- Riureas's POV -
Night had fallen over the city, and the festival lights shimmered faintly below like fallen stars. The cheers from the streets were distant five, soft, almost like echoes from another time.
I stood at the balcony of Clara's old mansion, the place I'd reopened for the first time since her death. The air was cool, and the moonlight spilled across the marble floor.
Behind me, the door creaked open.
Selvaria stepped out, her long purple hair reflecting the glow of the lanterns. She carried her usual calm, the weight of centuries hidden behind those steady eyes.
"Beautiful night," she said softly, leaning on the railing beside me.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's… quiet. For once."
For a moment, we just stood there in silence , two people who had lived far too many lifetimes.
Then Selvaria's tone shifted. "Riureas… I didn't tell you everything earlier."
I turned to her, frowning. "About the rewrite?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. This world, our world ,has been looping. Over and over again. For far longer than you think."
My breath caught. "…Looping?"
She looked out into the moonlit horizon. "It all started after the rewrite , the first one. Since then, the world has reset again and again… millions of times. Every time it ends, it starts again. People live, fight, die, and return without ever knowing."
"Elra's time magic, then-"
"No." She shook her head sharply. "Elra's magic isn't the cause. This goes beyond time magic — it's something older. Deeper. You're standing in the sixth phase of existence now."
I blinked. "Sixth… phase?"
"Each phase represents one million full cycles," she explained quietly. "Meaning this world has looped six million times already."
The wind stilled. My chest tightened. I gripped the railing, trying to process her words.
"Six… million?" I whispered. "Then all those memories, all those lifetimes-"
"Gone," she said softly. "Erased, rewritten, replaced. Only fragments remain in dreams and instincts."
I turned toward her. "Then who? Who's behind this?"
Selvaria lowered her gaze. "That's the thing… I don't know. Every trace I found ends in static. Even my anchor couldn't preserve that knowledge."
For a moment, I didn't say anything. Then, a bitter laugh escaped me.
"Heh. You know… I'm starting to think it might be her."
Selvaria raised a brow. "Her?"
"Solana," I said quietly. "The Witch of the Sun. She's the one who helped us rewrite the world in the first place. If someone's controlling the cycles…" I stared out at the glowing city below, "it might be her."
Selvaria crossed her arms, studying me. "If that's true, then Solana might not just be helping you, Riureas. She might be controlling everything ,even you."
Her words hung heavy in the air.
Below us, fireworks began again bright, beautiful, and fleeting.
Like the countless worlds that came before this one.
After Selvaria left the balcony, the night grew quiet again.
The moon hung still above the horizon, silver light brushing across the marble floor the only witness to the storm brewing inside my mind.
I leaned against the railing, eyes fixed on the distant lights of the city.
Six million times…
The number echoed endlessly in my thoughts, like a curse I couldn't unhear.
If what Selvaria said was true, then everything every victory, every death, every "new beginning" was nothing more than a repetition of a world endlessly rewritten.
And the one name that burned at the center of it all…
"Solana…" I whispered.
For as long as I could remember, her voice had always been there warm, guiding, ever-present inside my thoughts. She spoke when I was lost, comforted me when I doubted myself, and gave me purpose when I had none.
But now… silence.
Solana, I called again in my mind. I know you can hear me. Tell me what is this? Why didn't you say anything about the loops? About the rewrites?
Nothing.
No voice. No light. No warmth.
Just emptiness.
I gripped my head, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. "You've always been there," I muttered. "Since the rewrite… you've never once left me. So why now?"
The only reply was the faint rustle of the wind through the balcony curtains.
If she really was the Witch of the Sun, I thought bitterly, then maybe she's watching not as a friend… but as the one who made this world her cage.
For the first time, doubt crept into my heart.
Was Solana truly my ally… or the hand pulling the strings from the beginning?
I looked toward the moon one last time and spoke aloud, my voice low but steady.
"If you're listening, Solana… then answer me.
Are you really trying to save this world or are you the reason it keeps dying?"
Still no response.
Only silence.
And the cold night air whispering around me, as if even the world itself refused to speak.
