The silence after Sunny's awakening was heavy, broken only by his own words.
"Fine," Sunny exhaled, "let's go."
Zayeron tilted his head, a faint, almost mocking smile curling on his lips.
"Go? Where exactly?"
"The tower," Sunny said firmly. "We'll destroy it."
For a moment, Zayeron just stared at him—then laughed. It wasn't the laughter of joy but of disbelief.
"You really think you can joke at a time like this? That tower isn't just a building, Sunny. It's guarded by countless Starborn. Weapons older than memory itself lie there—the Thunder Heavenly Blade, the Crimson City's Seal, and even the Withered Dead Tree. Artifacts forged from heaven's own wrath. And you… you've just awakened, and now you're telling me we should march straight into death?"
Sunny clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
"I don't care. I can't just sit still."
Zayeron sighed, his eyes lowering as if drifting far away into another time.
"Do you even understand the difference between here and there? From where you came, time flows gently. But here—fifty days are nothing more than an hour to your world. That gap, that cruelty of balance, is what defines this realm."
His voice softened, but his gaze sharpened like a blade.
"Tell me, Sunny… shall I tell you a story?"
Sunny hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes. Tell me."
Zayeron raised his right hand, staring at the scar that ran across his palm. His lips trembled for a moment before he began.
"Mom… I'm back."
The words fell into emptiness. He looked around—there was nothing, only corpses. The village that once breathed life was drowned in death.
And then… a boy's broken voice echoed in memory.
"Adam is coming."
Zayeron's tone darkened.
"Adam was not just a man. He was someone who loved deeply, perhaps too deeply. But when heaven demanded balance, when justice required sacrifice, they killed the one he loved. From that day… Adam carved a single truth into his heart: Until heaven itself is destroyed, I will never sleep."
Sunny felt a chill crawling up his spine, but Zayeron continued, unshaken.
"Centuries passed. Hundreds of thousands of years. His name became legend, and then… faith. A cult rose from his shadow, worshippers who called themselves The Cross of Sky. They believed Adam's will was divine law. They raised warriors, broke nations, manipulated kings—and when their usefulness ended, Adam slaughtered them all without hesitation. Such was his conviction."
The air grew heavy, suffocating.
"But their obsession bore fruit," Zayeron whispered. "They found it—the Heavenly Grass City. A place where time itself shatters. Spend two years inside, and you walk out with power enough to bend fate. But outside… decades would already be lost. Families, friends, even empires… all gone in the blink of an eye."
Zayeron finally looked back at Sunny. His smile was gone. His eyes carried the weight of eternity.
"And yet, Sunny… this is the same fate you are walking toward.