As the first rays of dawn filtered through the cracks in the old guild hall's walls, a soft golden light fell across the room. The air was still, save for the faint chirping of birds beyond the shattered windows.
Lea stirred. Her fingers clenched gently around the blanket as she pushed herself upright, her long hair spilling down over her shoulders, catching the morning light in uneven strands. The pillow behind her was cool now—Retro had already been up for hours.
She sat there for a moment, rubbing her eyes, staring at the faint mist curling outside the window.
It had been months since that day.
The day her mother appeared—or at least, what she thought was her mother.
The day Retro bled trying to stop something that wore Lilly's face.
So much had changed since then.
The guild had rebuilt part of its structure, but the world outside had not been so lucky. The air still carried the faint hum of instability—an omen that the corruption was spreading again.
Lea swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold stone floor. For a moment, she simply sat there, lost in the quiet, her thoughts heavy.
Lea (thinking):
Dad never talks about that day anymore. Not a word. But I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at the sea… he's still wondering if that was really her.
She sighed and stood, stretching her arms until her joints popped. Her training had gotten harder lately—Retro pushed her further every day, but he did it with a kind of gentleness he never used before. He wasn't just training her to fight anymore. He was preparing her for something.
As she walked to the small table near the window, she noticed a folded note weighed down by a small dagger. The paper fluttered slightly from the morning breeze.
She unfolded it carefully, immediately recognizing Retro's handwriting—sharp, deliberate, yet tired.
> "Went scouting near the eastern ridge. Don't follow. I'll be back before sundown. — R."
Lea smiled faintly. He always said not to follow, and she always considered doing it anyway.
But this time… something in her gut told her to listen.
She looked out the window, the sun now climbing higher, painting the ocean in a sheet of gold.
Lea (quietly):
"Be careful, Dad…"
She pressed her hand against the window frame, staring out at the horizon where the redwoods once stood far beyond the mist.
And somewhere out there, Retro walked the lonely path again—his aura faint but steady, his eyes scanning the horizon as if waiting for something… or someone.
The morning settled softly around Lea as she folded the note and set it aside. The guild hall was quiet at this hour, the air carrying that still, heavy calm before life began to stir.
She stood, gathering herself, brushing her long hair back into a loose braid. Her movements were slow, methodical—ritualistic. Every morning started this way now: structure against the chaos.
Morning Routine
The first stop was always the training hall.
Even without Retro around, Lea kept to their regimen. He'd drilled the schedule into her head: Discipline is the root of strength.
She walked barefoot down the corridor, her tail swaying slightly with each step. The early light spilled through broken windows, catching dust motes that danced lazily in the air.
Inside the training hall, silence reigned—save for the echo of her own footsteps. The same cracked floor. The same faint scorch marks from their sparring sessions months ago.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, centering herself.
Lea (thinking):
He always starts with balance. Focus before motion.
She exhaled, drawing mana into her hands. Faint golden threads flickered between her fingers as she formed the first stance. Her movements flowed like water—spins, leaps, strikes. Each motion deliberate, precise.
But her mind wandered.
Each swing of her hand carried the ghost of her father's instruction.
Each strike, the echo of his calm voice:
> "Good, kiddo. But watch your footing. Again."
By the time she finished, sweat rolled down her neck, and her breathing came heavy. The air shimmered faintly with residual mana.
She looked down at her reflection in a pool of water from the leaky roof. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw her mother's reflection—her old face, soft and kind—staring back. But when she blinked, it was gone.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to move on.
Next came breakfast.
The guild kitchen was always messy, but comforting in its familiarity. The smell of old stew, dried herbs, and baked bread filled the air.
Lea tied her hair back tighter and rummaged through the shelves. A few pieces of fruit, some dried meat, a loaf of bread that was just starting to harden. She pieced together what she could and sat by the window again, eating in quiet.
Her tail flicked idly as she looked over the empty seat across from her.
Lea (thinking):
He'd tease me for eating before checking the traps again.
The thought brought a faint smile to her lips.
After breakfast, she went out to the courtyard, a place once used for guild gatherings. It was overgrown now—vines wrapping around stone pillars, flowers blooming through cracked tiles. She crouched near a small patch of blue lilies that had survived the chaos.
Lea (softly):
"Still growing, huh? Guess we're both stubborn."
She plucked a single petal and tucked it behind her ear before standing and walking toward the cliffside path. The ocean shimmered in the distance, the wind brushing through her hair.
For a moment, she let herself breathe.
Just a girl, standing in the ruins of the old world, still fighting to make something of it.
But deep inside, she felt it—the faint hum of Retro's mana, lingering like a heartbeat in the distance. It was faint… but off somehow.
Her smile faded.
Lea (thinking):
Something's wrong. Dad's aura feels… unstable.