– Riureas's POV –
The night deepened, and the lanterns across the mansion dimmed one by one.
Selvaria and I remained on the balcony, neither of us speaking for a long time.
The silence wasn't awkward — it was heavy, like the air before a storm.
Selvaria finally exhaled, leaning her elbows on the railing.
"So… we know the world has looped six million times."
"And we know someone is controlling the loop," I added quietly.
"But not who… or why."
She nodded. "Right."
We stood side by side, staring into the darkness stretching across the city. The festival was still glowing in the distance, as if nothing was wrong — as if the world wasn't a repeating story with all of us trapped inside it.
I clenched my fist.
"Damn it… we don't even have a direction to start. No clue. No trail."
Selvaria's muskets floated slightly behind her, reacting to her unease.
"If this mastermind can manipulate time on a scale that resets the entire world, then they're not just powerful. They're untouchable."
"Or hiding behind something we can't see…" I muttered.
The truth was harsh:
We had nothing.
No hints.
No leads.
No path forward.
Just one impossible fact — someone had been controlling our fate for millions of cycles.
Selvaria rubbed her forehead, frustrated.
"Even with my anchor, I could only keep my memories. I couldn't uncover a single trace of who's doing this."
I let out a long breath.
"Then what do we do now…?"
For the first time since she arrived, Selvaria didn't have an answer.
She simply shook her head.
"I… don't know, Riureas."
Those words landed like stones.
Selvaria — the Purple Arsenal, the woman who had survived six million worlds — didn't know.
And I…
I was just an author thrown into his own creation.
I looked up at the moon again, feeling smaller than ever.
"We can't just stand still," I said softly. "But if we move blindly, we fall into their game."
Selvaria frowned.
"Then until we find a lead… we wait?"
I hated that word.
But she wasn't wrong.
Right now, anything we did without direction would be meaningless.
"…Yeah," I finally admitted. "We wait. Watch. And if Solana or whoever the mastermind is — makes even one mistake…"
Selvaria finished the sentence for me.
"We strike."
I nodded.
But deep down…
I knew waiting wouldn't be enough.
Sooner or later, the mastermind would reveal themselves ,
or force us into the next loop.
And when that time came…
I would be ready.
The moment they stepped into the room, both Riureas and Selvaria froze.
The balcony door clicked shut behind them, muffling the distant noise of festival preparations.
But what caught their attention immediately wasn't the silence…
…it was the painting.
It hung behind the long sofa — a wide canvas drenched in warm orange shades, yet its shapes were anything but warm. The enormous eye at the center stared outward, unblinking. Harsh silhouettes of angels, demons, trees, and shattered symbols spread across it like warnings carved into twilight.
Selvaria's muskets twitched behind her, reacting to the oppressive aura.
"…That wasn't here before," she whispered.
Riureas stepped closer, feeling a strange pressure build behind his temples.
"No. This room never had any paintings."
The air around the canvas felt wrong heavy, as if the painting itself were breathing.
Lines, symbols, shadows… they seemed to shift if stared at too long.
Selvaria folded her arms tightly.
"Someone placed this here. Someone who wants us to see it."
Riureas didn't need to touch it to feel the meaning behind each image — they thrummed in his skull like old memories trying to surface. The moon. The broken trees. The winged silhouettes. The clawed shadows. The enormous eye that seemed to follow every movement.
"What do you think it means?" Selvaria asked, voice low.
Riureas swallowed.
"It feels like… a prophecy. Or a warning. Or both."
Selvaria narrowed her eyes at the central eye on the canvas.
"It's watching us. I don't like that."
Riureas forced himself to look away from the eye.
"Whoever painted this… knows about the loops."
Selvaria's expression hardened.
"And they're mocking us."
Silence settled in again but not empty silence.
The painting dominated the room now, stretching its meaning into the corners, seeping into their thoughts. Riureas felt a knot forming in his stomach, a creeping instinct whispering that nothing about this was random.
"The timing is too perfect," Selvaria murmured.
"Right when we admit we have no leads…"
"…someone drops this in front of us," Riureas finished.
She looked at him.
"You think the mastermind left it?"
