beam and shouts:

“Well then, are you lot going to stand there gawking? Or are you going to defend your bloody home?!”

The people hesitate—

Then rally.

Something shifts in them.

Not divine inspiration.

Not magical coercion.

Confidence.

Hope.

They charge back into battle.

Luminaris frowns.

This wasn’t part of her calculation.

Drake reaches her directly.

Their eyes meet.

“Leave,” he says calmly now.

No humor.

No grin.

“Or I start aiming higher.”

Luminaris studies him.

Then—

For the first time—

She withdraws.

Her armies retreat.

Drake watches them go.

Then turns back toward the city.

Takes another sip.

“…Well that was unpleasant.”

He wipes his blade on a fallen banner.

Garnet approaches him slowly.

He glances at her.

“…You’re the one who dragged me here, I take it?”

Garnet swallows.

“…Yes.”

He studies her.

Smirks.

“Bold choice.”

Luna exhales softly.

“So that’s how it began…”

“Yeah,” I say.

“The Sea King.”

Above—

On the observing airship—

Xorvath watches silently.

Nyx glances at him.

“Another variable.”

Xorvath nods slowly.

“…Yes.”

And for the first time—

He looks intrigued.

The memory lingers on Drake standing at the city gates.

Wind catching his coat.

Garnet standing just behind him.

A pirate.

A summoned anomaly.

A man who laughs in the face of gods.

And we finally understand.

Drake wasn’t random.

He was summoned in response to Lilith.

Balance.

Counterbalance.

Luna squeezes my hand slightly.

“He’s… impressive.”

“…You sound impressed.”

She tilts her head innocently.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“…Hey.”

She laughs softly.

Even in the middle of witnessing ancient war.

We’re still us.

And below—

The legend of Drake begins.

The memory doesn’t fade.

It sharpens.

Time moves forward.

We stand above the coast once more.

Xorvath and Nyx remain hidden in the sky aboard their silent airship, cloaked from sight.

Below—

The once poor fishing village has changed.

Completely.

What was once wooden docks and broken nets…

Is now chaos.

Ships of all shapes and sizes fill the harbor.

Black flags.

Red sails.

Foreign insignias.

Barrels stacked high.

Music echoing through the streets.

Men and women laughing loudly.

Drinking.

Arguing.

Fighting.

Gambling.

What was once desperation—

Has become defiance.

“…It’s a pirate town,” Luna whispers beside me.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“The same one we saw.”

Drake’s territory.

Built not by divine blessing.

Not by royal decree.

But by charisma and steel.

Xorvath watches from above, hidden.

“…Fascinating,” he murmurs.

Then—

Without warning—

The air shifts.

Feathers scatter across the sky.

White light descends like a falling star.

She lands in the center of the dock.

Lilith.

Silver-white hair flowing behind her.

Armor gleaming even under salty sea air.

Wings folding slowly at her back.

She stands like a goddess in the middle of a tavern district.

Everyone pauses.

Silence spreads for two seconds.

Three.

Then—

A bottle shatters nearby.

Someone laughs.

A drunk pirate stumbles forward, squinting at her.

“Arr, put that blade away, ye bilge rat!” he slurs loudly, pointing his mug at her.

“The only thing we’re slicin’ here is the top off another barrel o’ grog! Save yer steel for the next merchant ship, not for spillin’ good rum on me deck!”

He sways.

Nearly falls.

Takes another swig.

Lilith slowly opens one of her twin blades.

The metal hums softly.

Her expression doesn’t change.

She steps forward.

Pirates barely move aside, annoyed rather than afraid.

“…May I know,” she says calmly, “who is the leader here?”

A loud crash erupts from the tavern behind her.

A table flips.

Someone yells.

“Oi! You still owe me ten coins!”

The drunk pirate points at Lilith again.

“Leader? HAH! You’ll have to shout louder than the rum, lass!”

From above—

Xorvath bursts into laughter.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! THAT is something!!!”

Nyx covers her mouth, laughing too.

