The night didn't simply darken -
it split open.
Elior froze as the sky overhead bled a deep, unnatural red. Clouds twisted into agonized shapes, folding and stretching like something inside them was trying to claw its way out.
Peter's voice cracked beside him.
"Elior… what is that?"
Around them, people poured out onto the streets - bakers covered in flour, children half-asleep, drunks sobering instantly.
"What kind of omen is this?"
"Someone get the priests!"
"Is this judgment?"
"No, no… the sky doesn't bleed!"
Elior felt the ground hum faintly beneath his feet.
A vibration.
A warning.
A calling.
The coin in his pocket wasn't warm this time -
it was heavy, like it suddenly carried the weight of a mountain.
Peter grabbed his arm tightly.
"Bro, let's get inside. Please. This isn't normal."
Elior tried to move, but something held him still - not force, but presence.
An invisible weight pressed down from the sky, pushing against his lungs, against his heartbeat, against his thoughts.
A sharp crack tore across the heavens.
A jagged line of blinding white-gold light seared through the bleeding sky. Thunder didn't follow. Instead, the world fell into a dead, ringing silence - so quiet Elior heard Peter trembling beside him.
Then everything stopped.
The street.
The wind.
The people.
Even the sound of his own breathing faded.
Elior blinked.
And suddenly-
He wasn't in Volradis anymore.
The world around him peeled back like thin cloth, replaced by a vast field of shifting light and shadow. Colors he had no name for rippled through the air. Stars hung low enough to touch. The ground beneath him hummed like a living heartbeat.
Elior didn't know if he was standing…
floating…
or dreaming.
Am I dead?
The thought slipped through him.
From the shimmering haze ahead, a silhouette formed - tall, radiant, cloaked in a light so bright it was almost sound. The outline reminded him of the hooded figure from the alley… but now everything about it was different.
Bigger.
Heavier.
Holy.
Elior's knees nearly buckled.
"Wh… where am I…?"
He tried to speak, but the words came out thin.
The figure didn't answer.
It simply watched him - with eyes he couldn't see, yet could feel burning through him. Not with anger.
With knowing.
Then the air changed.
A voice, layered like thunder wrapped in whisper, rolled across the realm:
"Herald…"
The ground shook lightly.
"…it begins."
The moment the words struck, Elior felt a sharp pull - like a hook sinking into his ches.....but a part of him couldn't just accept it...
Wait ...what do you mean!!...Elior yelled out as he started to fade away.
Y-you got the wrong guy...hey!!
Then suddenly the world collapsed inward.
Light folded.
The stars shattered.
His bones vibrated.
Then-
He was back.
Volradis snapped into view.
The bloody sky still glowed overhead.
The crowd still panicked.
But now everything sounded distant -muffled - like he was underwater.
Peter's hands shook him roughly.
"ELIOR! Hey-hey! Are you okay?! You blanked out! You were just standing there like a statue!"
Elior opened his mouth, but his voice failed.
His heart thudded out of rhythm.
His vision flickered at the edges.
He wasn't sure what scared him more:
The bleeding sky…
Or the fact that something inside him had answered those words.
Peter swallowed hard and slowly looked up again.
"Oh no… Elior… look-"
The crimson sky didn't fade.
It grew darker.
Thicker.
Like a curtain being drawn across the world.
And far above, the tear in the sky
widened.