The corridors of the palace were silent as Nulius guided Michi and the others through towering arches. Their footsteps echoed against the marble floor, shadows of old tapestries stretching across the walls. Torchlight danced against carvings of dragons, each telling forgotten stories of valor. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the stones themselves remembered ages long past.
Finally, they reached a pair of gilded doors. Nulius pushed them open with both hands, revealing a grand library that seemed to stretch endlessly. Shelves spiraled into vaulted ceilings, packed with ancient tomes bound in leather and cloth so faded it was hard to tell their true colors. The scent of dust, parchment, and ink clung to the air like perfume.
At the heart of the library sat a woman. She was poised at a desk with a stack of worn volumes, her eyes moving slowly, deliberately, across each line. Her presence was calm, commanding, as though the books themselves bent to her will.
Before anyone could speak, another figure appeared, stepping lightly between the aisles. A younger woman, her silver hair tied neatly, her expression strict. She held up a hand.
"Madam Sisiliya is reading now. Do not disturb her."
Nulius raised his voice with firm authority.
"Lumiella. I led them here for a reason. I want Sisiliya to tell them everything."
The woman at the desk — Sisiliya — lifted her gaze. Her eyes, sharp yet warm, studied Michi and the others as though she had expected them long before they arrived. After a moment of silence, she closed her book gently and placed it aside.
"It is all right, Lumiella. Their time has come."
Lumiella hesitated, then gave a respectful bow. Sisiliya straightened, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.
"Our knowledge is old and precious. If they are ready, let me bestow it upon them. Lumiella, close the doors and prepare the seats."
With a small nod, Lumiella obeyed. The massive library doors groaned shut, sealing them inside. She arranged chairs around a low table of black oak, its surface engraved with celestial patterns. Everyone gathered — Michi, Lior, Kael, Junia, Tieu, Zyara, Nulius , Veylika , Veynar — each taking their seat as though instinctively sensing the importance of the moment.
Sisiliya sat at the head, her posture regal. Her voice was soft at first, yet resonated with power.
"Let me tell you a true tale… a legendary story that shaped our world and everything you know."
The group leaned forward, the silence heavy, their eyes fixed on her.
"Ten thousand years ago," Sisiliya began, "there existed twenty reverents — beings of immense power who shaped the rules of existence. They summoned five special children, not from this world, but from a distant realm called Earth."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Michi, who stiffened in his chair, his expression tightening.
"The reverents lied to those children. They told them they were the old gods of Earth, transferred here. They told them this new world was theirs to shape, under the guidance of the reverents. And for a time, the five believed it."
She closed her eyes, as though she could see the events unfold even now.
"But soon, their ideals clashed. Their visions for the world could not coexist. War erupted among them."
Junia's lips parted, horror in her voice. "They… fought each other?"
Sisiliya nodded gravely.
"Yes. Three perished in the flames of battle. One, driven mad by the curse of seeing too much of the future, vanished without a trace. Only one remained."
Michi's fists clenched in his lap, his mind racing.
"That last one, the survivor, did not accept the reverents' lies. In his solitude, he gained the power of the fallen. He discovered the truth — that the reverents were not gods, nor saviors, but cosmic beings from other worlds. Simply put… aliens."
The word hung in the air, sharp as a blade.
"This one survivor struck a deal. He agreed to remain alone, to govern this world with order, in exchange for the reverents leaving all authority to him. Some departed the planet. Others hid here, building kingdoms. A few still linger, unseen."
Lior's voice trembled. "So… even now, some might walk among us?"
"Yes," Sisiliya replied. "Their leader argued they were only messengers — heralds — who fled from something far greater. They said a true threat would come after ten thousand years. And now… that time has come."
The room grew colder, shadows stretching as though listening.
Sisiliya continued, her tone unrelenting.
"Before leaving, the reverents wove their blessings into all living beings. Marks upon the forehead. Marks that would allow growth, strength, and power. Gifts, they said, to prepare us for the threat that would come."
She turned a page in the book before her, though it seemed more for ritual than necessity.
"The lone survivor — the last of the five — permitted their decision. For five centuries, he ruled this world, shaping laws, guiding balance. And then… without warning, he vanished, along with his kingdom. No trace. No farewell. Only myth remained."
Kael leaned forward. "And his name?"
"Roze Apocalypse," Sisiliya said, her voice low but firm, as though the name itself carried weight.
Michi's eyes widened. He felt a pulse of recognition deep within him, like a memory just beyond reach. He whispered, almost to himself:
"Roze… Apocalypse… I think I've heard that name before. But… I can't remember where."
Sisiliya regarded him with piercing eyes.
"Perhaps you have. Perhaps you haven't. What matters is that now, after ten millennia, the threat has arrived."
The library seemed to darken. Dust swirled in the air as though stirred by unseen winds.
"That threat is Fengxi."
The name echoed against the walls, carrying with it a chill that reached bone.
Sisiliya's hands trembled slightly as she continued.
"The reverents feared it above all else. They were powerless before his existence. That is why they fled. That is why they came here. But their flight revealed them. And now, they are gone, leaving us with only their blessings… and the truth that we are on our own."
A heavy silence followed. No one moved. No one dared to speak.
Zyara swallowed hard, breaking the stillness with a whisper. "So… it's really here? The end?"
Sisiliya did not answer immediately. Her gaze swept over them, lingering on Michi longer than the rest.
"The end, or the beginning — that depends on you."
Michi lowered his head, shadows masking his expression. His chest tightened as though fate itself pressed against him.
Everyone else sat in grim silence, the weight of the tale settling on their shoulders.
For a moment, even the air seemed to bow before the truth.