The world was coming apart.
The desert that used to cradle Arcadia Base was now a wasteland of glass and lightning, where the sky bled white and the air sang with invisible frequencies. The First Light had awakened. Its voice was everywhere — in the wind, in the trembling of the earth, even in the pulse of my veins.
Every time it resonated, I could feel it tugging at something deep inside me — like it was calling me home.
But I didn't belong to it. Not anymore.
---
We reached Arcadia just as the first wave hit.
Aether storms tore through the horizon, ripping buildings from their foundations. The main hangar collapsed under the pressure. The comm tower disintegrated in a burst of static. Every shield generator flickered red before burning out one by one.
"Get the civilians to the lower decks!" Celia shouted through the comms. "Rina, cover the west approach! Mira, power reroute to the command core!"
> "On it!" Rina's voice crackled.
> "We'll buy you time!"
> "Eira," I called, "status on the disruptor array?"
> "Overloaded! It's reading as if the enemy is inside the system — the field can't stabilize!"
I clenched my teeth. "Then shut it down before it feeds back into the core."
> "Already trying!"
The air shimmered, and for a second, I thought the storm had broken through the defense field — but it wasn't that.
They were appearing.
Beings of light, vaguely humanoid, each one glowing with that same blinding radiance. Their movements were slow but deliberate, like they were puppets pulled by invisible strings.
The First Light's fragments.
---
"Open fire!" Celia commanded.
Rina didn't need to be told twice. Her rifle barked plasma bursts that tore through the air, cutting down the first few figures. They exploded into shards of glass-like energy, dissolving before they hit the ground.
But for every one that fell, two more appeared.
They advanced in silence — no screams, no roars, just that eerie hum that made my teeth ache.
> "They're not physical!" Mira warned. "They're energy projections — the Aether's taking form around us!"
> "Then how do we kill something that's not real?!" Rina shouted.
> "We can't," I said. "But I can stop them."
Celia turned to me sharply. "Haruto, don't—"
> "It's me they're after."
And before anyone could argue, I stepped forward.
The wind roared against my suit, the storm pressing down like a weight. The ground glowed beneath my feet, reacting to the pulse building inside me.
The First Light's energy flooded the battlefield — and my body answered in kind.
---
For a moment, I felt everything.
The heat of the plasma fire. The sting of sand slicing across my skin. The fear in Rina's heart. The determination in Celia's. The tremor in Mira's hands as she held the line.
I felt their lives like strings connected to mine.
Then, as the next surge hit, I let go.
Light erupted from my palms, slicing through the storm like a blade. The First Light's fragments turned their gaze to me — and charged.
Our energies collided in a cascade of brilliance. The impact burned through my nerves, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Every instinct told me that if I gave in, even for a second, they'd consume me whole.
---
One figure broke through the blast — faster, sharper than the others. It raised its hand, light condensing into a spear. I ducked under it, grabbed its arm, and forced the energy backward. The resulting explosion sent both of us flying.
I landed hard, sliding across the melted sand. My armor cracked, the HUD flickering.
> "Haruto!" Celia's voice. "You need to fall back!"
> "Can't," I managed. "They'll just keep coming."
> "Then we go down together," Rina said over the comms, her voice tight but determined.
> "You're an idiot," I said.
> "Takes one to know one."
I smiled despite the pain.
That's when I heard it again — her voice.
Soft, like a memory whispered between heartbeats.
> "Haruto… stop fighting the light. Listen to it."
> "Lunaris?"
The world seemed to pause. Even the storm's howl dulled for a heartbeat.
> "You still hear me," she said, her tone gentle. "That means you haven't lost yourself yet."
> "Where are you?"
> "Everywhere the light touches. But you already knew that."
> "You said the song was ending."
> "It is. But not the way you think."
> "Then tell me what it wants!" I shouted into the chaos. "What is the First Light trying to do?"
> "It's not trying to destroy. It's trying to return. It's searching for a vessel strong enough to carry its memory."
I froze. "You mean me."
> "You were always meant to be. But you can change that."
> "How?"
> "Sing louder than it."
And just like that — she was gone.
---
"Haruto!"
