Lumino stirred, the faint rays of dawn spilling through the treetops. The air was crisp, tinged with the metallic scent of blood and the dampness of earth. As his senses slowly returned, he realized there was a soft weight beside him.
Lady Resvika sat at his side, a serene smile curling her lips—her hands delicately folded on her lap, as though nothing had happened.
Lumino blinked, sitting up slowly. He looked around. The clearing, the scattered remnants of the night's chaos… and his hand. He flexed his fingers. It was still there. Not a dream.
'He had killed her.'
And yet… his body—his instincts—had moved on their own. As if something ancient inside him knew how to wield that terrifying power.
What is happening to me?
"Lumino, my son… You're awake." Resvika's voice was soft, almost melodic.
He nodded weakly. "Are you… alright, Mother?"
Resvika's expression softened further. "Don't worry about me. The coronation will begin soon. They've already cleaned the corpses out of the palace. They're spreading lies about the king's treachery—just another ploy to steal the throne."
Her eyes gleamed, dangerously sharp beneath her sweet smile.
"This is our chance. I'll expose the truth in front of the people. And you — with your power, you can kill Antonio… without even dirtying your hands."
She said it with reverence. With obsession.
Lumino stared into her eyes.
She saw what I did last night… and yet… she's so calm.
A chill ran down his spine.
He shook his head. "I… I'm not sure about what happened back there. I believe… I believe we could talk this out with the revolution's leader. There must be another way."
His voice trembled. Even if he wasn't sure himself—he didn't want to kill again. Every death carved a wound deeper into his heart. And worse… he couldn't stop thinking of his grandfather. Of how disappointed he'd be.
But Resvika's face darkened."You're still refusing? After everything? Even if it costs your mother's life?" Her words cut like a blade, her tone sharp with hidden menace.
And then—
"That won't be necessary."
The voice came from behind Lumino.
He turned—and his heart stopped.
Antonio.
Standing tall, his broad frame casting a shadow in the morning light, the man Lumino remembered from the back alley—the man who had once saved him.
He's… the leader of the revolution?
"Still playing your games, aren't you, Resvika?" Antonio's voice was low, like distant thunder. "You'll even manipulate your own flesh and blood… if it serves your cause."
Resvika stood abruptly, glaring. "You—!"
Antonio's icy gaze shifted to Lumino. "So… You killed Rena. And that quake… You caused it, weren't you?"
Lumino's breath hitched.
"What are you talking about? You… You're the one behind this madness!" He tried to rise, but his body screamed in protest.
Antonio snapped his fingers. Instantly, two revolutionaries rushed forward—seizing Resvika by the arms.
"What are you — Let me go! Lumino, help me!" Resvika's scream echoed in the still morning.
Lumino lunged forward—
But froze.
Antonio's blade was pressed against Resvika's throat. His expression was stone.
"Move… and she dies."
Lumino's hands trembled. What should I do? What should I—
Antonio smirked. With a single nod, he ordered his men to drag Resvika away.
"No… Mother…" Lumino whispered.
"Look at you." Antonio turned back, his voice thick with scorn.
With rough force, he grabbed Lumino by the collar and hauled him toward the bloodstained field— the same place Lumino had fought Rena.
"Look at that!"
He pointed toward the massive chasm slicing through the earth—its black maw stretching endlessly.
"This is your doing."
He yanked Lumino's hair back, forcing him to face it.
"This morning, I checked… Thirty dead. Ten more, crippled. You—" Antonio's voice cracked, "…you're a walking disaster. I should have let you die back then. I should've never… even give money to a monster like you."
Lumino stared in silent horror. His heart pounded in his ears.
'I… did this?
No.
No… I didn't mean to…'
"I… I'm sorry…" Tears welled in his eyes—falling quietly to the earth.
Antonio released his grip, shoving him aside.
"So… who takes responsibility? You? Or me?"
Antonio's voice dropped—haunted, almost broken.
"It's over. I should've known… I was just a pawn for that woman."
Antonio gazed at Lumino with hollow eyes. "So… you really are her son. The child of that woman."
He spat the words like venom.
Antonio stood on the precipice, the morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone street. The air, thick with the scent of brine and the distant cries of gulls, did little to alleviate the cold dread that had settled in his bones. He had heard the rumors, whispers carried on the wind, tales of betrayal and impending doom. He'd dismissed them as idle gossip, the fabrications of jealous rivals. But then his own mother had spoken, her voice etched with a fear that resonated deep within him.
