It had been eight years since that fateful day—the day the Omegas were born. Since then, they had been growing and living their lives, and now, our story turns to Arthur Starlight.
ARTHUR STARLIGHT
I was strolling through the palace gardens when my royal guard appeared and practically dragged me toward my sword lesson. I had begged my father to let me study Evolvant instead, but he insisted I wait until I turned thirteen. Sword training was far too easy for me, yet I went along anyway, curiosity tempered by habit.
When I arrived at the training hall, I found my trainer waiting: Claude Ravencrest of the Ravencrest family, a lineage renowned for producing master swordsmen across generations.
I snatched up my wooden sword and lunged. Steel met steel in a blur—block, parry, strike, parry again—every motion perfectly timed, every attack precise. The clash rang through the hall as if the very air bowed to my movements. Within moments, Claude Ravencrest collapsed to the floor, drenched in sweat and utterly spent, while I stood above him, chest heaving, victorious and unchallenged.
A brief smile tugged at my lips as I straightened my posture. Sword training had become routine long ago, yet it was satisfying to witness even a master at the peak of his skill bow to mine.
Leaving the hall, I made my way to the royal library. Sunlight filtered through the towering windows, dust motes dancing in its beams. I reached for the book I had been engrossed in for four months—a story of a king who was assassinated and transported to another world where magic thrived. The tale was enthralling, a world of endless possibilities, and I found myself losing track of time as I immersed myself in its pages.
Then I heard a voice calling me.
"It's Elanor again."
I sighed and murmured under my breath as I set my book aside. Sitting across from me was Elanor, blessed by the Goddess of Creation, gifted with knowledge of the elements—and that was why she had been brought to the palace to tutor me.
I looked up at her. "It's not even tutoring time yet. Why are you here?"
"Because I wanted to see your pretty face, Arthur," she replied with a small smile.
I sighed, shaking my head.
"Anyway, Arthur, have you heard about the child born in the Whispering Deathwoods?" Elanor asked with a grin.
"Do you mean the boy with white hair and sapphire-grey eyes? Yes, I have. Why?" I replied.
"Duh," she said, still smiling. "They say he's coming to the palace with that famous aristocrat."
"Is that so? I heard the God of Death blessed him, so all animals fear him," I said plainly.
Elanor's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Yeah! And I heard that when he was just a baby, he made a realm beast implode on itself!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Wait… a realm beast imploded on itself? Are you serious?"
Elanor giggled and tapped my shoulder playfully. "Of course I am! You always doubt the interesting stuff, Arthur."
"Ain't no way—that's just a rumor. You know that realm beasts can destroy entire realms, right?" I asked.
Elanor shot me a side glance. "Duh, of course I know that! But we can ask him ourselves."
I stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "He killed a realm beast when he was a baby—that can't be true. Plus… how the hell would he even remember that?"
Elanor pouted and gave me a quick pinch. "You're such a meanie."
I frowned, pointing a finger at her. "Unlike you, I'm not out of my mind. And you really shouldn't pinch the son of a king."
I sighed and stood up. "Fine. We can go see him—and I'll give you some candy, the one you like." I smiled at her.
Elanor's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? Yay!"
I handed her the candy, and she eagerly took it, grinning from ear to ear.
We walked through the garden while Elanor happily nibbled on her candy. She soon started playing with the animals nearby, while I just sat on a bench, watching her with mild amusement.
After a while, we noticed a caravan approaching. A boy with white hair stepped out, and Elanor immediately yelped.
"That's the boy I was talking about!" she exclaimed, running up to him. "Come with us!"
The boy glanced at his guardian, the aristocrat, who simply nodded in approval. Without hesitation, the boy followed Elanor toward us.
They returned to the garden, and I looked at him. "What's your name?" I asked plainly.
He hesitated for a moment before answering shyly, "Uhh… my name is Vanitar Grimstone."
"Hmm… you didn't even lower your head when speaking to me, the son of the king," I said, trying to sound authoritative.
The moment he heard that, he ducked his head so fast it nearly startled me.
I laughed loudly, while Elanor shot me a look of disgust.
"Whoa, that was fast! I thought you were going to question me—no need!" I added between chuckles.
Elanor gave my leg a playful kick. "You're so mean!"
I raised an eyebrow. "What? I thought you had a sense of humor."
"Anyway, I am the son of the king. My name is Arthur Starlight, and this is Elanor Sunshine." I smiled at him and extended my hand for a handshake.
He glanced at my hand and shook it nervously, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Nice to meet you, young lord," he said, sweat beading on his forehead.
I looked at him and smiled. "Just call me Arthur."
Elanor took Vanitar by the hand, leading him around the royal gardens. She laughed softly as she pointed out the flowers and coaxed the animals closer. At first, they trembled at Vanitar's presence, but slowly, cautiously, they still came near—hesitant, yet willing to play under Elanor's gentle encouragement.
But then her wandering steps halted. Her eyes fixed on something half-hidden behind overgrown ivy—a gate of black iron.