Her tail stiffened, her claws flexing against her palms.
Lea (quietly, to herself):
"I know you said not to follow… but I can't just sit here."
She turned, glancing once more toward the empty hall before heading back inside to prepare.
Lea turned the corner, still lost in her thoughts, when a familiar gravelly voice echoed down the hall.
Gronn: "Oi! There you are, kitten! Thought you were still snoozing your tail off!"
Lea blinked, stopping mid-step. Just ahead, the old dwarf was standing by her room door, his beard as wild as ever, his arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor.
She tilted her head, half-amused.
Lea: "I was up before sunrise, Gronn. You're getting slow."
Gronn: "Slow, eh? You try being this handsome at my age and tell me how slow you feel," he grunted, stroking his beard with mock dignity. "Anyway, less talk, more swingin'. The new recruits are waitin' for you in the yard, and from the looks of it, they couldn't swing a stick straight if their lives depended on it."
Lea groaned softly, dragging her hand down her face.
Lea: "You mean I have to train them? Again?"
Gronn: "Aye. Retro's off gods-knows-where, and the kids down there need a good whoopin' before the next guild inspection. So guess who's volunteered?"
He gestured dramatically toward her.
Lea: "Let me guess… I didn't?"
Gronn: "Exactly!" he barked, laughing, then gave her a small slap on the shoulder. "C'mon now, little leopard. Show these rookies how the daughter of Retro fights. Maybe scare some discipline into their bones."
Lea rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at her lips.
Lea: "You just want me to do all the yelling so you can nap in the sun again."
Gronn: "You wound me, lass! But… yes, that's part of it," he admitted with a chuckle.
Lea sighed in defeat and started walking toward the training yard, her tail flicking with mock annoyance.
Lea: "Alright, fine. But if any of them pass out again, I'm blaming you."
Gronn: "Fair trade! Just don't kill 'em this time!"
Lea turned her head slightly, her eyes glinting playfully.
Lea: "No promises."
Gronn barked out a laugh as he followed her down the hallway, muttering something about "damn kids growing up too fast."
As they approached the yard, the faint sound of chatter and clumsy sparring filled the air. The new recruits stood in scattered formation—nervous, uncoordinated, and completely unaware of what was about to hit them.
Lea cracked her knuckles, her earlier melancholy fading behind a confident smirk.
Lea (thinking): Alright, Dad… if I can't follow you yet, I'll at least make sure this place stays strong.
The waves crashed softly against the jagged shoreline, each one carrying the whisper of distant storms. The air was sharp with sea salt and memory.
Retro stood near the edge of the ocean, his boots half-buried in the wet sand, the wind pulling at his coat. The horizon stretched endlessly before him, painted in pale blue and silver.
He took a long breath, closing his eyes as the sound of the sea filled the silence. His hand lifted, and in a faint shimmer of green light, a spectral form of The Night Slayer appeared—its ghostly edge humming in tune with his heartbeat.
Retro (quietly):
"Still not the same without you… but you'll do."
He shifted his stance, feet sliding across the sand, body loose but deliberate. The spectral blade cut through the air with clean precision—each motion a whisper, a memory of battles long past.
He swung upward, pivoted, then turned the blade in a downward arc. The motion carved faint trails of green light that dissipated into mist.
Retro (thinking):
The body remembers what the mind forgets…
His movements grew faster—slashes, spins, feints, and stabs—each one flowing seamlessly into the next. The wind caught his coat as if dancing with his motion, the sound of the sword whistling through the sea air.
When he stopped, his breathing was steady, though sweat clung to his forehead.
He stared out at the endless waves again. The water seemed darker than usual—almost reflective, almost alive.
He raised the sword once more and muttered softly:
Retro: "Let's see if I still got it…"
He brought the blade down, and a burst of compressed mana shot forward, slicing through the water's surface. The sea split briefly—just enough to reveal the rocky seabed beneath before crashing back together in a roar.
The sheer force made the sand around him ripple outward.
Retro (half-grinning):
"Still got it."
He sheathed the ghostly sword—it vanished into motes of green light—and sank down to sit on a driftwood log nearby. For a while, he just sat there, watching the tide.
Retro (quietly):
"It's strange… I've fought gods, titans, and death itself… and yet, this calm scares me the most."
The wind blew harder, tugging at his hair. He turned his gaze toward the horizon—the faint outline of the redwoods barely visible through the sea mist.
Retro (thinking):
Atlas, kiddo… wherever you are, we're not done yet.
He looked down at his hand, faint lines of light still glowing beneath the skin where the sword had once bonded with him.
The relics, the war, the corruption—it was all circling back. He could feel it in his bones.
And for the first time in a long while…
Retro smiled.