Celia's voice snapped me back. The storm was surging again — an entire wall of Aether energy descending on Arcadia like a tidal wave.
There wasn't time to think.
"Everyone, to the inner bunker!" I yelled. "Now!"
> "What about you?"
> "I'll keep it busy."
> "That's suicide!"
> "It's what I'm good at."
Before she could argue, I leapt into the air, using the last of my boosters to propel myself toward the epicenter of the storm.
The First Light loomed above the base now — a colossal form of radiance, vaguely human, its body composed of shifting constellations. Eyes like miniature suns turned toward me.
It was beautiful. Terrifying. Eternal.
And it wanted me.
---
The sky fractured as our energies met.
My Aether flared blue-white, the First Light's radiance golden and absolute. When they collided, sound itself vanished — replaced by a single, piercing tone that echoed in my skull.
Memories flooded my mind — visions of ancient cities, of the first war, of the experiments that birthed both Lunaris and me.
I saw her standing in a white chamber, reaching for a containment field glowing with the same light that now surrounded me.
> "Haruto," she said in the vision, "if you wake before me, promise me you'll finish the song."
> "Why me?"
> "Because you're the only one who can end it without hate."
The vision shattered.
I screamed, releasing everything I had. My energy burst outward, forming a massive sphere of resonance. The First Light pushed against it, tendrils of brilliance reaching for my core.
The sound of the world dissolving returned — thunder, screams, static.
I thought of Celia. Of Mira, Rina, Eira. Of how far we'd come since that first chaotic day. Of how they never left me, even when I didn't deserve it.
And I thought of her.
Lunaris.
The woman who had started it all, and the memory that refused to die.
---
> "Lunaris," I whispered. "If you're still out there… lend me your voice."
A silence followed. Then, faintly — like a ghost note in a symphony — I heard her hum.
It wasn't words. Just melody. Simple, ancient, human.
And somehow, it was enough.
The Aether around me shifted, harmonizing with the tune. My pulse synced with it, my breathing slowed, and the storm faltered for the briefest moment.
The First Light hesitated.
That was all I needed.
I poured everything I had left into one final strike — not to destroy it, but to rewrite it. To take its perfect, endless song and make it imperfect, human.
The energy expanded, spiraling upward, forming a pillar that split the sky in two.
The light screamed — a sound that wasn't sound, a feeling that wasn't pain.
Then everything went white.
---
When the world came back, it was raining.
Real rain.
The desert had cooled, the storm gone. The sky — no longer fractured, but pale and quiet, like the world had been scrubbed clean.
I was lying in the ruins of the base's outer wall. My armor was shattered, my right arm numb.
Celia was kneeling beside me, helmet off, her eyes red.
> "You idiot," she said softly.
> "Missed me?" I croaked.
> "You blew up half the sky. What do you think?"
Behind her, the others stood — alive, battered, but smiling.
Arcadia still stood. Barely.
The First Light was gone.
But I could still feel something in the air — faint, like the echo of a note that refused to fade.
---
I looked up at the clouds.
> "Lunaris," I whispered. "Is it over?"
The wind shifted, brushing against my face. A familiar warmth.
> "For now," her voice echoed faintly. "But songs have many verses."
> "You'll come back?"
> "You already know the answer."
The voice faded.
I smiled weakly. "Yeah. I do."
Celia placed her hand on my shoulder. "What did she say?"
> "That we're not done."
> "You mean the war?"
> "No. The story."
She sighed. "You and your poetic crap."
> "You love it."
> "I tolerate it."
The others laughed. Even Mira managed a tired smirk.
And as the last of the white light faded from the horizon, I felt the weight lift — not gone, but lighter somehow. Bearable.
---
But even as peace returned, something in me knew this wasn't the end.
The song had stopped singing.
But the silence it left behind… was waiting for the next verse.
----
The sky was burning white.
Not blue. Not gray. Just… white — as if the sun itself had melted through the clouds and poured into the world. It wasn't heat that made it unbearable, though. It was silence.
That kind of silence that follows destruction.
