A Hidden Chamber Beneath Tiara Palace
In a shadowed, secluded chamber near the depths of Tiara Palace, the air was thick with mist and ancient power. Faint, glowing runes shimmered across the dark stone walls, and the only source of light came from a dim green orb pulsating in the center.
Edger stepped forward with resolve, his voice calm but laced with urgency.
"I want the Genesis Stone."
The words echoed through the silence like a solemn decree.
The Genesis Stone—a legendary artifact, said to contain pure condensed Green Mist energy. It could awaken even the powerless, granting them the strength of a Apex, even if they lacked potential entirely. Though such individuals could not rise far, reaching only Rank 3 Apex at most, the stone was still considered sacred.
In a world of five vast continents, three empires, and dozens of kingdoms, the number of Genesis Stones could be counted on two hands. Only two existed in the entire Athera Empire—one safeguarded in the Royal Vault, and the other deep in the Vaelros family treasury.
A pause. Then, from the darkened corner of the room, a chilling, otherworldly voice responded:
"Edger… sit."
The speaker emerged from the shadows. Though cloaked in plain black, the aura around him was suffocating—immense, oppressive, ancient.
Even though Edger himself had recently reached Rank 2 Ascended, he felt the immense pressure weighing on him like a mountain. Yet he remained standing, his eyes glowing with steadfast determination.
"I didn't come here for conversation," he said, voice sharp. "I came for the Genesis Stone."
A low chuckle echoed.
"Oh? Why the long face, Duke? What could drive you here, to ask me for a treasure you swore never to touch?"
"I need it to save Trisen."His reply was instant, raw with emotion.
The figure leaned back, smiling faintly. Coldly.
"And why, I wonder… is he worth saving?""Does he possess something special?"
Edger clenched his fists. He hated the man before him—his smugness, his cruelty, his selfish indifference.But he had no choice.
"He is my son. That's what makes him special."
The response hung in the air like a challenge.
For a brief moment, the figure stared at Edger in silence. Then… surprisingly, he smiled—genuinely, faintly. Perhaps, he admired that conviction.
"Very well. Take the stone from the treasury."
Edger blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected the man to agree so easily. Suspicion flashed across his face, but he didn't question it.
He turned to leave.
"Stop."
The cold voice rang again. Edger halted at once.
"Yes?"
"You have the Holy Crystal… don't you?"
Edger hesitated. The blue-silver Holy Crystal wasn't his. It had been entrusted to him by Bishop Gerald. But refusing this man... was not an option.
Silently, he reached into his cloak and produced the glowing crystal.
The man extended a pale hand. Edger reluctantly placed it in his palm.
"Now you may go."
Without a word, Edger turned and left the chamber—his steps quick, his heart heavy, and his mind burning with hope.
...
The Holy Crystal—a relic said to be crafted by godlike beings in the age before time—rested in the man's hand. It pulsed softly, glowing with a celestial light. A sacred artifact that revealed one's fate, achievements, and destiny... if touched by someone connected through the enigma ritual.
The man stood in silence, his short black hair casting a shadow across his sharp, emotionless face. His blue eyes, however, were alive—fixated on the crystal.
He murmured quietly, to no one but himself.
"Trisen.",He smiled faintly.
"My foolish child doesn't even know the price being paid to save him."
"Perhaps... I shouldn't have allowed the Genesis Stone to be used."
But then his gaze darkened, more thoughtful now—reflective. "Still… as the one who stands at the peak of all Pioneers, I see what they cannot.""I saw the violet and red mist spiraling around him the day he was born."
He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the moment—the unearthly pressure, the sense of boundless power.
"I felt it... a power so vast, so destructive, it dwarfed even the Royal Mistborn's might."
He stepped toward the crystal's altar, then smiled again—though it was cold.
"Wilson," he said, addressing a name buried in time, "I make a bet with you. If Trisen survives this… he'll stir a storm in this world that none can control."
The man's voice dropped to a hush, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation.
