The carriage rolled through the velvet darkness, the rhythmic hum of wheels against the dirt the only sound in the night. Inside, Eiden sat in silence, his eyes half-lidded. He reached out, resting a small, pale hand on Bengie's scorched leg. A soft pulse of light emanated from his palm—an ancient, surgical magic. Beneath his touch, torn ligaments re-knit, charred flesh smoothed into new skin, and muscle reformed as if sculpted by a master artist.
Bengie gasped as the throbbing pain vanished. He flexed his leg, his eyes wide with disbelief. "…Thank you," he managed to mutter. Eiden didn't reply; the silence was enough.
Hours bled into the deep night until the carriage slowed. Before them rose the Border of Linn—a massive stone wall that looked like a sleeping titan sprawled across the horizon. Gold-and-white-robed mages patrolled the battlements, their cloaks snapping in the cold wind under the glow of floating mana lanterns.
"STOP!" a female mage commanded. "Do you have clearance?"
Bengie stepped out, his once-injured leg holding his weight perfectly. He handed over King Nipolla's pendant. The mage inspected the wax and the signature with hawk-like intensity. Her eyes flickered. It was real. "Safe journey," she said, stepping back.
As the gates rumbled open and the carriage crossed the threshold, the very air changed. The mana here didn't bite; it flowed like a warm, gentle river. Eiden watched the scenery shift through the window, a rare smile touching his lips. "We're close," he whispered. "Just an hour left."
Sunrise painted the sky in streaks of gold as a pack of Fe'ja birds soared overhead, their melodic songs weaving through the air like a lullaby. The carriage finally came to a halt before another massive stone wall, this one encased in a shimmering, blood-red dome. A Redcrest elf with eyes like rubies stepped out.
"What do you need?" he asked, his voice like ice.
Eiden hopped out and walked straight up to him. "I am Eiden, the First Divinity," he said, looking the taller elf in the eye. "I want my original body returned to me, along with every item found with it."
The elf's expression twitched. A baby claiming to be a dead god? It was madness—but the density of the mana radiating from the child was undeniable. "Very well," the elf said slowly. "Follow me. Your companions stay outside."
Inside the Redcrest Clan, the world stopped. Elves practicing combat froze as Eiden passed. His presence felt like a physical weight, a gravity that demanded silence. The Clan Chief, Fennaro, approached. He was an elf of striking power, his white hair contrasting with a robe embroidered in ancient runes.
"Who is this child?" Fennaro asked.
"He claims to be Eiden, reincarnated," the escort replied.
Fennaro's eyes narrowed. "Follow me... baby."
They descended into a subterranean chamber. Behind a stone wall sealed with red mana lay a hidden vault. Fennaro pressed his hand to the stone. "Open."
The wall split, revealing a glass dome protected by a crimson barrier. Inside lay a man—tall, muscular, with brown-toned skin and hair as white as a winter storm. He looked peaceful, as if merely sleeping through the ages. On the shelves nearby sat a sword, a black glove, and a thick, ornate book.
"There is only one way to prove this," Fennaro said, his palm igniting with a lethal red aura. He retrieved the Infinite Grimoire and held it out. "If you are him, the bind will recognize you. If not... I will kill you where you stand."
Eiden took the book. He channeled his aura. For a moment, nothing happened. Fennaro smirked, raising a beam of destruction toward the child's head. "That man was someone to honor, not impersonate!"
Then, the world turned blue.
A brilliant, sapphire aura erupted from the grimoire. The glass dome shattered into fine dust. The red barriers dissolved like mist. Eiden's newborn body began to crack, crumbling into harmless ash as his soul, a glowing orb of pure consciousness, drifted toward the man on the pedestal.
It slipped inside.
Silence. No heartbeat. No breath. Then—a gasp.
Eiden's eyes snapped open. He took his first deep breath in nineteen years. He sat up, looking at his hands—the powerful, brown-toned hands he remembered. He clenched his fists. "I'm back," he whispered. "I'm truly back."
He stood, and power surged through him like a localized hurricane. Fennaro's knees buckled. The aura in his hand died as he collapsed, trembling with soul-deep relief. For twenty years, he had carried the weight of a dead friend.
"Fennaro," Eiden said, his voice now deep and resonant. "Don't cry. You should've known I'd return."
"I thought you were gone!" Fennaro choked out, a shaky laugh breaking through his tears.
Eiden stepped forward and pulled the Chief into a firm embrace. "I know. It's fine. Now, stop with the emotions and release the seals on my gear."
The barriers shattered. Eiden asked for privacy, and as the chamber sealed, he began to dress. He slid on the black robe and the heavy cloak that felt like a long-lost shadow. He pulled on his boots. Finally, he reached for the Glove. It clicked into place on his left hand, a conduit for every magic in existence—save for the conceptual power of Divinark. He sheathed his katana, clipped the Infinite Grimoire to his side, and felt whole.
With a thought, he teleported to the surface, appearing beside a startled Fennaro. "You look like you were never gone," the Chief whispered.
"I'm aware," Eiden chuckled.
He walked to the gate where Bengie was waiting. The dragon noble froze, staring up at the tall, white-haired man who had been a baby only an hour prior. "I never thought I'd see the real you again," Bengie said softly.
"You helped me," Eiden said. "Now I return the favor. When Iris comes, I will speak to her about the wolves plaguing your people. And give this to King Nipolla." Eiden summoned a new grimoire, glowing with a golden protective light. "The barrier I promised him."
Bengie took it, nodding firmly. "What will you do now?"
Eiden looked toward the horizon, his eyes hardening with a cold, ancient ambition. "First, I reunite the Seven Great Sages. And after that..." He exhaled slowly, the mana around him vibrating with intent. "I find the Grimoire of Divinark."