Alain stared at a city through a pane of glass.
Once, it must've been beautiful, proud towers of white marble, streets overflowing with warmth and light, people happily going about their day.
Now it was a grave.
Jagged ruins pierced the sky like broken spears. Fire crawled through the streets, silent and slow, as if it had already burned everything worth destroying. Above it all, a dull red sun hung motionless behind countless layers of smoke.
He blinked. Suddenly, he was on a bench that no longer belonged there, half-sunk in the ash. The wood was scorched black, yet beneath him it felt cold.
All around, the world wept cinders. A toppled tower leaned against the horizon. Bodies—or what remained of them, lay scattered across the road, burned beyond recognition.
Alain watched in silence. He couldn't remember how long he had been sitting there. Time didn't seem to move at all.
Then something did.
A piece of stone drifted upward from the street, turning slowly in the air. Another followed, then another, each fragment pulled by an unseen current. The pieces found one another midair, fitting back into place along the edge of a shattered wall.
What's…going on?
Rising from the bench, he broke the stillness. The fires were gone. Charred beams straightened. Cracks sealed. Dust slid upward, settling neatly along the lines of restored glass.
All around him, the city rebuilt itself.
A wilted flower beside his boot uncurled its blackened petals, color bleeding back into them.
The ash beneath it receded, revealing green across the ground. Grass, whole and alive, spreading like spilled paint.
Slowly, he turned, as the dead world reversed. Broken windows blinked to clarity, the toppled tower drew itself upright, and scorched banners found their color again.
This was memory. The world was remembering itself.
When Alain opened his eyes again, he was standing in a garden.
Stone paths crossed through patches of green. The ground was soft under his boots, damp with morning dew. Fountains stood between trimmed hedges, their water falling in slow, even arcs.
His eyes darted everywhere, but no signs of ruin were present, just the morning dew dripping off nearby flowers.
Alain moved to the nearby fountain and stared into the pool beneath. His reflection stared back at him, clean and untouched, proper even.
His chest tightened.
Is this… the past?
Suddenly, pain surged from his right hand. He gritted his teeth, his other hand clutching it instinctively. Light bled through the open seams of his new glove, thin threads pulsing beneath his skin.
They crawled upwards, tracing faint lines of gold before they drifted off his hand, spilling into the air in weightless trails.
The threads bent and wove together, curling on themselves until they began to take shape—forming letters, one by one.
They shimmered above the fountain, as if written by the light itself.
He froze.
[Revelation Initiated]
[Memory Sequence Loaded: The Garden of Dawn]
Alain couldn't even start to comprehend what he was seeing before another voice filled his head, gentle—but hurried.
"Please…reach a happy ending."
The voice vanished, but the ache in his hand didn't.
In front, the light pulsed again, rearranging itself into a different message.
[Revelation Synchronization Completed — Soul Pattern Identified]
[Bearer: Alain Vale]
[Titles: — ]
[Primary Rune: ??? (Dormant), Grade ???]
[Secondary Rune: Fire (Kenaz), Grade 1]
[Insight Level: Stage 1 – Echo]
[Ether Capacity: 1,000]
[Trait: Equivalent Exchange]
[Trait Description: All power demands an equal price.]
[Known Spells: ᚱ— Raido (Push)]
[Known Techniques: Kindle—Amplify physical prowess for five minutes.]
The words lingered in the air for a moment before disappearing with the sunlight's rays.
Alain blinked. His thoughts lagged behind what his eyes had seen.
"...Soul pattern?" he muttered. The sound of his own voice felt strange here, swallowed by the still air.
When he looked down, the faint glow beneath his glove seams had dimmed, but not gone completely. His skin throbbed as if something was pulsing just beneath it.
Primary Rune: Dormant. Secondary Rune: Fire.
So the test wasn't wrong, it really was two Runes.
He frowned. Ether capacity... a thousand?
That didn't mean much. He'd never seen an actual measurement before, and had no benchmark of comparisons either.
His gaze lingered on the last two lines.
Equivalent Exchange.
All power demands an equal price.
He flexed his fingers. The ache answered with heat.
Yeah, I've noticed.
A thin breath escaped him, half a sigh, half a laugh. It didn't make sense. None of it did. But for some reason, it calmed him. He had always been living with questions—now, this had cleared some things up.
