The air in the arena vibrated before any figure appeared.
It was a subtle vibration, barely felt, but enough to make hearts beat irregularly and shadows tremble, as if even light itself had been stripped bare by truth.
A boy with eyes filled with violet light appeared at the center of the field.
Albert.
Not in a burst of magic.
Not in fireworks or proclamations.
But with a silence that smothered all sounds, even heartbeats.
Students, instructors, and masters from all corners of the continent watched, without understanding why their hands froze, why their thoughts emptied, why they suddenly felt like mere witnesses to something beyond expression.
Zhelenya, her gaze locked onto Albert, whispered:
— He has returned.
Kaelya said nothing. Yet in her eyes, a deep sadness mixed with an unexplainable joy.
Albert walked slowly.
Around him, the fighting grounds seemed to melt into a more vivid version of themselves: every speck of dust, every thread of air vibrated with the truth of his presence.
A student dared to speak:
— Who is…?
But his voice broke before the question could even form.
Albert lifted a hand gently.
Not to command.
But to bless the silence.
— Do not be afraid, he said calmly.
His voice was not loud.
Yet every person in the arena heard it as if it was whispered directly into their soul.
— I have not come to take anything.
— I have come to see what you have chosen to become.
A murmur rippled through the arena.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Only awe.
An elderly master in the honorary stands rose, leaning heavily on a staff engraved with ancient runes.
— You are the one from the old prophecies, aren't you? asked the elder.
Albert turned his head slightly.
— No.
— I am what the prophecies forgot to name.
And then, for the first time, a silent wind swept across the arena.
A wind that did not cool, nor did it stir the dust.
A wind that seemed to whisper to the world itself:
"He is here."
Stepping further into the center of the arena, Albert felt the air around him thicken strangely, as if the very world hesitated to breathe in his presence.
Each step he took left behind a barely visible vibration, a silent ripple that resonated through the stone floor and the hearts of those who watched.
In the stands, a murmur grew, though no one dared to fully raise their voice.
— Where did he come from? whispered a young student, his wide eyes almost fearful.
— It's not possible… another stammered, trembling. — There's no magic that can bring such a presence.
An elderly professor, who had witnessed many battles between powerful mages, gripped the edge of his cloak and spoke more to himself:
— This is not magic... this is pure existence.
Albert slightly raised his gaze, meeting all those staring at him.
His violet eyes did not seem to look at their bodies but at the very essence of their being. Some felt utterly exposed, as if their souls were laid bare.
In a corner of the arena, Zhelenya was clasping her hands together, her heart pounding chaotically. Though she was one of the wisest presences in the academy, she felt overwhelmed by what she was witnessing.
Kaelya, standing a few steps away, sighed softly, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her soul.
— He crossed the threshold, she said quietly.
Zhelenya turned her head toward her, whispering almost voicelessly:
— And now?
Kaelya closed her eyes for a moment, then answered:
— Now... the world must decide whether to follow him or fall apart.
At the center of the arena, Albert stopped.
The silence deepened, until every breath, every movement, every thought seemed suspended in the air.
Then Albert extended his right hand forward.
From the center of his palm, a faint purple light rose, drawing concentric circles that floated in the air.
— I offer you a gift, he said calmly and clearly. — But it is not one you can ask for. It is one you must choose.
A subtle swirl of energy floated above the arena.
Everyone present felt a fragment of choice form within their soul: a choice between fear and courage, between stagnation and change.
An instructor from the front rows, an older man with sharp eyes, took a step forward:
— Who are you to ask us to choose? he asked, his voice trembling slightly with anger.
Albert showed no irritation nor offense. He looked at the man, and when he spoke, his words seemed to wrap around everyone's minds:
— I ask you nothing. I simply exist. And my existence changes the questions you didn't even know you were asking.
Silence fell again, heavy as a starless night.
The professor who had questioned him fell to his knees, without being touched. Not out of fear. Not out of weakness.
But out of a deep instinct, as if before a natural force.
Albert lowered his hand.
The light disappeared.
And the world felt as if it had returned—yet was already forever changed.
From the crowd, a young, trembling voice dared to ask:
— Are you... with us? Or against us?
Albert smiled faintly, without sadness, without pride.
— I am with you as long as you choose to be yourselves.
And then, without another word, he turned toward the center of the arena, where a new symbol was beginning to form in the stone, carved by his mere presence.
The Wave That Cannot Be Stopped
Far from the arena where Albert had once again stepped into the world, the ripples created by his existence spread silently, touching places and beings that no longer even knew they existed.
—
[In the Sealed Library of Nimbara]
An ancient page, locked within a manuscript untouched for a thousand years, turned by itself.
Words written in dust and shadow rearranged themselves.
— A step of the one who cannot be named, murmured the blind old librarian, sensing the trembling in the stagnant air.
—
[At the Church of the Shard of Light]
In the deserted sanctuary, a statue of a cracked angel opened its eyes for the first time in centuries.
