A dim, gray mist stretched infinitely in all directions.The pale, colorless ground faded endlessly into the horizon.
Rod stood amid this bleached world, dazed."…I'm back?"
Then it hit him."So I don't even need the nun's 'special treatment'? Really?"
The disappointment vanished almost instantly, replaced by excitement.If entering this dream was that easy, then finding the truth wouldn't be impossible after all.
He looked up—and there it was again: the strange obelisk, rising like a monolith in the endless fog.The wraith-like black shadow from before was gone, and the tearing agony that had once consumed him didn't return.
That meant the change was real.This dream was continuous.
Maybe the truth really did lie within that obelisk.
Heart racing, Rod sprinted toward it.The gray dust and dim mist slid by underfoot. The air here felt utterly dead, drained of color—except for the obelisk.
It was green.
The damage from before was gone; the cracks had shrunk to faint hairlines, healing at an impossibly slow pace.
Rod reached out and touched it gently.The surface deepened, turned translucent, and countless starlike motes flickered within it.At the center still glowed that dark red light, now molten, pulsing like slow-moving lava—far brighter than all the others.
As he fixed his gaze on it, unreadable runes surfaced within the crimson glow.
Rod suddenly understood.
Could this be… the "Soul Seed"?
In the royal city, "fire seed" carried many meanings.It could refer to the young—the ones with infinite potential.Or the spark of hope, the dawn of the future.But it also had one very specific meaning:
The inner fire of a Starfire-class Flamebearer—the potential sealed within a soul.
Each seed a Starfire ignited granted them a new ability.A simple measure of their strength was the number of seeds they had lit.
Wayne had explained it clearly:Most Starfires could ignite four or five seeds in a lifetime.The rare ones might reach six or seven.Anything beyond that was legendary.
And the only person to ever ignite nineteen… was the First Knight of the realm—the most famous legend of all.
If this red light was already an ignited seed…
Rod's mind jolted like he'd been pricked with a needle.
Then the Archbishop's strange leniency made perfect sense.The Machina Institute's test results weren't wrong after all.This dark red light must be the "Black Bowl" they'd detected.
The unreadable script within it probably spelled out that very name.
He lifted his gaze to the countless other light-points scattered across the stone—faint, hidden, like stars seen through fog.
If one could burn… could all of them be kindled?
A thrill ran through him, wild and unstoppable.
But he forced himself calm.
He remembered clearly—the Black Bowl had flared to life only after devouring the soul of the wraith calling itself[Bloom on the Frozen Shore, Northern Prince Hageor].
By process of elimination, that meant Hageor was likely the shadow that had attacked him before.Rod had killed it—helped somehow by that strange golden light—and absorbed its soul, feeding it to the Black Bowl.
If every ignition required a soul…then where was he supposed to find another one?
More importantly… wasn't that evil?
An icy dread crept into his gut.His mind flashed back to the migration party's massacre, to the ritual patterns drawn among the corpses.
Could that have been a soul-sacrifice?Had the murderer slaughtered the caravan to offer up their souls in exchange for power?
A horrible thought struck him.
Was I the murderer?Was it me?
"No. Not necessarily," he muttered, shaking his head hard."That's just an assumption. It doesn't have to be true.""There must be clues I haven't found yet."
He forced his mind to settle—and that's when he noticed something new.
"The obelisk has four faces… I only examined one. What about the others?"
He circled to the next side and pressed his hand against it.
Immediately, the surface began to change—its cyan hue sinking into darkness as patches of black sediment bled upward.The blackness climbed halfway up before halting.
Rod waited. Nothing else happened.
He circled again, touching a third face.This time, the stone turned gold, glowing from within, light pooling downward like liquid sunlight—but again, it stopped partway, frozen at one-fifth of the height.
When he lifted his hand, the colors faded, returning to normal.
It felt like… a gauge.A measurement of something that already existed.
One side left."Alright," he muttered, "show me something useful this time."
He pressed his palm to the final face.
Instantly, crimson lines trickled down from the obelisk's tip—forming dozens of runes, sharp and curling like veins of blood.
They pulsed faintly, warning, whispering—yet every symbol was alien.
Rod had never hated being illiterate more than he did now.He forced himself to memorize each curve, each stroke, intending to copy them later in the Academy library.
When he was certain he'd captured them all, he let go.The blood-red glyphs dimmed and vanished.
No more clues here.Whatever truth the obelisk held would have to wait until he could read.
He looked out into the fog.Endless gray. No horizon. No direction.
Since he hadn't woken up, he might as well explore.Maybe he'd stumble onto something new.
He started walking, wandering aimlessly through the world of mist.After all, when he woke, he'd return to reality—so what was there to fear?
He'd gone only a short distance when a sharp pain pricked the back of his right hand.
He glanced down.
The strange eye-shaped mark there was glowing hot, its black lines boiling, writhing as if trying to burst free.
"What the hell—? My demon seal's about to break?!"
Panic surged—then the eye tore loose from his skin, shot outward, and exploded into a swirling mass of black smoke upon the ground.