Retro (softly):
"Guess peace really doesn't suit me after all."
Retro rolled his shoulders back, the ocean breeze brushing past him as if testing his resolve. He exhaled, letting the calm leave his lungs and replaced it with focus.
Retro (murmuring): "Alright… let's turn it up."
He closed his eyes and tapped into his mana core—his aura surged outward like a slow pulse, heavy and deliberate. The air shimmered, bending around him, and in an instant the ground beneath his feet cracked.
The pull of gravity magic pressed down, warping the sand, flattening the air itself. His body trembled briefly under the immense weight, but his expression didn't change.
Retro (through gritted teeth): "Haven't done this in… too damn long."
He drew the ghostly Night Slayer once more, its green aura dimming slightly under the strain of the gravity field. Every movement he made now had resistance—as if the world itself wanted to pin him down.
He swung.
The blade met the air with an echoing boom, sending tremors across the shore. The waves recoiled, and pebbles lifted before slamming back to the ground. His movements were slower now—measured—but each strike carried the weight of a storm.
Retro (thinking):
If I can't fight under my own pressure, then I don't deserve the power that comes with it.
He twisted his foot, kicked upward, and sent a ripple of energy through the field. The sand spiraled into the air like dust in zero gravity, shimmering around him. Retro cut through it, each swing forming afterimages of light and shadow until his aura began to stabilize.
When he finally stopped, the ground beneath him was carved with faint runic impressions—the natural byproduct of channeling controlled chaos. He stood breathing heavily, the pressure slowly fading as he straightened himself.
Retro (quietly): "Better… still rusty, though."
He looked out across the ocean again, the horizon shimmering with faint mana distortions. Something about the stillness felt… aware. Watching. He shook the thought off, turning away.
Meanwhile, back at the guild's training yard, Lea had things under control—or as close to it as she could manage.
She stood at the center of the field, arms crossed, tail flicking as a group of nervous recruits stood in messy formation.
Lea: "Alright—pairs of two! Shields up, blades steady! You—yes, you—stop gripping it like it's going to bite you!"
The young adventurer stammered, adjusting his stance as the others followed suit. Lea paced among them, her expression focused but patient.
Every correction she made was calm, deliberate. She didn't yell like Gronn would have—she guided. The tone Retro had always used with her.
Lea (softly, to herself): "You can't train chaos with fear… only with rhythm."
She stepped in beside one of the recruits, adjusted their footing, and demonstrated a swing—precise, graceful, and fast enough to leave a faint streak of golden mana in the air.
The recruit blinked, dumbfounded.
Lea: "Like that. Breathe with your strike, don't fight it."
A few others nodded in awe. The tension began to ease; their motions grew cleaner. The courtyard began to hum with the rhythm of training—shouts, steel, and focus.
High above, the faint morning light cut through the clouds, glinting across the field and casting Lea's shadow long across the ground.
Some of the guild members watching from the upper railing exchanged quiet remarks.
Guild Member 1: "That's Retro's kid, right?"
Guild Member 2: "Yeah… she's got his calm. And his eyes."
Guild Member 1: "Poor bastards. If she's training them, they'll either get stronger—or cry trying."
Lea smirked faintly as if she heard them.
Lea (thinking): Dad's probably out there overdoing it again… better not collapse this time.
The sun had climbed high, its golden light spilling over the cliffs and the guild's courtyard. The sounds of training had quieted to a calm hum, replaced by the gentle rhythm of the waves in the distance and the occasional gull crying overhead.
Lea sat on a worn log near the edge of the yard, a small lunchbox beside her. Sweat still clung to her forehead, her hair tied back loosely, and the faint scent of steel and mana lingered on her clothes.
She took a slow breath, exhaling as she stared out toward the ocean where the horizon shimmered like molten glass.
Lea (softly): "It's getting warmer…"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if she were talking to herself.
The sound of heavy boots crunching against the dirt pulled her from her thoughts.
Gronn: "Well, if it isn't my favorite little taskmaster. Thought I'd find you hidin' from work."
Lea smirked faintly and turned her head, seeing Gronn approach with two mugs of something steaming. He handed one to her as he sat down beside her with a satisfied grunt.
Lea: "Thanks. And I wasn't hiding. Just… taking a break."
Gronn (snorting): "Aye, that's what all the hard workers say before I catch 'em nappin' on the job."
Lea rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a sip. The warmth of the drink spread through her hands.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward—just peaceful. The kind of silence that people who've been through too much share without needing words.
Lea (quietly): "The new recruits did better today. No one passed out."
Gronn (grinning): "That's because you scared the piss outta 'em yesterday. Fear's a fine teacher, but respect? That's what sticks. You got a knack for that."
She looked down, her expression softening.
Lea: "You think so?"
