POV: Kael Lanpar
My consciousness floated in the midst of a familiar darkness, so well known that I was certain I would soon awaken.
Every word I thought echoed back at me in that void, repeating again and again, like voices trapped inside my head.
Pain still coursed through my entire body. The complete loss of mana had driven me to collapse, as if something vital for survival in this world had been stripped away from me. I had learned the hard way: here, mana was not just energy—it was like another organ.
I had drained everything in such a short time. I couldn't understand how I was still alive. The only clear thing was that my reserves were far too limited.
In the midst of that darkness, I felt mana slowly returning, spreading through every corner of my body as if it were my very blood. The intoxicating rush of strength surged through me, little by little restoring my mobility.
A mental sigh escaped me. I knew I was waking when the faint light of a sun pierced my vision, falling on my still-closed eyelids.
Slowly, I adjusted to the brightness and opened my eyes. I was no longer in the same place where I had collapsed.
I lay on fresh grass that cradled my body like an improvised bed. Its texture alone told me I was in a field… yet there was no sun in the sky.
I pressed my hands against the damp earth and pushed myself up, scanning the horizon for the star that should have been illuminating the landscape.
I found nothing. The only thing stretching before me was a colossal vegetation—endless trees that seemed to swallow the horizon.
The song of birds perched upon the branches beckoned me to move. I walked deeper into that endless forest, listening to the crunch of twigs beneath my feet.
The massive trunks left barely enough space to pass, forcing me to push forward and scrape against their rough bark.
Soon, I noticed something strange: the trees weren't scattered at random. There was a pattern to their placement—too precise to be natural.
Certainty struck me the moment I stepped into a puddle. In its reflection, I saw a pair of brown eyes, dull and lifeless—the same I once had in my previous existence. That dead gaze pierced straight through my soul.
"Only in my own mental space can I change my appearance," I whispered cautiously. "Here, I have no control."
I clenched my fists and called upon the divine power of Calur. I felt it answer my call, and in an instant, time itself froze.
"Damn it…" I groaned, clutching my head.
Agonizing pain pierced my skull. Years without using the divine weapon were taking their toll; I could no longer handle it with ease. The veins on my forehead throbbed violently, forcing me down to my knees, burying them in the earth as I struggled to endure.
I knew it was desperate to invoke Calur's power without understanding what I was facing, but being trapped in a place like this, with no certainty of escape, left me no choice.
I looked around for answers. The only thing I saw were birds suspended in the air, frozen in a motionless sky.
A sepulchral silence seized everything. The stillness was so suffocating it threatened to rip away my sanity.
"Calur…" I gasped, deactivating the control over time.
Leaning on one knee, I forced myself to stand. The dizziness was brutal, and I had to cling to a tree to keep from falling, while the sharp pain continued to drill into my head.
If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that this domain belonged neither to Dextrina nor to any Pillar god. Some other entity, less powerful, had brought me here.
I knew Calur's power and its limitations all too well: though it was a weapon capable of transferring its energy across dimensions, it could not be activated or wielded within the domains of true gods.
With that certainty in mind, I staggered forward, using the trees for support as I regained some coordination. My legs trembled with every step, barely obeying me.
In the distance, a sound caught my attention—the flowing current of a lake. It didn't seem too far away. Each step brought that murmur closer, until it roared in my ears. My legs began to respond more steadily.
Peering through the gaps between the trees, I caught sight of a river just a few meters ahead.
I left the forest and stepped into a meadow wrapped in the sweet fragrance of flowers dancing with the wind. Unlike the woods, this place felt more real, more alive. Its mere presence surrounded me with peace, as if inviting me to stay.
"It's beautiful," I whispered without realizing.
As I observed the landscape more closely, a musical note reached me from the distance. It wasn't words, only whistles. A person sat on the riverbank, a fishing rod in his hands, accompanying the sound.
I couldn't tell who it was; a straw hat concealed his face.