The glow around the fountain began to fade. The air settled again. Whatever had just judged him was done, at least for now.
A voice cut through the still air, light and warm.
"There's my disciple! Daydreaming again, I see?"
Alain froze.
He turned toward the sound.
At the far end of the path stood a man in white, hands rested on his hips, sunlight drawn to his hair like metal to a magnet. He looked every bit like the kind of person the world should have loved—sharp features softened by warmth, a faint smile that made even the silence around him seem kinder.
"Come now," the man said, laughing under his breath. "We're not here on vacation, you know?"
Alain's throat tightened. His mind scrambled for an answer that refused to come.
He knew this face. He'd never seen it before, but he knew it. Every line, every movement, the rhythm of his voice—it all slotted into a memory that didn't belong to him.
Alain clenched his head, more memories flooded in like a broken dam. Flashes hit him in waves, moments each too sharp to be anything but real.
A man's hand reached down, calloused and steady, lifting a younger version of himself from a training yard. He remembered the voice that followed, amused and patient.
"You've really got potential! Would you like to be my disciple?"
Another memory, clearer now. They were at a restaurant, crowds of people gathered around the man, telling stories or inviting him for another round of drinks. It was strange, he couldn't see the other people's faces.
Then came the last fragment, the reason they were here. The peace accord with the Vanir and Jotnar, those from the two other large civilizations on the continent.
Vanir? Wait, this isn't an illusion. It's history.
Quick as light, the man appeared behind Alain, putting a hand on his back.
"Hey, you okay?" His voice was warm, steady, carrying a brightness that cut through the air. "I told you to take it easy before an important day."
The man sighed, smiling faintly as he placed his other hand against Alain's temples, as if checking for a fever.
"Just take it easy today," he said. "Let your capable teacher handle the talking for once."
The man's hand fell away, replaced by the soft murmur of wind.
They walked side by side through the gardens, sunlight spilling across marble and flowers that seemed to bloom brighter wherever he passed.
Servants and diplomats moved along the paths ahead—some laughing, some too tense to speak. None of them looked strange or distorted, but Alain couldn't shake the feeling that their faces weren't quite there.
The scent of wine and polished steel drifted through the air. Birds sang from the balconies, each note perfectly placed, as though the world itself were rehearsing for something.
The man stretched, hands clasped behind his back, looking more like a man on a stroll than one preparing for a historic gathering.
"It's good to have peace in the air again," he said. "Almost makes you forget how heavy war feels."
Alain stayed a half step behind. Words rose in his throat, but refused to form.
What would he even say? That this wasn't real? Can't exactly just blurt out that he's not this guy's student and this is all a dream.
He settled for silence.
The blonde man glanced back with an easy smile.
"Still quiet, I see. Don't tell me you're nervous. You'll make your teacher look bad in front of all these fine nobles."
Alain gave a small, reflexive nod, playing along. "Right. Sorry, I'm just not feeling too well today."
"No need to be sorry, the man's grin widened. "I'm sure everything'll be easy peasy. Then we can go back and start with our next lessons!"
The words carried warmth, but there was something beneath them, an undercurrent Alain couldn't quite put his finger on.
The garden ahead opened into a courtyard lined with banners, sunlight gleaming against white stone. In the center stood the raised platform where the peace accord would be signed.
Alain stopped. His pulse quickened for reasons he didn't understand.
He'd never been here before.
And yet…the memories were all there.
Alain felt a bump on his shoulder. His mentor had gotten his attention and pointed at the group of approaching nobles. They were all dressed neatly, with decorative badges and flowers, from head to toe, the exact image of a noble that Alain had always had in his head.
Then, his eyes focused on the last trio to exit the main mansion. The husband, who looked like a retired commander, chatted with the nearby people. While his wife, who looked like she was a capable secretary, was ordering around some maids to prepare the food.
However, it was obvious where his eyes went next. A small girl dressed in a floral-themed white dress. Her usual braided hair, now let loose, glistened as sunlight caught each individual strand. Her eyes, a deep turquoise color, contrasted her attire perfectly.
It was undeniable; this was Lia. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
[Revelation Progress — 90%]
[Outcome: Inevitable.]