"A harbinger of ruin," she had warned, the words like shards of ice piercing his heart. He hadn't believed her. Not until now.
His lips twisted in a bitter smile, a grotesque mockery of the warmth he once possessed. "Now I do." The words were a confession, a surrender to the crushing weight of his disillusionment. He had once been a man of unwavering conviction, a leader forged in the crucible of hardship. He had fought for a better world, a world free from the suffering that plagued the slums of Veridia. He had believed in Resvika, in her captivating smile, her promises of a kingdom built on equality and justice.
Antonio drew his sword, the polished steel reflecting the unforgiving light. The familiar weight of the weapon, the feel of the hilt in his calloused hand, should have been a comfort. A warrior's constant companion. But as the blade glinted in the morning light, his hand froze.
The image of Resvika, her radiant smile, flashed before his eyes. He remembered the day in the slums, the day their paths had first crossed, the promises she had made, the dreams they had shared. Dreams of a kingdom with no hunger, of a better world rising from the ashes of the old. All of it now… all of it was revealed as lies.
A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of the betrayal that consumed him. The promises, the dreams, the hopes… all shattered, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair. The sword felt heavy in his hand, not with the weight of steel, but with the burden of his shattered faith.
"…I don't need this anymore." The words escaped his lips in a whisper, a final, desperate act of defiance. Slowly, deliberately, Antonio turned the blade toward himself.
Lumino, standing a few feet away, watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. His eyes widened, fear blooming in his chest. He had known Antonio for years. He had witnessed the unwavering devotion, the fierce loyalty. He had believed in Resvika, too. Now, he understood. The truth, like a venomous serpent, had finally revealed itself.
"No—!" Lumino's voice was a strangled cry, a desperate plea for his friend to reconsider. But it was too late. Antonio, his face a mask of resignation and despair, drove the sword into his own chest.
Blood erupted from the wound, a crimson flood. It splattered across Lumino's face, hot and shockingly real. The world swam. The cries of the gulls, the smell of the sea, the crisp morning air, they all dissolved as Lumino stared at the man, now lying motionless on the cold stones, stained with his own blood.
Antonio staggered—locking eyes with Lumino one last time.
"We're both… pathetic… You and me…"
With a strangled gasp, Antonio collapsed to the ground.
And Lumino could only stand there—frozen, numb—as the world crumbled around him.
---
The echoes of Lumino's memories bled into the world beyond. His cries twisted into a sharp resonance, crackling through the shifting layers of reality.
In the fading haze of memory, Carol struggled to contain the storm inside him—her hands trembling as she pressed against his searing aura.
"This… it's too much…" Carol whispered, voice cracking under the strain.
And after that—
The surge exploded.
Lumino's power ruptured the very fabric of the memory realm. Time warped. Space cracked. Even Caroline's deep-seated consciousness recoiled as reality itself buckled beneath the weight of his uncontrolled essence.
But—
A calm voice sliced through the chaos. Everything froze, the entire scene stood still, suspended in a breathless instant The world, the light, even Lumino's scream—
"Not yet."
A woman's silhouette stepped forward—her movements unhurried, her mere presence bending reality around her, Lady Seraphine. She stepped forward from nothingness, touched Lumino's forehead— The memories snapped shut.
Lumino fell forward into Carol's arms, unconscious.
"This isn't your moment, Caroline. Don't even think about unlocking all his memories now," Seraphine spoke softly, yet her words clawed at the air like sharpened steel. "The Orb is still dormant."
Carol stared—frozen, bewildered.
How…?
How could Lady Seraphine manipulate even the deepest recesses of her memories?
Without ceremony, Seraphine reached forward. The chaotic energy around Lumino recoiled, sucked back into his unconscious body like a tide reversing course. His body slumped—collapsing in Carol's arms, unconscious.
"If he remembers everything now… my plans will fall apart." Seraphine's voice held a quiet venom. "I won't let him rot… the way you did, Caroline."
The memory realm trembled as Seraphine's influence rippled outward—a force so staggering, Carol felt it sear through her even in this astral space.
So this is… his power… Carol realized with a cold shiver. And yet… even that couldn't break her control…
Carol quickly pulled Lumino back. They returned to the waking world. The familiar, cramped room was their reality.
Lumino's body was still. He sat in silent meditation, eyes closed. Something felt wrong. Carol turned. Lady Seraphine was there. She stood nearby. Carol hissed, "You..."