I moved cautiously across the grass, prepared to call upon Calur's power if necessary.
"What are you doing?" a man's voice asked. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you?"
The man didn't turn; he simply pushed the bait bucket aside and motioned for me to sit beside him.
I froze, doubting whether it was wise to risk it. Yet he seemed to have no ill intent. Slowly, I approached and sat next to him, still tense.
"It's a beautiful place," he said, without looking away from the river.
Even sitting so close, I couldn't recognize him… until a faint whisper revealed his identity.
"Do you think we'll catch anything, son?" That voice—my father's—continued softly. "The weather is calm, and besides…"
Without thinking, I threw myself into his arms. I wrapped him tightly, refusing to let go as tears streamed down my cheeks.
I wanted to speak, to apologize, to say so many things… but the words drowned in my throat.
I clenched my teeth, burying my head against his shoulder as I tried to contain a sob I could no longer hold back.
"I missed you so much, son," he whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking. "I've waited so long for this moment."
His arms closed around me with even greater strength, allowing all my pain to be consumed by the fatherly love I had so desperately lacked in the past.
As I pulled away from the embrace, I realized his presence wasn't the result of mere sentimentality. The threads of destiny had been pulled too precisely for this to be a coincidence.
Even though I knew the figure before me was only an ephemeral reflection, I wanted nothing more than to keep embracing him, to waste not even a second… but as always, I had no other choice.
"Father, I never wanted to kill you," I said, struggling to regain composure. "I still don't understand why you sacrificed yourself, or why you wore that false mask."
As I spoke, white butterflies began to peel away from his body. I knew he didn't have much time left.
"Son… I still don't understand what you've gotten yourself into," he said, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "You managed to manipulate the gods themselves, beings who play with the rules of existence.
"You sat on their very throne," he went on, "but it seems they never accepted you there. There's so much I wish I could tell you…"
Just by looking into his eyes—narrowed in a mixture of panic and grief—I understood who was behind it all. That goddess of the story, the one who had turned me into something I never wished to be, was haunting me again, now in another world.
Unconsciously, as I recalled her name, I pressed my hands to my eyes, knowing her power rested within me.
"She tried to erase me," I murmured.
My father's bowed head confirmed my suspicions. No words were needed to understand the danger looming over me.
"I beg you, Matías…" his voice was fading, "…live. Don't worry about that now."
A blinding light spread across his body, while his face, still visible, hovered amidst the landscape. I pressed my forehead against his.
The last time I had done so was to say goodbye. But more than an ending, this felt like a new beginning in my story—one I would call freedom.
"I promised you, Father," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I will live… even if it means killing gods once again."
I knew I had lost him when I felt my hand, resting against his neck, slip entirely through his fading form. A wave of abandonment and bittersweet relief washed over me.
Even with my eyes closed, the light pierced into me with overwhelming intensity. I was waking again—but this time, not to see him once more.
The soft flutter of butterflies was replaced by the deafening chorus of birds proclaiming the morning.
My body sank into the comforting feathers of the pillows that kept me lying down, inviting me to remain asleep. Yet my eyes slowly began to open.
The first thing I saw were tiny dust particles, illuminated by the radiant sunlight. On the polished wooden wall, a lamp swayed gently from side to side.
I adjusted myself on the bed, pressing my hands against the firm mattress to sit up. A faint pain surged through my body—a spark, a reminder of my return to consciousness.
It was hard to admit, but impossible to forget: even in another world, he was still with me.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I rose from the bed. The cold floor received my bare feet, creaking slightly beneath them.
Judging by the plants that decorated the room and the family portrait hanging before me, I was inside a country house.
Looking closer, I noticed someone in that painting I didn't recognize: a woman of the same age as the old man who lovingly embraced my mother and aunts. Him I had seen before… but her, never.
I tried to walk again, but my balance was nearly gone. For a moment I almost collapsed; my legs trembled with even the simplest movement.
I wasn't fully recovered, but I advanced with slow steps toward the door. A faint rustle came from the other side.
