On the other side of the globe, a young boy found a cave covered by several black rocks and an imposing waterfall that fell gently downward, endlessly.
He was in the lands of the countries that had never managed to unite: the Lands of Chaos — Nozras, the fallen Empire.
"Why did the last trace of that damned book have to end up in Nozras? At least the war doesn't involve them. The last thing I need is for them to be stricken by that damn disease and then I'm in real trouble. In any case, I have to find this book for Marc. I'll at least do that for him."
Finally, the young man had decided to move. In this end-of-the-world, he judged himself that it wasn't intelligent or wise to stay behind when he had the ability to act. It would be cowardly.
Every day he thought about what he had told Marc when he left: that the world was inexorably sinking toward its end and that trying to stop it was nothing but suicide. He thought he had too much to lose. He thought he would miss his family if he lost them by not defending them in this apocalypse. But everything he risked losing wasn't just at home.
He had found friends with real bonds. He could try to fix things or at least do everything to save them, and he refused to drop everything out of fear of death. It might be suicide, certainly, but he would only know if he tried. And he chose to try.
Nathanaël scanned the cave he had entered. Behind the waterfall, in an almost imperceptible, impassable fissure, there was a yawning hole stretching into endless, damp, uninviting darkness.
It was a place unknown to many because few people wanted to go to Nozras, and very few books spoke of this cave. It was said that the first person to discover it had been killed savagely upon exiting, and all that remained of him was his blood.
The message was clear, and no one wanted to continue the expedition.
"The hidden border, the Nozras cave. Who would have thought it actually existed?"
"It exists, and it is well guarded, stranger."
Suddenly, a deep voice came from the depths of the cave.
Nathanaël felt a cold sweat. Someone guarded the cave, which turned out to be the only safe border he had. The problem wasn't that it was guarded — Nathanaël could have dealt with anyone at that moment. The problem was that those who guarded it were the inhabitants of Nozras. And the people of that ancient empire were pure warriors who lived only to conquer.
There were surely people stronger than Emperor Turcan in those nations, and Nathanaël knew it.
"What brings you here, stranger?"
The voice echoed in the cave like that of a superior being, judging Nathanaël from head to toe.
"I… I'm looking for an ancient book that might help me save the world."
Long ago, the emperor named Nozras drew his last breath. He was a powerful man who had unified all the clans and tribes of the southeast by his strength alone. No one doubted his power, and they supported him for many years. However, when he died, someone had to replace him. Many warriors stepped forward, but none wanted to give up their position. A massive battle ensued that fractured the empire. Then the divided parts split again and again until the land became a true battlefield for a century. For a hundred years, everyone took up arms and defended their cause — a century of nameless barbarity where whoever emerged victorious alone would remain king for a time.
After that century, things calmed little by little, but the empire stayed divided. Small nations formed within the empire with powerful leaders. However, where Nozras had once stood, the situation remained unchanged since the emperor's death. The most dangerous zone in the world had been named: the Arena.
"An ancient book, huh? Could you be speaking of the book that man holds?"
"I don't know. I need to see him to be sure."
"You know very well we don't accept strangers in Nozras unless they fight for the throne."
Nathanaël stepped forward slightly to see who was speaking and squinted.
A man with short black locks locked his gaze on him. He had two blue marks on his face that looked like ink or strange paint and wore very light clothing. He had no top, but his body was covered in tattoos. None of it seemed like a joke or mere decoration, which made the warrior imposing.
Nathanaël shivered slightly at the sight of the man's sculpted muscles. He wasn't broad, but he was extremely well-built.
He didn't want to fight him, but it seemed he wouldn't have much choice.
"I know that well."
"Are you here for the throne?"
The warrior's voice now sounded slightly irritated.
Nathanaël had no choice left. In any case, he knew that by setting foot here he would end up involved in this endless war. He rolled up his sleeves and walked slowly toward him, his gaze filled with burning determination.
"And what would you do if that were the case?"
Chris stood in the very heart of the battlefield.
Now, with his extraordinary abilities and unmatched growth, he had managed to rise to the top of his troop.
He had become the commander of Division Five.
They had reached Birch, and Chris had put on a performance nothing short of brilliant. His shots hit their targets eighty percent of the time. In close combat, no one could stand against him. Long-range fire was no longer an issue, and he alone could take down an entire Garidian squad.
After passing Birch, the little territory that Garid still held in the east had been conquered.
Now, Zvenne was the sole nation reigning over the entire north.
Chris advanced without fear, his gaze unshaken.
At one moment, a Garid soldier tried to take Chris by surprise. Hidden behind a wall, he stepped out at the last second to try and put a bullet through his head.
But Chris was no longer the same man.
He dodged the shot just in time, and in a flash, the soldier received a perfect bullet right under the chin.
