The sky raged as if the heavens themselves were trembling. Black clouds devoured the stars, lightning racing across them like burning veins. Thunder shook the earth, and rain crashed down in heavy sheets, drowning the land in mud and shadow.
But the storm wasn't the only thing filling the air.
Something heavier lingered.
Destiny.
The sages and knights stood unmoving, rain dripping from armor and robes, but not a single one faltered. They had trained for this. Waited for this. For years, this night had hung over them like a curse that refused to break. Tonight, it would.
And then—
Lightning revealed them.
Three figures across the battlefield.
Silent. Motionless. Shadows twisting around them.
The traitors.
Once, they had been comrades—brothers, warriors who fought under the same cause. Now, their souls were poisoned by forbidden power.
The wind wailed, carrying whispers of fates yet unsealed. No one spoke. No one moved. Only the storm bore witness.
Finally, one of the traitors stepped forward. The air recoiled at his presence, like the world itself wanted him gone. When he spoke, his voice sliced through the storm.
"You cannot stop this." His tone was calm, but chilling. "The Moon Book is with us. You know what that means, don't you? You can't fight against nature itself. This kind of power… it's like a cheat skill." His lips curved into a smirk. "But don't worry—you won't even feel a thing."
A sage's voice answered, calm and sharp.
"Phantasos. Phobetor. Morpheus… So you did extend your lives. All with a forbidden power."
The oldest sage stepped forward, his face as steady as stone, eyes filled with countless years of wisdom. He turned to the knights and sages beside him, speaking with gentle certainty.
"You know what must be done."
Their answer rose as one, echoing against the storm.
"We do."
Light burst from their hands—blinding, divine. It cut through the night, flooding the battlefield like the sun itself had descended.
And then, as if summoned by their will, a book fell from the heavens. Bound in golden chains, radiating a sacred power beyond mortal reach.
The youngest sage stepped forward. His hands trembled as they touched the cover, and power surged through his body like fire in his veins. His eyes welled with tears—fear, duty, understanding. Then, without a word, he turned and ran, vanishing into the forest.
The storm roared louder, urging him forward. His legs carried him faster than ever, as if unseen hands were dragging him away.
The traitors did not move. They only spoke in eerie unison.
"When the book's power awakens, he will return it himself. That is the nature of the Moon Book. Did you forget?"
But the youngest sage was already gone—spirited away to a place beyond their reach.
The oldest sage chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Nothing ever goes as planned."
---
Back to the Present
The room was dim, thick with silence. Shadows clung to the corners like living things.
Phantasos. Phobetor. Morpheus.
The three sat together, their dark aura suffocating the air itself.
One finally exhaled. His voice broke the quiet.
"One hundred and fifty years… and still no sign of the Sun Book."
Another smirked, fingers tapping on the table.
"It's near. It still clings to him. But if he doesn't return it soon, time will. Even with stolen souls, no human can pass two hundred years. His dream of reviving the city… it's crumbling with his body."
The third scoffed, voice sharp with disgust.
"And that man… his aura alone suffocates us."
A heavy pause followed, until the first spoke again, his tone cutting.
"If not for the Moon Book, we'd have been caught long ago." A cruel smile spread across his face. "Let them play their little game."
---
Anazitis Awakens
Anazitis's eyes flew open. His whole body shivered, his chest heaving as though he had been dragged out of deep water. Sweat clung to his skin. His heart thundered against his ribs.
The voices—
Phantasos, Phobetor, Morpheus.
He had heard them. Clear. Real.
Not a dream. Not an illusion.
They were speaking now, their words had reached him.
A suffocating weight pressed down on his chest. He could hardly breathe.
"One hundred and fifty years… the Sun Book…"
Their words echoed in his skull, gnawing at him, each syllable heavy with truth.
After a while He staggered to his feet, the blanket falling from his shoulders. His legs trembled, but he forced them forward. He couldn't stay still. He couldn't ignore this.
He rushed out of his house into the city it was night. The cold air slammed into him, but his mind was burning. The streets blurred, people's voices turned to static. All he could hear was the traitors' words, looping again and again.
What do they mean? Why me? The Sun Book… the city… 200 years…
His vision tilted. His body gave out.
He braced for the fall—
—but a firm hand caught him.
An old man stood there, warmth radiating from him like sunlight piercing through a storm. His golden eyes shimmered with wisdom, his voice calm and gentle.
"I will help you, young man. Don't push yourself beyond your limits. You are not alone. I will take you to your friend."