“Even the Valkyrie… and they don’t care…”

“Indeed…” Xorvath wipes a tear from his eye. “How delightfully chaotic.”

Below—

The tavern doors swing open.

And he walks out.

Drake.

Hat tilted slightly lower.

Coat half-buttoned.

A bottle still in his hand.

He looks mildly annoyed.

“What’s all this noise about?”

Then he sees her.

Lilith.

Their eyes meet.

The air shifts.

Even the sea seems to hold its breath.

Luna squeezes my hand lightly.

“…So this is it.”

Drake glances around lazily.

“Did someone order a parade?”

Lilith studies him carefully.

“You are the one they follow.”

“Follow?” He scoffs. “No one follows me. They just drink in the same direction.”

A few pirates cheer loudly.

“Captain’s right!”

Lilith steps forward.

Her wings unfold slightly.

“You are disrupting divine order.”

Drake scratches his cheek thoughtfully.

“Divine order? Is that what we’re callin’ it now?”

He takes a sip.

Then casually tosses the empty bottle behind him without looking. It lands perfectly inside a barrel.

“Last I checked, divine order was tryin’ to burn down me harbor.”

Lilith’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You are a summoned anomaly.”

“Ah,” Drake nods slowly. “So are you.”

That hits.

For the first time—

A flicker crosses Lilith’s face.

Pirates around them whisper.

“Is she an angel?”

“She got wings.”

“Bet she can’t outdrink the Captain.”

Drake steps closer.

Close enough that they stand only a few feet apart.

White feathers.

Black coat.

Holy aura.

Salt air.

“You’re not here for grog,” Drake says calmly.

“No.”

“You’re here to test me.”

“Yes.”

He grins.

“Finally. Someone with manners.”

Lilith raises her blade.

Drake doesn’t draw his.

He just tilts his head slightly.

“Tell ye what,” he says casually.

“If ye break one plank o’ me dock… I’m charging divine tax.”

Some pirates laugh loudly.

Even Luna can’t hold back a small smile.

“You’re enjoying this,” she mutters.

“A little.”

Lilith lunges.

Her blade flashes.

Drake leans back casually—

The strike misses by inches.

She spins.

Second slash.

He steps aside.

Not using brute strength.

Not overwhelming power.

Just—

Perfect timing.

The dock cracks beneath them.

Shockwaves ripple across the harbor.

Ships sway violently.

Pirates scatter, but no one flees completely.

They’re watching.

Excited.

Nyx crosses her arms in the sky.

“…He’s provoking her.”

“Yes,” Xorvath smiles. “And she does not yet understand how to fight chaos.”

Lilith accelerates.

Wings burst open fully.

Divine light erupts.

Drake finally draws one sword.

Their blades collide.

White sparks.

Black steel.

The entire harbor splits with the impact.

Luna inhales sharply.

“They’re evenly matched…”

“No,” I whisper.

“They’re opposite.”

Lilith is precision.

Drake is unpredictability.

Lilith is divine authority.

Drake is human defiance.

For several seconds—

The world narrows to just them.

Then—

Drake suddenly disengages.

He flips backward onto a ship mast.

Looks down at her.

“Right then,” he says casually.

“You’ve had yer introduction.”

He rests his blade on his shoulder.

“But if ye’re stayin’ in my town…”

His eyes sharpen slightly.

“…you follow my rules.”

Lilith stands still below him.

Breathing steady.

Analyzing.

This isn’t a battlefield.

This isn’t a war.

This is territory.

And she just stepped into it.

Above—

Xorvath watches carefully.

Nyx tilts her head.

“So?”

“So,” Xorvath murmurs, eyes gleaming.

“The board has gained its final piece.”

Below—

Lilith slowly lowers her blade.

The pirates relax slightly.

Drake jumps down casually.

“Now then,” he says.

“Anyone else interruptin’ me drink?”

The crowd cheers.

Music resumes.

As if a divine Valkyrie didn’t just descend from heaven.

Luna exhales slowly.

“…They really didn’t care.”

“Yeah.”