I stood there — on the fractured plains that used to be the northern base of the Aether Legion — staring at what was left of the world we had fought so hard to protect. The smell of ozone and metal filled the air. Ash floated down like snow.
And somewhere beneath that endless white light… I could still hear her voice.
Lunaris.
"Haruto…"
It was faint. Distant. Like a memory carried by the wind.
I blinked, wiping blood and dust from my face, and turned to the others.
Mika was kneeling in the dirt, her rifle bent in half, her uniform torn but her eyes alive — fiery and defiant. Sora stood a few meters behind her, trembling, one hand clutching the remnants of her drone interface. Reina was barely conscious, her arm bandaged with strips of her own cloak. Even Kanna — the unshakable one — had fallen silent, staring at the horizon as if trying to make sense of it all.
We were alive.
But the world wasn't.
---
"...Is it over?" Sora whispered, her voice barely audible against the wind.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
All I could see was the blinding light pulsing from the center of the crater where the weapon — the Aether Core — had been sealed. It pulsed like a heartbeat. Slow. Relentless. And I could feel it inside me, answering each beat.
Every pulse sent a shiver down my spine. Every flicker of that light made my veins burn brighter.
It wasn't just the Core that was waking up. It was me.
"Haruto!" Mika's voice broke through the haze. "We have to move! The shockwave will hit again—"
Before she could finish, the ground trembled.
A thunderous roar echoed across the plains, and the air bent in front of us like glass shattering.
I grabbed Mika by the arm and pulled her down as a blast of white energy tore past, ripping through what was left of the command tower. The sky fractured — literally fractured — like a cracked mirror, revealing streaks of gold and violet beneath the clouds.
That's when I saw her.
Floating above the crater.
Her silver hair waving like threads of light.
Her eyes — the same celestial blue that haunted my dreams.
Lunaris.
But she wasn't smiling.
---
"So you finally remember me."
Her voice wasn't coming from her mouth. It was inside my head — calm, gentle, and devastating.
My heart pounded. I wanted to speak, but no words came out.
Behind me, Sora gasped. "T-that's—! She's—!"
Kanna raised her weapon, shaking. "Enemy lifeform detected— wait, that energy reading… Haruto, what the hell is that?"
I couldn't answer.
Because I finally understood what she was.
Not a goddess. Not a savior.
A weapon. The original Aether Entity.
And somehow — impossibly — a part of her was inside me.
She tilted her head slightly, looking down at me as if through time itself.
"You were meant to stay asleep, Haruto. Why did you come back?"
"I…" My throat felt dry. "I don't know."
"You weren't supposed to remember the war. The promise. Me."
The others looked at me in confusion, but her words pierced through everything else.
The memories I'd buried for years — the screams, the fire, the stars falling — came flooding back all at once. I had fought before. I had died before.
And now, I was standing in the same place where it all began.
---
Mika pushed herself up, glaring at the figure above.
"I don't care what you are," she spat. "If you're the one behind this, we'll stop you!"
She aimed what was left of her rifle and fired. The bullet disintegrated before it even reached Lunaris — swallowed by the light around her.
Lunaris didn't even flinch. Her eyes softened — almost in pity.
"Still fighting. Always fighting."
Then, the sky screamed.
Light poured down like rain.
Dozens of energy pillars crashed into the ground around us, each explosion sending waves of dust and wind that made the air vibrate. The earth itself cracked open, glowing lines tracing ancient sigils across the battlefield.
Sora's drones reactivated automatically, projecting shields to block the smaller blasts. Kanna leaped forward, summoning her blade from her arm's core. Reina raised a trembling hand, chanting a fragmented spell to reinforce our defenses.
I just stood there — paralyzed between awe and terror.
"Do you remember now?" Lunaris asked again. "The promise you made to me?"
Her voice wasn't just echoing in my head anymore. It was echoing everywhere.
And suddenly — I remembered.
---
The past hit me like a wave of lightning.
A field of stars. A girl crying beneath the falling sky.
My own voice, saying words I couldn't believe were mine.
"If the world burns again, I'll be the one to stop it."
And her reply:
"Then you'll have to stop me, Haruto."
---
The world came back into focus. The white light dimmed just enough for me to see the faces of my squad again.
