The morning light spilled softly over the horizon, painting the ocean a gentle shade of blue. The waves whispered quietly against the rocky shore of a small island, so forgotten that even most sailors gave it a wide berth. Count D Alex stood barefoot on the cliff's edge, the cool wind tugging at his coat, and for a moment, he simply breathed it in—the salt in the air, the calm hum of the sea, the way the world felt untouched here.
It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
He glanced down at the pendant hanging from his neck—a simple piece of jewelry to anyone else, but to him, it was the weight of generations. A golden serpent wrapped around a sun, the symbol of a family who'd carried a secret for centuries. Alex had grown up with the stories: of gods who fought monsters, of ancient wars that reshaped the world, and of the terrible power hidden in a single, glowing fruit.
He looked back out to the Red Line—the massive scar across the planet's skin—and the thought struck him again:So much has happened, and yet the world is still waiting for the next move.
He shook his head lightly, trying to push away the heaviness in his chest. He was trained for this—he had to be—but sometimes it felt like the stories he grew up with belonged to someone else. To the bold, shouting heroes in the legends. Not to him.
Alex wasn't the loud type. He was the quiet watcher, the one who stayed in the background. He'd been taught since he was a child that his family's role wasn't to seek glory, but to protect the fragile balance from the shadows. And now, here he was, about to take a step that would change everything.
"Just breathe," he told himself. "One step at a time."
The pendant twitched faintly against his chest, as if reminding him he wasn't alone.
Somewhere deeper on the island, hidden beneath ancient trees, the Aurelios fruit waited. A fruit unlike any other, said to grant the power to make imagination real — but at a cost few could bear. Alex had seen it before: glowing faintly in the moonlight, whispering promises and warnings all at once.
For weeks, it had appeared at his feet every morning. Like it was waiting for him, testing him.
He'd resisted, uncertain if he was ready for such a burden. But today, the pull was different. The fruit wasn't just a tool. It was a responsibility. A legacy.
Taking a deep breath, Alex bent down and picked it up. It was surprisingly warm in his hands, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. His fingers trembled as he brought it close, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to hold its breath.
The voice inside his head whispered doubts—"What if you fail? What if this destroys you?"—but deeper than that was a quiet resolve, a spark igniting. He wasn't just choosing power; he was choosing the path his ancestors had walked.
"I won't run," he said quietly. "Not this time."
Biting into the fruit, a flood of colors exploded behind his eyes. Memories not his own—laughter and sorrow, battles and peace, the endless fight for freedom—washed over him. He saw a boy with a straw hat, smiling wide and fearless, standing tall against impossible odds.
When his vision cleared, Alex was no longer just a man standing on a cliff. He was a keeper of an ancient promise, tied forever to a future he couldn't yet fully understand.
The island exhaled, and the adventure truly began.