I look at Lilith standing quietly among pirates who treat her like an inconvenience.

“That’s the difference.”

She came as judgment.

He built freedom.

And this—

This is where legend truly begins.

Not in war.

But in clash.

And something tells me—

This Won’t Be the Last Time They Stand Across from Each Other

Me 😅
Luna 😓

“…So,” Luna mutters, arms crossed, eyes glued to the memory unfolding before us.
“This isn’t exactly what the legends described.”

“Yeah,” I reply, scratching my head.
“Less heroic champion of light… more pirate who solves problems with rum and bad decisions.”

“…Pirate-y,” Luna sighs.
“Extremely pirate-y.”

And yet—

Every time Lilith enters the town, it always ends the same way.

Laughter.
Gunfire into the air.
Broken tables.
Drake grinning like the world is a game he already won.

Xorvath watches from afar, quiet now.

Then—

He notices it.

Lilith is smiling.

Not the polite smile of a knight.
Not the distant smile of a divine champion.

A real one.

“…Oh?” Xorvath murmurs. “So even you…”

Lilith steps forward, wings folding neatly behind her.

“Challenge me, Drake,” she declares, voice firm.
“In the name of honor.”

Drake tilts back the bottle, draining the last drop.
He exhales contentedly.

Then—

BANG!

He fires his pistol straight into the sky.

“Well then,” he grins, spinning the gun back into its holster.
“What’re we waitin’ for?”

Lilith doesn’t answer.

She grabs him by the coat—

And launches them both into the sky.

The town shrinks beneath them.
The sea rushes up.

They crash onto a small, lonely island surrounded by endless blue.

Drake rolls to his feet, brushing sand from his shoulder.

“This ain’t much of a battlefield, lass,” he says lazily.
“More like a place for a nice dip.”

Lilith steadies herself, eyes sharp—but conflicted.

“…I don’t want to hurt them,” she admits quietly.

Drake blinks.

Then chuckles.

“Well now,” he says, drawing a blade,
“ain’t you suddenly thoughtful?”

Her eyes harden.

“Let us begin!”

She lunges.

Steel collides.

The impact splits the air.

They move faster now—
Lilith’s strikes precise, divine, relentless.
Drake’s movements wild, fluid, improvised.

Blade.
Gunshot.
Kick.
Parry.

The sky darkens.

Clouds spiral unnaturally overhead.

A wall begins to form—

Even Xorvath stiffens.

“…So that’s how it was born,” he mutters.

Then—

Something else arrives.

A ship, gleaming with holy sigils.

Luminaris stands upon its deck, staff raised.

“You have fallen, Champion!” she roars.

She slams her staff into the sea.

The water convulses.

Something vast stirs beneath the surface.

Drake clicks his tongue.

“Tch. Always gotta ruin the mood.”

Lilith turns—

Just long enough.

Luminaris vanishes, retreating into light, leaving chaos behind.

Xorvath watches silently as the sea calms again.

On the island—

The fight resumes.

But something has changed.

Their movements sync.
Their timing aligns.

They clash—

And laugh.

Lilith smiles mid-strike.

Drake grins as he dodges.

It looks less like battle now—

And more like a dance.

Steel flashing.
Footsteps circling.
Waves crashing in rhythm.

I stare, stunned.

“…Am I,” I whisper,
“watching the moment they fall in love?”

“Quiet,” Luna snaps instantly, eyes blazing with focus.
“I’m watching this.”

Her lips twitch.

Just slightly.

And for the first time, I understand.

This isn’t legend yet.

This is the beginning of one.

Two forces that should never align—
Chaos and conviction—
Meeting not as enemies…

But as equals.

And somewhere in that clash—

A bond is forged that will shake the world.

But not in the way legends tell it.

Not through destiny.

Not through prophecy.

Through something far more dangerous.

Emotion.

The island trembles beneath their clash.

Steel against steel.

Divine precision versus reckless brilliance.

Drake laughs mid-parry.

Lilith breathes harder than before.

Their blades lock.

Faces inches apart.

The wind howls around them.

