Gawain gazed intently toward the horizon. In those initial moments, the staggering cognitive dissonance made it nearly impossible to comprehend what he was seeing—whatever it was, it couldn't be further removed from the familiar concept of a sun.
That massive, majestic arc continued to rise, its ascent initially faster than that of any ordinary sunrise. Soon, Gawain could see a portion of the arc itself, softly glowing with hazy colors along its edges, surrounded by an indistinct, almost cloud-like structure. The light and warmth bathing this world seemed to come from this object. Yet its brightness was not blinding like a sun—in fact, quite the opposite. Gawain could look directly at it, even discerning faint patterns across its surface.
Judging from its curvature, Gawain estimated that this celestial object appeared dozens, perhaps hundreds of times larger than the sun. Of course, its actual size was likely smaller than a typical star; it was simply incomprehensibly close to the world below.
At such proximity, if it fully rose, it might obscure nearly a fifth of the sky… though this was only a rough impression. The sight was so overwhelmingly grand that trusting his own perception seemed nearly impossible.
To witness such an immense celestial body rise was an indescribably powerful experience.
Quickly sifting through the memories of Gawain Cecil, he found countless instances of the same awe-inspiring "sunrise." The object in the sky wasn't an unusual phenomenon; it was a regular, daily spectacle in this world.
But what could possibly explain this?
Drawing on his knowledge, Gawain considered several theories. Perhaps the physical laws of this world differed greatly from those of his home universe, resulting in unusually low energy and heat output from its star. This could mean the planet beneath would need to be extremely close to the source of light, hence the enormous appearance of its sun—yet, miraculously, without the scorching heat. Or perhaps it wasn't a sun at all, but rather a luminous, heat-emitting anomaly, or some other construct that defied scientific rationale.
The most plausible theory, however, was that this world was not orbiting a sun at all. Instead, it was orbiting a gas giant, not as a planet, but as one of its satellites. What was rising in the sky…
…was this moon's parent planet.
In that moment, Gawain felt an overwhelming sense of "alienation," stronger than at any point before.
"Ancestor? Ancestor Gawain?" Hety's voice beside him broke through his daze.
"Ah… Ah?" Gawain snapped back to the present, still dazed, as he looked at his descendant, a few generations removed.
The noblewoman, now free from the dark, cramped, and treacherous underground tunnels, had regained a semblance of her former poise. She inclined her head slightly. "Ancestor, you seemed lost in thought, but we should leave this place."
Realizing the exit from the tunnel was a small, exposed hillside, Gawain nodded, brushing off the momentary lapse. It wasn't wise to linger in such an exposed location, given the uncertainty of their surroundings. "Let's head to higher ground and get a lay of the land. The terrain I recall is from seven centuries ago and might no longer be reliable."
Following his lead, they made their way toward a nearby ridge. Along the way, Gawain couldn't resist glancing at the massive "sun" a few more times.
"Ancestor, you keep looking at the sun," Rebecca noted with concern as she followed him. "Is something wrong?"
Amber casually remarked, "Your ancestor's been underground for seven hundred years, so it's only natural he'd want to take a good look at the sun now that he's finally out."
Ignoring Amber's comment, Gawain glanced briefly at his descendant, further down the family line, and shook his head, inwardly confirming that the locals here also referred to that object as the "sun."
Or rather, regardless of the pronunciation, the locals here saw this object as their sun—no other definition.
Delving into the memories of this body's original owner once more, Gawain cross-referenced terms and impressions until he felt a spark of recognition. He looked in the opposite direction, toward the still dim sky where a few scattered stars lingered.
In the gradually lightening sky, he spotted a distinctive "star," about the size of a grain of rice, brighter than any other in the sky.
In this world, that star was known as "Ao," symbolizing a range of meanings in both religious doctrine and magical ritual.
His initial theories were likely wrong; only the third seemed plausible.
"Ao" was this system's true star, so distant that its light was cold and distant, akin to starlight.
