He must not be discovered

In the vast cosmic expanse, a place unreachable by mere mortals, a woman sat alone, gazing down upon a realm only she knew existed. Her expression, serene yet veiled with the weight of ancient secrets, seemed untouched by time.

"This is madness… What do you hope to gain from his return?" came a voice, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once. Suddenly, from the very fabric of the cosmos, a figure emerged.

"Azan…" Her voice held an unearthly resonance as she greeted him, her pink, enchanting eyes glimmering with a beauty that no mortal could endure unscathed. Her lustrous, rose-tinted hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, framing alabaster skin that commanded attention without effort. "To what do I owe this pleasure? I believe we had a deal, and I have upheld my part of it. So, tell me, why do you waver?"

"Oh, you misunderstand…" Azan replied, his tone darkening. "I don't intend to break my word. I merely wish to warn you."

"Warn me?" Her tone remained cold, indifferent, her gaze locked onto a single soul among countless others below.

"Do you even understand what you're attempting to do?" he asked, stepping forward. But before he could glimpse what she was so fixated upon, she shot him a sharp glare, her aura shifting into something venomous—so potent it seemed a contradiction to her very being.

"Stop…" Azan raised his hands in retreat, taking a step back. "I mean no harm. I've upheld my end of the bargain, as promised." Her gaze softened just slightly, the dangerous edge of her presence receding.

"He will not return," Azan pressed, voice steady yet strained. "You're only creating a shadow, a replica. Making him suffer through the same torment will not bring back Ely—"

"Do not speak his name," she interrupted, a dark wave of power blasting Azan backward.

"Argh!" Azan grunted, pushing himself to his feet. "Even if you manage to replicate him—no, even if you restore those dreadful memories—do you really believe you'll be spared? He'll destroy every one of us… even you!" His voice was a blend of fury and despair.

"Then so be it…" she replied, a faint smile curving her lips, indifferent to his warning.

"Oh, how desperate you've become, Estera… to think you would descend this low," Azan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Leave," she commanded, her tone final, leaving no room for further argument.

"Fine." Azan turned away, his form fading back into the fabric of reality itself. But as he disappeared, he uttered a warning, his words laced with grim foreboding. "'They' have noticed…"

The moment the words left his lips, his entire essence was ensnared, crushed into a realm of unspeakable pain—pain he, a celestial being, should have been immune to.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Estera's voice thundered as she stared down upon him.

"NOTHING!" Azan gasped, his voice strangled.

"LIES! NO ONE EXCEPT YOU KNOWS OF THIS!"

"The Keeper!" Azan roared back, fighting against the power overwhelming him. "Did you think they wouldn't sense the absence of a part of their own existence?" His desperation grew as he realized just how powerful she had become.

And then, as if snapping back into place, reality returned to its prior stillness. Azan, gasping for breath, looked up to find her watching him with an icy intensity.

"'They' have sent the Legion to scour the realms… it won't be long before he's found," he managed to say, his voice trembling.

"The Legion?" Her expression barely flickered.

"Yes…" Azan confirmed, voice strained.

"What of the other gods?" she asked, returning to her place, her gaze once more fixed on the hidden realm below.

"They… are unconcerned for now, but surely you understand why," Azan muttered, casting a glance at her. "It's the 'END.'"

---

In the grand chamber of the Azure Empire, silence reigned, broken only by the cautious footsteps of a messenger who approached the emperor with reverence.

"Your majesty, there are reports… the missing son of the Arenfords has been spotted," he announced, bowing deeply.

"When was this?" a voice asked from the shadows, powerful and imposing, as though any attempt to perceive the figure within was obstructed by an impenetrable veil of pure energy.

"An hour ago, my lord," the messenger replied, still unable to look beyond the blurring aura that concealed his emperor.

"Where?" the voice pressed.

"In the kingdom of Arten," the messenger answered.

"What…? Does he intend to leave the kingdom?" The emperor muttered to himself, then refocused. "Where exactly in Arten?"

"At the far eastern edge, near the newly discovered dungeon."

A glint of realization dawned. "And… who was he with?" the emperor asked, the pieces beginning to fall into place.

The messenger hesitated, his voice a murmur. "The… elves."

A dark, suffocating aura pulsed through the chamber, pressing down upon the young messenger.

"Go at once. He must be retrieved immediately," the emperor commanded, and the messenger fled.

Silence settled once more, but only for a moment. A voice slithered out from the deepest shadows, its presence chilling. "You cannot allow the elves to learn who he truly is."

"It will not happen," the emperor assured, his voice laced with iron determination.

"Ensure it," the shadowed figure replied, and its presence vanished as though it had never been.

"Lodric…" the emperor called after a brief pause. A figure of pure darkness materialized.

"Send the Dark Knights," the emperor ordered.

"How many?" Lodric's voice was cold and detached.

"All of them."