[Northern Ruins – Hours Earlier]
Thunder echoed across the ruined battlefield.
Ash rained from the sky like snow.
The wind carried only silence now. No swords clashing. No roars. Just… stillness.
And in the center of it all, a girl opened her eyes beneath a collapsed temple.
Dust filled her lungs. Blood streaked her cheek.
She coughed, rolled over, and crawled free from the rubble.
Her white cloak was torn.
Her body ached.
But her mark—a glowing violet spiral on her shoulder—shone like it had just awakened.
She looked around.
The bodies of demons lay in every direction. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Torn apart. Burned. Some frozen mid-attack.
She stood shakily.
"…What happened?"
No answer.
No memory.
Not even a name.
She wandered the battlefield slowly.
Not a single human body among the dead.
Just monsters.
And her.
She knelt beside one, touched its clawed hand, and winced.
Its soul was still fading.
A voice echoed faintly in her mind:
"Vessel of the Forgotten... your silence is broken."
She clutched her head.
"No—no, I don't know what that means…"
Suddenly, she heard footsteps—soft and careful.
Not demon.
Human.
A tall man in black robes stepped from the smoke. His skin was pale. His eyes shined green.
A demon, but not like the others.
He smiled.
"Well, well. The third has finally awakened."
The girl backed away.
"Who are you?"
He bowed slightly. "I am Amon. Envoy of the King."
"Stay away."
Amon tilted his head. "You don't remember, do you?"
"…Remember what?"
He stepped forward slowly.
"That you're his favorite."
Before she could react, her body moved on its own.
The air around her shattered with force.
In a flash of violet light, she appeared behind him—blade in hand.
She didn't remember drawing it.
Didn't remember training.
But her instincts were faster than thought.
Amon turned just in time, blocking with a dark barrier—
CLANG!
Energy sparked.
She flipped backward, landing with perfect precision.
Breathing steady. Eyes locked.
Amon smirked. "Still dangerous. Even half-asleep."
"You talk too much," she said, voice low.
"Do you even know your name?"
She hesitated.
"…No."
"Then let me give you one."
He raised his hand.
"You are the Violet Tyrant."
Before he could strike, a blue lightning bolt split the sky.
A wall of wind blasted Amon back.
BOOM!
Coker and Naia appeared from the east, weapons ready. Elira followed, breath short, blade drawn.
The girl blinked at them.
More strangers. More energy.
Her instincts screamed.
But Coker raised a hand.
"We're not your enemy."
She pointed her blade. "Then tell me why I woke up in a sea of death."
Naia stepped forward. "Because you're one of us."
The girl hesitated. "Us?"
"Vessels," Elira said. "Sealed gods. Broken memories. Unstoppable power."
The girl lowered her blade slightly.
"…I don't remember anything. But I feel it. The pressure. The fire."
Coker nodded. "Same."
Behind them, Amon stood again, laughing softly.
"This will be fun," he whispered. "Four awakened. Three gathered. And one… already hunting."
He vanished into smoke.
The girl looked at Coker.
"…What now?"
He smiled tiredly.
"We find your name. Before someone else writes it in blood."
She looked away, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
"…Then lead the way."
Above them, thunder cracked.
The Violet Tyrant walked beside them now.
Her power was sleeping.
But soon… it would wake up screaming.