"The Gate of the Forest of Royal Death…" she whispered.
I froze. That place was more than a legend. True to its name, every royal who had ever entered was found dead within its depths. That was why it had been locked away, sealed from the world.
Elanor hurried back to me, her eyes sparkling.
"Arthur! Come with me into the forest—I saw so many animals. Way more than in the garden! You have to come."
I frowned, my voice sharp. "No."
She blinked, taken aback. "But—"
I cut her off, my tone firm. "That's the Forest of Royal Death. Every royal who entered was found dead. That's why it's locked. You're not going in, and I won't allow it."
Elanor pouted, but I stepped closer, lowering my voice into a command. "Do not set foot past that gate. Not now. Not ever."
Her lips pressed into a sulky line, the spark in her eyes dimming. But she wasn't finished.
Elanor's lips curled into a pout, her eyes narrowing as if weighing my words. For a moment, I thought she'd let it go. But then she leaned forward, her voice turning sweet and stubborn at the same time.
"Aww, come on, Arthur, it's near the palace," Elanor begged, her eyes wide like a puppy.
I raised an eyebrow. "No. I don't care if it's near the palace. What if a beast appears? What if we get lost? We'll be dust before the guards even notice. And look at Vanitar—he's trembling already."
Vanitar muttered, his voice shaky, "What… no, I am not."
I glanced at him. "Your legs are shaking."
I sighed and turned to Elanor. "Fine… we'll go."
The moment we crossed into the forest, the air changed. The scent of wildflowers clung to every breath, golden shafts of light piercing the canopy. But the beauty carried weight. Every creature we passed froze at the sight of Vanitar, their eyes wide with fear. Yet when Elanor walked, awe replaced terror—birds circled her as if sworn to guard her.
And me? They neither feared nor adored. Instead, their heads lowered in silence, as though offering respect to something ancient. Then, as if on cue, they all vanished into the undergrowth.
That was when I felt it. A pulse—sharp, suffocating. A beast.
Shadows split, and a wolf black as night lunged from behind. Instinct guided me. My body moved before I thought.
A Shadow Wolf. C-class. Deadly—not on the level of a realm beast, but still far stronger than ten trained swordsmen combined.
Its fangs slashed through empty air where I had stood a moment earlier. My eyes flared with light as ancient runes burned across my arm. The wolf lunged again, but I caught its skull mid-charge. The ground shook under the force. With one brutal twist, I snapped its neck. The sound cracked through the hollow like thunder.
The wolf's corpse fell. Silence followed. Vanitar and Elanor stared at me, pale with fear, as I wrenched the head from its body. My glow dimmed. The runes vanished like smoke.
"Let's go back to the palace," I said, my voice low and commanding.
Inside, though, unease coiled tight in my chest. What did I just do? Bloody hell… how could I even…? Or maybe I really am blessed—that's why I'm so talented with a sword.
The forest itself opened before us, trees bending aside to reveal a path home. Elanor's voice broke the silence.
"Arthur—how? That was a C-class beast! You're talented with a sword, sure, maybe even strong enough to challenge a master, but ripping its head off? That's not normal!"
"Be quiet," I snapped. "I warned you a beast would come. Be grateful I killed it."
Vanitar finally spoke, his voice thin. "She's right… A Shadow Wolf takes at least twelve trained swordsmen to bring down. And how do we explain this? An eight-year-old killing it alone?"
I shot him a sharp look. "You know how? By not telling anyone, we met a Shadow Wolf."
As we walked, I sensed another creature—not filled with bloodlust, but radiating pain. The air carried the sharp scent of blood, yet it was not the Shadow Wolf's. I turned my gaze toward the direction it came from.
I caught sight of a glow radiating through the forest, soft yet piercing against the shadows. I pointed toward it, and Elanor and Vanitar followed my gaze. Their eyes widened as they too saw the light shimmering in the distance.
We walked toward the glow, and there, amidst the forest's silence, stood a girl with wings.
My eyes widened. 'Is that… an Aetherbird?'
The Aetherbirds were a race of humans who had evolved lighter bodies, wings, and flexible bones, built for speed in the skies. They even bore birdlike ears and talon-like nails.
But this girl was different. She had none of those traits—her form was too human, too flawless. Instead, her entire body radiated a light that felt divine, as though a deity had descended into mortal form.
But then my mind began to spin. A name rose unbidden from the depths of my soul—Seraphel.
The moment it surfaced, a pang of grief struck me so deep it felt eternal. I didn't know her, yet I mourned her as if I had wept for her through countless eons. A stranger before me, and still… it was as though I had always known her.
Then I saw it—the blood dripping from her hand.
Before I even thought, instinct seized me. I rushed forward, scooping her into my arms. Her glow dimmed against my chest, fragile and flickering, nothing like the divine presence she had seemed moments ago.