Once I reached it, I turned the handle with difficulty and opened it. Behind it stood my sister.
Her eyes said everything: guilt. The plate in her hands slipped, shattering on the floor, as her body trembled as though she had seen a ghost.
"Mai…"
Before I could say anything more, she wrapped her arms around me, clutching me tightly. Her sobs echoed in my ears.
I didn't know how long I had been asleep, but seeing her in that state told me it had been far too long. Her disheveled hair and the dark marks under her eyes—signs of sleepless nights—confirmed it.
"Mai, are you alright?" I asked, bewildered. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer with words, but her cry spoke for her.
"Forgive me… it was my fault," she sobbed, holding me even tighter. "I almost lost you. I'm such an idiot. I should have stayed with you."
I didn't ask further. I already knew what she meant. It only confirmed my suspicion of what had happened during that time—perhaps I had been in a coma.
I held her in the embrace a while longer, letting her release her grief. Slowly, she began to calm down, though it pained me to know I had been the cause of it.
"You scared me, damn it," she said, wiping her tears with both hands. "I thought I'd lost you."
"You'll never lose me, sister," I whispered, raising my hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.
Seeing her smile again, I let out the sigh I had been holding back since my encounter with Father.
During our walk—which she said was meant to be a surprise—she told me I had been asleep for three days without showing any sign of waking.
The hallways we crossed were bathed in the blinding light pouring through the enormous windows. Beyond them stretched a beautiful meadow that reminded me of where I had been before.
"Where are our parents?" I asked, though I already sensed the answer.
"In the capital," she replied bitterly. "They're still fighting on the battlefield against the revolutionaries."
Though I expected it, her confirmation hurt more than anything else. Since I was born into this world, I had never spent much time with them. All I had left were blurry images of my earliest days.
I had believed that by being reborn I would retain all my memories as an adult, but I soon discovered that once I reached a certain stage of life, those memories began to fade.
Lost in thought, I didn't notice someone rushing toward me at full speed. Instinctively, I stepped aside, and felt my foot push against something.
A sharp sound split the air: someone had slammed into the ground.
Turning, I saw a girl—perhaps my age—rubbing her forehead in pain.
Her strawberry-red hair fell across her face, hiding it almost completely. Only the sunlight spilling over her revealed a countenance marked by anger.
I knew I was in danger the moment I heard her breathing quicken. I looked to my sister for a solution, but she had none.
Even as I watched her step back, I had to dodge the girl's strike by pure instinct—the wind brushed past my face with such force that it felt like a punch.
I had avoided the impact, yet I still felt wounded—or so I thought—rubbing my cheek and wondering what kind of child could wield such power.
"What's wrong with you? It was an accident, I didn't mean to trip you," I said in such a childish voice that it reminded me I was still just a boy in this world.
I nearly stuck my tongue out at her in mockery, but her gaze stopped me. There was something so cold in her eyes that, for my own sake, I held back.
It was like staring at a demon; her hair seemed to blaze with fire, and her expression sought vengeance against the one who had hurt her.
When she lunged at me again, I was forced to dodge, leaping to the side with what little coordination I still had.
Her charge sent her crashing into a window; it shattered, and shards embedded themselves in her hand.
I watched tears stream down her cheeks, born of the glass cutting into her skin. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't—once again I had to dodge, this time jumping backward.
For a moment she lost her balance, and I seized the chance to subdue her. Grabbing her hands tightly, I forced her back down onto the floor, pinning her with my knee pressed against her back.
"Are you calm now?" I asked, with a hint of annoyance.
I tried not to hurt her further. Her hand bled from the embedded fragments, and though her behavior was monstrous, her face still resembled that of an angel: trembling lips, faint sobs that compelled me to release her.
I sat on the floor, and at the end of the hallway I saw the man I had noticed earlier in the family portrait; this time, however, there was no smile on his face.
"What on earth happened here?" he exclaimed.