In the quiet room of Wastu, Arion broke the silence with a lingering question,
"Why did you hand Nate over to that boy so easily? You didn't seem worried at all."
Archer didn't answer right away. He stared blankly ahead for a moment, then took a slow breath.
"Because the bond between them must grow on its own," he said calmly. "It can't be forced, it can't be dictated. When the time comes, and they're truly connected… that power will flow naturally. Nate will lend his strength to Eizo, and Eizo… will become an irreplaceable source of strength for Nate."
Archer then turned, and this time he was the one asking, his voice heavy yet deep,
"What about you, Arion? Have you ever been controlled by Gavrilo before?"
Arion looked down for a moment, then replied flatly but clearly,
"Twice. Including the most recent one."
"Ho."
That single word was all that left Archer's lips. Brief. Cold. Then he turned away, walking off and leaving Arion sitting alone on the couch, lost in his own thoughts.
Outside, a long corridor stretched ahead, adorned with colorful flowers along the edges. Archer walked calmly, his steps steady. Behind him, Aiden broke the silence.
"There's one thing I don't understand about Arion... there's something different about that boy."
Zayan, listening, chimed in after a moment's thought,
"I think… you're right."
Archer's gaze remained fixed ahead. He paused briefly, then nodded slowly.
"This time, I agree with you both… Gavrilo has chosen a different kind of partner."
For a moment, the three of them were silent—but within that silence, one thing was certain: something had changed.
And that change… wasn't necessarily for the better.
"Let's hope everything unfolds the way it's meant to..." Archer said, his voice soft but laden with weight.
"We've placed great hope in that boy—and in the new generation of heroes."
Those words seemed to mark the end of their conversation. Without another word, the three of them stepped into a room at the end of the corridor. As the door opened, the sharp scent of metal and chemicals rushed out.
The room was unlike any ordinary space. Cold white light reflected off tall glass tubes filled with greenish liquid that released delicate bubbles. On the other side, large cabinets were filled with hundreds of old books, stacked next to jars of strange substances, their labels written in nearly unreadable ancient script.
But the most striking thing of all was the large symbol emblazoned on one of the main cabinets—a circle, surrounded by seven outstretched wings. A logo not many people would recognize.
That symbol… was the emblem of something long hidden from the outside world.
Something that, perhaps, was behind everything that was now unfolding.