Eight years later...
The corridor stretched endlessly before him—dark, damp, and cloaked in a heavy, suffocating gloom. The only sound was the steady echo of his own footsteps, a hollow tapping against the stone that seemed to vibrate in his very bones.
The walls were built of crumbling brick, worn by centuries of neglect. Moisture glistened on the floor, slick and cold. The air was so thick with dust and humidity that it clung to his throat, making every breath a struggle.
Cesar couldn't see the end. The passage felt infinite, a labyrinth that bent reality itself. Then, from the heart of that crushing darkness, a flash of light erupted—so violent and bright it forced him to shield his eyes.
~"A... light...?"~
With every step, the glow pulsed with an unnatural intensity, calling to him. He pressed onward, drawn like a moth to a flame, until—
Without warning, the corridor vanished.
A vast, silent room unfolded around him. His vision was clouded, blurred as if a thick veil had been draped over his eyes. He struggled to focus, but only one object stood out: a rectangular stone tablet mounted on the far wall. It was covered in ancient inscriptions, jagged and mysterious.
He took a cautious step forward, desperate to read them. But before he could draw near, a sharp, piercing sound echoed through the chamber. The room began to dissolve, the blur swallowing the world whole.
The next thing he saw was the wooden ceiling of his bedroom.
The alarm buzzed beside him: 7:00 AM.
Groggy and disoriented, Cesar sat up and killed the sound. "Again... that dream..."
He rubbed his face, the weight of interrupted sleep pressing down on him. "Why does it always end at the same point?"
He was used to it by now. The vision had haunted him for years, lingering in the corners of his mind like a persistent whisper. He rose from bed, moving through his routine in the heavy silence of a house that had become a tomb of memories.
Eight years had passed—years of solitude and the slow, gnawing ache of melancholy. Yet the house remained untouched. Cesar refused to move a single chair or alter a single corner. Every speck of dust was a monument to Oldgure. Though the world—and even Yuusaba—believed the old man dead, a flickering ember of hope still burned in Cesar's heart.
He trained daily. The exercises Oldgure had taught him were now muscle memory, though their purpose remained a mystery. He still felt... empty. No flames, no golden light. Just the firm, ghostly echo of his grandfather's voice urging him to push harder.
And every day, his eyes were drawn to the same silhouette on the horizon: The Castle.
He was certain now. His grandfather hadn't just disappeared; he had been swallowed by those stone walls. Yuusaba had eventually confessed that on the day he vanished, Oldgure intended to enter the forbidden fortress.
But the truth—the real reason why—remained lost in the shadows.
Despite his grandfather's ancient warnings, Cesar now frequented the village. He was no longer a child content to watch from a window; he needed to see the world, even if the world hated him for it.
The villagers hadn't changed. They had only grown older and more bitter.
"Still hanging around, huh?" a man spat as Cesar passed. "Look at him. The spitting image of that mad old fool."
"He actually shows his face here? Disgraceful," a woman whispered, pulling her child away.
Cesar kept his head high, eyes fixed forward. He had grown a thick skin against the scorn.
"Hey, you!" a boy called out, leaning smugly against a stone wall with his gang. "You know what your grandfather did was a crime, right? He got what he deserved."
Cesar didn't blink. He didn't even glance their way. His destination was Yuusaba's house, but the path took him past the old wooden stage in the village square.
Every time he passed it, his mind played the same scene: Oldgure, standing tall and defiant, spinning wild tales of the Vèiger and the Sun Bearer while the guards dragged him away. He could almost hear the old man's final, desperate cry echoing on the wind:
"One day, you'll all believe me!"
Cesar paused for a second, his fist clenching at his side. He looked toward the castle, the sun glinting off its cold, jagged spires.
~"One day"~, Cesar thought, his blood running hot for the first time in years. ~"I'll make sure they do."~