As the warm breeze of the afternoon drifts through the city, inside a café, on a chair in front of a table, sits Rien, sipping his coffee softly before looking around at the people.
"It's been a week since we came back from vacation," Rien says in a calm tone.
The café door opens slowly, and a tall boy enters—wearing a blue shirt with folded sleeves and black formal pants. As the door closes behind him, he moves forward toward the table where Rien sits, approaching from behind, before his hands come to rest on Rien's shoulders.
Rien feels his touch, sets the cup of coffee on the table, and a calm smile appears on his lips.
"Welcome back, Writer," Rien says with a confident tone.
The boy steps forward. It is me—Bharat. I move around the table and sit on the chair across from him, looking into his eyes with a confident smile.
"I have work for you," I say with a confident tone.
Rien looks at me before leaning back in his chair with a calm smile.
"I hope it's something interesting," Rien says with a calm smile.
I nod before pulling out my smartphone from my pocket.
"You just need to play a role inside Chronicles of Aureon—my new webnovel," I say with a confident tone.
Rien looks at me, and a calm smile appears on his face as he slowly crosses his arms.
"Sounds good. What's the role I need to play?" Rien asks with a confident tone.
I look at him, my gaze turning slightly confident.
"You just need to play the role of Alaric Penhaligon's friend," I say with a serious tone.
Rien looks at me before standing up and adjusting his shirt, then nods slowly.
"Let's meet next time in the eighteenth chapter of Chronicles of Aureon," Rien says with a confident tone before looking at the fourth wall of the café.
I look at the menu card before nodding.
"Well—can I have a coffee?" I say to the waiter with a confident tone.
Rien turns back and leaves toward the door, passing through it and stepping onto the road, walking along the roadside with a calm gaze.
"Let's see what happens," Rien says with a confident tone.
As Rien stepped onto the stone-paved road, he looked around at the people—men wearing long coats, women in long dresses, and carriages moving continuously through the street. Rien looked around at them, feeling the soft morning breeze on his skin.
"Did I just come back in time?" Rien said to himself before walking through the crowd and stopping in front of a costume shop.
As Rien opened the door and entered inside, he stared forward at a man wearing a black waistcoat, black pants, and a white shirt, who bowed his head in front of Rien.
"Welcome, Sir. What do you want to buy?" the man asked with a confident tone.
Rien looked at him before glancing around at the clothes.
"I want to buy a waistcoat of blue color with a black shirt inside, a black tie, and blue formal pants," Rien said with a calm tone.
The man nodded before gesturing toward the changing room.
"Please enter inside," the man said with a respectful tone.
As the warm morning breeze wove continuously through the road outside the shop, the door opened and Rien stepped outside—wearing a blue waistcoat over a black shirt, a black tie around his neck, and blue formal pants. His tall posture and long black hair shone in the light as his hands moved to adjust his waistcoat, and he walked forward through the people.
"I am coming, Shadowfalcons," he said with a calm tone before disappearing into the crowd.
In other side, Alaric and Leon stopped before the office door.
Leon reached for the handle and slowly pushed it open. The two stepped inside.
James sat behind his desk, a book resting in one hand. At the sound of the door, he lifted his gaze toward them, his expression as serious as ever.
"Come in. We've been waiting for you."
In the middle of the room stood Anelia, accompanied by Gideon and Arthur. The moment Alaric entered, her eyes settled on him, concern flickering across her face.
"How are you feeling now?"
Alaric looked at her and offered a small smile. His fingers tightened around the silver head of his black cane.
"Much better than before," he replied respectfully.
Before anyone could say another word, a door inside the office opened.
Alistair stepped out and closed it behind him. His grey eyes swept across the room, carrying a weight that immediately drew everyone's attention.
"The Silver Church is going to intervene," he announced. "They'll begin investigating who sent that Reaper. If they're taking this seriously, there may be something much bigger behind everything we've seen."
James placed his book on the desk and rose to his feet.
"There is something we don't know," he said, walking around the table toward the others. His gaze hardened. "Something that should never have happened."
The room fell silent.
Alaric stood still, listening.
Something that should never have happened...
He drew a slow, measured breath.
Then the world changed.
The air inside the office grew impossibly heavy. An invisible pressure descended upon them, crushing the silence beneath its weight.
The walls vanished.
The ceiling disappeared.