Mika shouting orders, Sora screaming over the comms, Reina trying to stabilize the wounded, Kanna charging into the chaos like a comet.
I clenched my fists. The markings on my skin flared to life.
Blue lines — glowing veins — racing across my arms, my chest, my neck.
The Aether inside me was responding to Lunaris.
No — resonating.
"Mika!" I yelled. "Fall back with the others!"
She turned, furious. "I'm not leaving you here, idiot!"
"Just do it!"
She hesitated, then cursed under her breath and dragged Reina back toward the debris line. Kanna stayed behind, covering them with bursts of plasma fire. Sora's drones hovered over me, scanning the area in confusion.
I looked back up at Lunaris.
And for the first time since I'd met her — I wasn't afraid.
---
"You shouldn't fight me." Her voice softened, almost pleading. "If you do… the world will end again."
I took a deep breath. The Aether Core inside my chest pulsed harder, and the air around me began to ripple.
"Then let it end," I said quietly. "And start again."
The light exploded.
---
The impact threw me backward.
I felt the energy rip through my body like electricity. Pain — searing, raw — filled every nerve, every cell. But it wasn't just pain. It was awakening.
I could see everything — the flow of energy through the battlefield, the fractures in the air where the fabric of space was collapsing. The Aether wasn't just power; it was memory, will, and emotion all at once.
And right now, it was mine.
Lunaris descended slowly, her expression unreadable.
"You've changed," she whispered. "But so have I."
The world bent between us as our powers clashed — invisible waves that tore through matter, splitting mountains in the distance.
Kanna's voice echoed faintly through the comms. "Haruto! Whatever you're doing, it's overloading our sensors! The whole damn region's going critical—!"
"Get everyone out!" I shouted. "Now!"
The air cracked again. The battlefield turned into a storm of light and shadow, every impact scattering fragments of floating debris.
I could barely hear myself think, but one thought pushed through it all — I have to reach her.
Not destroy her.
Not defeat her.
Just reach her.
Because somewhere beneath that light… was still the same girl who once smiled at me under the falling stars.
---
I charged forward, cutting through the storm. The ground shattered beneath each step, the power in my veins roaring louder.
Lunaris raised her hand, forming a sphere of light — radiant, infinite.
When it struck, I met it with my own.
The explosion turned the world white again.
For a moment, there was no sound. No air. No time.
Just light.
And in that light — I saw everything.
Every battle. Every loss. Every promise I'd ever made.
The squad's laughter, our sleepless nights, the absurd meals, the tiny moments that made it all bearable.
And her. Always her.
Lunaris.
---
When the light finally faded, I was kneeling in the center of the crater.
The wind was quiet. The sky — no longer burning, but soft, gray, and endless.
She stood in front of me — fading.
"...Haruto," she said gently. "You kept your promise."
I reached out, but my hand passed through her.
"Lunaris… what happens now?"
She smiled faintly. "Now… you live. And I'll watch the sky for you."
Her image flickered, dissolving into motes of light that rose slowly into the air.
The Core inside me pulsed one last time — and then, for the first time in what felt like centuries, went still.
---
I don't know how long I stayed there.
When I finally heard footsteps approaching, I turned to see Mika standing at the edge of the crater, her uniform torn, hair scorched, but her eyes fierce as ever.
"You idiot," she said, voice trembling. "You almost got yourself killed."
"Almost?" I forced a smile. "Guess I'm improving."
She laughed — a weak, broken laugh — and helped me to my feet.
Behind her, the others were waiting. The battlefield was silent now, just the whisper of wind and the faint hum of what was left of the Aether Core — buried beneath the earth once more.
We walked back together.
No victory speech. No fanfare. Just silence.
But in that silence… I heard her voice again.
"Haruto… don't forget."
I looked up at the sky — the clouds parting just enough to let the first light of dawn through.
And I whispered back,
"I won't."
The sun rose like it didn't know what had just happened.
Golden light brushed across the ruins — what used to be the Aether Legion's northern front — and turned the dust into glittering motes that swirled like slow snow.
The battlefield looked almost peaceful now. Almost.
We had won.