Gronn: "Aye. You've got Retro's patience, but you don't coddle. You let 'em stumble just enough to learn. That's good teaching, lass. Makes 'em stronger."
Lea's tail flicked once, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.
Lea: "I just… don't want them to be weak. Not when the world's like this."
Gronn leaned back slightly, looking toward the waves. His eyes were distant, reflecting something heavier.
Gronn: "Aye. Can't argue that. World's been crackin' at the seams ever since that seal broke. Still feels like we're just patchin' holes in a sinking ship."
Lea's fingers tightened around the mug.
Lea: "Retro's doing what he can. We all are."
Gronn gave a small grunt of agreement.
Gronn: "That he is. But I worry, lass. Power like his… it never sits quiet for long. The gods never meant mortals to hold it."
Lea turned her gaze to the sea again, the light flickering in her eyes.
Lea (softly): "He's not like them. He's… different. He fights because he has to."
Gronn: "Maybe. Or maybe that's what makes him the same."
The weight of his words lingered between them, heavy but not unkind.
A few gulls soared overhead, crying as they dipped toward the waves.
Lea finally stood, setting her mug down.
Lea: "If that's true, then I'll be there to remind him who he is."
Gronn gave a small chuckle and pushed himself to his feet as well.
Gronn: "That's the spirit. You Stewarts sure know how to make trouble."
Lea (smiling faintly): "We call it fixing things."
The two of them started walking back toward the guild, the light of noon turning the sea behind them to gold.
The ground trembled beneath their feet, the vibrations deep and uneven—like the pulse of something ancient stirring below. Dust kicked up from the path as Lea stopped mid-step, her ears twitching.
Lea: "What was that?"
Before Gronn could answer, the sky itself split open.
A blinding green light tore across the heavens, carving through the clouds like a blade slicing fabric. The air rippled, humming with unstable mana. It wasn't lightning—it was something older, something alive.
The streak of light arced across the horizon, stretching for miles, before it shattered into sparks that hung in the air like emerald embers. What it left behind wasn't just a glow—it was a mark, a jagged wound across the sky, glowing faintly and pulsing with power.
The wind roared suddenly, almost like a scream, forcing Lea to shield her eyes. Gronn grabbed her shoulder, keeping her steady as the shockwave passed over them.
Gronn (grimly): "By the Forge… that wasn't natural."
Lea stared at the sky, her voice trembling.
Lea: "It's like the world just… cracked."
The guild doors burst open behind them as adventurers ran out, some pointing, others shouting. The hum of fear spread quickly through the courtyard.
Gronn squinted, his expression darkening.
Gronn: "That color… that's Retro's mana."
Lea's eyes widened.
Lea: "Dad?!"
Gronn didn't reply immediately. His gaze stayed fixed on the sky, the mark slowly fading but leaving behind a faint scar in the firmament—a scar that refused to heal.
Gronn (lowly): "If he's the cause, then somethin' out there pushed him too damn far."
Lea's fists clenched at her sides, her tail bristling.
Lea: "Then we find him. Whatever's happening—he's not facing it alone this time."
Gronn looked at her, the determination in her voice cutting through the panic around them. He gave a small nod.
Gronn: "Aye. But tread careful, lass. If Retro's light just tore the sky… then somethin' worse is comin' right behind it."
The two of them turned toward the horizon as the last of the green glow faded, leaving behind an unnatural stillness. The air felt heavier, the sea eerily quiet.
And far away, across the fractured sky—
the mark pulsed once, faintly,
as if something on the other side had noticed.
The ocean wind whipped across the shore as Retro steadied his breathing, his spectral blade shimmering faintly with each swing. The rhythmic sound of the waves matched the tempo of his movements—until the world itself broke that rhythm.
A deep thrum rolled through the air, shaking the sand beneath his feet. His hand froze mid-swing. The horizon to the east flared with a blinding green flash, cutting across the sky like a celestial wound—raw, bright, alive.
Retro lowered his blade slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to concern.
Retro (quietly): "That's… not me."
The air carried it—a familiar frequency, a pulse that resonated deep in his bones. His mana recognized it, like a voice he hadn't heard in years.
He turned toward the sea, eyes narrowing as the reflection of the emerald light rippled across the waves. The energy was wild, untamed—but structured enough to know it wasn't natural chaos. It was controlled power. It was intentional.
Retro (thinking): That flow… Nexus. What the hell are you doing, kid?
He slid the sword back to his side and stepped closer to the water's edge, staring across the ocean as if his gaze alone could pierce the distance. The wind grew heavy with static, carrying faint traces of distant combat—the kind only sensed by those attuned to mana.
He felt the clash before he heard it: the thundering roar of something enormous, the rippling echo of spellfire and steel clashing in the far distance.