Few had even seen what happened.
But unfortunately, the bullet Chris had dodged found its mark elsewhere..
in a soldier who had been following right behind him.
His armor, already badly damaged, couldn't stop the bullet. The man looked at Chris with lost eyes, searching for hope for just a single second. A second that seemed to last forever.
A second where Chris could see what it meant to lose one's life… and all the hope that came with it.
A second where his heart collapsed at the sight of a soldier already looking at him like a dead man.
Then the soldier smiled at his commander and fall.
Chris and the others caught him before his body could hit the ground.
Ever since becoming commander, Chris had carried the responsibility of caring for his division. But there were many of them—and in war, it was impossible not to lose men.
Chris had seen many die.
People who weren't even from his homeland.
He had followed Marc foolishly, and this was where it had led him..
to watch his own men die in a terrible war.
Chris closed the soldier's eyes and stood up.
"Take him away. We don't leave our fallen on the battlefield. Keep moving forward. The last city in the north isn't far. Let's finish this quickly and go home."
It was the first time Chris saw his comrades as they truly were.
He had always seen his friends and allies as pawns for his popularity. He didn't really care for people—only for what being with them could bring him.
But those days were gone. Chris was different now. He saw the world differently. None of his soldiers were a benefit anymore. No loss could be ignored.
Chris had turned his rage toward Marc into something else entirely..
A reason to keep moving forward.
Nathanaël had finally defeated the warrior blocking his path.
He hadn't been particularly hard to beat—the real challenge was doing it without hurting him too much. Nathanaël didn't want to break any bones. It wasn't necessary.
What worried him most was the thought of running into warriors who possessed aura within Nozras. That would be a real problem.
"Ugh, why did I have to keep helping him?"
Nathanaël had continued his search, hoping to find the slightest clue about the books. Eventually, he stumbled upon something interesting.
"Lavoisi had a library filled with his works, but after the massacre he was accused of, they burned it all—his library, his home, everything. So how did the books survive? Could it be because they held some kind of special aura? Either way, they were found. One ended up with Sanchez and was known as an apocalyptic book, and the other…"
The other book had been found thanks to Nathanaël's information. To be precise, it came from an unreliable source. He had noticed the burned-down house and discovered that the body of the little girl who had been inside was never found. Burned to ashes was one possibility—but vanished entirely was another.
The strangest thing of all was that her case was tied to one of the notifications Marc had received during his time repeating the forbidden word.
But the timelines didn't even match up—just like the man who had died in the field.
The girl had died over ten years ago.
Nathanaël had told Marc to go check it out. He had no idea the girl had been in possession of the book.
"If my predictions keep leading me down the right path, I might start thinking I'm the one who started all of this. Anyway, after that, the books scattered. I don't know how, but each took a different path. I learned that one of them is kept by the kings of Nozras. He claimed not to believe the stories but wanted to keep it anyway. There's a prophecy circulating in Nozras saying that this book grants a king extraordinary power—and that one day, the book will be taken from him at the moment he's closest to the throne of war. I'm guessing I'm the one who's going to take it. If not—or if it's not one of Lavoisi's books—then I'm probably doing all this for nothing and will regret it later."
Nathanaël thought back to Marc and his torment. He hadn't been able to stop himself from helping in the end. His friend needed help—that's what he was there for.
"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't fight beings from another world trying to destroy ours, huh? Well, I'm already involved anyway, no point turning back now."
But for once, Nathanaël had no idea where to begin.
"Well then… where do I start?"
He moved deeper into the cave. The uneven walls sometimes jutted out into sharp points, pushing back any hand that dared to reach for them.
He noticed carvings.
Depictions of people fighting with all kinds of weapons, shouting in every direction. The walls themselves were battlefields, engraved with figures of powerful men carved so that they stood out clearly.
But Nathanaël also saw one particular warrior—standing alone in the center.
He raised one arm toward a shining crown. He wore a cloak that looked almost royal, and many eyes were turned toward him on the battlefield.
For Nathanaël, there was no doubt.
"Nozras. He was so admired among all these barbarians."
Nathanaël kept walking, glancing at the walls from time to time.
Suddenly, he saw a more discreet figure—but one that had captured the gaze of a warrior who looked powerful.
A man draped in a long robe, torn in several places, riddled with holes.
In his right hand, he held a staff. In the other…
"A book. Could it be him? Could that be Lavoisi's book? Then there really might be something worth finding here… Or maybe I'm digging into stories that have nothing to do with me."
Nathanaël was skeptical—and for good reason.
The story of Nozras surely held mysteries he wasn't meant to uncover.
But still… maybe it was necessary. Necessary to save the world.
"At this point, there's no turning back anyway."
And so, Nathanaël stepped deeper into the darkness—
toward an adventure he would never forget.