Rion's name had spread far beyond Elaria.
Scholars called him the Violet Sage. Priests called him the True Redeemer. Kings called him a threat they must respect.
With his status, he was granted access to what no mortal ever could, the Grand Archives, the shared collection of all five nations' magical libraries. Ancient spellbooks once sealed behind layers of divine encryption now lay open before him like petals before sunlight.
He studied relentlessly. Elemental arts from Sirin, mechanical runes from Tekyonix, celestial rites from Santomaine, and nature-binding incantations from Corollo.
Each text spoke in a different tongue, but his blood unbound by creed or crest understood them all.
His violet Manifesto burned through pages without flame, translating what the scholars themselves feared to read.
Even the great Borgas of Corollo, the continent's champion, known for mastering nearly every form of combat magic, could only look at Rion with awe.
When the two met, Borgas laughed and clapped Rion on the shoulder.
> "I trained my whole life for strength. You… were born beyond it."
But Rion only smiled faintly. Born beyond sounded like born apart.
---
Months later, his studies led him to Santomaine, the white continent, the heart of holy inquiry.
There, within the Chapel of Dawning Bones, he found a record older than the five nations combined.
It spoke of a sixth land, a continent that no map dared mark.
The Origin Lands, shrouded in mist and myth.
According to ancient historians, it was where the first Demon King fell in battle, and where his body decayed not into dust, but into shadows that spawned endlessly.
Demons, they said, were not creatures of will, but echoes, half-formed souls mimicking the nearest living thing to survive.
> "A demon could never be human," the scripture declared. "For they are copies, not creations."
The words struck Rion like a blade.
He thought of Celestine, her careful smile, her way of tilting her head when confused, her quiet habit of watching the moon. Were those feelings hers? Or borrowed from the woman she devoured?
That night, Celestine found him sitting in the cathedral's garden, silent.
"You learned something," she said softly.
He didn't answer at first. Then, with a voice barely his own:
> "They say you can never be human."
Celestine looked at her hands. "Then I will be your monster."
The words broke him and bound him all at once.
> "No," he whispered. "You'll be more than human."
---
As months passed, other nations sought his audience.
Tekyonix's engineers interviewed him, desperate to decode the formula behind his violet Manifesto. He smiled politely, offering words that explained nothing.
Then came Sirin, the warrior nation requesting a "friendly duel."
He expected their champion to be some mountain of a man, armored in fire.
Instead, a woman stepped into the arena, dressed in pale crimson robes, her golden braid gleaming under the sun.
"Name's Dyell," she said, smiling. "Strongest warrior in the world, apparently."
Her weapon was not a sword but a staff tipped with a healing sigil.
Rion frowned. "Healing magic? Against me?"
"Against anyone," she replied simply.
When the duel began, Rion unleashed storms of flame, gravity, and ice. Dyell dodged none of it. Each strike tore her flesh open, and each wound mended instantly under her touch. She walked through destruction like it was mist, eyes never leaving his.
When the smoke cleared, he stood exhausted; she stood unbroken.
> "You fight like you're trying to kill something in yourself," Dyell said.
> "And you heal like you've already made peace with what you are," he replied.
She smiled faintly. "Maybe that's why I win."
He didn't answer. For the first time, he bowed.
---
That night, back in Elaria, Rion spent hours in the mansion's cellar, surrounded by ancient tomes and glowing sigils. Celestine stood nearby, wrapped in white cloth to mimic human attire.
"Hold still," he said gently.
He whispered spells of flesh transmutation, of essence purification, each one a masterpiece of his vast studies. The air shimmered violet; her body flickered between demon and human, between truth and imitation.
But every time the spell reached her heart, it failed. Her chest would pulse with shadow, her eyes clouding with grief.
"Why won't it work?" Rion gasped.
And then his Manifesto flared to life, the violet fire forming words against the air:
> Ancient King.
Rion froze. "The Origin Lands…"
Celestine blinked through the haze. "What does it mean?"
"It means," he said quietly, "that what I need isn't in any book."
He gazed out the window where the five continents glimmered under the stars, and beyond them, the horizon stretched into uncharted mist.
> "The answers are where the first shadow fell."
The violet flame burned brighter, and for the first time, it felt like it was smiling.
- THE END