Retro (grimly): "That's no normal beast…"
The green light flared again, this time surging upward like a pillar, briefly outlining the form of something massive—an inhuman silhouette rising and collapsing in on itself.
Retro's jaw tightened.
Retro (under his breath): "Damn it, Nexus…"
He reached for his sword again, the ghostly blade reforming in his grasp. The air around him shimmered, a faint distortion of light as his aura began to rise.
But he stopped himself.
Retro (thinking): He's not a kid anymore. He's got Maris. He's not alone… not like before.
He exhaled, lowering the blade, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
Still, the thought gnawed at him—what kind of monster could push Nexus far enough to split the sky?
The ocean answered with silence.
He stared at the fading glow, the scar still etched into the clouds. Then, his voice dropped low, almost a whisper carried by the wind.
Retro: "Hold on, kiddo. If that thing's coming this way…"
He turned from the water, his expression hardening.
Retro: "…then the real fight's about to begin."
The sea behind him shimmered again—faint tremors rippling across the surface—as if the world itself had heard him and was preparing its response.
The last traces of green light still lingered in the sky as Lea and Gronn raced down the winding path toward the cliffs. The earth still trembled faintly beneath their boots, each rumble echoing through the hollow stones of the old guild road.
Lea: "It came from the coast—he's down there, I can feel it!"
Her voice was sharp, laced with both urgency and fear. Her aura flickered faintly around her, golden light pulsing in sync with her racing heartbeat.
Gronn: "Aye, I know, lass! Don't have to shout, my bones are already rattlin'!" he barked, keeping pace despite his shorter stride. "Never thought I'd live long enough to see the sky split itself!"
They crested the ridge overlooking the sea, the path giving way to a steep drop where the waves thundered below. Lea came to a halt first, her chest rising and falling as she scanned the horizon.
There—down on the shoreline—stood Retro, his coat swaying with the wind, the faint glow of mana still dancing around his form.
Lea (relieved): "There he is!"
But her relief turned to unease the closer she looked. Retro wasn't moving. He stood staring out at the water, completely still, his posture rigid. The wind whipped violently around him, his aura barely restrained—an ocean of power just below the surface.
Gronn's expression hardened as he joined her side.
Gronn: "That ain't the look of a man enjoyin' the view."
Lea didn't wait. She jumped down the slope, using bursts of mana to slow her descent as she landed softly on the sand below. Gronn followed—less gracefully—his heavy boots slamming into the beach behind her.
Lea (calling out): "Dad!"
Retro turned slightly at the sound of her voice, the faint light in his eyes dimming.
Retro (quietly): "You shouldn't be here yet."
Lea stopped a few feet away, scanning his face for answers.
Lea: "What happened? We saw the sky split—Gronn said it was your mana!"
Retro shook his head, gaze fixed back toward the ocean.
Retro: "Not mine. Nexus."
Gronn's brow furrowed.
Gronn: "Nexus? You mean the boy's still breathin' after all that?"
Retro's silence spoke volumes.
The waves crashed harder against the shore, the sea itself reacting to the faint residual energy that still lingered in the air.
Lea: "He's in trouble, isn't he?"
Retro's jaw clenched. His hand brushed against the hilt of the ghostly blade at his side.
Retro: "If that surge really came from him… then he's facing something big. Something wrong."
Gronn folded his arms, his voice dropping low.
Gronn: "Then we'd best be ready. If it's powerful enough to shake the world, it ain't gonna stop at his side of the ocean."
Retro finally turned to face them, his expression unreadable but his tone steady.
Retro: "No. It won't. Whatever they fought—it's heading here next."
Lea's heart sank.
Lea: "Then what do we do?"
Retro looked to the horizon again, eyes glowing faintly with resolve.
Retro: "We prepare. We train. And if fate decides to test us again…"
He rested his hand on the sword, the faint hum of power rising in response.
Retro: "…then this time, we won't run from it."
A sudden gust of wind swept across the beach, carrying the scent of salt and thunder. In the distance, faint black shapes began to move across the water—too large to be ships.
Gronn (grimly): "Looks like fate's already here."
The air thickened with static, the kind that carried the scent of storms and the weight of something divine.
Retro stepped forward, the sand shifting under his boots as he extended his hand. The faint, ghostly outline of The Night Slayer hovered beside him—flickering, unstable, alive.
For the first time in years, his lips began to move—not in command, not in conversation, but in chant.
The words weren't human. They carried an ancient rhythm, a cadence older than gods or men. Each syllable vibrated through the air like the beating of a celestial heart.
> "By blade and breath, by sun and shade,
I bind the will that time forbade.
Flame of the first dawn, whisper of the last—
Awaken, spear of the fallen past."
