Heavy rain swept through the old city. The cobblestone streets, usually desolate, were now filled with puddles reflecting flashes of lightning streaking across the dark sky. Amid the chaos of the stormy night, an old man ran frantically. His black cloak, soaked through, clung to his frail frame. In his hand, he clutched an object glowing faintly like a candle's dying flame—a shard of crystal pulsating with a golden-blue light.

He glanced back, his breath ragged. "No... they're too fast..." he muttered in panic.

From the shadows, dark figures began to emerge, one by one. Their eyes burned red, like embers lurking in the darkness. They were terrifying creatures, their bodies cloaked in swirling black mist—like smoke from the fires of hell.

"Hand over the shard, Keeper," a cold, heavy voice echoed in the air. From the darkness stepped a man clad in black armor, a blood-red cape billowing behind him. His face was like rough-hewn stone, scarred from countless battles. But his most menacing feature was his eyes—they glowed a fiery red, brimming with dark power. Varion.

The old man stepped back, clutching the crystal shard to his chest. "You will not have it. The Flame of Eternity does not belong to you!"

Varion merely smirked, his expression icy. "Not mine? Old Keeper, you forget who the flame first chose. I was born of the Flame of Eternity! I am its true heir!" He raised his hand, and from the air came a surge of black energy, hurtling forward like lightning.

The old man managed to dodge, but the blast struck a building behind him, reducing the stone wall to rubble. He knew he wouldn't last long. Trembling, he lifted the crystal shard above his head, his lips reciting an almost-forgotten incantation.

"Flame of Eternity... carry this hope... to another world..."

The shard's light grew brighter, scorching the air around it. Varion growled, realizing what the old man was about to do. "Stop!" He lunged forward, but it was too late.

In an instant, the golden-blue light exploded, consuming the old man, the shard, and much of the surrounding street. The blast was like a miniature sun igniting in the middle of the night, forcing even the storm to retreat.

As the light faded, only Varion remained. He stood amidst the ruins, his face twisted with rage. "He sent it... to another world..." he muttered, his voice low yet seething with menace. "But you cannot escape me. No matter where the flame is, I will find it. And I will burn this world to ash."

The sky above rumbled, as if echoing his threat.

---

In Another World

Arlen woke up with a gasp. Cold sweat drenched his forehead as he sat upright on his small bed. That dream again. The same dream, over and over. A destroyed city, an old man running, and a crystal shard erupting into light.

He looked at his hand, which felt warm despite the chill in the room. "What is this...?" he murmured.

Before he could think further, the room suddenly trembled. The bookshelf in the corner toppled over, and cracks began to appear on the wall, glowing faint blue. The cracks widened, spreading like wild roots.

And then, everything shattered.

A burst of light filled the room, pulling Arlen into it. He screamed, but his voice was swallowed by the void. The world around him vanished, replaced by a glowing white emptiness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his room.

He stood in the middle of a vast meadow under a purple sky adorned with two suns. In the distance, towering mountains pierced the heavens like spears. There was no sound, only the gentle whisper of the wind.

"Where am I?" Arlen muttered.

Before he could ponder further, a voice echoed through the air—deep, heavy, and full of menace.

"Welcome, Keeper. And welcome to the end of the world."