chapter 1 (B)
Opportunity
Blink, blink.
"Where am I?" — Eilor thought.
"And the others, where are they?" — he turned around, trying to recognize the place.
"Huh? There's… nothing?" — his worried expression turned into one of confusion.
"Ugh!" — he fell to his knees,
Gasping in pain.
"Why? Why can't I remember what happened? How did I end up…?" — he thought, clutching his chest as he continued to gasp.
Step.
Still in pain, he walked, looking around in confusion, turning both ways.
He began to slow down… until he stopped.
"Really? There's nothing at all?" — his expression changed to one of desolation.
Still in disbelief, he kept turning and spinning around. Advancing, stopping, then starting again in different directions—yet there was nothing.
It was an empty and dark space, nothing to see, nothing to feel—no heat, no cold.
...
Twenty minutes.
After a long twenty minutes, Eilor sat down, knees drawn to his chest, exhausted, tired, confused… and afraid.
In the pitch-black space, without the slightest hint of light, he feared he would be swallowed or forgotten, knowing nothing, lost in this deep darkness.
"Hm?" — something hit his face, forcing him to cover the left side of it with one hand.
"Light?" — he lowered his arm, puzzled.
"Yes, it's a light." — he stood up, noticing a source of light in the distance.
Step.
Surprised, he began walking slowly toward it.
Step, step.
He picked up the pace.
Step, step, step.
Faster.
Trot, trot.
Anxious, his pace quickened even more.
Run.
With a powerful push, he began to run with all his strength, eyes reflecting the light — it had become his goal.
Panting, panting.
He was running out of breath but didn't stop. He was getting closer to the light.
Growing.
The light began to grow, becoming larger. Eilor was getting closer.
Growing.
Growing.
Growing.
He began to slow down. The light was now so large it occupied half of the visible space.
From Eilor's point of view, it looked like a border—just one step away from crossing.
He raised his left foot.
Still in the dark side, it hovered midair. It moved slowly, hesitantly—but with hope. His face showed it.
Thump.
His foot landed. He stepped into the other side.
He swallowed hard.
Raised his right foot and quickly stepped through too.
"Nothing happened?" — he thought, now standing on the other side of the border.
He swallowed again, lifted his right foot.
Thump. Stepped again.
---
In a dry field of yellowish earth...
Amber blood trickled down.
It spilled like a river over furry yellowish skin, though in a livelier shade.
It poured and pooled around the corpse.
A beast.
A large quadruped creature with golden fur…
No, better to say two halves of what once was a beast.
There was a massive gash cutting it cleanly in half, flames of violet licking at the edges of the wound.
And behind the two halves of the horrific corpse—
Standing, slightly hunched forward—
A man with red hair and a black uniform, stained with amber blood.
He stared at a sword held in his right hand.
Its blade was curved, broad at the tip, but narrowing the closer it got to the hilt.
His focused gaze upon the blade was intimidating.
The man turned and looked at us.
And...
---
Back in the space of light…
"A memory?" — he leaned his head into his right hand.
"It's… an old one. From my first year." — he lifted his face from his palm.
He stared silently at the space of light.
He swallowed.
"If I keep going…" — he paused. "Will I see more memories?"
Still, unmoving, he took a breath and his expression shifted—just a little more confident.
He lifted his left foot… stepped again.
But nothing happened. Confused, he took another step. Still nothing. Another. Still nothing.
…
And so it went for a while. Nothing changed. Now he walked with more confidence, though he still glanced to either side from time to time. But there was nothing to see.
"What a mess…" — he coughed, waving his arm to clear the dust. "The amount of debris dust is ridiculous," — Eilor thought, covering his mouth with one arm and pushing the dust away with the other. He kept his arm in front to avoid hitting anything unseen.
He heard labored breathing.
"Someone's in trouble?"
He began searching through the rubble. In the background, voices began shouting —
"SHOUT! WE'LL HELP YOU! PLEASE SHOUT!"
He struggled to locate the earlier voice. But the dust made it harder than expected—
Not just to see, but to breathe.
More voices joined in, repeating the same message.
Eilor covered his mouth with his shirt, inhaled as best he could downward—then shouted:
"HERE! HELP ME!!"
