Eight years later...
The corridor stretched endlessly before him—dark, damp, and cloaked in a heavy gloom. The only sound was the steady echo of his own footsteps, tapping hollowly against the stone as he moved forward into the unknown.
The walls were built of crumbling brick, worn by time and neglect. The floor glistened with moisture, slick underfoot. The air was thick with humidity and choked with dust so dense it clung to his throat, making it hard to breathe.
Cesar couldn't see the end of the passage. It felt infinite, as if it bent reality itself. Then, from deep within that suffocating darkness, a sudden flash of light broke through—so bright it forced him to shut his eyes.
"A... light...?"
With each step, the glow grew stronger, pulsing with unnatural intensity. He pressed onward, drawn to it, until—
Without warning, the corridor vanished.
In its place, a vast room unfolded around him—silent, unfamiliar. His vision was clouded, blurred beyond clarity, as if a veil had fallen over his eyes. He struggled to make out the details, but only one thing stood out.
A rectangular stone, similar to a tablet.
It was mounted on the far wall, distant but distinct. He couldn't read the inscriptions carved into that stone. He took a cautious step forward.
But before he could draw near, a strange sound echoed through the room—sharp, unnatural.
Everything began to dissolve. The blur overtook his vision completely, swallowing the space around him.
The next thing he saw was the ceiling of his bedroom.
The alarm buzzed beside him: 7:00 AM.
Groggy and disoriented, he sat up and shut it off.
"Again... that dream..." he muttered, his face creased with the weight of interrupted sleep.
"Why… why do I keep having the same dream? And why does it always end at the same point…?" he whispered, frustration tightening his voice as he lay there, staring at the ceiling.
He had grown used to the dream—that strange vision that had haunted him for so many years. It no longer startled him. It lingered, like a whisper echoing in the corners of his mind.
It was only after a few moments of hesitation that he finally rose from bed. He moved through his routine without a word, wrapped in the quiet melancholy that had become so familiar. The house was still, the silence thick—not oppressive, but weighted with memory.
He sat down for his usual breakfast, though he barely tasted it. His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting through fragments of a dream that refused to fade.
Eight long years had passed—years steeped in silence, solitude, and the slow ache of melancholy. Yet the house remained unchanged. Cesar had refused to move a single object, alter a single corner. Every shadow, every speck of dust was a monument to the memory of Oldgure, now believed dead, even by Yuusaba.
Still, the hope of his return lingered, a flickering ember in Cesar's heart—dimmed, perhaps, but not yet extinguished.
There was something strangely comforting about the stillness. The familiarity of the home, untouched since Oldgure last walked its halls, offered solace to his restless spirit. Even the routine had not changed. Cesar trained daily, though he had never truly understood the purpose of those exercises. Yet the repetition steadied him. In every movement, he could almost hear Oldgure's voice—firm, patient—urging him onward, telling him to push harder, go further.
And still, day after day, Cesar's eyes were drawn to the same place—the castle. That cursed silhouette on the horizon, ever watching. It was that cursed castle—the very source of those strange dreams. He was more certain than ever: his grandfather had gone there… and never returned.
It was Yuusaba's words that had planted the seed of that conviction. Long after Oldgure's disappearance, Yuusaba had finally spoken, revealing what he believed to be the truth: On the day he vanished, Oldgure had told Yuusaba he intended to enter the castle.
The village authorities had long forbidden anyone from setting foot inside those walls. But Oldgure had always been driven by a quiet, insatiable curiosity. And though Yuusaba never fully understood his reasons, he believed him. He always had.
But the truth—the real truth—remained lost.
[•••]
Despite his grandfather's strict warnings, Cesar had begun to make his way to Yuusaba for some time now. No longer content to view the village from his window, he wanted to see it again with his own eyes.
Little had changed.
The villagers were older now—eight years older—but their memories remained intact. They hadn't forgotten Oldgure, not by a long shot. And Cesar, who bore an uncanny resemblance to him, was impossible to overlook.
The same bitter words once hurled at his grandfather now found a new target.
"Still hanging around, huh? Yeah, that's the grandson of that mad old fool... Remember him?"
"He actually shows his face here? Disgraceful. I'm embarrassed for him."
Cesar had long since grown used to the whispers, the looks, the barely concealed scorn. He kept walking, head high, pretending not to hear.
"Hey, you!" called a boy slouched against a wall, surrounded by his gang of smug companions. "You know what your grandfather did was illegal, right?"
Cesar didn't even glance at them. His mind was fixed on one place: Yuusaba's house.
On the way, he passed the old stage—the same worn platform where Oldgure once spun his wild stories to anyone who'd listen.
Every time Cesar walked by it, he couldn't help but picture the scene: his grandfather, standing tall, animated in his storytelling, only to be dragged away by the village guards yet again. He always imagined the same final cry, shouted at the retreating crowd:
"One day, you'll all believe me!"
It was just a fantasy, a reconstruction of something that might never have happened. But still, each time he passed that stage, he could almost hear the echo of that defiant voice carried on the wind.
[•••]
Yuusaba sat alone on a finely carved sofa, his thoughts tangled in a haze of worry and unrest. He was waiting—waiting for Cesar to walk through that door, as he always did. It was supposed to be a routine visit. But today, Yuusaba carried a truth that weighed heavily on him.
A truth Cesar wasn't ready for.
The shrill ring of the doorbell cut through his spiraling thoughts.
"Yuusaba? Are you there?" came a voice from outside after a couple of minutes had passed.
A sudden wave of dread washed over him. He didn't want to open the door—but at the same time, he knew he had to. He had to tell Cesar what he'd kept buried for far too long.
Just as Cesar was about to give up and turn back home, the door creaked open. Yuusaba stood there, his expression more serious than usual. Without a word, he motioned for Cesar to come in.
