Before Sajibro was known as the "King of Shadows," he was merely a name whispered in the records of the Old Covenant… a name only spoken when forbidden doors creaked open.
In that age, there were no warring kingdoms—only one world governed by seven pillars of balance. Sajibro was one of them. A leader not born of blood, but of an idea: "Chaos can only be balanced by its shadow."
The ancient leaders stood beside him—not as subordinates, but as equals. Each held a piece of creation's will:
Ozimar, the voice of the first wind.
Kaiseral, the pulse that moved the mountains.
Linara, the mirror that reflected the first soul.
And others… now buried beneath the weight of forgotten time.
In a stone palace nestled between light and darkness, they gathered once, following a single prophecy whispered from a severed mouth—no body, only voice:
"From the wound shall break the fracture, and the world shall be sealed before it understands its meaning."
Some laughed. Sajibro did not.
That night, he grasped a legendary weapon—the first of its kind, the First Millennium Weapon—and raised it toward the sky. The three heavens trembled.
He told them:
"If this prophecy is true, we will not fight it… we will prepare for it. The seal shall not be a prison, but a door—opened only by the true bearer."
They agreed… reluctantly.
And so the work began.
They split time into layers. Built prisons for enemies yet to be born. Buried their secrets in symbols. And hid the Second Millennium Weapon—even from themselves.
But the disaster came from where none expected.
Zaramos… was not a demon then. He was one of the seven.
He betrayed the covenant. He sought to shatter the balance for his own gain. Thus began the Great War… and it ended with the Grand Seal—forever reshaping the world.
Now…
In the rift between dimensions—where neither night nor day reign—Arthur sat within a dense silence, breathing cold fire, staring into nothingness. Around him, energy gathered for no reason… as though time itself bent toward him.
His soul was transforming—bit by bit.
His eyes did not blink.
And the wound in his chest… glowed.
His power was multiplying—not through training, but through waiting.
As if waiting for battle… had become part of his ability.
He whispered to himself:
"When the gate opens… I will not be the same."
Then closed his eyes.
End of Chapter Thirty-Nine.