Without hesitation, I sprinted back toward the palace, Elanor and Vanitar chasing after me through the trees. Branches whipped past, the forest blurring as my legs carried me faster than ever before.
The palace gates loomed ahead. 'Guards!' I shouted, my voice sharp with command.
They rushed to my side, their eyes widening at the sight of the winged girl. Without question, they took her from my arms and hurried her into the medical wing, where healers awaited.
I slumped onto a bench, my chest still heaving. Moments later, Vanitar and Elanor stumbled up beside me, both gasping for air.
Elanor glared at me, her hands on her knees. "What the heck, Arthur? You ran so fast I only saw a blur!"
Vanitar, drenched in sweat, nodded between breaths. "Yeah… Arthur… do you know her?"
I lifted my head, staring past them for a moment before answering quietly. "I don't know. I just… felt like I had to help her. She isn't an Aetherbird. Do either of you know what she is?"
They exchanged a glance, both shrugging, their faces dumbfounded. Neither of them had an answer.
The royal guard approached. "Young lord, the girl you saved is in stable condition."
We hurried to the medical wing. I sat at her bedside while Elanor and Vanitar hovered nearby. Her eyelids fluttered, and then she gasped.
"W-where am I? Who are you?" she cried.
Her panic faded the instant she looked at me. She blinked, eyes narrowing as if searching memory. "I feel like I know you… from somewhere. I can't remember. I have photographic memory. Uh… Arthur?"
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "How do you know my name? Wait—are you Seraphel? I feel like I know you, too, but I can't put my finger on it."
She swallowed, studying my face as if pulling threads from a tapestry. The room hummed with a silence heavy enough to break.
For a long moment, we just stared at each other, confusion tangled in the air. Then, at the exact same time, the words slipped from our mouths:
"Yup… I don't know you."
The room froze in awkward silence. Elanor blinked. Vanitar tilted his head.
And then Elanor groaned, smacking her forehead. "Seriously? You two looked like you were about to uncover some great cosmic secret—and that's what you come up with?"
We both opened our mouths again, almost like a mirror.
"I already said I don't know," we spoke in unison.
Silence followed. Elanor's jaw dropped, and Vanitar blinked at us like we'd grown a second head.
Elanor finally threw up her hands. "Oh, for the love of the Goddess—you two are impossible!"
I glanced at Seraphel, and despite myself, a faint smile tugged at my lips. She smiled back, just as confused as I was.
I looked into her platinum eyes, shimmering with a light that felt older than the world itself. Her golden-blond hair glowed like sunlight, cascading over her shoulders, and her wings—majestic, divine—seemed to belong to a higher realm.
I swallowed hard before speaking. 'What are you? I'm a hundred percent sure you're not an Aetherbird… so what are you?
She tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. "Oh, right… an angel."
I blinked at her like she'd lost her mind. "An angel? They don't exist. I thought angels were just old myths."
Her cheeks puffed into a pout as she crossed her arms. "Yes, we do exist! And I'm only seven years old, so I'm not old."
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at her. "Fine. Prove it. Do a miracle. Make this plant…"—I pointed at a potted flower near her bed—"…turn back into a seed."
Her lips curled into a confident smile. "Fine, I will."
She raised her hand over the plant. A faint glow spread from her palm, spilling down like golden threads. Before my eyes, the flower began to wither—not in death, but in reverse. The petals folded inward, the stem shortened, and within moments the bloom had shrunk into a single seed resting in the soil.
My jaw dropped. "What the heck…" I spun to Elanor and Vanitar. "Are you two seeing this?"
They both nodded slowly, dumbfounded.
I chuckled, shaking my head in awe. "Whoa… you're an angel. No wonder you're so beautiful."
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she looked away, embarrassed. I smiled and started chatting with her; the conversation was easy despite the strangeness of the moment.
Meanwhile, Elanor leaned toward Vanitar, whispering furiously. "You've got to be kidding me… that damn girl! I'm the one who likes Arthur first! Dammit, stop it, Vanitar. Stop, Arthur!"
Vanitar whispered back, nearly trembling. "I can't. If he gets mad at me, I can't even be near him without my legs shaking."
Elanor suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me aside.
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"You know why," she said, pouting.
"I don't… what happened, Elanor?" I replied, genuinely confused.
Her legs trembled as she gave me a small kick. "You… you'd rather be with her than me, right?" she asked, her voice cracking with doubt.
I blinked, then a mischievous smile tugged at my lips. "What? Oh… wait—are you jealous?"
Her cheeks flushed, and I gently patted her head. "Don't worry. She won't replace you."
Without another word, I pulled her into a gentle hug, letting her tremble against me as I tried to calm her down.
After a few moments, we stepped back, and together, we walked back into the room.
I glanced at Seraphel, concern etched on my face. "Why… were you hurt?"
Her platinum eyes flickered with unease. "Because… I was being chased. By something—or someone."
I narrowed my eyes, my grip on her hand tightening. "Chased? By who?"
She looked away, her glow dimming slightly. "I… don't know."