They sat together on the old sofa. Five minutes passed—still, silence.
"Something wrong?" Cesar asked, trying to sound casual.
Yuusaba's gaze remained lowered, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Only after a long pause did he finally meet Cesar's eyes.
"You're... acting strange today, Yuusaba. Is there something serious you need to tell me?"
"I think so," Yuusaba muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I'm just... trying to find the right words. Let me think."
Cesar shifted uncomfortably. His patience was wearing thin.
"Cesar... did your grandfather ever talk to you about powers?"
"Powers?" Cesar repeated, confused.
"Well... he used to talk about some kind of special power I supposedly have," Cesar said slowly. "But... up until now, I've never seen any sign of it."
"I thought as much... So... He stayed vague with you about it, huh? He always had this odd protocol when dealing with certain people. Never made much sense to me. He didn't even go into much detail with me either."
"What powers are you talking about, Yuusaba?"
Yuusaba took a breath. "Cesar... In this world, there are around eighty million people. But only a minimal number of them are born with a power. These powers have been classified over time into two main categories. First, the Common Powers—things like fire, water, lightning, and more. The basic elements. Then there are the Intermediate Powers—a fusion of two common elements. Like fire and wind, for example."
"Hm..." Cesar replied, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Well... you, Cesar, are one of the rare ones. You possess one of those Intermediate Powers. Your grandfather mentioned it once—it seemed to be a mix between fire and lava. But he was vague. I don't know why he didn't explain more."
"Why didn't you ever tell me this? Why was I kept in the dark?"
"Because your grandfather didn't want you to know," Yuusaba said, his voice low. "He was following that strange protocol I mentioned earlier. And... truthfully, I agreed with him. We were afraid. Afraid that if you knew what you were capable of—especially in the state you were in back then—you might do something reckless. Like try to enter that cursed castle."
Cesar drew in a sharp breath. Those words... they struck a chord deep within him. They felt familiar.
Though Oldgure had always avoided speaking about the castle, on the rare occasions it came up, he seemed strangely fixated on one thing: warning Cesar never to go near it.
And then—just as quickly—he would change the subject, as if afraid of saying too much.
Another silence settled between them.
But it didn't last.
Yuusaba, unwilling to linger on the castle any longer, chose to steer the conversation forward.
"But that's not all"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, circular object. It looked like a bizarre thermometer, with a glass-covered dial and a pie-chart underneath. The chart had three colored zones: Blue for "Normal," Orange for "Warning," and Red for "Danger." A tiny needle hovered just between Orange and Red.
"Your grandfather gave me this strange device years ago. Don't ask me how it works—I couldn't even begin to explain it. But it's meant to monitor your power. When the internal pressure in your body shifts, the needle reacts. If it moves into orange, it's Warning. If it reaches red... it's Danger."
Cesar stared at the device. The needle was already well into the orange zone.
"Yesterday," Yuusaba said quietly, "it was in the red. I was worried."
"Ah..." Cesar murmured, unease settling over him.
"In the coming days, you need to find someone," Yuusaba continued. "An old friend of your grandfather's. His name is Tevon. Oldgure told me he's the only one who can help stabilize your power."
"And where is he?"
Yuusaba hesitated. "…I don't know. Your grandfather lost track of him long ago. Even he didn't know where Tevon had gone."
A deep silence followed. Cesar's thoughts raced. Panic threatened to rise in his chest—but Yuusaba raised a hand gently, trying to calm him.
"Cesar, this isn't something we need to worry about today—or even tomorrow," Yuusaba said, his voice firm but calm. "We have time. We'll figure out how to find Tevon, alright?"
As always, after their strange and heavy conversation, Yuusaba handed Cesar the usual supplies. But the weight of that discussion echoed in Cesar's mind, refusing to fade—even as he made his way back home.
[•••]
Two days passed. The morning was calm—eerily so. But the tranquility wouldn't last.
Yuusaba was wandering through the village, his thoughts still consumed by Cesar's power… and by the growing urgency of finding the mysterious Tevon.
The calm was so complete, it felt almost unnatural. And then—An alarm tore through the silence like a blade.
"What the...?" he muttered, spinning around and hurrying toward his house. Along the way, he passed groups of confused and anxious villagers, all trying to understand what was happening.
Cesar heard it too. The sharp, blaring sound pierced the morning silence. He rushed out of his house to listen more closely.
The moment he stepped outside, the alarm abruptly cut off—replaced by a cold, mechanical voice that echoed across the rooftops:
"This is not a drill. Red alert. This is not a drill."
The message repeated again and again, looping in a chilling rhythm. Then, after a few minutes, the message changed:
"A group of hostile fighters has been spotted at the village borders. All civilians: return to your homes, barricade windows, and lock all entrances. This is not a drill."
Panic rippled through the village.
One man, caught outside while shopping, ran up to a nearby guard stationed at a barricade.
"What's going on?" he asked, fear tightening his voice.
"Didn't you hear the announcement?" the guard snapped. "Get inside. Now!" His tone was cold, commanding—no room for questions.
The man backed away, clearly shaken, and disappeared into the nearest alley.
Guards—almost all from the castle's own security force—had already begun to mobilize. They lined the outskirts of the village, taking defensive positions. Their expressions were grim.
"There are four of them," one guard whispered to another. "And they look dangerous."
The group approaching the village was composed of powered individuals—rogues with abilities who had set up camp just beyond the border. Their target wasn't the village itself.
It was the castle.
But someone else had followed them. A lone figure crouched behind a rock just beyond the treeline. Young, alert—his eyes fixed on the same castle. He didn't look like one of the intruders… yet he had clearly tracked them all the way.
And he, too, seemed determined to reach the castle.