“You’re smiling,” Drake murmurs.

“…You provoke me.”

“Good.”

He twists free.

She follows.

They move again—faster.

Until—

A presence approaches from the shoreline.

Garnet.

She lands on the edge of the island, breath uneven.

She had followed.

She had watched.

And what she sees—

Is not a battle.

It’s something else.

Lilith lowers her blade first.

Drake pauses, surprised.

She steps forward.

Slowly.

No hesitation.

And then—

She grabs his collar.

And kisses him.

Me 😳
“…That quick?!”

Luna 😍
“Ah…”

The kiss is not gentle.

Not shy.

It’s fierce.

Challenging.

As if she’s claiming victory.

Drake freezes for half a second.

Then—

He smirks into it.

From the shoreline—

Garnet’s world shatters.

Her fingers tighten around her staff.

“…What?”

The wind shifts.

Lilith pulls back first.

Eyes no longer cold.

No longer distant.

They’re alive.

Human.

Drake blinks.

“Well now,” he says softly.
“That’s new.”

BOOM.

A blast of mana erupts behind them.

Garnet steps forward.

“Get away from him.”

Lilith turns calmly.

“He is not yours.”

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Drake mutters.

From the sky above—

Xorvath watches.

Nyx lounges against the railing of the airship, holding a cup lazily.

“Ooo,” she grins.
“A catfight.”

Lilith and Garnet collide.

Staff versus blade.

Holy aura versus summoned mana.

The island cracks beneath them.

Drake jumps between them instantly.

“Now now, ladies,” he says smoothly, raising both hands.
“There’s plenty more of me to—”

WHAM.

Both of them kick him in the face simultaneously.

He flies backward into a rock.

“Shut up!!!” Garnet yells.

“HUSSSH!!!” Lilith snaps.

Drake slides down the rock slowly.

“…Worth it.”

They glare at him.

Then at each other.

And something shifts.

Lilith’s expression softens slightly.

Not weak.

But aware.

She looks at Garnet.

And for the first time—

She understands what she just did.

She didn’t act as a champion.

She acted as a woman.

And Garnet—

Isn’t just angry.

She’s hurt.

The silence stretches.

Drake groans from behind them.

“…Am I interruptin’ something important?”

They both glare at him again.

Above—

Xorvath strokes his chin thoughtfully.

“…Interesting man indeed.”

Nyx sips her drink.

“He’s a smooth talker.”

“He destabilized a divine champion emotionally in under a week,” Xorvath replies calmly.
“That is far more dangerous than any army.”

Below—

Lilith turns away slightly.

Her wings fold tighter.

Her voice is quieter now.

“…I did not understand this feeling.”

Garnet clenches her fists.

“That doesn’t mean you can just take what you want.”

Drake finally stands between them properly.

“Oi,” he says gently this time.

“Neither of ye owns me.”

They both blink.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I ain’t treasure to be claimed.”

His tone shifts—serious now.

“But I also ain’t runnin’.”

The tension softens.

Just a little.

Above—

Xorvath exhales slowly.

“Let us leave. I have seen enough.”

Nyx perks up immediately.

“Huh? Already?”

“Lilith is no longer a threat.”

He turns away from the railing.

“Our focus will be Luminaris.”

Nyx stretches lazily.

“Huh!! Finally!!! I was getting bored.”

The airship vanishes into cloud cover.

Leaving behind—

An island.

A pirate.

A summoner.

A fallen champion.

And the beginning of something that will echo into the future.

Back inside the memory—

Luna and I stand silently.

“…So that’s how,” I whisper.

“True,” Luna nods slowly.
“So Garnet wasn’t exaggerating.”

“What?”

“…Nothing.”

She looks away suspiciously.

“Why do you keep doing that?!”

“Whatever. Come on,” she grabs my hand.

“Let’s go to the next part.”

Her fingers tighten slightly around mine.

And I realize—

We’re not just watching history.

We’re learning something about ourselves too.

Because love—

In the middle of war—

Is the most dangerous force of all.

To be continued