The darkness did not last.
A soft, gentle voice drifted through the void
"Amit… It's time to eat."
Lestes' eyelids trembled.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
—
Before him was a small courtyard, simple yet warm. Sunlight spilt across the ground, illuminating a wooden table set neatly with freshly prepared food. The faint aroma of home-cooked dishes lingered in the air.
A woman dressed in plain white clothes stood beside the table. Her movements were gentle, her presence comforting. Though her attire was simple, her beauty carried a quiet warmth that made the entire yard feel alive.
Not far away, a child of about seven was squatting on the ground, playing with mud, completely absorbed in his own little world.
"Yes, Mother!"
The boy sprang to his feet and ran toward the table with bright, carefree steps.
Lestes… watched.
No—
Amit.
This was Amit.
"Mom, where is Father? I haven't seen him since morning," Amit asked as he climbed onto his chair, his eyes already drifting toward the food.
"Your father should be back from the market soon," his mother replied softly, arranging the dishes.
Amit eagerly reached for the plate
Tap.
His mother lightly struck his hand.
"Wash your hands first."
Amit pouted but did not argue. He picked up a small jug of water and carefully washed his hands, though his gaze never left the food.
Only after that did he begin to eat.
As he took his first few bites, the sound of footsteps approached from outside.
Amit turned his head.
A middle-aged man walked into the yard, his face carrying a tired yet gentle smile.
"Father!" Amit called out, his eyes lighting up.
The man chuckled.
"Heh… look what I brought for you."
From behind his back, he took out a small bundle of candy.
"Candies!"
Amit jumped down from his chair and rushed toward him, his face filled with pure, unrestrained joy.
—
Lestes stood amidst it all, silent.
He could not move.
He could only watch.
This was one of the most precious memories from his previous life.
A life he thought he had long forgotten.
—
The scene shifted.
—
The warmth faded.
The courtyard dissolved into a dimly lit room.
The same woman now lay on a bed, her face pale and fragile. Her breathing was weak, as though every breath required effort.
Amit sat beside her, his small hands clenched tightly, his eyes filled with fear he could not understand.
"Come closer," she said softly.
Her voice was faint, yet still gentle.
Amit moved closer, his steps hesitant.
She slowly reached up, her trembling fingers removing a jade hairpin from her own hair.
With great care, she placed it into Amit's hair.
"Live well… my son."
—
The world shattered again.
—
Time moved forward.
Amit was no longer a child.
He had grown into a young man, his figure tall and steady.
He stood beneath a towering, ancient willow tree, its long green branches swaying gently in the wind. Before him stood a man in his thirties, who called out with a smile—
"Junior Brother."
—
The scene changed once more.
—
A quiet lakeside appeared.
A little girl dressed in red sat near the water, holding a fishing rod with both hands. Her face was full of concentration, though excitement flickered in her bright eyes.
Not far from her, Amit sat calmly, also fishing.
Suddenly, the girl's rod jerked.
"I caught one!"
She jumped to her feet, her face glowing with joy.
"Little Martial Uncle, look, I caught a fish!"
Amit turned toward her, a faint smile forming on his lips.
—
The world shifted again.
—
A young man stood before Amit, his expression fierce.
"Take my pouch," he roared, his voice filled with challenge.
—
Another shift.
—
"You lost this time. You're paying for the wine," the same young man said, grinning arrogantly.
—
The next moment—
They were seated inside a tavern.
The table between them was filled with jars of wine, their surfaces reflecting the dim lantern light.
"Let's drink until we drown ourselves," the young man declared as he lifted a jar and took a deep gulp.
Amit followed, drinking just as boldly.
Then—
They burst into laughter.
"Ha! Ha! Ha…!"
Their voices echoed freely, filled with youth, camaraderie, and a sense of invincibility.
—
The scene changed once more.
—
The laughter was gone.
In its place stood a warship.
The sky was vast and cold, the wind sharp.
Amit stood below, his figure firm, his expression resolute.
On the warship were familiar faces—
The young man who once drank with him.
The little girl in red is now grown into a woman.
Others stood beside them, their expressions solemn.
Amit's chest tightened.
Then—
He roared.
"Go!"
—
The warship began to move.
Slowly at first—
Then faster.
Carrying away the people he once laughed with…
Toward a future unknown.
—
The scene shifted again.
—
Amit walked along a narrow path, surrounded by several figures. Their movements were disciplined, their expressions stern, and the atmosphere around them carried a faint, oppressive weight.
At the very front walked a man whose presence alone set him apart.
He suddenly slowed his steps and turned back.
His eyes landed directly on Amit.
"Let me introduce myself," he said, his tone calm yet carrying an unspoken authority. "I am the captain of your squad from the Execution Department."
A faint, almost amused smile appeared on his lips.
"My name is Lucifer Morning Star the Ninth. You can call me Lucy. My ancestor bore the name Lucifer Morning Star, and I am the ninth in his lineage to carry it."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"What is your name?"
For a brief moment—
Amit fell silent.
It was as if something within him stirred, something deeper than memory, something that did not fully belong to the life he had once lived.