As a cool morning breeze swept by, Gawain crested the hill.
Below him lay a wasteland, scarred by fire and ruin.
The landscape looked as though acid had been poured over raw flesh—decayed and corrupted, with swathes of blackened rock and cracked earth. Vegetation had long been scoured away, leaving twisted, withered trees clawing at the sky. In the distance, he could see collapsed walls, charred buildings, and the Cecil family castle, shrouded in smoke and ash.
Giant, misshapen creatures prowled the wasteland like titans.
Farmland and crops were nothing but memories, obliterated by the monstrous tide that had swept through.
"Our family's land…" Rebecca knelt on the hillside, biting her lip as tears of anger or sorrow welled up in her eyes. The young lord who had barely had time to grow into her role was watching everything she'd known be torn apart.
"This is the aftermath of a magic wave," Gawain sighed. "When the Gondor Empire fell, the entire land decayed from within. I suspect even now, the old empire's lands are still corrupted—and yet, here we are, seeing it return to civilization."
Amber broke out in cold sweat. "Shadow God above… we were surrounded by this horror all along?"
Hety, however, was focused on the family's recovery prospects. "Is there any hope left?"
"None," Gawain shook his head. "With the aberrations unrepelled, they've established a resonant collective, and the elemental contamination from the magic wave they triggered is irreversible. Even if every creature were destroyed, the pollution in the land would persist for a very long time."
"How long would it last?" Hety seemed reluctant to abandon hope.
"Have humans reclaimed Gondor's lands?" Gawain asked, apparently unrelated to the topic.
"…It remains a forbidden zone. No one dares to tread the lands beyond the Great Barrier."
Gawain shrugged. "In that case, Cecil's land may be corrupted for at least seven hundred years."
Rebecca and Hety looked at their ancestor, unable to fathom his calmness in the face of such devastation. There was no anger, no sorrow; he seemed almost detached, as if it didn't concern him. The attitude unsettled them.
Noticing their expressions, Gawain asked, "Is something the matter?"
"Ancestor… aren't you… angry?" Rebecca asked hesitantly. "This was Cecil's last territory…"
Realizing he had slipped out of character, Gawain quickly adjusted, assuming a stern expression with all the gravitas he could muster. "Dwelling on it is useless. Gawain Cecil was a pioneer. Every inch of land and wealth in this family was built from nothing. If there's no land, we'll start again. What's the point of lamenting?"
Hety and Rebecca nodded, awe-struck by the legendary founder's resilience and vision, though they wondered how he would find new land in a world where territory had long since been claimed, and unclaimed land was either restricted or barren.
"There's nothing left to see here. Let's focus on our next steps: finding a nearby town and reconnecting with those who broke through earlier," Gawain said, steering the conversation. "If I recall correctly, wasn't there a knight named Philip who led the breakout? Did you arrange a meeting point?"
Rebecca quickly replied, "The plan was to meet in Tansang to the north. If Tansang fell, we'd continue north along the kingdom road."
Gawain nodded, ready to move when a strange sensation made him pause.
After a moment of hesitation, he and Byron the knight shouted almost simultaneously, "Get down! Hide!"
Though they didn't know why, Rebecca and Hety quickly followed Byron's lead, hiding behind a large boulder, while Amber disappeared into the shadows. Gawain joined Rebecca but saw the dazed maid, Betty, standing in confusion, clutching a frying pan. He darted out and pulled her back just as a chilling presence swept over them.
In the brightening sky, a creature of immense size and elegance drifted through the air.
It was a dragon, its length stretching dozens of meters.
Hety, paralyzed by fear, reflexively cast a third-tier spell, "Distortion Field," to cloak them, though she couldn't be certain such a simple spell would hide them from a legendary creature.
But the dragon ignored the ground entirely—or simply didn't care. It continued its slow, majestic flight, the land below reflected in its enormous eyes, a ruined Cecil territory marred by the magic wave.
Then, with a single exhale, it scorched the earth below.