"You have not infringed upon any of the laws of time; therefore, lost child, you shall suffer no penalty. But let it be clear to you: this is the first and last time such a thing will occur. Now, prepare for your new beginning and rejoice in the kindness of the Lord of Time."
An entity made of pure light—appearing as a constant flux that surged forward and retreated simultaneously, shaped like a cube—spoke with an androgynous voice.
An old man on his knees listened with a bowed head, showing deep reverence. His grey hair stretched to the floor, and he wore only a red mantle to cover himself. His skin was a map of scars, yet his face revealed a breathtaking youthfulness beneath the wrinkles—the only part of him left unmarked by war.
"Even one with billions of years of memories is still just a child before you?"
The old man's voice was hoarse and low, yet undeniably enchanting. Any other being hearing it would feel compelled to please him by any means possible.
"Your very existence is like looking at a newborn," the cube said, floating closer.
"I, the Herald of the Lord of Time, hereby declare that the soul of the dragon, Azeyr Aius Everegium, be sent back to the dawn of his consciousness, carrying all memories and progress present within his essence. An exception granted due to the interference of the Lord of Space in the planes of time. With this in mind, Level 0 permission is activated. Have a good life, little dragon."
Space and time became tangible and visible the moment the cube finished speaking. The old man's eyes widened in shock as he felt his soul being torn from his body.
'So this is the power of a supreme being. All the barriers that would trouble even a primordial god are like sheets of paper to this monster. Truly terrifying. I'm glad I never involved myself with them—except for that damn Lord of Time, but that bastard is another story.'
Azeyr thought of everything he had endured for this chance. He had hoped to return a few millennia or send a message to his past self, but to return completely—to his universe, his planet, and his family, where everything first went wrong—was a magnificent surprise.
His eyes watched intently, trying to extract knowledge from a process that surpassed Emperor-class magic—something he hadn't reached even in a thousand years of physical life. This magic seemed light-years beyond what even gods considered the pinnacle.
"One last piece of advice: do not involve yourself with any of the Lords again. There will not be a second time, young dragon…"
The cube's voice faded, replaced by an unsettling noise that shook Azeyr's very existence. His soul was shattered and sent to the beginning of time, wandering for countless years until it found the perfect opening: the exact moment of the formation of the fetus that would be, is, and was the body of Aius.
As his existence formed in his mother's womb, the new soul was swallowed by the ancient one. He waited through nine long months of gestation, awakening at the onset of labor.
Thursday, November 2, 2000.
Inside a sterile room, a woman with long white hair sweated profusely. As she pushed, resisting the urge to scream, a red-haired woman in a maid's uniform—appearing to be in her thirties—encouraged her while checking the baby's progress.
Leaning against the door was a tall, black-haired man in exquisite clothing. His black eyes, featuring purple dragon-like slits, watched with indifference.
"Grrr…" Though he didn't truly care, it was unpleasant to lose an experiment the elders had insisted upon. He was irritated at the thought of losing one of his "treasures," but he knew a few days of relaxation with the maids would make him forget it entirely.
A shorter but still imposing man appeared behind him and bowed deeply.
"Lord Kalon, the elders demand your presence in the conference room. They likely wish to blame you for the failed births."
"Grrr… it seems Lillian will be a failure too. If she doesn't die, strip her of her position as a concubine and give her enough money to leave. Take the baby to the usual place…" Kalon said, departing with his subordinate without bothering to learn the maid's name.
'Finally, that bastard is gone. It sickens me to think I'll have to call him father. By the Lords of Life, I hope someone kills him today... as if that would happen...'
Azeyr, who had regained consciousness days prior, had spent them protecting his soul with Greater-class spells cast from his Lesser-class core. He hadn't risked being born while Kalon was near; though he doubted anyone could identify his soul's state or his awakened lineage, he couldn't take the chance.
Finally, he allowed his mother's efforts to push him out.
'That cube could have mentioned my lineage would change again. If I'm not mistaken, I'm nearing the apex of my race. My blood must be that of a Control Emperor Dragon. A long name, but it makes sense.'
He emerged into the maid's arms, who cut the umbilical cord.
'Ah! Almost forgot. Time to act like a good son and cry a little, then pretend to sleep...'
But his plan crumbled. Everything he had held back for centuries surfaced in a cry that, to others, symbolized life, but to Azeyr, symbolized longing. His mind simply stopped functioning and acted on instinct. Only he knew how much he had missed his mother.
His small, brilliant amethyst eyes blurred with tears as he looked at the woman smiling at him. She was young, her eyes filled with a maternal gentleness that made him the center of her universe.
She took him from the maid, cradling him while whispering the chants of the Dragon Goddess—a tradition that cost much mana but ensured the deity's gaze upon the child.
'I won't lose you. No one will take me from you. No one! I will never be weak again, and I will never be a pawn in someone's game. Everyone in this family and this universe will pay. It will take time, but I have learned to be patient.'
If Lillian had looked closer, she would have seen his amethyst eyes turn as dark as black holes, appearing to suck the very color from the room. But it mattered little; if Azeyr had looked into her eyes, he would have seen an obsession equal to his own. Dragons are driven by emotion, and that day, a permanent bond formed between mother and son—both intent on protecting the other. May the Goddess have mercy on their enemies.
The Herald of Time watched, invisible. He found it amusing that a "returner" only showed true emotion in the first days of their return. Seeing the boy's evolving lineage, the Herald decided to help. He drastically increased the purity of Azeyr's mana in exchange for a much slower core advancement.
As a bonus, he granted a small, "harmless" gift—a spark of cunning that would surely make the dragon a headache for the Lord of Space in the future.
'Heh, interesting. I expect much from you, Azeyr Aius Everegium, and from you, Lillian Aena Everegium. I want to understand what drives a being to suffer so much just to find someone again. Do not disappoint me.'