The old man crossed his arms. "The Watcher holds the Gift of the Visionary. It's inherited by every descendant of the First Watcher."
"The Visionary?"
"The power to make imagination into reality," the old man said.
Ron's eyes widened.
"A Watcher can create infinite universes, dimensions, even laws of existence," the old man continued. "He governs everything within his domain. Most Watchers create only one universe and observe it. But a rare few… have crafted billions. Every universe has its own Watcher."
"And the Black Sorcery Users?" Ron asked.
"They rule the World of Dark Souls," the old man said gravely. "A realm that exists beyond the macrocosm. It's billions of times larger than the first layer of reality—its floors are infinite, each one viewing the layer beneath it as mere fiction. The Black Sorcery Users are stronger than any Watcher. They often assist Watchers during cosmic wars."
"So they're stronger," Ron said, impressed.
"Yes," the old man replied. "But there's a curse bound to their existence."
Ron frowned. "What curse?"
"As long as both a Watcher and a King of Dark Souls exist at the same time—they are destined to fight. No matter how close they once were."
"Destined to fight?" Ron echoed.
"Yes," the old man said. "Even though the King of Dark Souls is stronger, the Watcher always wins. It's been proven across every recorded age. Even the True Black Sorcerer—stronger than the First Watcher—lost to him. Something always tilts the scales in the Watcher's favor."
Ron fell silent, absorbing every word.
"The next destined battle," the old man said, "will be between Wulkranoth and the current Watcher. Wulkranoth knows he'll lose. He's been preparing for thousands of years, but fate…" he paused, "…fate will still favor the Watcher."
The wind stirred, whispering across the ruined plain.
"But," the old man continued, "if an outsider—someone not descended from either bloodline—became a Watcher or a King of the Dark Souls, then everything would change."
Ron turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"If someone beyond both legacies rose to that throne," the old man said, "then destiny itself could be rewritten."
Before Ron could answer, the air ripped open.
A gaping hole tore through the fabric of space and time, reality bending like glass. The pull was immense, targeting only Ron.
He resisted—but the old man placed a firm hand on his back and shoved him forward.
"Go!"
Ron was swallowed by the void.
When he opened his eyes again, the battlefield was gone.
He stood in the middle of Hero Town. The skies were calm, the streets silent. In his hand, he held a familiar book.
He looked down.
The title was clear—
"END." (Book written by Dream, its name is END.)
Ron's heartbeat quickened. He raised his gaze and scanned the streets.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
And that terrified him more than any battle ever had.
Ron woke with a cough, brushing dust from his sleeves and steadying his legs. He was in Bruce's city — the skyline still familiar, the streets humming with the usual morning noise. He walked into a shop, and bought a bag to keep Book safe in it. He was hungry and tired. He bought new clothes, changed into them. Now was time to eat.
He walked into a nearby café, slid into a chair, and stared at his hands. The memory of being shoved into that hole — of the old man's push — tightened in his chest.
I'll kill him the next time I see him, he thought, feeling the hot knot of anger.
A flat voice from the television cut through the café clatter. "Today the former general of the Space Missions Department, Carter, faces his twentieth trial. Proceedings begin at four p.m. sharp."
Ron's eyes snapped to the screen. Carter? Going to court? Why? What happened while I was—?
"And Locki," the anchor continued, "the former head of Hero Town Police, has been in custody for three years."
Ron's coffee arrived before the shock could fully settle. The woman who set the cup down glanced at him, reading his stunned expression. "I can see it on your face, mister," she said softly. "Who would've thought the ones who saved Hero Town would end up wanted, jailed, or hauled into court?"
Ron looked up at her. "Do you know what happened?" he asked.