After yelling, he coughed violently and staggered a bit, but managed to stabilize himself.
He leaned on a protruding column.
As he did, something bumped his foot. He looked down toward it—
It was a young man, mostly buried under debris.
Eilor crouched and placed his hands beside the youth's head, trying to feel for breath… He felt it. He was still breathing, but unconscious.
But among the rubble, there was something else…
A breeze, carrying away a bit of the dust.
Curious, he stood to see where it was going. He didn't have to rise much to see it.
A crater in the center of all the destruction, sucking in air and dust like a vacuum. Though the pull wasn't strong enough to be dangerous...
---
Once more, he placed his hand over his face.
"Another memory… Why now? Why didn't one appear earlier?" — he shook his head, panting in frustration.
"Don't think too hard." — he resumed walking. "I don't even have the slightest idea where I am," — he exhaled. "All I can do is keep going and see what happens."
…
After walking for a long while, something hit him—he flinched.
-!!
He reacted, turning quickly, eye wide. The sensation was like before.
And he saw it—another light in the distance, this one blue with golden hues.
He didn't think twice.
He ran at full speed once again.
---
"Wow." — he couldn't help but whisper in awe, looking up and down.
He was inside a strange structure.
A mix of Chinese and Japanese architecture, with a more traditional interior than exterior.
There was a large open void running through the four visible floors, reaching all the way up to a skylight.
Staircases crossed that void, connecting the floors, along with hallways circling it.
Countless doors and corridors could be seen on the lower floors.
And on the ground floor, where he had entered—
"So luxurious… It feels like the inside of a palace," — said Eilor, placing a hand on his chest as he admired the place.
Tug.
He felt something pulling on his uniform, near his lower left side.
He turned to look.
A small hand tugged at a loose part of his uniform.
It belonged to a small boy with sky-blue eyes. The boy looked at him, locking eyes.
After a few seconds—
The boy smiled.
Then came a buzzing sound… followed by a shock through Eilor's body.
A jolt, numbing several of his fingers.
---
Eilor tilted his head, not stopping—he kept running.
It was the third memory since entering the space of light. Still, he wouldn't stop—not with the light ahead.
But something was strange… it wasn't growing, but it was getting closer. It was coming.
Until finally, after all the running, he stopped. He was panting, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath.
He took one last deep breath and exhaled, hope in his eyes.
"Please… I want to get out of this place." — he raised his foot again, just a few steps away from what looked more like a portal—blue with golden hues.
It was the light.
Thump.
---
On a street sidewalk, leaning against a white wall next to what looked like the door of a modern shop, stood two young men in extravagant white uniforms.
"Have you ever read a regression story?" — asked the blue-haired youth on the left.
"Regression?... Hmm… No, doesn't sound familiar. Is that a genre?" — replied the brown-haired youth on the right, tilting his head slightly.
"They really don't publish stories in your country? How have you even lived, poor Eilor," — said the blue-haired one, first surprised, then mockingly sarcastic.
"I've read plenty! Mostly from libraries—they usually have a lot. Also in newspapers, but…"
He crossed his arms.
"I don't know that genre. First time I've heard of it. 'Regression'?"
"What's it about?"
"How to explain…" — he placed his hands under his chin. "Bah… basically, it's about protagonists who, through hidden powers or other abilities, return to the past with all their memories—determined to change or rewrite history."
"Sounds interesting."
"If you're new to the genre, sure. But where I come from, it's been overused," — the blue-haired one leaned back against the wall.
"You don't like it?"
"No, it's not that. I enjoy it—but sometimes, I just want something new. The same formula gets tiring, don't you think?"
"Tr…ue…"
---
Two steps away.
"Regression…" — Eilor couldn't help but whisper.
"Going back… with all your memories." — Eilor turned to look behind him.
Remembering where he had come from—the dark space, the memories in the light.
He raised his right hand to chest level, staring at it.
And then he thought of this last memory.
"Could it be… that this is… the opportunity?" — he thought, eyes wide.
Eyes that were regaining life—the light that had been fading in the dark.
He bit his lip slightly, then smiled.
He turned back toward the portal.
Looking at it, he became more certain.