The sand around Retro began to lift—first gently, then violently—spiraling upward in glowing streams of green and gold. The ocean itself recoiled, waves pulling back as if the sea feared what was about to be born.
Lea stumbled backward, shielding her face from the light.
Lea (in awe): "W-What is he doing…?"
Gronn's voice trembled—not from weakness, but from disbelief.
Gronn: "That's… that's no mortal tongue. That's the old speech. The gods' language…"
Retro's voice deepened, his aura spreading outward in rippling waves of power. The spectral blade cracked—then began to twist. Its edge lengthened, its core shifting into pure light. The faint hum of steel transformed into the low, resonant thrum of creation itself.
> "From dust to dawn, from storm to scar,
Rise anew—my guiding star.
Let time bow to those who stand,
For I command the maker's hand!"
The sky above them darkened instantly, clouds swirling in a circular formation. Lightning cracked silently across the heavens—green, gold, and white—spiraling around a single point above Retro.
The Night Slayer shattered.
And from its light, a spear formed—long, radiant, its shaft made of celestial iron, its blade burning with ethereal flame. It pulsed once, releasing a shockwave that sent the sea crashing back into the shore.
Retro caught it with one hand, his eyes glowing bright green. His voice came low and calm, but every word resonated through the air.
Retro: "The Spear of Ages… I haven't called you in centuries."
Lea and Gronn stood frozen, their auras trembling from the sheer pressure radiating off him. The world seemed smaller under the weight of it.
Lea (barely whispering): "Dad… what are you?"
Retro didn't answer. He lifted the spear, the light around it bending reality for just a moment. His expression was unreadable—neither anger nor peace, but resolve.
He looked toward the horizon, where the shapes in the water drew closer.
Retro (quietly): "If they want war… then I'll give them history."
The wind roared, waves splitting around him as if the ocean itself bent in acknowledgment.
Gronn swallowed hard, voice barely audible.
Gronn: "By the gods, lad… you've truly become somethin' else."
Retro's eyes didn't waver. The spear's light intensified, flaring brighter than the sun.
Retro: "No, old friend… something far worse."
The air changed first.
A deep, low hum rolled across the ocean—so low it made the bones in their bodies vibrate. The waves, once wild from Retro's summoning, began to retreat unnaturally, pulling back farther and farther until the sea floor lay exposed. The horizon bent under the pressure.
Then came the roar.
It wasn't a sound—it was a force, an ancient scream that ripped through the air like thunder made flesh. The ocean surged upward, reclaiming its space, and from the abyssal depths, something enormous began to rise.
A shadow the size of a mountain breached the surface, sending tidal waves crashing against the cliffs. The creature's scales shimmered in dark blue and green hues, glinting like obsidian wet with lightning. Its eyes burned with molten gold, and with every breath it took, steam hissed out like the breath of the world itself.
The Leviathan had come.
Retro braced himself as water sprayed across the shore. The spear in his hand pulsed in sync with the creature's roar—as if both recognized the other. The pressure of its mana alone split the air, a suffocating storm of ancient energy.
Lea (in shock): "That's… that's not possible…"
Gronn (barely whispering): "It's the same beast from the old records… the one Gaia sealed beneath the deep. I thought it was just a damn legend…"
The Leviathan lifted its head high, towering over the sea. Waves cascaded off its fins, each one large enough to swallow ships whole. It opened its maw, revealing rows upon rows of jagged crystalline teeth, and let out a second roar—louder, closer, shaking the entire coastline.
Retro didn't flinch. He planted his feet in the sand, spear held steady at his side, eyes sharp and unblinking.
Retro (calmly): "I see you've woken up, old one."
The Leviathan's eyes locked onto him, intelligence burning deep within them. It spoke—not in words, but in sound, a telepathic vibration that resonated directly in their minds.
> "You… carry the scent of the gods. The one who wielded the blade of time. Why have you disturbed the abyss?"
Retro's aura flared briefly, his voice carrying like a blade cutting through the storm.
Retro: "I didn't call you here. But I'll send you back."
The Leviathan growled, the ocean swirling violently around it as its massive body coiled. Lightning began to crackle across its scales—sea lightning, pure and primal.
Lea (backing up): "Dad, you can't—"
Retro raised the spear skyward.
The sky darkened instantly.
The air trembled with divine pressure as the relic's runes blazed to life, spiraling up the shaft in burning script. Each line of text was a language the world had forgotten—a command written for gods, not mortals.
Retro (chanting softly):
> "By the blood of dawn and the silence of dusk,
I call the storm to remember its name."
The spear flared, splitting the clouds as a vortex formed overhead, pulling lightning and wind into its core.
Gronn (yelling): "He's callin' down a divine strike! Everyone back, now!"