"Which Seraphine are you?"
Seraphine smiled sweetly, her crimson lips curving into a mockery of kindness. Her crimson eyes shimmered like blood beneath obsidian waves of hair cascading down her back.
"That doesn't matter." Seraphine's voice was silk over poison. "What matters… is that you've meddled too much. You nearly contaminated my—Lumino."
Her words oozed with dangerous affection.
"You're… the Seraphine of this timeline, The real world," Carol muttered. "What's your real goal?"
Seraphine's gaze dropped to Lumino, unconscious in Carol's arms.
"My goal? Simple." She gave a soft, chilling laugh. "To destroy every dimension in existence, why would I My dream isn't grand—it's quite personal. And for that… I need him."
Carol clenched her fists. The infernal heat within Lumino finally began to settle.
"I've sealed his memories again," Seraphine whispered. "You know, I am connected to him."
"Connected? You're just using the ORB ETERNUM!" Carol snapped.
Seraphine's lips curled higher—an unsettling, knowing smirk. "And you think I didn't know you've been hoarding power for 190 years… just to kill me?"
Carol's heart froze.
Seraphine brushed her fingers along Caroline's real body—the sleeping shell.
"You know what I hate about you, Caroline?" Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You think too highly of yourself. Haven't you realized… there's always a sky above the sky?"
In an instant—Carol couldn't move.
Her astral form jerked, yanked away from Lumino—dragged straight into Seraphine's grasp.
Seraphine's slender fingers wrapped around Carol's throat.
"He's mine." Her voice was low, slow, terrifying. "And I hate… when people touch what's mine."
Carol's vision blurred.
"You've been running because your body's still absorbing my thoughts—still cursed by my magic tome. You should know… you can't escape me."
"No—!" Carol struggled. But Seraphine shoved her astral form back—forcing her into Caroline's dormant body.
No! I can't merge with her—!
"Don't worry," Seraphine whispered sweetly. "I wasn't going to use you again. But now… I've changed my mind."
She leaned in, her breath ice on Carol's skin.
"Every arc needs a villain. You'll do perfectly… My pitiful, disposable successor."
No—!
Carol's scream pierced the silent air as her soul was sealed back into Caroline's body.
Caroline's eyes snapped open.
A suffocating aura bled from her skin—thick, crimson-black, crushing the air like a vice. Seraphine was gone.
Lumino stirred—his eyes fluttering open, Before him stood Caroline… but not the Carol he knew.
Wild, tangled strands of her blonde hair blew around her face in the wind. Her crimson eyes radiated a faint, eerie glow—lifeless, vacant, and utterly dim.
"C-Carol…?" Lumino whispered.
This wasn't a dream.
Not a memory.
This… was real.
He scrambled to his feet. His heart pounded against his ribs.
"Carol! It's me, Lumino!" He stepped forward—but stopped.
She moved.
Like a shadow crawling toward him—her hand lifted, fingers splayed as they brushed his hair.
"Cursed#@…"
Lumino shivered. The word echoed, distorted, unnatural.
He staggered back—panic gripping his lungs.
"Cursed. You… are &@#destined to destroy*$% the world. You… must die."
"Carol—no!" Lumino gasped.
He fell backward, the air thinning, suffocating under the oppressive barrier Caroline radiated.
The red thread that once connected him to Kael flickered—gone.
And the other thread… tied to Caroline… glowed a sick, blood-drenched red.
"I don't understand!" Lumino cried. "Please… stop, Carol!"
But Caroline drew closer—her dead eyes locking onto his.
Her hand reached out—
No escape.
A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist. The grip was familiar, a strong and unyielding warmth.
"Sorry I'm late, Lumino," a voice said.
Lumino looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Kael…!"
Kael smiled softly, and then cradled Lumino's body as if it weighed nothing. Without hesitation, Kael began to carry him toward Alira.
Alira, in turn, caught Lumino's hand with a teasing wink and a thumbs-up. "Take a break. Leave this to us," she said.
Kael then turned, standing tall before Caroline's monstrous aura.
Lumino stared at his back—his heart swelling with hope and fear, Alira whispered beside him, "I cracked her barrier. Now rest."
Lumino's lips parted, his voice hoarse.
"Kael… Don't kill her."
Kael's jaw clenched as he watched Caroline advancing, muttering kill, kill, her eyes locked on Lumino like a predator.
His hands balled into fists.
I'm not sure… I can promise that.