Chapter Text
That day, the sky was on fire, reddening the entire continent.
In the middle of the silent winter, when the snow still covered the roof of the Peletta duchy’s castle, a red light suddenly tore across the sky like an open wound, pouring down a suffocating brilliance and terror onto the ground. From the sky, the giant red stone fell with a roar of wind and cracking sounds that did not belong to this world.
The empire awoke. Mountains moved, rivers changed course, and thousands of souls were shaken from their long slumber.
Inside the mansion, Kishiar la Orr looked up through the glass door. The red light reflected in his red eyes, making them glow like two fiery stars. A familiar pain coursed through his veins again – but this time, it did not stop at his chest. It spread throughout his body, merging with the red light that surrounded him. His blood boiled, both painful and strange – as if an invisible hand was covering the long-rotted cracks.
Elsewhere in the imperial palace, Emperor Keilusa suddenly sensed it. The glass in his hand shattered as the stone hit the ground. It seemed to be signaling something. His sense of blood, of a brother, told him that something had happened to his younger brother.
The day the red stone fell, the two brothers did not know that from that moment, the fate of them – the empire – and the entire continent, would enter another era. An era of awakening, blood, and red light.
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A week after the sky burned, the world was never the same.
From the frigid north to the southern plains, the earth still trembled with aftershocks. Strange phenomena began to occur across the continent: wells rose without rain, trees in the forests suddenly blossomed in the snow, and animals fled in all directions, as if sensing something beyond human understanding.
In the Peletta Duchy, news of the “red stone” spread like wildfire. No one knew exactly where it had fallen, but they could see its light everywhere—a light that seemed to penetrate deep into the soul of the beholder.
In his room, Kishiar lay silently on his bed. Cold sweat soaked the sheets, and the fever had lasted for two days, making his breathing rapid and ragged. Every time the pain from his veins flared up, a red light flashed across his palms like strange carvings. Nathan and his guards thought he was having a relapse—but Kishiar knew it was different this time. It was no longer a feeling of being torn from within… but something was waking.
As soon as he regained consciousness, Kishiar ordered that his condition be recorded and a confidential report sent to the palace. He knew Keilusa would understand — because between them, there was always a fragile bond that only those who shared the same “crack” could feel.
A few days later, as dawn broke over Peletta, a silver messenger bird bearing the royal insignia landed on the balcony of the mansion.
The letter was written briefly, in the emperor's familiar handwriting:
[It's good to know the duke is okay. Stay calm, observe, and await instructions.
– K.]
Kishiar smiled slightly as he folded the letter. He did not need to read further to understand the hidden meaning.
Emperor Keilusa—his brother—knew well: from the moment the stone fell, a new power had awakened. And if the world was changing, the first to adapt to it… was none other than themselves.
Rumors of ordinary people beginning to awaken strange powers spread like wildfire within months.
There are stories of people who suddenly control fire, of people who heal wounds with a touch, of people who make the earth shake with a kick. Of course, there are also more terrifying stories—people who go mad, whose bodies burst open from the energy, or who disappear without a trace in the night.
In the face of chaos and fear, the Temple was quick to speak out. During the greatest winter ceremony, the high priests declared:
“The red light is the blessing of the Sun God – a gift given to mankind to enter a new era.”
The words, though false, were strangely comforting. The people gradually calmed down, and the empire was temporarily saved from panic. But amid the prayers and the fluttering of the sacred flags, Kishiar la Orr stood still, looking up at the sky, which was no longer as red as the day the red rock had fallen, with a gaze so deep that it seemed to pierce even the clouds of lies.
He knew well: this was not a blessing.
But if one wants to call it a “gift,” he will make this “gift” a real human power – instead of something that is only used for worship.
Not long after, Kishiar sent a letter to the capital, presenting it to Emperor Keilusa.
In the letter, he wrote briefly:
[Brother, I'm going to the capital. There's something I want to say in person.]
Two days later, he left the mansion with Nathan. The journey took several days, and when the palace gates appeared in the afternoon light, Kishiar's golden hair glowed in the sunlight, as if reflecting the same fire that had once been the fire of a passionate young man.
The meeting between the two brothers consisted of only three people: Kishiar, Keilusa, and a small table with tea and piles of documents.
Kishiar spoke smoothly, his eyes shining, as if he had been waiting for this moment for years. He spoke of his idea of forming an army—not knights, not nobles—but a gathering of awakened people, regardless of background. An army strong enough to confront what was coming from the cracks in the sky, and protect the empire from the new world that was emerging.
When he finished speaking, Keilusa just sat there in silence. Didn't ask “why.” Didn't ask “for what.” Just sighed, poured herself more tea, and said:
“If you've thought of it, there must be a good enough reason. Go ahead, Kishiar. I'll support you.”
