"...Huh?"
Lilya blinked slowly.
Her eyes traced the last sentence she had just read, making sure she hadn't misunderstood the inscription on the stele.
"...I..."
Her lips trembled.
"...the baby spoken of in the prophecy?"
Her heart beat faster.
No.
This didn't make sense.
A prophecy from fifteen hundred years ago... mentioning someone who looked just like her?
How was that possible?
She bit her lip softly.
When she first woke up after suddenly fainting yesterday, unfamiliar memories she had never known flowed into her without warning.
Everything came at once.
She thought it was just because of her soul synchronization with Hikaru.
But—
if this prophecy was true...
then all of this had been determined long before Hikaru was even born.
Long before she herself was born.
Lilya swallowed.
Her hand, still touching the stele, trembled slightly.
"..."
She took a long breath.
Then she continued reading the next inscription.
"I'm sure you must be shocked."
Lilya smiled wryly.
"...yeah."
Very much so.
"Just as I was back then."
"I was also surprised when I was visited by the Goddess of Life, Celestia."
"At that time..."
"I was still a child of six years old."
Lilya froze.
"The Goddess... Celestia?"
"The night my village was destroyed..."
"I lost everything."
"I lost my father."
"I lost my mother."
"I lost my home."
"I lost a place to return to."
"I was just a frightened child."
"I didn't even have the courage to come out of my hiding place."
"I kept crying until someone called my name."
Lilya read slowly.
As if every word carried back memories that weren't hers.
"When I opened my eyes..."
"A woman stood before me."
"Her hair was golden."
"Her clothes were white like morning light."
"Her gaze was so gentle..."
"As if all my pain disappeared just by looking at her."
"She introduced herself."
"The Goddess of Life, Celestia."
Lilya unconsciously clutched her chest.
She didn't know why.
But just reading that name made her chest feel warm.
"Goddess Celestia said to me..."
"Claudia."
"I cannot bring back your family."
"I cannot erase your sadness either."
"However..."
"I can give you strength so that no other child will suffer the same pain."
Lilya stared at the next lines.
"At that time..."
"I was born without any talent."
"I had no talent for magic."
"Nor did I have talent for the sword."
"I was just an ordinary village girl."
"But Celestia gave me talent for the sword."
"She gave me the Class: Swordwoman..."
"From that day onward..."
"My body, which had previously been unable to hold a sword..."
"Suddenly could perform every basic sword movement."
"I didn't even understand how I could do it."
"But my body..."
"Always knew where the sword should move."
Lilya understood that too.
Ever since she woke up with two memories inside her head—the memories of a village girl named Lilya Asthon and the memories of a NEET named Hikaru Onodera—her body had gradually begun to adjust.
She remembered the first time she tried to run after awakening her dormant sword saint class. Her legs felt lighter. Her breathing was more regular.
And when she swung that branch for the first time—her hand moved with a precision that should have been impossible for an ordinary village girl.
She didn't understand it at the time.
She thought it was just a side effect of Hikaru's memories.
Her body was imitating the movements Hikaru had once performed in the game.
But now—
she was beginning to realize.
It wasn't just imitation.
It was adaptation.
Her body was naturally adapting to the character build that Hikaru had once created in Eternal Realm Online.
The same build that Claudia wore.
The Sword Saint build.
Lilya lowered her head.
Staring at her hands, now clad in gleaming white armored gauntlets.
"...it wasn't coincidence..."
She whispered softly.
"...this soul synchronization... wasn't coincidence..."
She recalled the battles in the forest.
How her body moved faster than it should have.
How her reflexes deflected attacks she hadn't even seen.
How the blade of light in her hand felt like an extension of her own body.
She could survive.
She could fight the powerful monsters inside this forest.
She could kill a Hell Kong with a single slash.
Not because she had trained.
Not because she had natural talent.
But because her body had been prepared for this.
From the very beginning.
From the moment she was born.
From the moment that prophecy was written by the village elder of Claudia, fifteen hundred years ago.
Lilya's eyes widened slightly.
"...so..."
Her breath caught.
"...all of this... was already decided?"
She bit her lip.
"...since I was born... I was already destined to become the Sword Saint?"
Her heart beat faster.
"...and Hikaru...?"
She remembered that man.
The overweight man with greasy hair and a worn-out T-shirt.
The man who died from slipping on the stairs.
The man who spent thousands of hours creating the perfect character inside a game.
"...he..."
Lilya clutched her chest.
"...was he also part of this destiny?"
Hikaru's smile flashed through her mind.
A warm smile.
A resigned smile.
"I'm just a small anomaly in her world."
Lilya's tears fell.
Not from sadness.
Not from anger.
But because she understood now.
Hikaru was not an anomaly.
He was part of a larger plan.
He was the key that opened the door.
He was the bridge between two worlds.
Hikaru's world—the world where he created the Sword Saint character.
And this world—the world where that character became real.
Lilya lifted her head.
Her eyes were still wet.
But her gaze—
no longer wavered.
"...if that's the case..."
Her voice was soft.
But firm.
"...then this is the destiny the world has given me."
She clenched her fists.
"Not just to become the Sword Saint."
"But to save Cecilia."
"To protect the people I love."
"To continue what Claudia started."
She looked at the stele once more.
And for the first time—
she didn't feel burdened.
She felt honored.
"...thank you, Claudia."
She whispered.
"...thank you, Hikaru."
"...thank you, Goddess Celestia."
The night wind blew softly.
Carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves.
And amidst that breeze—
Lilya felt something.
Warmth.
Like an invisible embrace.
Like a smile from the past that was still watching over her.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment—
the entire forest fell silent.
No sound of insects.
No rustling of leaves.
No breath of wind.