The Leviathan lunged forward, a tidal wave rising in its wake. Its roar drowned the world, and for a moment—it seemed unstoppable.
Retro's eyes glowed emerald. He spun the spear once, leveled it forward, and whispered:
Retro: "Divine Judgment—descend."
The sky answered.
A blinding column of green lightning slammed down from the heavens, engulfing the Leviathan in an explosion that turned the sea to vapor. The roar of the creature became a scream of agony as light and thunder devoured the horizon.
Lea shielded her eyes, unable to see through the brilliance.
When the light faded, silence followed. The ocean hissed with steam. The Leviathan, its body torn and smoldering, let out a final, guttural cry before collapsing back into the sea, sending one last wave across the shore.
Retro stood unmoving, the spear still humming faintly in his hand. His coat fluttered in the aftermath, the sand beneath him scorched to glass.
Lea (in awe): "Dad…"
Retro lowered the weapon slowly, his eyes dimming back to normal.
Retro (quietly): "Let's hope it stays asleep this time."
But deep below, the ocean pulsed once more—faint, defiant.
The Leviathan was not dead.
It was remembering.
The ocean fell silent—too silent.
Retro's boots crunched against the wet sand as he turned away from the water, the glow of the spear fading from his hand. Steam drifted across the surface of the sea like mist on glass. Lea and Gronn stood a short distance away, still staring at the place where the Leviathan had fallen.
Lea (softly): "It's over…"
But Retro didn't answer.
Something in the air—something wrong—made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
The calm broke.
A deafening BOOM split the silence, followed by a violent wave of energy that tore through the coastline. The sky dimmed, the horizon cracked with dark lightning as the sea exploded outward.
From the boiling depths, a colossal surge of pure dark energy erupted.
It screamed as it rose—a raw, primal sound that rattled the soul.
Gronn (shouting): "Behind you!"
Retro turned sharply, eyes widening as he saw it—
The Leviathan, its form half-dissolved and monstrous, had returned. Its body pulsed with darkness, veins of corrupted mana running through its scales. Its once golden eyes now burned black and violet.
It opened its maw, and before anyone could react—
It unleashed a beam of condensed dark energy straight toward Retro.
The world slowed.
Retro's pupils narrowed, his aura igniting like wildfire. In a flash, he spun on his heel, the Spear of Ages dissolving into shimmering motes of light—reforming in his grip as his spectral sword.
The moment the blast met him, Retro roared.
He swung.
A green arc split reality itself.
The impact was thunder incarnate. The beam of dark energy shattered, bursting apart into waves that rolled across the ocean. In the same motion, Retro's sword cleaved forward—a blinding streak of emerald and white light cutting through the Leviathan's neck in one clean, divine strike.
The sound hit a second later—a deep, earth-shattering CRACK as the sword's energy tore the horizon itself.
The Leviathan froze mid-roar. Its massive head slid from its body, crashing into the ocean with a colossal splash. The sea hissed as the wound burned with radiant energy, leaving behind a scar—a deep, glowing fissure that stretched across the waves like a wound in the world.
Retro stood there, his spectral blade humming in his grasp, steam rising from the sand around him.
The smell of ozone and salt filled the air.
Lea (staring in shock): "He… he cut the ocean…"
Gronn (barely breathing): "By the gods, that wasn't a strike—that was a judgment…"
Retro didn't move. His eyes followed the receding glow where the Leviathan had fallen, his voice low, edged with exhaustion.
Retro: "Even darkness has its limits."
The wind howled softly in reply, carrying the faint echo of the Leviathan's last growl as its body sank beneath the waves.
But far beneath the surface—
Something moved.
A pulse answered the wound Retro left behind.
And a whisper, faint and venomous, crawled through the back of his mind:
> "You can't kill what time remembers."
Retro's grip on his sword tightened, the ghostly weapon flickering with unease.
He looked out toward the horizon once more, the scar in the ocean still glowing faintly green.
Retro (quietly): "Then I'll make sure time forgets."
The sword faded slowly, dissolving into shimmering green fragments that drifted into the wind like embers fading from a dying fire. Retro exhaled, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he turned away from the ocean. The waves were calm now, eerily so—like the world itself was holding its breath after witnessing what had just transpired.
Behind him, Lea followed in silence, still trying to process everything she'd seen. Her father—calm, unshaken, and terrifyingly powerful—walked as if the battle had never happened. Gronn trudged behind them, muttering under his breath, his face unreadable beneath the layers of shock and awe.
The climb back up the path to the guild felt longer than usual. The once still air now buzzed with chaos—people shouting, boots pounding against stone, guild members rushing to and from the main hall. News of the sky fissure and Leviathan's fall had spread like wildfire.