Riureas didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stared into the enormous eye one last time.
It felt like the canvas was staring back.
"…If they did," he finally said, "then they're not hiding anymore."
Selvaria exhaled sharply through her nose.
"Then we've already stepped onto their chosen path."
Riureas nodded slowly.
"And whether we like it or not…
this painting is our first clue."
Selvaria rubbed her temples, her nine muskets tilting slightly as if reacting to her irritation.
"Wait," she muttered, squinting at the canvas. "This… this is kind of like the painting from the ancient kingdoms…"
Riureas blinked.
"Ancient kingdoms?"
Selvaria nodded, stepping closer to the eerie artwork.
"There was an old archive — really old — written before even the First Era was recorded. It mentioned a prophecy painting just like this one. It warned that in the distant future, everything would be wiped out if humanity angered the Gods by failing to fulfill their promises."
Riureas let out a sharp exhale and said, without a sliver of hesitation,
"I hate gods."
"Language!" Selvaria hissed immediately, looking around as if expecting lightning to strike the room. "Don't say things like that so casually! They're listening!"
Riureas shrugged, unimpressed.
"I'm not scared. I just hate the whole 'ruling the world' concept. Divine authority, destiny, chosen ones — all of it."
"Still," Selvaria muttered, "don't provoke cosmic beings that can erase us like a typo."
Riureas shrugged again.
Selvaria pressed two fingers to her temple.
"Anyway… that's enough history talk for me. Way too many clues, way too much brain use. Ugh—my head is seriously pounding."
She plopped down onto the sofa, her bazooka shifting with a heavy thud behind her.
Riureas watched her for a moment, then glanced back at the painting — its eye staring deep, unblinking, almost amused.
Something about it didn't just warn of the Gods.
It felt like it was waiting.
The next day...
The meeting chamber fell silent the moment Riureas, Elea, Selvaria, Crystella, and Yulleus stepped inside.
Vellia stood at the center, arms crossed, posture rigid the picture of military discipline.
Riureas wasted no time.
"We're here to inform you about something that concerns the entire world," he began. "Something… bigger than nations, bigger than kingdoms. The world is looping ,millions of times. And someone is manipulating the timelines."
Selvaria added bluntly, "Six million loops, to be exact. And we're stuck inside the sixth phase."
Vellia's eyes narrowed, her expression turning cold and unreadable.
"…You expect me to believe that?"
Her hand subtly drifted toward the hilt of her ceremonial blade.
"A woman I've never met-" she glared at Selvaria, "-claims the world is looping, and you all simply accept it? How am I supposed to trust any of this?"
Selvaria scoffed. "Because it's the truth."
"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Vellia shot back. "You appear out of nowhere, with weapons beyond our era, speaking about timelines? How do I know you're not the cause?"
Crystella stepped forward, calm but firm. "Vellia, this isn't a joke. The Plateau Golem was only one piece of what's coming. If we don't figure out who's behind the loop—"
"I refuse," Vellia interrupted sharply.
"The federation army will NOT take part in some delusional pursuit. If you want to chase shadows and myths, do it without dragging the military into it."
The silence after that was heavy.
Yulleus clenched his fists. Elea looked hurt.
But Riureas… Riureas simply stepped forward, his voice steady , but colder than ice.
"Vellia," he said, "this is an order directly from me. Not a request."
Vellia did not budge. "I cannot carry out an order that risks the lives of thousands based on fairy tales."
"…So be it."
Riureas exhaled, almost disappointed — almost.
"If I can't get help from my own people…" he said slowly, "then I swear this to you, Vellia: I will stop the loop myself. With or without the federation."
Vellia's expression tightened, but she said nothing.
"And when the time comes," Riureas added, turning his back to her, "I'll show the world that one of the four witches has been manipulating not just me ,but every soul across every timeline."
Selvaria walked beside him, giving Vellia a pointed glare.
Yulleus and the others followed, silent but determined.
As the doors closed behind them, Vellia remained standing alone in the chamber.
She had refused.
And now, the burden of the truth,
and the world's fate,
rested on the shoulders of only five.