In a single instant, the entire office was swallowed by an endless expanse of rocky terrain.
Jagged stones stretched toward the distant horizon. The ground beneath their feet was barren and cracked, while an enormous crimson moon hung in the sky, bathing the desolate land in an eerie red glow.
For a moment, nobody moved.
James's eyes widened as he turned sharply, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
"What is this place?"
Alistair's expression tightened. He looked across the rocky wasteland, then toward the crimson moon overhead.
The pressure intensified.
His breathing grew heavier, and his shoulders stiffened beneath its invisible weight.
"It's a manifestation skill," he said grimly.
Yet even as he spoke, uncertainty crept into his eyes.
No... This pressure is unlike anything I've encountered.
Alaric struggled to remain upright. His legs trembled beneath him, and his cane pressed hard against the rocky ground as he fought to maintain his balance.
He looked around, confusion tightening his features.
"What... is this place?"
His voice came out strained.
Then the ground trembled.
A deep rumble rolled across the wasteland, rising from somewhere beyond their field of vision.
Something was approaching.
No.
Something was already there.
A colossal figure appeared before them, seated upon a throne of dark stone.
Its body was unnaturally slender, yet its immense stature carried the imposing presence of a titan. Long, skeletal arms rested against the throne, ending in hands tipped with sharp, blade-like fingers.
A metallic crown encircled its head.
At the center of the crown was a circular structure, from which four enormous iron blades projected outward in different directions.
But the most disturbing feature was the blue gem embedded in its chest.
It shone with a cold, otherworldly light, standing in stark contrast to the crimson world surrounding it.
The entity sat motionless.
And yet, its presence seemed to press against every inch of their existence.
Leon stared at the figure, his usual confidence erased from his face.
His eyes widened as the pressure surged.
The rocky ground beneath their feet began to fracture. Their boots sank into the stone as though an enormous force were driving them into the earth.
Leon clenched his teeth, struggling to remain standing.
"What... is that thing?" he whispered.
Alaric's breathing grew ragged.
He struck the tip of his cane against the ground, desperately using it to support his weight. His tailored black suit fluttered behind him beneath the force of the pressure, while his entire body felt as though it were being crushed from within.
He stared at the figure on the throne.
"This thing..."
The words barely escaped his lips.
Then the entity moved.
Its head lifted ever so slightly.
Slowly, its lips parted.
The sound that followed was not merely a voice. It was a deep, ancient resonance that rolled across the wasteland, vibrating through the rocks and reverberating inside their very bones.
"Welcome..."
The crimson sky seemed to darken.
"...to the Land of Insanity."
The entity's blue gem pulsed once.
Its skeletal fingers shifted against the arms of the throne.
"I am the Angel of Insanity."
A pause followed, heavy enough to suffocate the world.
"You may call me... Augustius."
The name echoed across the barren landscape.
For one terrible instant, Alaric felt as though something had looked directly into the deepest part of his existence.
Not at his face.
Not at his body.
But at something buried beneath both.
His grip tightened around the cane.
What... are you?
He couldn't speak.
He couldn't move.
He could barely breathe.
Then Augustius's voice sounded once more.
And the world shattered.
The rocky wasteland vanished.
The crimson moon disappeared.
The throne, the colossal entity, and the endless expanse of barren land were swallowed by a sudden flash of darkness.
The office returned.
The desk stood where it had always been. The books remained in their places. The walls surrounded them once more.
But nobody emerged from the experience unshaken.
James caught the edge of his desk with both hands, coughing as he struggled to steady his breathing. Alistair gripped the opposite side, his grey eyes fixed on the empty space where the manifestation had appeared.
Alaric's legs finally gave way.
His cane struck the floor as he collapsed onto one knee, gasping for air.
"Haa... What was that?"
Leon stumbled sideways, barely managing to catch himself against the wall. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought to regain his balance.
"That..." He swallowed, his expression grim. "That was a terrifying aura."
Nobody contradicted him.
James coughed again, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.
"We need to find out what happened," he said, forcing the words through his unsteady breathing. "As soon as possible."
Alistair slowly straightened.
For once, the composed leader looked genuinely shaken. His gaze moved from Alaric to Leon, then settled on James.
He drew a heavy breath.
"Whatever we just witnessed..." he began.
His expression darkened.
"...everything is going to change."