— He brings change... but not for all—only for those who dare to see, whispered the voice of the statue in the forgotten language of light.
—
[In the Sanctuary of the Silent Ones – Continent of Smoke]
Four shadowy figures without faces stood in a circle. They did not speak. But the trembling in the air betrayed their panic.
— Has he awakened? asked one shadow, without sound.
— No. He still walks. But each step brings him closer to our end, answered another.
—
[At the Unseen Throne of the Sleeping God]
The colossus with faces of liquid gold opened its eyes again.
Above his throne, constellations twisted into new, unknown shapes.
— When the man who no longer questions treads among the stars, even my sleep shall end.
—
[Beneath Nameless Lake]
Deep beneath the quiet waters, a creature coiled its tail around a fragment of reality.
— He has chosen, whispered the being, and its scales shimmered in impossible colors.
—
[Nowhere – In the Space Between Thoughts]
An entity that had never possessed a name awoke from oblivion.
— He is no longer just a question.
— He has become... the answer itself.
—
At the edge of reality, where stories never reach, a single phrase floated on the wind between worlds:
"His existence can no longer be ignored. He chose to be real, and reality itself must follow him."
Albert walked slowly toward the center of the arena, and the world seemed to subtly unravel around him.
Nothing touched him.
Not the breath of the wind, not the emotion of the crowd, not the stares full of fear or reverence.
He was a fixed point in an ocean of uncertainties.
From above, in the stands, the instructors whispered among themselves, unaware that each word sounded like a delayed echo of a reality on the verge of being changed.
— Something is shifting in the structure of magic, observed an old mage, furrowing his deeply lined brow.
— No... not just magic, another answered, his voice muffled. — The world itself is beginning to gravitate around his steps.
In the center of the arena, without making a sound, Albert slowly raised a hand.
Across the entire space, barely perceptible vibrations propagated: threads of magic, lines of energy, all began to tremble slightly, as if called to order by a force they could not understand.
Somewhere, a young student, barely initiated into the basic magical arts, whispered:
— I feel... something in my chest. A foreign pulse.
Another, more experienced one, placed a hand on his shoulder:
— It's not just in your chest. It's in all of us. In every living thing.
In the high box seats, Zhelenya gripped the edge of her cloak and turned to Kaelya:
— Do you know what triggered this?
Kaelya kept her gaze fixed on Albert and answered in a voice almost like a prayer:
— The fact that he chose to be real in a world built on unanswered questions.
—
In the next moment, from the highest observation bastion of the Watcher's Tower, where the most senior masters observed the event, an unseen sign appeared.
A flower of light unfolded in the air above the arena.
In its petals of pure energy, each of those present could see a fragment of themselves: their fears, hopes, weaknesses, forgotten dreams.
— A flower... from our own inner world, a master uttered in awe.
Albert slowly lowered his hand.
And the flower vanished, as if it had never been there.
A muted roar passed through the crowd: astonishment, fear, a collective shudder.
But Albert had spoken no additional words.
Yet.
And that made his silence heavier than any scream.
Albert advanced three more steps into the center of the arena.
Each step left behind an invisible trace, yet one felt by all. It was as if reality itself remembered every moment it had been changed without realizing it.
In the stands, the whispers had become more like a prayer.
Many didn't dare breathe.
Zhelenya closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered to Kaelya:
— This isn't magic we're seeing.
— Then what is it? Kaelya asked, her voice trembling between fascination and fear.
— It is the world's decision to either accept him, Zhelenya replied. — Or to reject him.
At that moment, an almost imperceptible crack ran through the air above Albert.
A soft sound, like a string pulled too tight, was heard—and for a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.
An old instructor, one of the most ancient ones, let out a murmur:
— He has touched the threshold. No... not just our threshold.
— He has touched the threshold of the world.
Albert opened his eyes again.
This time, his eyes glowed in a vivid living silver — a liquid silver that seemed to see not only the world but also thoughts, intentions, and even what had yet to be created.
A young student, far back in the stands, fell to his knees without understanding why.
— I can't... I can't look at him directly, he whispered.
Albert didn't speak.
But he raised his hand toward the sky.
The sky answered.
A spiral of clouds, threads of light, and sifted shadows formed above the arena, slicing through the atmosphere like a natural response to his call.
From the spiral, a single drop of pure light fell slowly... floating until it rested gently in Albert's palm.
He looked at that droplet and, for the first time, smiled.
— See? he said, his voice resonating in every mind like a personal whisper. — Reality is nothing but the choice to continue.
A tremor ran through every spectator.
A boy, probably no older than twelve, suddenly stood up and shouted:
— I want to follow in his footsteps!
And then another. And another.
In the high boxes, an instructor stood up, placing his hand over his chest:
— So do I.
Zhelenya and Kaelya exchanged a long glance. They were witnessing the birth not just of a new era... but of a new law of existence.
And in the center of it all, Albert closed his fist around the drop of light.