"This is the opportunity… The chance to fix everything."
He didn't take a step—nor two.
Instead, he leapt. A great leap—diving fully into the portal.
…
In the silent space…
A leg appeared.
A person stood in the space of light, unmoving—just watching the portal close slowly.
They didn't move.
But they reacted—they were surprised.
A sound echoed, like drops of water in the silence.
The portal had closed.
***
A vast sea of stars floated above the sky, stretching out like a luminous river reflected on the infinite, perfectly flat surface beneath his feet.
The silence was almost absolute, broken only occasionally by the soft sound of droplets falling, creating small ripples that slowly spread across that endless mirror.
The ripples traveled unhurriedly, always maintaining the same height, as if dancing to the rhythm of an invisible melody, until their path was interrupted when they collided with something: a pair of feet wrapped in shadows, seeming evanescent, like smoke in the breeze, without losing volume or shape.
That figure stood upright, head lifted, gazing at the starry sky with a breath so silent it barely disturbed the stillness of the place.
He spoke no word, only remained there, motionless, for long seconds that felt eternal. Finally, he lowered his head, slowly turned to the right, then to the left.
—At least I'm not back in that dark place —he whispered with a grimace of anguish and weariness—.
—At least this is beautiful… —he paused, as if trying to convince himself—. I won't even try to ask this time. —His hands rested firmly on his hips—. And, at least, it's not a dangerous place. For now, anyway.
But his body could no longer hold itself. He collapsed weakly, his legs giving way under his weight, and he fell to his knees.
—Regression, huh? —he muttered bitterly, supporting himself with both hands to avoid falling face-first onto the water's surface—.
—Heh… Did I really think I could change the past? —He lifted his gaze to the night sky, still unmoving, cold, and distant.
—Now I'm trapped in another place, no way out. —His voice cracked, and he could no longer hold back the tears that began to roll down his cheeks, while his body remained completely wrapped in dense shadows.
Fragments of memories invaded his mind, like flashes in the darkness.
"Ban." The image of a young Ban, with brown hair and light green eyes, appeared clear.
"Sorry." His older self, with white streaks in his brown hair and scars marking his face, emerged after that memory.
"Vin." An older, though still young, Vin with black hair and yellow-green eyes came forth from memory.
"Sorry." The figure of an even older Vin, with white streaks mingling in his black hair and small burn scars crossing his skin, appeared with sorrow.
"Norlick." The image of a young Norlick, with blond hair and yellow eyes, floated in his mind.
"Sorry." A more mature, hardened, and worn Norlick, with messy, faded hair, took shape in his thoughts.
"Walt." He recalled a fist thrown by a light brown-haired boy, with an expression of hatred.
In the midst of his collapse, a choked laugh escaped his lips, a small spark of light in the consuming darkness.
A groan rose from his throat as an indescribable pressure weighed on him. He hunched over to push away the sensation, closing his eyes tightly.
When he opened them again, wider this time, he found a small pool of light flickering on the water's surface, like a weak but steady promise.
Cautiously, he approached, feeling the cold dampness beneath his hands resting on the water surface holding that vast mirror.
Then, a faint, broken sound—the cry of a newborn—broke the stillness.
Surprised and bewildered, he took a few seconds to recognize the nature of that sound.
Finally, he lunged toward the pool of light, stopping just before touching it, his hands firmly placed on its edges.
—A baby? —he whispered, almost incredulous.
Before his eyes, he saw a baby cradled in the arms of an older woman, while another woman lay on a bed that looked like a stretcher, though made of fine wood, almost like a relic from ancient times.
—Newborn…? —he muttered, watching carefully.
—Wait… that woman… —he said quietly, trying to recognize her.
The older woman's hands moved toward the baby, handing it over to a young man, perhaps barely over thirty.
—How is he? —asked the woman lying down, her voice weak but full of hope.
—He's healthy —the man replied with a warm smile, shedding a few tears as he leaned closer so she could see him better.
She smiled faintly, lifting her head, and returned his smile tenderly.
The man responded with an even broader smile, full of relief and love.
—Mom… Dad —Eilor murmured, tears falling as his gaze stayed fixed on that pool of light, trying to understand what he was seeing.