When the three finally reached the guild, the front doors were already flung open. Adventurers darted between rooms, carrying maps, relic fragments, and half-written reports. The atmosphere was frantic, yet reverent—everyone could feel that something enormous had shifted.
As they stepped through the entrance, the noise dimmed for a brief moment. Dozens of eyes turned toward Retro.
Whispers broke out.
> "That's him…"
"He's the one who split the ocean…"
"Did he really kill a god-beast?"
Retro didn't say a word. He didn't even look at them. His eyes were hollow—not empty, but heavy. Heavy with thought, fatigue, and something deeper that no one else could name.
Gronn gave Retro a long look before clapping him on the shoulder.
Gronn: "I'll… head to the office. Got some reports to bury before the council starts screaming."
Retro nodded wordlessly.
Lea hesitated, her gaze flicking between her father and the stairs.
Lea (softly): "I'll go check the rooms… make sure everything's okay."
Retro: "Go on, kiddo."
She lingered for a moment, wanting to say more—but something in Retro's expression stopped her. It wasn't anger or sadness. Just quiet exhaustion. She gave a small nod and slipped away up the hall.
Retro stood there for a long moment, the noise of the guild fading into background hum. Then he turned and walked to the cafeteria.
The benches were empty, the long wooden tables lit by the orange glow of sunset leaking through the high windows. The scent of salt and smoke still clung to him as he sat down heavily, resting his forearms on the table and staring at nothing in particular.
Outside, the guild still buzzed with movement and confusion. But inside that quiet hall, it was just him—the echo of his own heartbeat, and the faint hum of the relics stored in the walls.
Retro leaned back, letting out a long breath.
The day was over.
The sea was still.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't peace—just the calm before something worse.
He muttered softly to himself, almost too quiet to hear:
Retro: "If one god stirs… the rest won't be far behind."
And from somewhere beyond the sea, thunder answered.
The days blurred together.
A month passed quietly—no roars from the sea, no storms, no signs of gods or titans. Only the steady rhythm of rebuilding, of the guild mending its walls and spirits.
Retro spent most of that time in silence.
He'd sit by the cafeteria window in the mornings, the ocean wind brushing against his hair, the faint scent of salt and wood drifting in from outside. At night, he'd walk the shoreline, staring out into the endless dark—always thinking, always listening.
He wasn't haunted. Not anymore.
He was deciding.
There was stillness in him now, not the cold kind that comes from loss, but the tempered calm of a man who finally knew his next step.
The world was wide, and everything around him had changed, but one truth remained:
Home still existed.
Somewhere, on the other side of the world, deep within the Redwood Forest, stood the place where it all began—where he and Atlas first made their stand, where memories refused to fade.
He knew it would take time. The roads were gone, the lands fractured, the seas unpredictable. But time… was something he'd learned to endure.
So, one quiet morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the guild's old windows, Retro found Lea outside in the courtyard. She was practicing her sword swings again, focused and disciplined, the rhythm of her strikes echoing across the stone.
Retro watched her for a moment before speaking.
Retro (softly): "You've improved."
Lea turned, startled for a second, then smiled faintly.
Lea: "You've been watching me again, haven't you?"
Retro: "Old habits die hard."
She set her sword down and walked over, wiping sweat from her brow.
Lea: "You've been… quieter lately. Thinking about something?"
Retro looked up toward the horizon—the faint shimmer of the sea reflecting morning light. His voice came calm, steady, resolute.
Retro: "Yeah. I've made my choice."
Lea: "Choice?"
He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger but determination.
Retro: "We're heading back—to the house in the redwoods."
Lea blinked, unsure she heard him right.
Lea: "The redwoods? That's halfway across the world! The routes are gone, the skies are unstable, and—"
Retro (cutting in, quietly): "I know."
He stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
Retro: "It'll take years—three, maybe more—but that's fine. I don't plan to rush. I need to see what's become of that place… and if the world we left behind still remembers us."
Lea stared at him for a long moment. There was worry in her eyes, but also something else—trust. She'd seen him survive the impossible before.
Lea: "Then I'm coming with you."
Retro smirked faintly.
Retro: "I figured you'd say that."
Lea: "Someone has to keep you out of trouble."
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
Retro: "Guess that makes two of us."
They stood there for a while, side by side, the sea wind tugging at their clothes. Above them, gulls wheeled lazily through the pale morning light.
Retro (after a moment): "Pack light. We leave in a week. Once we step off this island, there's no turning back."
Lea (nodding): "Got it."
Retro looked out toward the open ocean again—the same horizon he'd once fought gods beneath—and for the first time in a long while, his heart didn't feel heavy.
Retro (quietly, almost to himself):
"Three years… yeah. That's enough time to find what's left of us."
The wind carried his words away into the distance, over the waves, toward the forgotten continent that awaited them beyond the veil of time.