In the Late Hours of the Night, Deep Within Greenworld Forest...
Ten people stood arranged in a circle, each wearing cloaks and different animal masks. At their center stood a man with long green hair, golden eyes, and a fit physique. His face was covered by a black owl mask that only reached down to his eyes.
From among the cloaked figures, a girl with an eagle mask, long blonde hair, and blue eyes stepped forward. "The last time we gathered was for the Twilight Pact. I hope you're not mocking us, Lion. Or else I'll tear you apart right here."
The owl-masked man—Lion—looked at her. "Actually, our initial orders were to meet at Nyx Manor, Flora. But while I was on my way, another command came. This time, it was delivered telepathically. Lord Order himself gave the directive—he wants the Chosen Ones to assemble once more. He will be here soon. So, watch your words."
Flora, the silver-eagle-masked girl, froze. Lord Order rarely communicated with them face-to-face.
She took a few steps back and knelt. "As you command, Koatan. Forgive my disrespect." After a few seconds, she stood back up.
At that moment, the gentle wind suddenly intensified, and eerie whispers rose from the depths of the forest.
Everyone except Lion drew their weapons, bracing for battle.
The whispers grew louder, closer—until they abruptly stopped. A black smoke rose from the ground, engulfing the area.
Lion remained calm, standing firm. The other Chosen Ones, fearing the smoke might be poisonous, covered their faces with their cloaks. But after a few seconds, the smoke vanished, and the wind slowed back to a gentle breeze.
The Chosen lowered their cloaks, scanning their surroundings, trying to make sense of the abnormality.
Flora turned to Lion to ask what had just happened. "Captain—" But before she could finish, she immediately dropped to one knee, pressing two fingers to her chest in salute.
Lion whispered, "It's been too long since we last saw you. It's an honor to be in your presence again." Yet every Chosen heard him clearly.
They looked at Lion, then at the figure he was kneeling before—a black-clad individual, their face hidden beneath a hood. Without hesitation, they all knelt as well.
...
A Few Days Earlier, Near the Capital City of Spirits...
Lorian sprinted desperately through the forest, monstrous creatures hot on his heels.
He had been attacked in his sleep. He'd tried to fight back but was overpowered—now, he had been running for eight straight hours. Why does everything always find me?! he thought, panting. These things are way stronger than that beast I fought in the mountains. I don't stand a chance.
Exhausted, he wanted to rest—but stopping meant death.
As he raced through the trees, he spotted a clearing to his right and lunged toward it.
The creatures skidded to a halt, then pivoted to chase him again.
They caught up, leaping at him as he clutched his wounded shoulder. But Lorian rolled aside at the last second, barely escaping. He scrambled to his feet and kept running.
Damn it… According to the map, this is the wrong direction. I need to lose them—now!
Just then, tendrils of black and white smoke rose from the ground, instantly obliterating the monsters. The smoke coiled around Lorian, and his vision went dark.
...
When Lorian opened his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by trees—standing in the center of a perfect circle.
An unfamiliar voice spoke. "You took a while to wake up. But then again, you're ****, and you haven't ****** yet, so I guess that's normal."*
"What's happening? Who are you?"
"Who am I? Honestly… I don't know."
Lorian looked around. No one was there. "Where are you? How are you speaking to me?"
"I'm close. Much closer than you think."
"What do you want from me?"
The voice replied, "For you to live. To learn. To know. To restore order."
"Restore order? What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I don't know who I am. I don't even know what I want. But it doesn't matter—I'll learn alongside you."
Lorian stood up. "Can I trust you?"
"No. Don't trust me, Lorian. Or should I call you Silas? Which do you prefer?"
"Lo—"
The voice cut him off. "Ah, I think I'll go with Silas. It sounds cooler."
Lorian clenched his fists, scowling. Then why ask if you're just gonna decide yourself?!
I don't know.
Lorian's eyes widened. Wait—can I actually do that too?!
"If you don't know who you are… then do you know who I am?"
The voice answered, "Yes. You are ******. You are the true master of *******. The one whom even the Emissaries serve. You… are the one who must restore order."
Lorian shouted in frustration. "Why are you burdening me with this?! Everyone expects something from me! I don't have to do any of this!"
No, you don't. And that's exactly why I'm here, dear Silas. To guide you, to warn you, to protect you—but never trust me. Never rely on me.
The voice echoed one last time in his mind before black and white smoke enveloped him again. The world faded to darkness.
Lorian now stood in a dark dungeon, facing a pale-haired man with blood-red eyes and a lean, powerful frame.
Remember, Silas. There can only be one true Sovereign in existence. You were born to uphold order—and he was born to drown it in chaos. He is your true enemy. His name… is Valas.
The man's voice reverberated in Lorian's mind before the smoke swallowed him once more.
This time, he materialized in a grand palace. A thick black smoke erupted from his body—far denser than before.
As it poured out of him, Lorian screamed in agony. The smoke split into eleven distinct strands, each morphing into a throne arranged in a crescent formation.
Before he could process it, an even thicker white smoke burst forth, flooding the entire palace before vanishing—revealing a massive white throne, adorned with ancient, indecipherable runes, standing directly opposite the crescent of black thrones.
For a moment, Lorian was mesmerized by its grandeur. Then his lips curled into a chilling smile.
You will be mine.
He approached the throne, climbing the steps despite an overwhelming pressure—no, not pressure. It was the lingering presence of a primordial being, trying to pull him in. Yet unconsciously, Lorian resisted, ascending until he stood before the seat of power.
He circled the throne, running his fingers along its surface. You belong to me.
It is yours.
Another unfamiliar voice. The throne was his.
Lorian smirked, glancing at the eleven black thrones behind him. Each bore strange inscriptions, but he couldn't read them—nor did he care.
Finally, he sat upon the magnificent white throne, closing his eyes.
I will reclaim my memories, my power, and everything that was taken from me. I will destroy those who betrayed me. I will annihilate all who stand in my way. I will restore the order I once built.
And once again… the world around him darkened.
This time, Lorian did not—no, could not—open his eyes.
[Awakening Complete.]