In the blink of an eye, I found myself in a desolate, charred village. The ground and ruined houses stretched out in eerie shades of black and gray.

  Even the remnants of human bodies had crumbled to dusty fragments. Not a single trace of life remained in this ashen place.

  Arwin, his expression etched with concern, asked, "Is this where you intended to come?"

  'I don't know either,' I thought, feeling lost.

  "I considered it briefly," I admitted, feeling a mix of emotions, "but I never thought I'd end up back here, Arwin... This is my home village."

  He stood quietly, his face showing sadness as he looked around at the devastation. It was clear his emotions were genuine.

  "Speaking of which, you never ask about our origins or what befell us..."

  His troubled gaze met mine. "Naz, I—"

  I gently placed a finger on his lips, shamelessly halting his words. "I understand; you fear it might resurrect painful memories and traumas for a child so young."

  I chuckled at his bewildered expression. No matter how often I reminded myself that Arwin and Leonard were young adults, I couldn't help but feel like we were the same age, perhaps due to my own mental age.

  "This guy is just too kind," I mused silently.

  "Anyway, come with me to explore my village," I said, seizing his wrist as we wandered the area. His skin felt as cold as ice, yet somehow, it exuded a comforting warmth.

  It was only a brief moment, but I couldn't shake the memory of how soft his smile had been as he gazed at our entwined hands.

  And as I thought about it, this was both my first time exploring the village and not; a paradox of familiarity and novelty.

  Each time I passed a certain alley or a particular ruined house, a rush of memories flooded back, and I found myself subconsciously sharing them with him.

  "When Zarani and I used to play outside early in the morning, the bustling villagers would greet us with wide, warm smiles. This is Uncle Dazali's house; he'd give us fresh fruits every day, and they were incredibly sweet! Then, at this intersection, we'd always find Aunt Ferami tending to her plants and flowers. The Kurumi group would often flex their muscles, demonstrating their strength and woodcutting skills. We'd sometimes join other children in games. Our home village was always brimming with laughter and joy. But now..."

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  I halted abruptly in front of the crumbling house at the center of the village; my heart felt oddly heavy. Arwin came to a halt beside me, his eyes mirroring the mix of emotions as mine.

  'Now, it lay shrouded in eerie silence.'

  This, I realized, was perhaps the very reason I had subconsciously wanted to return to this place. To recollect that there was a time when my life brimmed with happiness, to preserve the memory of my parents' smiling faces, and above all else…

  "Mom, Dad... farewell..." My voice involuntarily broke, the weight of those words bearing down on me.

  It's odd, it's not exactly my memories, yet my heart felt like it was being torn apart. It was as if a winter storm raged within my chest, each icy gust a fresh wave of unbearable grief.

  "Let's give them a proper burial," Arwin suggested. I could only respond with a silent nod.

  He extended his slender arm, palm open with a glowing magic circle, tracing a slow, graceful arc through the air. As his hand moved, a remarkable transformation occurred. Plants sprouted, and various flowers burst into bloom, reminiscent of the kinds Aunt Ferami had always loved and cherished.

  The once bleak and gloomy place now explodes with vibrant colors and life.

  His hand stilled, hovering over the spot where our home once stood. The ground bucked, then heaved, and from the earth, a breathtaking tree sprang forth—a towering emerald sentinel, its roots tearing through the soil, its branches stretching towards the heavens. At its base, a stone appeared, its surface bearing a cryptic inscription:

  [Here lie the Head, his wife, and the people of Ashura Village, lost but not forgotten.]

  The wind sighed through the weathered carvings.

  “Your magic is incredible, Arwin. It's as if you have an unlimited well of mana," I offered, a weak, bright smile masking the overwhelming sadness. His quiet gaze, however, pierced my carefully constructed facade. The lightness of my words felt utterly inappropriate.

  "You can cry, Naz," Arwin said, his voice gentle but firm. "You're still young. Don't hide your feelings."

  His words carried the weight of an adult's wisdom, yet his current form—small, childlike—made the scene almost comical. The incongruity only heightened the impact of his sincerity. Unconsciously, I found myself leaning on his shoulder, completely disarmed.

  The light touch of his hand on my back, like a feather's caress, released a tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding onto for so long. A single tear escaped, then another, followed by a soft sob. The sobs grew deeper, more frequent, until a low, guttural wail escaped my lips, a sound born of years of sorrow for myself and Nazari, shaking my body with its force.

  His presence was profoundly comforting, a stark contrast to the lonely solitude of my past life, where my pillow was my only companion. I didn't know I could feel this way, I thought, this safe, this connected.

  "...Thank you..."

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Above the joyous chaos of Friezz's festival, bathed in the silver light of a million stars, we floated in Arwin's protective bubble. "Naz," he asked, his voice a low murmur, "what do you plan to do? Are you thinking of revenge?" The contrast between the celebration below and the gravity of his question was stark.

  "Revenge?" I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Will that bring back the lives we've lost? No, it'll only get me killed. I'm not strong enough to face a dragon. All I care about is Zarani's safety."

  Yet, I couldn't deny the bitterness festering within me—the burning anger slowly consuming my conscience and the looming darkness threatening to swallow me whole. It pressed against the edges of my sanity, a predator waiting to strike. I craved strength—body, soul, and mind.

  With desperate resolve, I grasped Arwin's hand, feeling the blood creep into my cheeks as I squeezed it tightly. The weight of my request, the humiliation of asking for help a second time, gnawed at me. But the urgency of the situation silenced my pride.

  "Arwin," I began, my voice hesitant, "I'm shamelessly asking for your help again. Please, teach me magic, swordsmanship—everything. Please, teach me to fight! I have to rescue those children, protect Zarani, especially her. It's my duty as Ashura IX's son." A fierce determination, despite the shame, burned within me.

  I might never match the King of L'Yuziria's strength, but I would defend what I held dear.

  Arwin hesitated, his gaze troubled. Before he could answer, a deafening crash echoed from below, followed by a chorus of terrified screams and the splintering of wood. The air vibrated with chaos. A voice cut through the din, sharp and urgent: "Quick, isolate the Omega immediately. His heat will affect the Alphas." The words hung in the air, unfamiliar yet strangely potent.

  'Huh?' My brow furrowed.

  ‘Alpha and Omega? Those were...Greek letters, weren't they? '