And a new wave propagated—more subtle, more profound—not of fear, not of force, but of pure freedom.
The silence in the arena was so dense it felt as if time itself had forgotten to flow.
Albert stood in the midst of that absolute stillness, his fist closed around the droplet of light. And in a suspended second, his eyes shone once more—this time in a completely different color: pure white, impossible to mistake.
A white light, dazzling and yet gentle, poured from him without causing destruction, without inspiring fear—only truth.
Zhelenya, watching from a distance, brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide, full of unshed tears.
— He's not just changing the world... she whispered.
— He's forgiving it.
Kaelya, seated beside her, closed her eyes for a moment, feeling every part of her being vibrate before the revelation.
— Truth without judgment, she said in a low voice. — That's the power of the white eyes...
At that moment, Albert lifted his gaze once more toward the shattered spiral in the sky.
A ray of that white light rose from him, crossing the heavens, touching the invisible borders of existence.
And for a fleeting instant, all neighboring realities—parallel worlds, forgotten dreams, dead dimensions—stopped to look at him.
Every conscious being in those realms felt a breeze, a silent presence.
In a world where dragons gathered on mountains of steel, an old dragon whispered:
— He walked among us.
In a temple of light lost beneath three oceans, a priestess in white fell to her knees:
— The one without edges... has been born again.
—
Back in the arena, an elder from the Inner Council observed:
— It's not magic.
— It's not time.
— It's choice.
Albert lowered his gaze toward the crowd. Not with superiority. Not with pity. With an acceptance that defied human understanding.
And then... he spoke again:
— You do not have to follow me.
— Nor understand me.
— It's enough to choose to be... what you forgot you are.
The crowd broke into weeping, silent tears, some raising their hands without even knowing why.
At that moment, reality completely gave in to him.
The arena disappeared. The walls vanished. The flags, the towers, the clouds—all dissolved into a vast plain of white light, where every soul could walk freely, without constraints, without shame.
Albert stood there, in the center of a world without borders.
And he waited.
—
[Watcher's Tower – Central Chamber]
Zhelenya, her voice trembling, turned toward the council of instructors:
— We can no longer teach the old world.
— And the new one? someone asked.
— It's not ours to build, she replied.
—
[In the Abandoned Subcellar of the Temple of Seals]
An ancient clock, forgotten for eons, began to tick again.
A sign that time had been restarted by a single choice.
—
Albert, still unmoving, smiled faintly.
And with one final blink of his white eyes, the light began to gather again around him, enveloping him, preparing him to return...
somewhere.
Where the true journey would begin.
Before the Return
[Sanctuary of Shattered Mirrors – In a forgotten corner of reality]
A cracked mirror, on the verge of collapse, vibrated gently.
The reflection no longer showed an image, but a road. A road that shattered and reformed with every breath.
A shadow cloaked in a mantle of dreams stopped in front of the mirror and whispered:
— When he returns... the world will no longer be able to pretend it never saw him.
---
[Eternal Council – In the Hall of the Nine Thrones]
Eight occupied chairs.
One empty chair.
Above the table, light twisted silently, like a serpent of solidified time.
Sypherion, the leader of the council, traced his fingers over the edge of the table, feeling the vibration only his inner eye could perceive.
— He has reached a point of no return, Sypherion said without looking up.
Another council member, a being with skin like parchment burned by stars, added:
— And at the point of no return... who makes the rules?
Sypherion smiled faintly:
— Not even us.
---
[Watcher's Tower – Underground Laboratory]
Zhelenya rolled a crystal sphere between her palms. The sphere vibrated, displaying a white spiral—the symbol of absolute choice.
Kaelya entered the room in quick steps:
— Has it started?
— No. It has ended, Zhelenya answered. — And because of that, it now truly begins.
—
[Continent of Smoke – Blooming Silence Isle]
On an island forgotten by maps, where flowers grow without light, an ancient man who had never died lifted an old lamp.
Inside the lamp, a single flame danced.
— He has reached the place where neither light nor darkness return, the old man said, though no one could hear him.
—
[Nameless Lake – In the depths]
A formless creature opened an abyssal eye. In its iris, Albert's figure could be seen.
— He is near.
— Very near.
—
[Building Without Time – On Earth]
The blue-eyed girl stared at the frozen sky.
Though nothing seemed to move, she felt it: a crack in the absolute.
— Get ready, she whispered. — I must remind him who he was... before he became what he is.
Her brother, standing in the room's shadow, tightened his grip on his sword's handle.
— Will there be... a war?
— No, she said, turning toward him. — There will be... a remembrance.
—
[Between Worlds – On the Unspoken Path]
Albert walked.
But each step on the Unspoken Path did not only carry him forward—it brought him back.
Every breath of air returned to him the memories of the world he had left behind.
An unspoken question floated in the air without time:
— Are you ready to return... and find the world changed by your own absence?
Albert smiled faintly.
And he continued to walk.