Prologue

"Still daydreaming about the future?"

The voice broke the silence as a man gently closed the door behind him. He stood upright, steady as stone, though his eyes held no trace of life. With a flick of his right hand, flames erupted and found their way to the torches along the walls, bathing the room in a sudden glow.

The room was a vast, spherical prison, its eerie atmosphere made heavier by the sight of hundreds of chains entangling a lone figure at its centre. The walls, etched with strange symbols, pulsed faintly with a dim, black light.

The chained man, younger in appearance than the one who had just entered, lifted his head with difficulty. Realizing the visitor wasn't a figment of his imagination, he forced out a reply.

"Nah... just thinking back to happier days of the past." His voice was hollow, a shadow of the man he once was. "What brings you here, my old comrade?"

The air between them seemed to thicken as the chained man's eyes bore into the empty gaze of the one standing before him. "You didn't come to set me free, did you?" he added, his voice tinged with grim amusement.

The other man's face remained impassive. "No." The word was cold, final.

Raising his left hand, a brilliant blue light glowed from his left palm. He stepped forward, his movements silent, and without hesitation, drove his hand into the chained man's chest. The light flared as it pierced the man's heart, yet he did not flinch. He had long since accepted that no force could end his immortality.

"Shun, stop this," the chained man whispered, his voice barely a breath. "It can't be undone."

Shun withdrew his hand, and the wound mended instantly, not even a scar remaining. As expected. Yet even knowing this, a flicker of despair crossed Shun's features.

"The past cannot be killed," the chained man continued, his tone somber. "You can imprison me for as long as you want, but what's destined to happen... will happen."

Shun laughed, a low, humourless sound. "Destiny?" He scoffed. "I've stepped on destiny more times than I care to remember."

The chains rattled as Shun turned away, heading back toward the door. The chained man hesitated, as though he wanted to speak, to make him stay. But the words died in his throat. However, just as Shun reached the door, he sensed the faintest hesitation in the man's breath.

"Still dwelling on the past?" the chained man murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Shun caught every word. He paused, flames from the torches converging into his right hand. With a flick, the room was plunged into darkness once more.

As the door creaked open, Shun's final words echoed through the silence.

"Nah..." His voice was quiet, reflective. "Just worried it'll happen again in the future."

Shun ascended the stone steps that led back to the surface, the oppressive dark giving way to the brilliant sunlight overhead. Six figures awaited him at the entrance, their faces a canvas of mixed emotions.

"Shu— I mean, Head, did it... did it still not work?" asked a young girl, her beauty beyond mortal description, her voice delicate yet laced with concern.

"Head, we should give up," came a deeper voice from behind a mask. "The past cannot be killed."

Shun said nothing, though his eyes softened slightly at the sound of the girl's voice. His gaze shifted to a slender man with a sharp, bright smile—one who seemed forever caught between optimism and bitterness.

"Eye, do we still have a chance?" Shun asked.

The man named Eye let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "How many times do I have to tell you, I can't see anything here?"

"Maybe it's because the answer is too distant, or maybe it was never there to begin with. Or perhaps..." His voice trailed off, his expression darkening. "Its power is greater than mine."

"That's the problem," a younger boy murmured, his eyes following a bird as it soared across the sky. "We don't know when or where it'll happen. We're not like him. We can't live forever. Someone has to take up the mantle after us."

At his words, all eyes turned to a pregnant woman standing among them, her appearance subtly different from the others. She clung to a man by her side, who shared her divergent look.

Shun sighed heavily. "Today is the day..."

The young girl turned to him, her eyes welling with tears. "Head... please..."

Shun's eyes met hers, his mouth opening as though to speak, but no words came. His face twisted in agony as he looked up toward the sky.

"You aren't complete without us," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Please..."

"I know," Shun finally replied, his voice uncharacteristically tender. "But we all have our burdens to bear... and our pain to endure." He glanced back toward the sky, his expression distant. "When this is all over, let's meet again. At the old spot."

Eye said nothing, though he lowered his head, hiding his grim expression. He knew far more than the others.

Shun's voice, now steadier, rang out again. "Heart, you're old enough to carry the weight of this cursed world. I wish you strength."

He turned to Eye. "Go seek the answers you've been searching for. If you fail... try to live well before the end."

Eye nodded, the forced smile never quite reaching his eyes.

"Bone," Shun continued, "Finish what you started with the Cult of Luca Azoria. It may not be too late."

Bone made no reply, silently adjusting his mask. Whether his eyes met Shun's or remained hidden behind that veil, no one could tell.

"Soul, protect the heir, and when the time comes, pass him on to someone you trust. For our plan to work, chaos must reign first."

Soul exhaled a long, quiet breath, his nod slow and resigned. The birds he had been watching had already vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only the empty sky in their wake.

Finally, Shun addressed the last two. "Shadow. Sword."

"Return to your homeland. When your child comes of age, I'll pass my position on to them."

"If the future doesn't exist, we'll forge it ourselves," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Not for the world, not for the people, but for our hearts alone."

Shun's gaze swept over the horizon, filled with memories—visions of paradise and nightmares alike. Every moment had led him to this day, to this moment.

"If only things could stay this way," he whispered, more to himself than to those around him. His voice carried a deep longing.

"But... whatever." His voice turned cold, detached.

"I've gotten used to it."

"Not mine to know. Not mine to care."

His eyes remained fixed in the distance.

"Not mine to have. Not mine to lose."