Sounds. Metals clashing. Gunshots firing. Faint and eerily familiar sound of Arts activating.
Then,
BOOM!
Thunders crashed. Fires blazed. Wind roared. Ice swept the ground. Ruins painted by the elements.
Slowly, almost weakly, he opened his eyelids.
"—W-where... am I?" He thought to himself—body protesting the urge to move even the slightest of muscles.
Then he saw it. A dark silhouette of a long-haired woman looking down at him.
"—He's awake!" She exclaims, a hint of worry in her tone.
"—Knock him out! We can't afford to deal with him and these abominations!" Another voice cut through—sharp, commanding.
Their voices were muffled, vague—the ringing in his head had been running nonstop, a clear consequence of being abruptly woken from his centuries-long hibernation.
Without hesitation, the long-haired woman opened the chamber to his pod—slowly, she reached out, placing her hand on his forehead, muttering a chant.
"W-what are you...?"
"Nox!"
The pressure of the woman's palm grew heavy—then, he felt it; a surge of energy flooded through him. His limbs went slack. The ringing in his ears dulled to nothing. The woman's face blurred.
Then: darkness.
A deafening silence stretching louder and louder.
It was then that he heard a voice in his mind. Gibberish. Ancient. Utterly incomprehensible.
Rise...
The same voice that had awoken him thousands of times before—after every death, every rebirth.
His eyes snapped open, darting wildly across his surroundings.
Familiar buildings now wore flesh like clothing. Spikes and tentacles erupted from concrete and steel as if the structures themselves had become living things.
The ringing returned to his ears, dulled only by the sounds of battle raging somewhere beyond his line of sight.
His pod lurched—being carried. He glimpsed figures in combat gear moving with practiced efficiency despite the weight. The world bounced with each urgent step.
Explosions cracked the air. Then—sudden quiet. Metal walls. Artificial light humming overhead.
They were inside the ship.
Several figures set the pod down in the cargo bay. The captain straightened, scanning the room.
"Everyone else, secure the perimeter."
Footsteps retreated. A door hissed shut. Silence, save for the pod's faint mechanical hum.
Two women remained—the captain and her second.
"Why is he awake? I thought you put him to sleep!"
"I-I'm sorry, Captain. I held back given his condition... He must have some resistance agai—"
"Enough." The captain's hand struck the glass—not gently.
"Hey! Can you move?"
He tried flexing his fingers. Clenching. Unclenching. Strength returned gradually, like blood flow to a sleeping limb.
He nodded slowly.
"Good. I'm opening the hatch. Don't try anything stupid."
The seal hissed. Thick fog rolled from the vents as the hatch split open. He raised himself upright—body adorned with scars that refused to heal, and a physique that withstood the passage of time.
"Where am I?" His voice came out hoarse. "Where's everyone?"
He tried to stand. His legs buckled immediately.
The long-haired woman caught him before he hit the floor, sliding under his arm to steady him.
"Your legs have atrophied." Her voice was soft, laced with concern. "You shouldn't move too fast."
"T-thank you." He blinked hard, trying to clear the fog in his head. "Who are you?"
A second woman stepped forward—shorter hair, sharp eyes, radiating authority. "I'm Sonia. This is my ship." She nodded toward the woman supporting him. "That's Aria, our head medic."
"A ship..." He glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar architecture. Everything looked different—sleeker, more advanced.
"What happened? Where's my unit? The base—"
"There'll be time for questions later," Sonia interrupted, her tone measured. "First, we need your name."
"Aine." The answer came automatically. At least that was still clear.
"Aine Walker. Captain of the First Reclamation Division."
The two women exchanged glances. Something passed between them—recognition? Surprise?
"First Reclamation..." Aria's voice was quiet. "That's... Captain, he's—"
"I know." Sonia's jaw tightened.
Aine's grip on Aria's shoulder hardened. "What? What is it?"
Another pause. Heavier this time.
"How long do you think you've been in that pod?" Sonia asked carefully.
He tried to think back. The last thing he remembered was the pod sealing shut, someone's face blurred beyond the glass, and then—nothing.
"I don't know. Weeks? Months?" A cold weight settled in his chest. "Why? How long has it been?"
Aria glanced at Sonia. A brief nod.
She took a deep breath. "You've been asleep for almost half a millennium..."
"Four hundred and seventy-two years, to be exact." Sonia added, her tone steady, clinical. Final.
His breath caught. "F-four hundred...?"
The strength left his body. He slipped from Aria's grasp and collapsed, hands slapping against cold metal floor.
But he didn't stop. He dragged himself forward—toward the exit, toward something, he didn't know what. His voice cracked, breaking apart:
"No... no... Illya... it can't be..."
The two women exchanged another glance.
Sonia's voice was quiet and stern. "Do it."
He didn't hear the hum of Eid charging behind him. Didn't felt the hand gently pressing against his back.
Darkness took him again. His body went slack against the floor, one arm still outstretched toward the door.