Then, without warning, he raised his hand and injected his own mist power—a swirling mass of violet Mist, the Mist of Destruction.
The chamber shook violently, walls humming with ancient energy. The runes embedded in the floor lit up in response. The Holy Crystal floated slightly from his palm, its light reacting wildly to the violet surge.
Then, on its gleaming surface, runes appeared—written in an ancient, long-lost language. The crystal shimmered, responding to the bond it once formed with Trisen during the enigma ritual.
Normally, a typical enigma would reveal 4 to 8 lines, carved in divine script—cryptic insights into one's future.
But this time… only two lines appeared.
𐌇𐌄 𐌌𐌄𐍂𐌌𐌄𐍃 𐌇𐌅𐌄 𐌄𐌎𐌏𐌏𐌄𐌃
— The Hermes Who Escaped
𐌉𐌇𐌄 𐌍𐌄𐌌𐌄 𐌏𐌅 𐍈𐍅𐌔𐌏𐌍𐌃𐍃
— The Name of Thousands
The man's eyes narrowed. His breath slowed.
"Two lines?" he whispered. "Impossible."
"An enigma with only two lines… I've never seen this before."
He stepped back, face unreadable now. His thoughts swirled like a storm.
Unknown-ranked enigma.
The rarest of all—where fate and destiny no longer apply. A path where the child can become a creator or a destroyer. A force free from the strings of prophecy. A wild card.
And yet… this made it more dangerous than anything he had encountered in centuries.
He stared at the crystal, his heart pounding not from fear, but curiosity.
"Hermes who escaped… the name of thousands…"
"What does it mean, Trisen?"
"What will you become?"
He clutched the crystal close to his chest.
His body trembled from anticipation.
******
A noble carriage, adorned with the Vaelros Dukedom's crest, rolled through the grand gates of Tiara Palace. Its presence stirred a quiet ripple of attention among the staff.
As it came to a halt, the door opened and a young lady stepped out. Her black hair shimmered like ink, and her eyes—clear blue with an emerald tint— glinted with noble grace. Her presence was composed yet sharp, every step refined from years within the Imperial Capital.
At once, Head Butler Cornal and several attendants rushed to the carriage.
"Welcome back, young lady," Cornal greeted, bowing respectfully.
"Oh! Nice to see you again, Uncle Cornal," Ariel replied with a warm smile. Despite her high status, her tone was light and familiar.
"The pleasure is mine, Young Mistress," the butler said with reverence. "Please, allow me to escort you inside."
Ariel glanced briefly at the palace, her smile faltering.
"You take care of the luggage," she said, "I'm going to see my brother."
Cornal paused. His hands tightened slightly behind his back.
Then, with a deep breath, he summoned the courage to tell her the truth.
"Young Mistress Ariel… there's something you must know.""There are… complications regarding Young Master Trisen's health.""By order of the Duke himself, no one is allowed to visit him—not even the Duchess.""His treatment is still underway."
He said it all in a single breath, as though afraid of how she might react.
Ariel's eyes widened.
"What?"
Real concern bloomed across her elegant face. Her voice sharpened, not with anger, but with urgency.
"What happened to my brother? Tell me everything you know."
Cornal bowed his head slightly, choosing his words carefully.
"We do not know the full extent of the situation. What we do know is that… he collapsed shortly after the Enigma Ritual. The healers were summoned immediately. The Duke has been handling matters personally."
The more Ariel heard, the tighter her hands clenched. Her expression darkened—not from rage, but a growing sense of dread.
"Where is Father?"
"The Duke is currently away from the palace, Young Mistress," the butler said. "He left not long ago."
Ariel took a deep breath, then looked toward the palace gates, her mind racing.
She had traveled all the way from the capital to meet her baby brother. She'd been looking forward to it ever since his birth. And now, all she had were fragmented reports and closed doors.
She clenched her fists tighter, blue eyes blazing with resolve.
"I can't sit still. I must see Mother. And I must know the truth about Trisen's condition."
With that, she lifted her dress and strode through the palace halls, determination guiding her steps.