The night blanketed Arlecia in a somber stillness. In the depths of a dense forest near the territory's edge, a hidden gathering stirred with quiet intensity. Hooded figures moved purposefully, forming a silent circle beneath the canopy of ancient trees. Their dark cloaks blended into the shadows, save for one figure clad in white who stood in stark contrast. The intricate embroidery of a golden sigil on his robe glinted faintly in the moonlight, drawing all eyes to him. His commanding presence held the assembly captive.
Raising his arms, the figure in white began to speak, his voice low yet reverberating with authority. "The revelations have come to me," he declared, his tone carrying a divine weight. "The True Creator has chosen this land—Arlecia—as the sacred ground. Here, our lord shall descend."
A ripple of awe swept through the crowd. Murmurs of reverence swelled until, as one, they echoed, "O praise our lord, the True Creator."
The man in white inclined his head slightly, his approval tangible. "As followers of the True Creator, we must prepare for His coming. When the time arrives, our faith must be unwavering."
One of the hooded figures stepped forward hesitantly, their voice trembling with anticipation. "What must we do, O Father, to prepare for His arrival?"
The man's gaze turned toward the distant silhouette of Arlecia Castle, his expression hardening with purpose. "We will welcome Him with reverence and praise when He descends among us. But we must also provide a pure vessel—one strong enough to bear the divinity of our god."
The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Uneasy glances were exchanged before another voice broke the quiet. "But how will we find such a vessel, O Father? Who could be worthy of such a role?"
The man's gaze remained fixed on the castle, his tone unwavering. "When the time comes, the True Creator will reveal the chosen vessel through me."
In a final act of devotion, the gathered followers bowed, their whispered praises filling the forest air. One by one, they melted back into the shadows, each carrying the heavy burden of their purpose—and the ominous promise of what lay ahead.
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The vast, empty hall of the astral realm exuded an otherworldly stillness. Seth leaned forward, resting his arms on the grand table carved from shimmering starlight. His gaze locked onto the creature across from him, its ambiguous form shifting like ball full of hair.
"If I need your master's permission to return to my body, when will your master return?" Seth asked, his voice firm but edged with frustration.
The creature tilted its head—or what Seth assumed was its head—and replied, "I cannot answer that. I have no knowledge of when Master will return."
Seth frowned, his brows furrowing. "Didn't he tell you anything before he left?"
"Master does not need to inform me of his movements," the creature replied simply, though a hint of something unspoken lingered in its tone. After a brief pause, it added, "Even if Master does not return, he can still grant you permission to leave. This palace records all memories of what happens within its walls, including our conversation. Master knows all that transpires here."
Seth leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he processed this revelation. "I need to go back," he said firmly. "Otherwise, everyone will think I'm dead."
The creature's unblinking gaze remained fixed on him. "Do you really want to go back?"
Seth met its supposed eyes, his voice resolute. "Yes. There are people waiting for me."
The creature hesitated, its form shifting as if uncertain. "Why not stay here? In this place, you could live forever. When Master returns, you might even meet him."
Seth blinked, caught off guard. "Pardon?"
The creature seemed to shrink slightly, its voice softer now. "I think Master would enjoy having you here. And… I could have a friend."
The vulnerability in its tone surprised Seth. For the first time, he saw the creature not as an enigma, but as a lonely being yearning for connection in this empty gray palace. His expression softened. "I understand this is your personal wish, and I respect it. But I still need to go back. I think you'll understand."
Before the creature could respond, a deep, resonant toll like a massive bell echoed through the hall. Seth's body tensed, his head snapping toward the sound. "What was that?"
The creature straightened slightly, its tone matter-of-fact. "The shift is about to change."
"Shift? What do you mean by that?" Seth asked, his unease growing.
"Remember how I told you that Master took half of the Lord of Death's authority?" the creature began. When Seth nodded, it continued, "This is like the transition between day and night in the mortal realm. Master's influence here will soon be shadowed by… Them."
"Them?" Seth repeated, alarm creeping into his voice. Before he could press further, his body began to flicker and fade, becoming translucent.
"What's happening to me?" he exclaimed as his form dissolved into shimmering light.
"You are being granted permission to leave," the creature explained, its tone calm but tinged with sadness.
As his body lifted from the ground, a sudden thought struck Seth. He looked down at the creature. "What's your name?"
The creature froze, startled. Its many shifting layers rippled in surprise before it finally answered in a whisper, "Zasha. My name is Zasha."
A small smile touched Seth's lips. "It's nice to meet you, Zasha. I hope we can meet again."
Before Zasha could reply, Seth's body vanished completely, his consciousness pulled away in a cascade of light. Alone once more, Zasha stood in the silent, gray hall, its gaze fixed on the spot where Seth had been.
For a long moment, the creature remained motionless. Then, in a voice barely audible, it murmured, "I hope so too… Master's favorite soul."
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The morning sun rose from the east, bathing Arlecia in its gentle warmth. Its golden light swept over the cobblestone streets, gradually stirring the town to life. Merchants busied themselves arranging their wares, while townsfolk trickled into the square to begin their daily routines. The hum of activity grew steadily, an orchestra of footsteps, clinking metal, and murmured conversation.