Even her own heartbeat seemed to vanish.
"...?"
Lilya slowly opened her eyes.
Light.
The stele before her began to emit a white-golden glow.
The ancient inscriptions, which had been covered in moss for thousands of years, lit up one by one, forming luminous lines that spread across the entire surface of the stone.
The ground beneath her feet trembled faintly.
Not like an earthquake.
But like something awakening from a very long sleep.
Then—
a voice sounded.
Not from the front.
Not from the back.
Not from the sky.
Nor from inside her head.
The voice came from everywhere.
[Alert]
[A candidate meeting all requirements for succession has been detected.]
[Verifying identity...]
[Verification complete.]
[The Heir of the Sword Saint has been confirmed.]
[Ownership of the Sacred Ground "Sword Saint Sanctuary" is being transferred...]
[Transfer complete.]
[Previous Owner : Claudia Silverstone]
[New Owner : Lilya Asthon]
[All functions of the Sacred Ground are now under the authority of the new owner.]
[Welcome, Sword Saint Lilya Asthon.]
The stele fell silent again.
The ancient inscriptions that had been glowing brightly gradually dimmed—but did not fade completely. A faint golden light still flowed gently across the surface of the stone, like veins still pulsing, as if the stele itself was still breathing.
Lilya stood before it.
Silent.
Her hand was still pressed against the stone surface, which now felt warm—unlike before. It used to be cold, damp, and covered in moss. Now it was warm, dry, and felt... alive. As if this stone was no longer an inanimate object, but part of something greater.
But—
a moment later...
light came.
Not from the stele.
Not from its surroundings.
But from above.
From the sky.
Lilya turned.
Her eyes widened.
Above the Eldwyn forest—above the thick canopy of trees, above the night mist slowly thinning, above the sky that had been pitch black—
a giant pentagram stretched across the horizon.
Golden yellow.
Shining.
Filling the entire sky.
Unlike ordinary pentagrams drawn on paper or carved in stone. This was different. It felt alive. Its lines moved slowly, pulsing like the heartbeat of a giant awakened from a long slumber. Every corner emitted a soft glow that spread to every corner of the forest—illuminating the trees, illuminating the ground, illuminating the night sky as if dawn had arrived early.
The light warmed her skin, penetrating through to her bones, to her very soul—like something embracing her from within.
Lilya stared at it.
"...same..."
She whispered softly.
"...exactly..."
Her eyes did not blink.
"...exactly the same as in Hikaru's memory..."
She remembered.
In the Sword Saint Legacy event in Eternal Realm Online, after players completed all requirements to inherit the Sword Saint's power, the sky above the event area would change.
A giant pentagram would appear in the sky.
Golden yellow.
Shining.
Filling the entire horizon.
Exactly like what she was seeing now.
But—
in the game, that pentagram was a sign that the event was complete.
That the player had successfully completed all the challenges.
That they were now the rightful heir of the Sword Saint Legacy.
And at that moment, Claudia would speak—encouraging them, giving parting words, and congratulating the player who had successfully carried on her legacy.
Lilya waited.
Waited for that voice.
Waited for Claudia's words.
But—
nothing came.
Only light.
Only silence.
Only the pentagram continuing to pulse in the sky.
"...different..."
She whispered softly.
"...in the game, she spoke..."
Her gaze did not leave the pentagram.
"...but now... there's nothing..."
She waited a little longer. Still nothing. Only the light continued to pulse, like the heart of the world awakening from a long sleep.
Then—something appeared in her mind.
Not a sound. Not words. But a vision.
Faint. Like a shadow behind a thin mist.
Lilya furrowed her brow. She tried to grasp it, tried to focus her inner vision—and slowly, the image became clearer.
A vast white chamber.
Huge. Too huge.
Its floor was patterned with pristine white checkerboard tiles, like ancient marble stretching far to the end of the room. Tall pillars stood in rows supporting a domed ceiling. The air inside felt heavy, cold, and filled with something that could not be described in words.
Its walls were covered in giant carvings—carvings of a long-haired woman holding a sword, six figures standing behind her, armies of monsters, war, the Demon King, and a burning sky. The same carvings that Cecilia had once told her about when she was still a child.
In the center of the room, a giant crystal stood.
Its height was almost three times that of a grown human.
It was once blazing red—but now pitch black had spread across its entire surface like a living stain creeping slowly. It pulsed faintly. Like a sick heart.
And beside that crystal—
right beside the pulsing black surface—
a girl floated.
Her brown hair was tangled, hanging down like an unkempt curtain. Her face was pale, her lips pale, her skin pale—as if all the color of life had been slowly drained from her body. Her arms were stretched wide to the sides, her legs dangling limply, no resistance, no movement.
Like a puppet hung by invisible threads.
She was so close to the crystal. Almost touching.
Her chest still rose and fell—too slowly. But still there.
A dark red pentagram pulsed on her stomach—draining mana from her body without pause.
And beneath her, an empty white altar.
In front of the altar and the crystal—
a small figure.
Hunched.
Wearing a tattered black robe covered in strange symbols.
With a crooked wooden staff—a purple crystal glowing at its tip.
Its skin was pale purple, wrinkled like old cloth left in the sun too long. Its ears were long and pointed—but not like an elf's, rougher, like tree roots cut forcefully. Fangs jutted out from its mouth, uneven, like crooked iron fencing.
A thin black aura continuously emanated from the creature's body—like smoke from a fire long extinguished, but still holding onto heat.
Its thin hands gripped the staff tightly. The purple crystal at its tip pulsed wildly—spinning, faster, denser. The air around it trembled. The black crystal before it pulsed harder, as if responding to that call.
That small figure was the Goblin Shaman.
And he seemed to be doing something in there.