His lips parted.
"My name…"
There was a pause, subtle yet heavy.
"…Mystique."
His voice was steady now, as if the name had always belonged to him.
"You can call me Mystique."
Lucy watched him for a moment longer, as if trying to see through him, before turning away without another word.
—
The scene shifted again.
—
This time, the atmosphere was far more relaxed.
Amit stood alone, his expression calm, when a man approached him with an easy smile. His demeanour was open, almost overly friendly, yet his eyes held a sharpness that suggested he was far from simple.
"Hey, little brother," the man called out as he closed the distance between them.
"When I saw you earlier, I could tell you were someone outstanding. I thought it would be a waste not to make your acquaintance."
He placed a hand over his chest in a casual gesture.
"My name is Huang Yan."
His smile widened slightly.
"Let's be friends."
—
Lestes watched everything unfold.
Every joy.
Every loss.
Every bond.
Every separation.
These were not illusions.
These were memories—
From Lestes's previous lives, these memories surged forth like an endless tide, each fragment carrying emotions so vivid that they felt more real than the present itself.
Joy.
Sorrow.
Regret.
Warmth.
Loss.
They intertwined, clashed, and overlapped, forming a chaotic whirlpool within his consciousness.
He saw countless scenes flicker before him—faces he had loved, paths he had walked, choices he had made, and burdens he had carried. Every life left behind traces, and every trace now resurfaced, refusing to remain buried.
The peaceful yard of his childhood.
His mother's frail smile on her final day.
The laughter shared over wine.
The weight of responsibility standing before a warship.
The cold resolve of the Execution Department.
The name he had once chosen for himself—
Mystique.
All of it surged together.
Not as scattered fragments—
But as a single, overwhelming truth.
Within the raging whirl of memories, Lestes was no longer lost.
He was remembering.
Not just moments—
But identities.
Not just experiences—
But lives.
Each memory carved itself into his consciousness, merging, aligning, and settling into place as if completing a long-forgotten puzzle.
And in that convergence—
—
An ancient world stretched endlessly beneath a dim, oppressive sky, a land steeped in darkness and silence. The earth was dry and cracked, as if it had not known life for countless years, and no vegetation had taken root here for as long as memory could reach. There was no wind, no sound, no trace of vitality—only desolation and ruin remained.
At the very centre of this barren world stood a single withered tree.
Its branches were twisted and lifeless, its trunk hollow and decayed, as though it had long since lost the will to exist. It stood there alone, bearing witness to a world devoid of colour, devoid of emotion.
This was Lestes' inner world.
A place empty of feeling.
A place where nothing could grow.
—
Yet, beyond this silent void, something began to stir.
As the countless memories of his previous lives converged, they formed a vast, swirling current of emotions. Joy and sorrow, love and regret, laughter and grief—all of them intertwined into a boundless whirl, crashing against the emptiness of this world.
The stillness began to crack.
—
Within the inner world, the withered tree trembled.
A faint vibration spread through its lifeless trunk.
Buzzz—
A low, resonant hum echoed across the barren land.
Then—
Light appeared.
At first, it was only a faint glimmer within the dead wood, barely noticeable against the vast darkness. But in the next moment, it erupted outward, flooding the entire world with a brilliant, colourful radiance.
The tree shone.
It shone with a brilliance that did not belong to decay, but to something reborn.
It was as if this was its final radiance—
A last, desperate bloom before the end.
The light expanded, painting the colourless world in hues it had never known. For the first time, warmth touched the land, and for the first time, something within this empty world responded.
—
Drawn by that light, all of Lestes' memories began to move.
The countless emotional fragments—each carrying the essence of a life once lived—converged toward the tree.
They gathered.
They merged.
They returned.
As if answering a silent call.
—
Then—
The tree burned.
Not with flames of destruction, but with a silent, consuming brilliance. Its entire form was engulfed in radiant light, its decayed structure dissolving as though shedding the remnants of its past existence.
The radiance intensified—
And then collapsed inward.
What remained was a single, golden seed.
It hovered momentarily before settling gently upon the cracked earth.
—
At the same time, the memories transformed.
All the emotions that had once formed chaotic scenes now condensed into countless colourful droplets, each one shimmering with a distinct essence, joy, glowing warm, sorrow dim and heavy, love soft and radiant, regret deep and aching.
One by one—
They fell.
The droplets poured onto the golden seed like rain after an eternal drought.
They nourished it.
They seeped into it.
They became a part of it.
—
When the final droplet was absorbed—
Everything fell silent.
The light faded.
The world returned to stillness.
Time itself seemed to pause.
—
A long moment passed.
Then—
The golden seed trembled.
A subtle movement.
Barely perceptible.
Yet undeniable.
From its surface, tiny cracks appeared, and from within those cracks, delicate roots began to emerge. They were small, fragile, and new—yet they carried a vitality that this world had never seen before.
Slowly—
Gently—
The roots extended downward, embedding themselves into the barren ground.
For the first time in countless years—
Something had taken root in this lifeless world.
For the first time—
Life had begun to grow.
"It's done", said the man, watching Lestes through the curtain.