Thalvoria City.
The second-largest city of the Seraphis Federation.
The sprawling heart of Seraphis, it stood as a monument to human ambition—vast, proud, and a little too self-assured of its own strength. The skyline was a jagged crown of spires and magitech towers that glittered beneath the midday sun, their mirrored glass catching the light like a challenge hurled at the heavens themselves. Yet beneath all that brilliance, there was something rawer, something untamed.
Solara Prime might have been the capital—the Federation's polished jewel and shining face—but Thalvoria… Thalvoria was its blade. Rougher. Sharper. Constantly pressing against the wild.
As I walked its streets, I couldn't ignore the sheer density of life here. People surged like rivers down cobbled avenues, weaving between carriages drawn by steelhorn beasts and the sleek hum of magitech trams. Aromas of food clung to the air—savory skewers sizzling on iron grates, honeyed pastries from street vendors, and sharp tangs of foreign spices carried from ports leagues away. The noise was alive, a tide of chatter and bargaining, children laughing, merchants bellowing, the occasional bark of a hunter rallying his squad as they prepared to leave through the western gate.
And there were a lot of hunters here. More than in Solara Prime.
The reason was obvious. Beyond the walls of Thalvoria stretched territories that hadn't yet been reclaimed. Lands where monsters thrived, spilling endlessly from Gates that had remained stubbornly active since the Aetherfall. This city was less a home and more a fortress masquerading as a metropolis—a staging ground where humanity's edge constantly clashed against the wild unknown.
I passed a group of Awakeners in dark coats, their weapons strapped across their backs, laughter booming as if they hadn't a care in the world. Across the street, black-armored enforcers kept watch, their sharp eyes following the crowds. The balance here was delicate: hunters drawn by glory, officials clinging to order, and citizens who had grown used to living one disaster away from annihilation.
'Certainly matches the game,' I thought, tracing the familiar architecture with my eyes. Thalvoria had been one of the free-roam hubs in *Legacy*. A place you could wander endlessly, picking up side quests, gambling away coin at taverns, or diving into its darker underbelly. And, of course, it was the site of one of the infamous early-game events.
The museum incident.
That was why I was here.
I checked the time on my watch. If I wasted too long sightseeing, I'd miss the setup. I muttered under my breath, voice carried away by the city breeze:
"Anyway, I shouldn't waste time. Let's head to the museum."
---------
The Thalora Museum
The museum stood like a relic of its own—a towering stone structure built long before the Federation even existed. Wide steps led up to an archway carved with glyphs so ancient that even the brightest scholars could only hazard guesses about their meaning. Time and war had scarred the façade, yet the Federation had polished those scars into ornamentation, proof of survival.
Today, this place was the stage for the first event: Terror Attack on Thalvoria Museum
According to the game, the attackers would be Demonic Humans. Not rebels, not revolutionaries—lunatics who had willingly carved open their souls and invited corruption inside, selling themselves for strength. Brutal and fanatical, but never aimless. Their true goal wasn't simply destruction. It was theft.
They wanted the Void Eyes—a Hidden Fragment, one of the Mad Sage's scattered relics.
I remembered the sequence clearly. In the game, the main cast—Michael, Celestina, and eventually Amelia—fought through the chaos.
To obtain the eyes, they had to fulfill a specific condition, and it would set off a chain of events. While the leader and a group of demonic humans would fight the main cast, delaying them, the rest would get the eyes. At the most critical moment of the battle, one of the henchmen would pass the eyes to their leader, and then the final confrontation would begin.
The main cast would unite and, together, defeat the leader, with Arthur delivering the final blow, ultimately killing the demonic human leader.
'That was how things are supposed to unfold today, but now that I'm here, things are going to be different. It will be me who will get the Void Eyes.'
---
Crossing the threshold, I stepped into a hall that smelled faintly of parchment, candlewax, and polished stone. The air was cool, steady, lit by arrays of mana-crystal lamps embedded into the high, vaulted ceiling.
A woman in uniform approached, her smile professional but warm. "Welcome to the Thalora Museum! Would you like a guide to assist you?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'll look around myself."
"Of course! Feel free to take your time. If you have any questions or need assistance, don't hesitate to ask." she said, bowing lightly before turning to another guest.
I started forward, my boots echoing against the polished marble floor.
The first exhibit was designed to impress: rows of silvery-white ingots displayed in reinforced cases. Golden veins pulsed faintly within them, like the slow heartbeat of something alive. Even behind the glass, I felt the mana hum in the air.
A plaque read:
The Lightborn Metal
*Forged in the dying heart of collapsing stars, the Lightborn metal absorbs ambient mana and transforms it into pure luminance. Once used by ancient civilizations to power their floating cities.*
'And now they're locked behind glass, admired by gawkers with no idea how to use them.' My lips twitched in faint amusement before flattening. I wasn't here for trivia. My destination lay upstairs.
The second floor housed the real treasures—the kind of relics wars could be fought over. Including the Void Eyes. No surprise the stairwell leading up was flanked by two Awakeners, their uniforms crisp, their postures radiating discipline. To an ordinary visitor, the way was sealed. To me, it didn't matter. Soon enough, the attackers would clear that path.
I drifted further, outwardly aimless, inwardly calculating.
The exhibits here were impressive—floating orbs of liquid fire sealed in crystal, a tapestry woven with threads that shimmered like starlight, the skeletal remains of a beast so alien it twisted the mind to look at its jaws. Each had a plaque. A story. A blurb crafted to make ordinary people feel like they were in the presence of greatness.
I skimmed them. Relics of power, yes, but none compared to what I sought.
As I was looking around I heard a familiar voice carried across the hall.
"You guys are here too.
I stilled, eyes narrowing before I turned subtly to trace the source.
There I saw a Firey haired girl walking towards Michael and Julia .
"Well, the Thalora Museum is one of the hot spots. Makes sense we'd run into each other."
Julia's laugh was soft, calculated. "Guess we're all history buffs today."
Amelia's answer was curt, measured. "History matters. Especially when people keep repeating its mistakes."
Michael chuckled, but Amelia's tone left no room for banter.
I narrowed my eyes. 'Amelia wasn't supposed to be here yet.'
In the original timeline, Michael and Celestina triggered the event. Amelia only arrived later. Now, Celestina was absent, and Amelia was already here.
'Butterfly effect,' I thought grimly. My presence was shifting things out of alignment. But perhaps this wasn't bad. 'Actually, this might work out better. If she sticks helps them then, I'll have fewer people to worry about during the attack.'
I shadowed them at a distance, silent and unobserved. They didn't notice me—and I intended to keep it that way.
Normally, I wouldn't have paid them any attention, but this time was different. I needed to keep a close eye on them. Thankfully, the museum was vast, and the group hadn't noticed me yet.
Making sure to remain unnoticed, I trailed at a safe distance. I watched as the three of them moved through the exhibits, smiling and laughing, clearly enjoying themselves.
Time passed in measured drops. The museum's atmosphere hummed with quiet reverence. Families strolled, children pointed in awe at glowing artifacts, security patrolled with casual vigilance.
And then the world shattered.
A deafening explosion tore through the museum. The shockwave rippled across the hall, shattering glass, hurling relics like toys. The ground buckled beneath my boots, debris raining from the vaulted ceiling.
Screams ripped the air. Alarms shrieked. Dust swallowed the lights, turning the museum into a storm of choking chaos.
I dropped behind a fallen pillar, letting rubble shield me from sight.
The air tasted of ash and fear.
Chaos. Terror. Perfect.
Through the cries and the ringing in my ears, my pulse stayed steady.
My lips curved into a faint smile as I peered through the haze.
"The first event has begun."