Not only did Keilusa support him verbally, he also ordered the purchase of an expensive plot of land within the seventh wall – a place that only the upper class nobles could afford to set foot on.
The land, once belonging to a wealthy count, with a small, luxurious mansion, complete with rose gardens and a lake, was now transferred entirely to Kishiar.
Nathan, who had been following closely from the beginning, exclaimed:
“Are you planning to use this place as a barracks? This is a place for nobles to show off their wealth.”
Kishiar just smiled faintly.
“All the better. I'll make them see—this is no longer a place to show off horses and silk dresses. This is the heart of the empire's strongest army.”
He then ordered the entire old mansion to be demolished. In its place, he drew up plans for a new building – larger, more solid, and painted with the colors of newness. He wanted every brick and every flag to bear the mark that this place did not belong to any noble, but to the “cavalry” – the army he considered his soul.
“I want people to see it from afar,” Kishiar said, his voice tinged with excitement, “and know that this is a symbol of strength, of discipline, and of faith. It was not a noble who lived here, but me.”
Nathan remained silent. He was used to that arrogant yet sincere tone of voice.
Kishiar, as always, ended with a sentence that somewhat lightened the mood.
“Besides, I’m actually a little curious how jealous people will be when they find out that I just bought the most expensive land in the capital just to build a barracks. They’ll say ‘he’s crazy, does he think he’s rich?’… and yes, I am.”
Nathan: “...You are indeed absurdly rich, my lord.”
Kishiar laughed, leaned back in his chair, and raised his teacup.
“Not rich, Nathan. Just enough to buy a dream.”
Now, all he had to do was design the cavalry building—a structure that had no precedent in the history of the empire. From the blueprints, the foundations, to the smallest details like the entrance gate and the training ground, everything had to be arranged to reflect the spirit of the army and the founder's own mark.
At the same time, Kishiar also had to prepare for the legal steps: drawing up a list of necessary documents, getting funding approved, and most importantly — mentally preparing to face the aristocracy that was about to protest.
It is well known that when a prince begins to build a new force loyal only to himself, those at the top of power cannot rest easy.
Kishiar understood that better than anyone. But in his eyes, there was no fear or hesitation — only a simmering excitement, as if he were facing a battle in which he was determined to win with a strange confidence.
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In a remote mountainous region in the western part of the empire, amidst a forest bathed in warm sunlight, there was a small wooden house completely isolated from the outside world. The roof was covered with dark pine, and the chimney emitted a thin white smoke, the only sign that this place was still inhabited.
Behind the house, on a piece of land haphazardly reclaimed in the middle of the forest, two figures were busy working. One was young, with slightly messy black hair, hoeing the ground with enthusiasm, each stroke strong and steady. The other, older, with silver hair, was leisurely sitting on a rocking chair, waving a wooden fan, his gentle eyes watching the younger man with interest.
“Yuder.”
The silver-haired man's voice rang out, deep and calm.
The young man raised his head, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “What is it?”
“Stop for a moment, you've been working since morning. Have some water.”
He gave Yuder a soft leather bota bag, the kind used to carry water on the road.
“Thanks,” Yuder muttered, then took a sip. The cool liquid slid down his throat, making him let out a soft sigh of relief.
The silver-haired man smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Interesting, because there was no water in that jar to begin with.”
Yuder paused, his eyes flashing with surprise. He looked at the water jug, then back at him.
“...Activated the wrong new power again?”
“Perhaps.” He laughed lightly. “But who knows? If you can make water appear so easily, it will make growing crops much easier. I can look forward to this season’s plump sweet potatoes.”
Yuder looked at him helplessly. He knew that the man's mind was filled with images of those golden, steaming sweet potatoes. Even so, he couldn't help but imagine the sweet aroma.
After a short rest, Yuder resumed his work. The steady sound of hoeing mingled with the chirping of birds in the distance.
Suddenly, the silver-haired man seemed to have thought of something. He stopped the rocking chair and said loudly:
“Hey, Yuder! I was thinking… if you can control both fire and water, why not try using that power on earth?”
“Used with soil?” Yuder tilted his head.
“Yes! It is said that awakened beings usually only master one type of power, and if they have two, they are unrelated. But if the two elements you possess are so closely related… perhaps you can expand further. Wind, earth, metal, even plants—all of them belong to nature.”
Yuder’s eyes lit up. The idea sounded crazy, but… it was worth a try. He took a deep breath, gathered his energy, and gently placed his hands on the ground.
A tremor spread. The ground began to shake slightly, the furrows separating into neat rows. The soil was softer, flatter, and between the furrows a moist mist rose as if someone had just watered it.
