The room was quiet after Lyra's question.
"What exactly happened when you prayed?"
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Even now, it felt unreal.
Hospital machines.The king's cold eyes.The rain.The gods.
He exhaled slowly.
"I died."
Lyra's expression didn't change—at first.
"In my world… I was in an accident. I was in a hospital. My heart stopped."
Silence filled the room.
"And then I was summoned here. By your king. He said it was a mistake. That I wasn't meant to be called yet."
Her fingers tightened slightly over the fabric of her sleeve.
"They restored my body with magic… and discarded me. Sent me here like I was excess material."
He turned his gaze toward her.
"I didn't know what else to do. So I prayed."
For a moment, Lyra simply stared at him.
Then something in her composure cracked.
Her breathing grew uneven.
"That… that cannot be coincidence."
She took a step back, visibly shaken.
"There is a legend."
Her voice lowered.
"A prophecy."
He sat up slightly.
"What prophecy?"
Lyra hesitated, as if speaking the words carried weight.
"Seven hundred years ago, during the Great Cataclysm, humanity stood on the brink of extinction."
Her eyes drifted toward the window, where faint sunlight filtered through.
"On the far side of this world exists a sealed continent. A land inhabited by a race of monsters—beings not born from mana, but from corruption itself."
Her tone darkened.
"They overwhelmed every kingdom. Cities fell in hours."
He listened in silence.
"Until the Hero appeared."
The word lingered.
"He came without warning. No one knew where he originated. But his power…"
She swallowed.
"…was overwhelming."
"He subdued entire battalions in minutes. Cleansed corrupted lands. Broke the advance of the monster race and forced them back to their sealed continent."
Her voice softened.
"But to seal them permanently… he sacrificed himself."
The room felt heavier.
"Before he vanished," Lyra continued, "he left behind a final message. It was recorded in every major kingdom."
Kael frowned.
"What did it say?"
She looked at him.
"It was believed to be the ramblings of a dying man."
She stepped closer.
"He said only this—"
Her voice lowered to a whisper.
'In due time… I shall return when the world rejects its savior.'
The air seemed to freeze.
Kael's pulse quickened.
"And you think… that's me?"
Lyra's silver eyes trembled slightly.
"You were summoned unexpectedly. Discarded by the very kingdom that sought a hero. And then… you prayed."
She pressed a hand lightly over her chest.
"The divine surge that erupted from this church last night… I have never felt anything like it."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"This is insane…"
Seven hundred years.
A hero who crushed armies in minutes.
He looked down at his own hands.
"I don't even know how this world works."
Lyra blinked, as if remembering something important.
"…You truly don't."
She straightened, regaining her priestess composure.
"This world operates on mana. It flows through all living beings and the environment itself."
She walked toward a small wooden cabinet and retrieved a pouch.
"Without mana, no spell can be cast. Every warrior, mage, and priest learns to sense and manipulate it."
She returned to his bedside and opened the pouch.
Inside were small crystalline stones—each faintly glowing in different colors.
"Elemental stones. Fire, water, wind, earth, light."
She placed several into his palm.
"Focus. Feel the mana within you. Guide it into the stone. Even a faint reaction will confirm your affinity."
He stared at the crystals.
He closed his eyes.
At first… nothing.
Then—
He felt it.
A warmth.
Deep in his chest.
No.
Not warmth.
A furnace.
It surged outward instinctively.
The stones began to vibrate.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"Wait—"
CRACK.
One stone shattered.
Then another.
And another.
An overwhelming surge of mana burst from his body in a visible wave, distorting the air itself.
The remaining crystals exploded into dust.
The room trembled.
Silence followed.
Lyra stood frozen.
Her silver hair swayed from the residual energy.
Her breathing was unsteady.
"That… that was not guidance."
She stared at the fragments in his hand.
"That was a flood."
He looked at her nervously.
"Was that bad?"
Her gaze slowly lifted to meet his.
Her cheeks, usually pale and controlled, were now lightly flushed.
Not from embarrassment.
From shock.
"No human should possess that volume of raw mana."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She took a step closer.
Too close.
"I do not know whether you are the hero of prophecy…"
Her eyes searched his.
"…but if you are…"
A faint tremor ran through her composure.
"…then I must help you learn to control it."
She swallowed.
"Before the world notices."
Something pulsed inside him again.
Not just mana.
Something deeper.
Something watching her reaction carefully.
The beginning of something dangerous.
The war was still years away.
But for the first time in seven centuries—
The prophecy had begun to move.