Pinned prominently to the town square's notice board was a large announcement, the words "Charity Event" boldly etched at the top. It proclaimed the event's timing to coincide with the upcoming Mourning Sun festival. Many townsfolk glanced at the notice but quickly returned to their own business, their skepticism over Lord Arlecia's estate still lingering. For years, Arlecia's leadership had been associated with fear and mistrust—sentiments not easily undone.
However, a small group of children gathered at the base of the board, their eyes scanning the words intently. Among them was a boy who had once been personally helped by Lord Arlecia. As his eyes moved over the notice, he clutched the parchment tightly, his small hands trembling with a mix of emotions.
"The lord is sick?" the boy whispered, recalling the estate's earlier statement dismissing the rumors of Seth's death. Sadness flickered in his eyes, but determination quickly replaced it. Turning to his friends, he spoke with resolve. "We have to tell everyone about this. People need to come to the charity event."
His friends exchanged hesitant glances before nodding in agreement. Together, they began moving through the streets, calling out to anyone who would listen. Their voices rang clear in the bustling town square as they encouraged others to attend the festival and receive help from the estate.
Meanwhile within the tranquil greenhouse of Lord Arlecia's estate, the air was thick with the scent of blooming Rosmarie flowers. Clark moved carefully among the delicate blooms, arranging fresh petals for the day. The greenhouse had become a quiet refuge for him—a place to escape his sister's ceaseless work and reflect in solitude.
As he approached the glass coffin at the center of the room, he froze. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the sight before him.
The coffin, where Lord Arlecia's lifeless body had lain for weeks, was now empty.
Standing atop the glass structure was Seth himself, his pristine white hair catching the morning light. He was alive, his crimson eyes vibrant and sharp. Despite the surreal moment, Seth's expression was surprisingly calm, his gaze fixed on Clark with quiet amusement.
"Oh, are you Claire's brother?" Seth asked, tilting his head slightly. "I see you're doing well."
Clark's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced as he tried to process what he was seeing.
Lord Arlecia.. he thought.
Lord Arlecia's presence was overwhelming. To Clark's mana-sensitive senses, Seth's entire being radiated energy—an immense, uncontained torrent of bluish gold swirling around him in a mesmerizing display.
How can a human contain this amount of mana..
Clark corrected his thought and pondered,
Is this even called mana?
Seth noticed Clark's stunned silence and tilted his head curiously. It's a normal reaction, I suppose. Waking up from a coffin isn't exactly ordinary, he mused.
Breaking his gaze, Seth looked around the greenhouse. The lush greenery and vibrant flowers painted a serene backdrop, though his focus lingered briefly on the empty coffin. "So this is where they decided to place my body," he muttered to himself.
Turning his attention back to Clark, Seth broke the silence with a question. "What are you doing here? Were you tending to my coffin?"
Clark flinched slightly, Seth's calm tone catching him off guard. Taking a step back, Clark struggled to find his voice. "I… I was surprised, Lord Arlecia," he stammered, bowing quickly. "Forgive me."
Seth studied him for a moment, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm. "Apology accepted," he said with a faint smile. "But you still haven't answered my question."
Clark hesitated, his gaze shifting nervously to the flowers around them. "I come to the greenhouse every morning and evening," he admitted. "The Rosmarie flowers… I like their scent. They're calming."
A flower enthusiast? Seth thought, his curiosity piqued.
"I see. For a moment, I thought you were here to keep an eye on me," he remarked with a teasing smirk.
Clark stiffened at the comment. The truth wasn't far off—he had visited frequently to observe Lord Arlecia, curious about the enigmatic man who had given so much for his sister. But he certainly hadn't expected to witness Seth waking up like this.
After a brief pause, Seth's expression softened. "Since you're the first person here, would you escort me to my chamber?"
Clark nodded quickly, bowing again before extending a hand. "Of course, Lord Arlecia."
The moment their hands met, however, the air shifted.
A sudden surge of energy erupted between them, a sharp bolt of lightning arcing from Seth's hand to Clark's. The force jolted through Clark's body, sending him to his knees with a gasp of pain.
Seth immediately released him, his expression startled. "What just happened?" he demanded, concern lacing his voice.
Clark panted, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself. His mind reeled from the sensation—it was unlike anything he had ever felt. Normally, touching another person's mana felt warm or soothing, like a gentle hum. This was different. Seth's energy was raw, overwhelming, and painfully intense, as if he were trying to touch the sun itself.
"I'm fine, Lord Arlecia," Clark managed, rising shakily to his feet. "I apologize for startling you. It's… difficult to explain."
Seth frowned, his crimson eyes narrowing. "What does that even mean?"
Clark hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words. Finally, he nodded slightly. "I'll explain later, Lord Arlecia. For now, allow me to lead you to your chamber."
Though unsatisfied with the response, Seth gave a curt nod. "Very well. Lead the way."
Clark bowed once more and began walking ahead. Seth followed in silence, his gaze drifting to his hand. He flexed his fingers experimentally, as if trying to recapture the strange sensation from their brief contact.
Strange… he thought, staring at his hand. What exactly happened?