The tunnel was silent again.
Dust drifted slowly through the air, settling over the collapsed stones like gray snow. The sharp smell of ash and smoke seeped down from the burning palace above, filling the narrow passage with the bitter scent of ruin.
Somewhere far away, the sounds of battle faded.
Shouting.
Clashing steel.
Screams.
One by one, they disappeared.
Until nothing remained.
Only silence.
Heavy.
Final.
The baby lay quietly on the cold stone floor.
Alone.
Hidden.
Alive.
His silver eyes blinked once.
Slowly.
The faint glow within them flickered… then faded.
For the first time since his birth—
They looked ordinary.
Human.
Fragile.
Deep inside his mind—
The ancient voice spoke again.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Emotionless.
"Energy reserves depleted."
A brief pause followed.
Then—
"Entering dormant state."
Silence returned.
Still.
Unmoving.
Time passed.
Moments.
Then minutes.
The darkness pressed in around him.
Soft footsteps echoed through the tunnel.
Slow.
Careful.
Approaching.
A figure appeared at the far end of the passage.
Tall.
Armored.
Covered in soot and dust.
A knight.
He moved cautiously, holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. His breathing was heavy, strained from exhaustion and smoke.
His armor bore the royal crest of the kingdom.
But his face was unfamiliar.
Older.
Scarred.
Weathered by years of battle.
A survivor.
The knight stopped abruptly.
His torchlight fell upon the small figure lying on the ground.
His eyes widened.
Shock froze him in place.
"The child…" he whispered.
The word left his lips like a prayer.
He stepped forward slowly.
Lowering his sword.
Every movement careful.
Respectful.
As if approaching something fragile.
Something sacred.
The baby did not cry.
Did not move.
Did not fear.
He simply stared up at the stranger.
Calm.
Silent.
Watching.
The knight knelt beside him.
Up close, he saw the dust clinging to the blanket, the pale skin, the strange stillness in the infant's expression.
Not panic.
Not confusion.
Something deeper.
Something older.
The knight hesitated.
Then gently reached down.
Carefully.
Protectively.
He lifted the child into his arms.
The baby's small hand curled around his finger.
Warm.
Trusting.
Alive.
A sudden wave of emotion struck the knight.
Relief.
Grief.
Responsibility.
"You survived," he murmured.
His voice was low.
Steady.
But inside, his heart thundered.
He rose slowly, holding the child close to his chest.
Then he turned toward the collapsed tunnel behind him.
Toward the palace.
Toward everything that had just been lost.
A deep rumble echoed through the ground.
The knight stepped out of the tunnel.
And into the night.
The sky burned.
Flames roared high into the darkness, devouring the royal palace in a storm of fire and falling stone. Towers crumbled. Walls collapsed. Sparks flew upward like dying stars.
The symbol of royal power—
The heart of the kingdom—
Was falling.
The knight stood motionless, watching the destruction.
Grief filled his chest.
Everything had changed.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
He lowered his gaze to the child in his arms.
The last surviving prince.
The target of prophecy.
The forbidden one.
The baby blinked slowly.
His eyes dull now.
Powerless.
Ordinary.
The knight frowned.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Focused.
Like all trained warriors, he could sense the presence of mana in living beings.
Life.
Energy.
Power.
But when he searched for it within the child—
He found nothing.
Nothing at all.
His eyes snapped open.
Shock spread across his face.
"No mana…" he whispered.
The truth settled heavily in his mind.
This child—
The one who had shaken the palace.
The one who had survived assassins.
The one who had bent stone and shattered walls—
Had no power.
Only life.
Only breath.
Only vulnerability.
The knight's expression softened.
Not with fear.
Not with suspicion.
But with compassion.
"You are just a child," he said quietly.
"A helpless child."
The wind swept across the burning ruins behind him.
Ash drifted through the air like falling snow.
The world felt cold.
Empty.
Broken.
He tightened his grip around the baby.
His voice hardened.
Firm.
Certain.
"Then I will protect you."
He turned away from the burning palace.
Away from the kingdom.
Away from the life the child was born into.
And he began to walk.
Step by step.
Into the darkness.
Toward exile.
Toward survival.
Toward an unknown future.
Far behind them—
Buried beneath the ruins of the fallen palace—
The ancient seal cracked again.
A deep fracture split across its surface.
Chains rattled violently in the darkness.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
And from the shadows below—
A whisper echoed.
Soft.
Patient.
Unstoppable.
"The journey begins."