Bebak was finally resting after all the chaos he had endured. However, a new worry loomed over him: protecting his wife, Maral. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy, and Bebak's anxiety had reached its peak. His overprotective instincts kicked into overdrive, translating to watching over her even while she slept.
Maral, feeling suffocated by his constant vigilance, eventually confronted him. She sat him down one evening and said, "Bebak, I know you care deeply for me, but you're wearing yourself out. Please, take a walk, breathe, and trust me—I'll be fine."
Though reluctant, Bebak listened to her advice. As he strolled through the city, he found himself standing before the Ash Tree once again. Its presence puzzled him. Phoenix had regained a human form—so why had the Ash Tree reappeared?
A sudden thought struck him, and with a hesitant voice, he asked, "Phoenix... is that you?"
The tree answered with a gentle rustle, "Yes. Congrats, Bebak, you found me."
Bebak furrowed his brow. "But why are you a tree again?"
Phoenix explained, "I feel better in this form. I've also learned to shift between forms at will. Being a tree is... comforting."
Before Bebak could respond, Phoenix continued, "I've also regained a small shard of my memory."
This revelation filled Bebak with hope. "What did you remember? Would you like to share it?"
Phoenix paused, then said, "It was a memory of the time before I became the tree you know today. Bebak, do you remember I told you I was part of an experiment? Well, I was the test subject."
Bebak's eyes widened in shock, but Phoenix's voice remained calm. "Don't look so surprised. I'm more curious than you are about what kind of experiment could turn me into a tree with such powers. My memory goes like this:
'Are we ready, gentlemen? Great. Then let's begin the injection of the solution A.R.J into Test Subject 72-04HTR's veins.'
After that, everything becomes fuzzy again. But I'm glad these fragments are returning to me."
Bebak stood silently, tears streaming down his face. Phoenix noticed and extended a small branch toward him, like a caring hand. "Don't cry for me," Phoenix said softly. "Those tears aren't worth shedding. I've been a slumbering soul trapped in a tree for centuries—perhaps millennia—forgotten and erased from history."
But Bebak stood taller, pride evident in his voice. "Your existence proves that the race of Mastrom lives on. Your memories, however fragmented, are pieces of your people's history. Day by day, shard by shard, you'll learn the truth of who you are."
Phoenix smiled faintly. "Perhaps you're right. Thank you, Bebak. Go now, and rest. Relax for once."
When Bebak returned home, his heart felt lighter. With a calming smile, he announced to Maral, "I'm back."
Phoenix, overhearing those words, felt another memory resurface—two simple phrases: "I am home." and "Welcome back, dear."
Phoenix's smile faded slightly as he whispered to himself, "History, huh? Let's see what kind of history I had back then."
Present (Future)
Maral's voice broke the silence. "What enemy do you need to kill?" she asked, her face confused but serious.
Bebak hesitated before replying, "Maral, do you know what the Arcane Relic truly is? The one we call a rune to unlock the true power of druids?"
She nodded. "Yes, it's a piece of art, a masterpiece."
Bebak chuckled bitterly. "It's more than that. It's the last rune. Originally, there were six Arcane Runes. The one you hold now is the final, incomplete rune—left unfinished by the Mastroms and later completed by us, the long-forgotten Sixth Village of Druids."
He paused, his expression darkening. "The other five Arcane Runes still exist, but three of them have already fallen into the wrong hands. Let me ask you this: what do you think happens if all six Arcane Runes are connected in one place?"
Maral's face paled. "The original Arcane Rune would reform," she whispered.
Bebak nodded grimly. "Yes. And its power would be unimaginable. It wouldn't matter if the one who wielded it was a druid or a human. The Mastroms designed the runes, but the Sixth Rune—the one we completed—has a special rule. It is our only hope against him—the monster who's plagued us for centuries."
"Who is this monster?" Maral asked.
"He's someone I can't defeat—not in my current state. He's grown too strong over the past hundred years. I have no choice but to take a step I've long avoided—a step I've feared."
Maral's voice trembled. "What are you planning to do?"
Bebak looked at her with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I must find someone worthy to inherit my power. Someone strong enough to bear it. When I pass my power, my soul will be consumed by the transfer. The recipient will become the second wielder of the Soul Slayer."
Maral gasped, her hands trembling. "Bebak, no! There has to be another way!"
But Bebak simply smiled, his eyes resolute. "The fate of this world depends on it, Maral. If I don't act, everything we've built will be lost. I won't let that happen—not to you, not to our child, and not to our people."