Adrian lost consciousness. His small body fell limp, unmoving.
Somewhere in the vast haze of his mind, Adrian's eyes flicked sideways—unaware of what would come next.
He saw something ominous.
Two violent sparks of light collided in the distance, battling endlessly. One burned with destructive hunger, seeking to devour all existence. The other pulsed with strange reversal, like time unraveling itself, trying to restore what was lost.
What… is this?
He couldn't tell when it happened—when reality slipped away. Everything felt distant, like a dream submerged in water. His thoughts echoed in a void.
Is this my subconscious?Am I asleep? Or… dead?
Just moments ago, he was standing beside Father and the Bishop. He could feel their presence, hear their voices. Now—emptiness. Silence. Space. Stars. A weightless drift through something far beyond the world he knew.
Then he saw it.
A swirling mass—a red-black hole—forming around him like a monstrous eye. Panic surged in his chest. He turned, trying to flee, to escape its pull, to scream—anything.
But it was futile.
The void reached out and swallowed him whole.
Darkness.
That was all Adrian saw.
And all that remained.
...
Adrian slowly opened his eyes, a sharp pain coursing through every inch of his body. He couldn't move. Not even a finger. His limbs felt foreign, heavy—as if his body no longer belonged to him. He lay on something rough... wood, perhaps? But everything around him was shrouded in darkness.
Where... am I? His thoughts echoed in the silence."This isn't my consciousness, is it?"
Then it hit him a stench so vile it pierced through the haze of confusion. The reek of rot, decay... of death.
The smell of a corpse. No, not just any corpse. His corpse.Adrian's breath caught."No! How can this be?""No… impossible!""Noooo—"
His thoughts spiraled in horror."Am I... back in my real body?""Is this some cruel joke?"
He knew the truth before he said it. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't a hallucination. This was his own body.
"I guess... I'm back," he murmured, disbelief heavy in his voice.
A long pause followed, dread wrapping around his heart like chains.
"But where exactly am I now? And why can't I move?"
"Just... what's going on?"
******
"Duke… he will not survive," Bishop Gerald said, his voice heavy with regret.
The Duke gave no immediate response. His eyes, once fierce and commanding, now grew colder—emptier. Slowly, he stepped forward and gently took Trisen's small, lifeless body into his arms.His son wasn't moving. His heartbeat was faint. His skin—growing cold.
Looking down at his child with genuine concern, the Duke turned and rushed into the house.
He shouted with authority that shook the air:"GUARDS! Summon the best healer in Tiara City. NOW!"
The guards, sensing the urgency in his voice, sprang into action without hesitation.
Elsewhere…
Elenora's cries pierced the walls of the castle. She stumbled into the courtyard, eyes wide with terror as she saw her son unmoving.
"What happened to my child?! Why isn't he moving?! Why isn't he breathing?!",Her voice was raw, echoing across the cold stone halls.
"Elenora, stay calm. Please," Duke Edger Vaelros tried to reassure her, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "I promise… nothing will happen to our son."
But his words only made her scream louder—grief boiling into hysteria.
Moments later, the best healer in Tiara City arrived. His name was Ascor, known far and wide across the continent of Elrion as one of the finest in his craft. Without delay, he knelt beside Trisen and examined him. A swirl of green Mist energy surrounded his hands as he cast an advanced healing spell.
Mist gathered like fireflies around the boy's still body.
But as the minutes passed, Ascor's confident expression began to fade. He turned pale. His lips trembled.
"Your Highness…" he began, hesitation cracking his voice."The young master's condition is... abnormal. As if he's already...",He stopped.
"Already what?" Bishop Gerald asked, his voice sharp.
"…As if he's already dead."
Gasps filled the room. Elenora collapsed where she stood. The maids rushed to support her and carried her to her chambers.
"His soul," Ascor continued, "or more precisely, his consciousness… it seems to be gone."
"Gone?" the Duke's voice was low, dangerous.
"Yes… cut off completely. As if his body is no longer inhabited by the mind or soul that once lived in it."
"Explain yourself, Ascor," the Duke ordered.
Ascor hesitated, clearly disturbed.
"In all my years… I've never seen a case like this. It's beyond healing. It's not physical—his body is intact. But it's as though… 99% of his soul or essence has vanished. Not just unconscious. It's like he's been hollowed out. Only the shell remains."
Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.
Even Bishop Gerald was at a loss."This… this is not just rare. It's unheard of."
Ascor nodded slowly."Not in twenty years of healing—battlefield or castle—have I seen anything remotely like it."
The room was still. All eyes turned to the Duke.
After a long pause, his voice broke the silence—calm, yet seething with desperation.
"So… what's the cure?"
The hall fell into complete silence.
After a long pause, Ascor finally broke it, his voice low but firm:
"My lord Duke… perhaps you did not understand me clearly. What I'm saying is—this condition is incurable. There exists no healer—no technique, no power—that can restore or replace a vanished soul."
The words struck like thunder.Only now did the room truly grasp the weight of the situation.
Duke Edger's expression turned colder, his features hardening with sorrow. The sadness in his eyes began to eclipse the fury brewing beneath the surface.
He slowly turned to Bishop Gerald, his voice sharp with accusation.
"Bishop Gerald… what is this?""It's your fault. You failed the Enigma Ritual."
The bishop flinched, stunned by the blame.
"N-no, Duke Edger! The ritual was flawless. There's no mistake. I cannot— I wouldn't make such an error!"
The Duke's glare narrowed.
"Then explain this."
"Please, my lord, calm yourself." The bishop quickly added, "If my theory is correct… this isn't the result of a failed ritual. It's because Trisen was born with dual mist powers."
At those words, the Duke paused. His fury cooled just slightly. He turned his gaze back to his son's motionless body, and then to Ascor.
"Is there no solution?", Ascor bowed slightly.
"Your Grace… I need time to think. I will also contact the Imperial Healers for guidance. That is all I can offer… for now."
"You have two hours," the Duke said, voice like stone.
"Yes, my lord. If I fail to find anything by then, I fear Young Master Trisen's condition will become irreversible..."
Without another word, Ascor turned and rushed out of the palace.
Later… On the Palace Balcony
Duke Edger stood alone on the balcony, the wind tugging at his cloak. His face was a storm of sorrow and steely resolve. Though his daughter had arrived at the castle that very day, and Elenora remained in despair, he had no time for either. Not now.
He clenched the stone railing tightly. "I will save you, Trisen. No matter what it takes." The words echoed silently in his mind.
Minutes passed like hours. Then—suddenly—an idea struck.
His eyes lit up with a desperate hope. "The Genesis Stone."
He stepped back, breath catching.
"Yes… our family's treasure. The Genesis Stone—vessel of the green mist… the purest nature power in existence."
"If the legends are true... it can do more than heal wounds. It can reconstruct a shattered soul… maybe even restore life itself."
He muttered, voice rising with each word:"Genesis Stone… yes… it may be Trisen's only chance."
He knew the cost. The Genesis Stone was the heart of the Vaelros legacy. A sacred artifact guarded for generations.But if it could save his son?
"I'll do it," he whispered. "I'll sacrifice our greatest treasure if it means saving Trisen."
His expression darkened with grim resolve.
"Though… to retrieve it, I'll need his permission."He looked toward the inner keep."And I doubt he'll say no… at least this time."