But none of us felt victorious.
The silence after the storm felt heavier than any explosion. The kind that settles deep into your bones — the kind you can't shake off.
I walked through what was left of the field, my boots crunching on shards of glass and scorched earth. Each step echoed too loudly. I could still feel the faint hum of the Aether Core beneath the surface — sealed, dormant, waiting. Like it was holding its breath.
Mika followed a few steps behind, limping but refusing help. Her hair was matted with ash, her hands bandaged, her expression unreadable.
Sora and Reina were dragging a damaged med-unit through the debris, their eyes tired but focused. Kanna walked silently ahead, her weapon strapped to her back, head lowered.
None of us spoke.
---
The command center — or what remained of it — had collapsed entirely. The outer walls had melted into a sculpture of twisted metal, still faintly warm. A few surviving flags fluttered limply in the wind.
That's where I stopped.
There, among the wreckage, stood the broken emblem of the Aether Legion. Half buried, cracked in two.
I crouched down, brushing dust off it with my hand. The metal was cold. The symbol — a winged sword — was split right down the middle.
It felt fitting.
Mika came up beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"
I didn't answer right away. The wind picked up, scattering ash through the air.
Finally, I said quietly, "She's gone."
Mika's grip tightened. "Lunaris?"
I nodded. "She… saved us. But it cost her everything."
The words felt heavier the moment I said them out loud.
I had known her for such a short time — and yet it felt like lifetimes. Maybe it was. Maybe I was remembering things that weren't mine anymore. But I knew one thing for sure: the world would never be the same without her.
---
We made camp in what used to be a communications bunker. It was barely standing — just a concrete shell with a few working lights. But it was enough.
Reina treated the wounded while Sora tried to salvage whatever tech still functioned. Kanna sat in silence, staring at the sky through the shattered roof.
And me? I sat against the wall, eyes half-open, listening to the hum of the remaining generators. My body still ached with Aether burns, glowing faintly where the energy had carved lines beneath my skin.
I should've been resting.
But all I could think about was her.
---
That final moment replayed in my mind over and over.
Her voice.
Her smile.
The way her hand reached out, even as she faded.
"Now… you live."
Why did those words hurt more than any wound?
I wanted to scream. To ask her why she had to go. Why she had left me again.
But there was no one to answer. Only the echo of her voice in the back of my mind — faint, fading, but still there.
"Don't forget."
I wouldn't.
I couldn't.
---
Later that night, the squad gathered what remained of our supplies. We lit a small fire using salvaged wood and watched the flames flicker weakly in the cold air.
Sora was the first to speak.
"So… what now?"
No one answered.
Kanna eventually said, "Command's gone. The Legion's gone. We're on our own."
Reina looked up from the fire. "We should head south. There might still be safe zones there. Maybe survivors."
Mika stared into the flames, arms crossed. "And what about the Core? We can't just leave it here."
I finally spoke.
"We're not leaving it. It's sealed — for now. But it's still alive. If someone else finds it, this whole thing starts again."
Mika frowned. "Then what do we do?"
I looked up at the white sky — the same color it had been during the battle. "We make sure no one ever wakes it up again."
Silence followed. Heavy, final.
Sora looked at me uncertainly. "You're saying we guard it?"
"Something like that."
Kanna raised an eyebrow. "For how long?"
I shrugged. "As long as it takes."
---
The fire crackled. No one argued.
For the first time since the war began, there was no mission, no command, no orders. Just us — a handful of broken soldiers, sitting in the ruins of a world that barely survived.
Mika leaned back, sighing. "You know… when I joined the Legion, I thought we were the heroes."
"We were," Reina said quietly.
"Were we?" Mika glanced at me. "Because right now, it feels like we just delayed the end."
I didn't respond.
Because she wasn't wrong.
The Aether weapon was dormant, but not gone. The scars it left — both in the world and in us — wouldn't heal easily. Maybe never.
Still, I couldn't help but think… maybe that was enough.
Just surviving.
Just remembering.
Maybe that was the real victory.
---
Hours later, when the others had fallen asleep, I stepped outside. The air was cold and thin. The sky was clear now — stars scattered across the darkness like fragments of glass.