He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his forehead as he was not used to controlling his newfound power, but the corners of his lips lifted into a rare smile.
This power… was different. It had no predetermined magical formula or intensive training to control mana, no energy accumulated through years of sword training as a knight, a power that could be used as if it were innate from birth. That was truly the difference that made the power of the Awakened One different from all other abilities.
But as a mage who could naturally use wind, fire, and water, although it was still quite difficult to control (but still better than the experienced mages of the Pearl Tower because the execution of natural magic was very difficult and 50 years of study might not be enough to master it like Yuder, which proved that he was very talented), but the fact that he still received the awakening power of the natural abilities that he had learned and obtained was not much different. The difference was that he was no longer limited by the amount of mana in his body and the amount of power he already had like wind, fire, and water, but now he also had other types of natural powers, which made him quite satisfied.
Since the red stone fell, the world has changed. And Yuder knows, he is no longer the same person he was three years ago.
The silver-haired man still sat there, smiling gently, fanning himself lightly in front of his chest.
“Nice job, Yuder. Maybe next time you should try making the sweet potatoes grow faster.”
Yuder chuckled and shook his head, saying, “If I did that, you would probably make me plant a whole forest of sweet potatoes.”
“Then all the better!” He laughed loudly, his laughter mixed with the forest wind, echoing in the quiet space.
The morning in the Airic forest was as quiet as usual, with only the steady sound of hoeing and the gentle wind blowing through the treetops. The silver-haired man was still sitting on the old rocking chair behind the house, a cup of tea steaming lightly on the small wooden table beside him. His eyes were slightly squinted from the sunlight, he fanned himself with the fan and watched the figure diligently hoeing in the back garden.
The sound of dry leaves rustling under someone's feet. From the small path leading to the backyard, two figures appeared — one male, one female.
The silver-haired man looked up, smiled gently and greeted them first:
“Oh, guests? You two are here again?”
The tall, red-haired man quickly bowed politely. He had a handsome face, and his green eyes shone as if dyed by the Airic forest. The woman beside him smiled warmly, her short, auburn hair reflecting the soft sunlight.
“Hello, sir! We're here to visit Yuder,” the woman said politely.
“Ah, it’s behind the house.” The silver-haired man nodded slightly, his voice leisurely. “You two go in, he’s messing around with that piece of land.”
The two looked at each other, then headed towards the back garden. Gakane — the red-haired man — laughed loudly and called out:
“Yuder! Do you still recognize us?!”
There was no reaction of panic or surprise. The person who was bending down to hoe the ground stopped, raised his head, and looked at them calmly with his black, purple eyes.
“I see. You two are here sooner than I expected,” Yuder said, his voice calm.
The three of them approached each other. The silver-haired man remained seated, sipping his tea and watching them with a warm gaze, like a father silently watching his children reunite.
After a few greetings, Gakane looked around the small garden and burst out laughing:
“You really are a private person, you haven't even sent a letter, Yuder? I thought you had gone to the mountains to become a sage!”
“Not that bad, it’s only been a few months, what are you thinking?” Yuder replied, putting the hoe aside. “I’m just clearing the land for vegetables. If you two are free, please help.”
Kanna chuckled. “Helping with farming? Sure.”
Yuder handed her the pickaxe he had been using. But as soon as Kanna touched it, she stopped, her cobalt eyes widening. A moment later, she turned to look at him, almost surprised.
“Wait… you can control the earth now?”
Yuder just nodded slightly. “Yeah. Just this morning.”
“I can't believe it,” she muttered, then smiled genuinely. “You're amazing.”
“Ha! Then you must be better than me,” Gakane interjected, hands on hips. “Kanna has also started to develop her awakening ability.”
“Yeah, being able to read information with just a tap is pretty awesome,” Yuder continued.
“Come on Yuder, Gakane.” She blushed shyly at the compliment from her two close friends, but her lips still curved into a smile.
The three of them set to work. Yuder and Kanna planted the soil and sowed the seeds, while Gakane stood near the small stream in the distance, summoning a jet-black figure from his shadow. The figure silently bent down to draw water, its majestic appearance like a wordless warrior.
“Never get used to that,” Kanna muttered, her eyes following the black figure moving as smoothly as a human.
“I'm not used to it,” Yuder replied, still working. “But as long as it works, it's good.”
The silver-haired man still sat there, looking at the noisy yet lively scene before him, his lips slightly curved into a smile. He fanned himself, drank tea and spoke softly — as if only to himself:
“That’s great. Someone’s coming over, and this house is filled with laughter again. Hohoho”
A gentle breeze blew through, carrying the warm scent of freshly turned earth and clear laughter echoing through the forest.