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In a darkness that resembled neither night…
nor a dream…
Adam stood.
No ground beneath his feet…
no sky above his head…
only an endless void… as if existence itself had been stripped of all meaning.
Before him…
stood someone.
His features were unclear… as if they changed with every blink.
But one thing remained constant—
his eyes.
Black… deep… as if within them lay an unseen end.
He stepped forward.
A voice came from him… cold… yet carrying the weight of an ancient judgment:
"We will fight."
Silence.
Then:
"Damnation…
either you… or me."
He moved closer.
"No difference."
The void trembled.
And suddenly—
a circle of golden light exploded.
In the Tribal Mountains…
Adam's body lay on the ground, motionless.
Dairyon stood beside him, his features tense, his sword still in hand, as if the battle had yet to end.
"Adam…"
He did not move.
But Lorian… was not looking at his face.
He was looking at his chest.
He slowly raised his hand…
and in his palm—
a golden magic circle.
Its symbols moved… rotated… breathed.
It was not mere energy…
It was a seal.
He stepped forward.
Then—
he struck Adam's chest with it.
A faint sound… yet deep… as if it reached a place nothing else could reach.
Adam's body shook violently.
He gasped—
and woke.
His eyes widened, his breathing uneven, as if he had returned from somewhere very far away.
"W-what…"
He stopped.
He looked around… then at his hands… then at Lorian.
"What… happened?"
Lorian looked at him… with strange calm.
No worry.
No tension.
Only silence… that knew more than it said.
Then he spoke:
"Nothing happened."
A brief pause.
"We just overdid the training."
He moved slightly away.
"Go… get some rest, Adam."
Adam remained staring at him… as if he felt the answer was incomplete.
But his body… was too exhausted to question.
He rose slowly… then walked away.
Silence returned.
But this time… it was heavier.
Dairyon said in a low voice:
"Maybe… he'll do it again."
Lorian did not turn.
But his voice came cold:
"The Sergonian seal… will prevent that bastard from possessing Adam's body."
Dairyon froze.
"Possess…?"
Lorian did not answer.
Silence.
Then—
Dairyon suddenly turned toward him, his voice carrying tension he could not hide:
"By the Seven Lights… how did those flames enter?!"
A step forward.
"That's not ordinary fire… that's the Chosen One's flame!"
His voice dropped… but became more dangerous:
"How did it enter… and you survived?"
Lorian stopped.
For seconds…
he did not answer.
Then he raised his gaze slightly… as if he did not see the mountains… but something beyond.
And said:
"I've seen it before…"
Silence.
"In that distant age."
The air froze.
Then he added… with cold calm:
"And don't forget… who I am."
Dairyon fell silent.
And for the first time… he had no reply.
Location: The Third Shaptur Camp, at the edge of the Glass Mountains in the Dead Miron Desert – just before dawn.
Soldier Kiras of the "Silent Banner Legion" rose every dawn…
not to pray…
nor to reflect…
but to look at the sky.
That morning…
was not like the others.
Something… was broken in the air.
As if time itself… had paused… to whisper something unspeakable.
(A distant caw… unlike wind… nor bird…)
Kiras stared toward the horizon.
"Did you hear that?"
His voice was low… but carried real concern.
"That wasn't wind… nor an animal."
The soldier beside him replied, his eyes drowned in shadows:
"I didn't see anything… but… last night…"
He stopped.
"The Fifth Company Commander… fled his tent."
"He left it burning."
Silence.
"They said he saw a nightmare…"
He looked at him.
"But his eyes… weren't asleep."
(A faint explosion… behind the mountain…)
No echo.
Only… gray ash… slowly falling over the tents.
Kiras turned.
"This… is not enemy fire."
He whispered:
"These… are omens."
Silence spread.
Then—
a shadow passed.
Not a bird… not a body…
but its shadow… was there.
Long… stretched… as if the sky itself bent to it.
The other soldier trembled.
"I saw it… in a dream."
His voice barely came out:
"A bird… its wings half light… and half shadow…"
"Its voice… isn't heard… it's planted in the heart…"
He swallowed.
"It told me…"
He stopped.
Then whispered:
"He who does not know why he fights… will perish at the first crossing."
Kiras looked at him.
In a voice closer to a question:
"Then who do we fight for?"
"For the organization?"
"For the High Commander?"
Silence.
Then, in a lower voice:
"Or… for something far older than that?"
Footsteps.
Slow.
Steady.
The field commander appeared.
His face was pale… and his eyes… empty.
"The Harbinger… passed through here."
His voice was hoarse.
"The order… will change."
"New orders… tonight."
He paused.
Then:
"What you thought was a dream… was nothing but a message."
He turned… and left.
Kiras whispered:
"There is a hand… moving everything…"
He looked at the sky.
"A hand that does not walk… but flies."
And suddenly—
Descent.
The ground trembled.
The air split.
One of the soldiers shouted:
"The Eighth Shadow… has arrived!"
He stood.
Silent.
But his presence… was enough to silence everything.
Then he said:
"I will begin… striking now."
Silence.
"And whoever can remain alive…"
"Will come with me."
He looked at them.
"Which of you… is ready?"
A hundred soldiers stepped forward.
Among them—
Kiras.
The Shadow smiled a smile unseen… yet felt.
"Here we are."
He raised his hand—
and lightning exploded.
A few strikes only—
enough.
Eighty soldiers fell.
In moments.
Charred… vaporized… gone.
He said:
"They did not deserve… to be of Shaptur."
Then—
two swords of lightning formed in his hands.
He surged forward.
One strike—
another—
short screams… then silence.
Twenty…
became—
seven.
He stopped.
Looked at them.
"This… is enough."
Silence.
"I will meet you… tomorrow… after midnight."
A strike of lightning—
and he vanished.
As if he had never been.
The following night…
After midnight…
In the catacombs of the Castle of Oblivion…
The seven entered.
Torches ignited suddenly.
The Eighth Shadow… at the center.
His staff in hand.
"To fight… does not mean you are alive."
"And to die… does not mean you have left the battle."
Silence.
"You are now… between them."
A candle lit… in a dark red color.
"Whoever wishes to see… what must not be seen… step forward."
One…
then another…
until the sixth.
Each one… returned with different eyes.
When the seventh came—
he hesitated.
The Shadow looked at him.
"Doubt… is betrayal."
He lowered the staff—
the candles went out.
"Only six… will be the core of the flame."
Silence.
"As for the seventh…"
He did not finish.
He vanished.
As if he had never been.
The six looked at one another…
but no one spoke.
The Shadow said:
"The core of the flame… will be planted in the heart of Shaptur."
"And from within… will burn everyone who does not know why they fight."
Silence.
Then—
he approached them.
"You… will go to the Kingdom of Black Waters."
He paused.
"You will guard… the Kuro family."
Heavy silence.
Then he said:
"These… are the Bird's orders."
In the depths of the catacomb…
a sentence was written in blood:
"He does not rule who is seen…"
"But he who is never asked… about his face."