I found myself looking for her among them.
And for a moment, I thought I saw it — a faint shimmer among the constellations, like silver hair catching moonlight.
I smiled. "You really couldn't just rest, huh?"
The wind rustled softly, almost like laughter.
Then a whisper:
"I'm still here."
I froze.
Her voice — faint but real — brushed through my thoughts like a passing breeze.
"Lunaris?" I whispered.
No answer. Just the faint hum of the Aether in my veins, pulsing once, softly, like a heartbeat.
She wasn't gone.
Not completely.
And somehow, I knew — she never would be.
---
When morning came, the horizon burned with pale gold. We packed what we could and began walking south — through the ruins, through the endless plains, toward whatever came next.
No one spoke much.
But there was a quiet strength in every step.
Mika walked beside me, carrying her repaired rifle slung over her shoulder. Sora hummed under her breath — a broken tune from one of her playlists. Reina limped slightly, but her eyes were clear again. Kanna walked at the front, scanning the horizon.
The world was scarred, but alive.
And maybe — just maybe — that was enough reason to keep walking.
---
As the sun climbed higher, I looked back one last time at the battlefield behind us.
The crater was still there — vast, silent, glimmering faintly in the light.
At its center, I thought I saw something — a single silver feather drifting in the wind.
I stopped for a second, then smiled faintly.
"Goodbye, Lunaris," I whispered.
The feather shimmered once before disappearing into the light.
---
We walked on.
The road ahead was long — uncertain, quiet, endless. But for the first time, I didn't feel lost.
The voice inside me — faint, familiar — whispered once more.
"Haruto… live."
And I did.
---
Weeks passed. The world slowly began to change. Cities half buried in ash now glowed faintly at night with recovering power grids. Survivors emerged — scattered groups rebuilding, trading, hoping.
We became wanderers. Mercenaries. Protectors. Whatever people needed.
But beneath it all, one truth stayed buried: the Core wasn't gone. It was sleeping.
And so was she.
Every now and then, I'd feel the faint hum in my chest again. Like a song I couldn't quite remember the words to. A melody that only came to life in dreams.
Sometimes, in those dreams, I'd see her — standing beneath that white sky, smiling faintly.
And I'd remember the promise.
That as long as I was alive, she wouldn't fade completely.
---
One night, while camping near the edge of the Southern Ridge, Mika caught me staring at the stars again.
She threw me a canteen and sat beside me. "You always look like you're talking to ghosts."
"Maybe I am."
She smirked. "Then tell your ghost she owes us an explanation for almost blowing up the planet."
I laughed softly. "She'd probably say it was my fault."
Mika leaned back, eyes closed. "You miss her."
"Yeah."
"Then don't forget her."
"I won't."
She nodded, satisfied. "Good."
We sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly beside us. The night was peaceful — the first truly calm night I could remember.
Somewhere far away, thunder rolled — gentle, distant.
And for a moment, I thought I heard music.
A faint melody, carried by the wind.
A song of light.
Of endings and beginnings.
---
That night, I dreamed again.
The sky was white. The world silent.
And she stood there — Lunaris — looking at me with that same soft, impossible smile.
"You kept your promise."
"Barely," I said.
She laughed — a sound like stars ringing.
"Then keep walking, Haruto. There's more to do. More to protect."
I stepped closer, but she was already fading, turning into light.
"Will I see you again?" I asked.
Her voice echoed faintly, softer with each word.
"When the dawn sings again."
And then she was gone.
---
I woke up to sunlight. The others were already up, packing camp, arguing quietly about breakfast rations.
I smiled to myself and looked toward the horizon.
The sky was bright — impossibly bright — and for the first time in years, it didn't feel like it was falling.
I stood, stretched, and started walking.
Behind me, Mika shouted, "Hey! Don't wander off again, hero-boy!"
I turned, smirking. "Relax. Just enjoying the view."
She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," I said softly. "Guess I am."
The wind carried the faint sound of laughter — not hers, not mine, but something older, brighter.
Maybe a memory.
Maybe the sky itself.
Either way… it was enough.
To be continued in Volume II