The city was too bright.
Too clean. Too loud.
Zephir blinked as he stepped onto the main street — the first real street he had walked in almost a decade. Neon lights, banners of heroes, and statues of smiling faces stretched as far as he could see, shining like they owned the sky.
He tilted his head, eyes wide with quiet curiosity.
So this was what peace looked like?
Children ran past him, waving holographic flags and laughing about a new hero show airing downtown. Their joy echoed between the buildings, a melody too pure for the weight in his chest.
Zephir smiled softly. For a fleeting second, it almost felt warm — almost.
Then a banner fluttered nearby.
A familiar face stared back at him — his brother's.
The Hero of Renewal.
The one who had locked him away.
The red aura around Zephir flickered faintly, distorting the air for a heartbeat.
"Guess you've been busy," he murmured, brushing his messy crimson hair from his face.
It was hard to tell if Zephir was a man or a woman at first glance — that long, tangled hair framed a face too soft for his voice, too delicate for his strength. A few rebellious strands fell across his eyes, partially veiling his expression like a curtain between him and the world.
His reflection on a shop window looked almost childish — wide, curious eyes, bare feet, and that ridiculous, oversized sword strapped to his back.
People stopped to stare.
Some pointed, some laughed.
"Nice cosplay!"
"Isn't that the cursed prince from the old legends?"
"Wow, even the hair looks real!"
Zephir laughed softly — a sound too calm, too sincere.
They didn't know.
They couldn't know.
His eyes wandered through the street until they caught something familiar — a tall marble building guarded by drones and steel doors.
A museum.
And inside, the crown that had once been his.
He approached quietly, stopping at the entrance.
The sign read Closed.
Zephir tilted his head, grumbling like a disappointed child.
"Really? After I came all this way…"
He raised his sword — just a little.
The impact shattered the reinforced glass, leaving a spiderweb of cracks that reached all the way to the marble floor.
The guard froze, speechless.
Zephir sighed. "I didn't mean to make a mess…" he said softly — and then, as distant sirens began to echo, he smiled faintly.
"Oh. Maybe I did."
The guard dove behind a desk, fumbling for his radio.
"—Code Crimson! Unknown mage breach! Send everyone!"
Zephir didn't even look back.
He brushed the dust from his shoulder and walked inside.
The marble beneath his feet began to shift, creating a tunnel that spiraled downward, swallowing him in crimson light.
He whispered almost playfully,
"Where else would they keep it, huh?"
Above him, alarms screamed.
The museum's entrance collapsed, sealing itself in ruin.
But Zephir didn't care.
He kept walking, step after step, as the world trembled around him.
His voice echoed softly through the tunnel —
"Father… did you save some energy for me?"
Sirens grew distant, drowned by the sound of stone bending to his will.
Somewhere far above, the heroes began to move.
They didn't know yet —
the war had already started.
Zephir walked slowly toward the shattered entrance, the crimson crown resting lightly upon his head.
Its intricate, twisted design pulsed faintly — not metal, not jewel, but something alive, something that remembered him.
Around him, the air shimmered with a red stella — not a halo, but a slow-burning storm of light, circling like a living flame desperate to break free.
Outside, patrol cars and armored officers formed a trembling line, weapons raised, their courage cracking under the pressure that seeped from the museum's ruins.
Zephir tilted his head, curious, strands of hair falling across his half-covered face.
He could see the fear in their eyes.
He knew their weapons were mere toys — sparks against the weight of a forgotten king.
One step after another, he crossed the threshold, the crimson glow spilling into the night, painting the marble in a soft hue of blood and light.
Sirens wailed. The air trembled.
Zephir smiled faintly, his hand brushing against the crown as if greeting an old friend.
Then, almost playfully, he began to count.
"Five… four… three…"
He looked toward the sky, where the first lights began to descend.
"Father… did you save some energy for me?"
And far above, through the clouds, they were already on their way.