David's body tensed, every muscle tightening as if the past itself were reaching out to drag him back into darkness.
A part of him wanted to hide the truth—cling to silence and bury whatever strange force slept inside him. But the truth was… there was nothing to hide. No memories. No faces. No names whispered in the dark. Only emptiness… and the strange, burning power that haunted his veins.
He lifted his eyes to Lazarus, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade around them. When he spoke, there was a hard, sharp edge to his voice.
"I don't know," he said simply. "I don't know anything about my past… who I am… or what I am."
Lazarus's expression shifted—not to fear, not to shock, but to something far deeper—recognition.
"What you are?" Lazarus echoed, his voice soft, almost careful.
David looked away, his jaw tightening as his vision flickered with fragments of things he couldn't name. Red skies. Screaming earth. A hand soaked in blood that wasn't his… and was.
"I've been seeing things," David continued, his voice lower now. "Things I can't explain. Visions. Shadows. Light that burns. And wherever I go, something follows me… inside of me." He placed a trembling hand over his chest. "And those things… they're changing me."
For a long moment, Lazarus said nothing. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
I was venturing into the forest, hunting for some rabbit," Lazarus began, his voice low and steady.
"And as I went deeper, I saw you—lying on the ground, barely alive, your body trembling with exhaustion. When I tried carrying you… I felt something. An energy… flowing through you. Strong, relentless. Powerful. With that much force coursing through your veins, you were supposed to be dead."
David's eyes widened, the words cutting through him like ice. He had never felt anything like it, not even in his worst nightmares.
"What… what is it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Lazarus shook his head, a shadow of sorrow passing over his face. "I don't know yet. But I've seen enough to know… whatever you are, it's unlike anything this world has ever known."
"For you to understand what I'm trying to tell you," he said, "I must share the secrets of spiritual energy. The force that was flowing through your body isn't the same one we use… but it is similar."
A faint wind passed through the trees as he spoke.
"Understand this first: all power has a source. God is the source of blessed energy. It is not ordinary strength. It is the divine current that grants humans power beyond their design. Beyond their limits."
Lazarus exhaled slowly, his gaze sinking into the fading light.
"For you to understand what stirs inside you…"
He paused, the forest quiet, listening.
"…you must first understand the source itself."
He leaned forward, voice dropping into something almost sacred.
"The blessed power flows from one origin — the Almighty.
A radiance that bends the laws of men… and mocks mortality."
Lazarus lifted a finger, counting each word as though it carried weight.
"But no one can touch such power unless they open the four gates within themselves:
Your mind…
Your spirit…
Your body…
And your soul."
David stared at him, confusion cutting through his exhaustion like a cold blade.
He swallowed, voice low, uncertain.
"What you're basically saying is… there's an unknown energy flowing through my body.
one that grants humans power?"
"Yes," Lazarus answered, calm as dusk.
David's brows tightened.
"And after learning it… will it give me the answers to all my questions?"
"It may not," Lazarus said, "but it will push you closer to the truth."
"Closer…?"
Lazarus leaned back slightly, the fading light carving his face into shadow and gold.
"Yes. If you want to find the truth about who you are… what you are… or the power you carry
you must first understand yourself."
For one to understand their power, they must first understand themselves
their identity,
their nature,
and what they stand for.
This is the foundation.
The first step toward the path that leads to that energy.
David lowered his gaze, voice calm yet trembling at the edges.
"All these things you mention… have no essence in me. I barely understand myself.
And the identity you speak of…
let's just say it was never there in the first place."
His fingers curled slightly.
"All I want… is to get my memories back. That's all."
Lazarus rose slowly, the firelight catching the scars carved into his past.
He placed a steady hand on David's shoulder.
"Then," he said softly,
"I guess we build something from there."
A small, reassuring squeeze.
"I will train you.
And help you in every way I can.
We start first thing tomorrow."
With that, he turned and walked inside, his silhouette swallowed by the dim glow of the house.
David remained outside
silent, unmoving
his eyes lifted to the night sky,
where the stars hung.
(Capital of Valnic)
The conference hall of Valnic shimmered with regal brilliance
vaulted ceilings painted with goldleaf constellations,
marble pillars carved with scenes of triumph,
and crystal lanterns casting soft radiance across the room.
This was a kingdom of beauty, power, and pride
a paradise built on discipline and order.
At the heart of it stood a long royal table of polished whitewood,
its surface reflecting every flicker of lantern-light like flowing water.
Figures of influence and authority took their seats,
their armor and robes gleaming, expressions calm but eyes sharp.
Some radiated power, others intelligence;
all bore the weight of duty and expectation.
At the far end, a lone figure sat with composed stillness,
silver armor catching the light, gaze cold, posture unshaken.
A warrior sculpted not by peace, but by purpose.
The hall fell silent, heavy with intent.
A hand rose to begin the discourse.
"Let us begin," came the voice, steady and commanding.
The room held its breath.
Silence pressed against the walls, thick as dust… until Shino rose.
"Let's begin," he said.
His voice cut through the stillness, steady, controlled, carrying the weight of someone who already knew the outcome of this meeting even before it began.
He placed both hands on the obsidian table, eyes moving across the four first-rank warriors seated before him. Their backs straightened instinctively.
"The council has recommended the four of you for this assignment," he continued.
"I believe we all understand what we are up against… and the powers described by the witnesses."
Hera, if you may proceed with the plan for the mission,"
Shino said as he lowered himself back into his seat.
Hera rose slowly, the dim light catching the sharpness in her eyes.
She unfurled a worn map across the polished table, its edges whispering against the wood.
"After the incident in the southern region of Berlin," she began,
"more reports have surfaced from the north… but still no confirmed sighting of the slave."
Her finger traced the lines of territory, steady and precise.
"Our men remain stationed across the region, watching for any disturbance,
any shift in movement, any witness speaking out of fear."
She tapped a marked point on the map.
"His last known direction was toward the forest.
This forest spans far…
a wilderness that touches two other states, Solara and Helori."
"My suggestion," Hera continued, her finger tapping the edge of Solara on the map,
"is that we proceed first to the State of Solara.
It lies closest to the forest… and its gates lack the heavy guard the others maintain.
If he seeks a hiding place, Solara would welcome shadows."
She slid her hand to the next region.
"And if he is not there, we move onward to Helori.
That will be all."
Shino leaned back slightly, eyes sweeping across the four ranked warriors.
Each one gave a solemn nod—silent approval carved into their expressions.
"Well then," Shino said, rising to his feet,
"we begin tomorrow.
Prepare yourselves.
The meeting is dismissed."
Chairs scraped softly across polished stone.
Boots echoed as all members bowed and drifted out of the chamber,
their silhouettes swallowed by the golden arches of Valnic's glory.
For a moment, the hall returned to its deep silence.
Then
a voice slithered through the air, familiar and layered with age.
"Shino."
He didn't turn immediately; he knew the sound.
"Uncle Philip," Shino said, a faint smirk pulling at his lips.
"What a surprise."
Philip stepped forward from the shadows, his presence both warm and heavy.
"You've grown sharp… bold. A fine edge, my boy."
"I learned from the best," Shino replied.
"Since you're here, I assume my brother has returned as well?"
Another voice cut in, smooth, confident, and unmistakable.
"Did you expect me not to come back, Shino?"
Shino finally turned toward the doorway.
"Well, well…
long time, Yeager."