The night was quiet, deceptively calm, a thin silver light spilling across the wooden floorboards of the inn room. Outside, the world slumbered, oblivious to the storm of power and secrets brewing within its walls. Yet inside, the air hummed with tension, the kind that made even the faintest sound resonate like a drumbeat.
Reider stood near the window, the moonlight washing over his sharp features, his eyes narrowed and calculating. The quiet was unnatural, hollow, the kind that prickled at the back of the mind with silent warnings.
"…Again?" he thought, his voice a whisper only he could hear, the words dissolving into the stillness. The memory of the white void pressed at the edges of his mind, a dream or perhaps a vision he couldn't ignore.
And then, before him, a figure emerged from the void—himself. Only older, sharper, carrying the air of someone who had seen what the younger Reider had yet to endure. Future Reider's eyes were closed, arms crossed, as if he had been waiting patiently for this moment.
"Took you long enough," the future self said, his tone calm but laced with an unspoken accusation.
"You summoned me," Reider replied, tension coiling in his chest.
"And you came," the figure said, eyes opening to reveal an intensity that made Reider's pulse skip, "because you're finally starting to doubt things."
Doubt. The word rang in Reider's mind like a bell tolling in a forgotten cathedral. He had lived long enough, seen enough, to understand the dangerous weight of certainty. And now, it was cracking.
"I need answers," he said, voice tight, "Can dark mana corrupt a god right after they awaken?"
Future Reider's gaze was unwavering. "Yes. Especially if their will isn't completely forged yet. The shift in power can be overwhelming."
The words struck him like a blade. His chest tightened. "Then Mei… If she loses control—"
"She won't," the older Reider interrupted smoothly, "not if you trust the weapon you've already placed beside her."
Reider's eyes flickered, narrowing. "You mean… Vael."
The other smirked faintly. "Took you long enough."
"Why her?" he asked, a whisper of curiosity threading through his suspicion.
"She's not just strong," Future Reider replied, voice measured, "she's anchored. Rage doesn't blind her, grief doesn't shake her, and loyalty… that's her curse and her strength."
Reider's jaw tightened. "She's still volatile."
"And so are you," the older self said quietly, almost tenderly. "That's why you recognize what you need."
A frown etched Reider's face. "Then why didn't I see it earlier?"
"Because you're still growing," Future Reider said, softer now. "Still too focused on being the solution, instead of building one."
"I've never trusted anyone to carry my weight before."
"That's why you'll fail if you keep trying to do it alone."
The younger Reider's eyes darkened, shadowed by memories of blood, screams, and the lives he had taken. "…I've killed too much. I don't want others to stain their hands for me."
"Then teach them to stain them for something greater," Future Reider said simply, the words cutting through the void with crystalline clarity.
He walked slowly around him, the faint sound of his steps lost in the omnipresent silence. "You asked about gods. About corruption. What you really want to know," he said, voice low and almost intimate, "is if you can stop it."
"Can I?" Reider asked, the question barely leaving his lips.
Future Reider nodded. "If you trust what you've chosen. And trust what you haven't yet accepted."
"Stop talking in riddles."
"You're not ready for the full truth," the older voice said. "But here's one: You weren't meant to be a god, Reider."
Reider froze. The world of the void seemed to still, the hum of energy pausing as if acknowledging the gravity of the statement.
"…What?"
"You were meant to be something beyond that. But you were forced into this world, shaped by hands not your own."
"By who? The Creator?" Reider demanded, a tremor of anger in his voice.
"Ask again when you're closer," Future Reider said, evading the question.
"Then why do I remember nothing of that past?"
"Because you weren't born into this world," came the quiet answer. "You were dropped into it. Broken. Fragmented."
Clenching his fists until his knuckles ached, Reider ground out, "Then who the hell am I?"
"You're the one who will decide that… not the gods. Not the demons. Not even me," the older Reider said, eyes steady, unwavering.
"…Then what do I do now?"
"You keep moving," came the answer, "and when Mei awakens—don't just watch. Be ready to guide."
"I thought Vael was the weapon," Reider said, still hesitant.
"She is," came the faint smile, "but even a weapon needs someone to wield it with purpose."
"And you… what are you?"
"A reminder," the older Reider said, tone gentle, "that you don't need to become me. You need to become you."
The void around them began to ripple, the world fading into white, dissolving like mist. "This isn't the last time we'll talk," he said. "But the next time, I expect fewer questions."
Reider smirked faintly, a shadow of defiance in his eyes. "No promises."
Then the world collapsed. White consumed everything.
Reider jolted awake, sweat dripping from his brow. The room was quiet, stillness pressing against him like a weight. He sat up, inhaling deeply, listening to the steady breathing of those around him. Mei's and Vael's soft breaths, rhythmic and calm, filled the quiet. Outside, moonlight washed the room in silver, painting long shadows across the floor.
"Vael… you're more important than you know," he thought, gaze flicking to the sleeping figure on the bed.
A soft movement caught his attention. Vael stirred beneath the sheets, muttering something incomprehensible, her long white hair spilling like a river of snow across the pillow.
Reider rose silently, moving toward the window, arms crossed. His mind churned with the vision's revelations, with the weight of the impending storm.
"If she loses control… if Mei becomes something else… it's going to be her. Vael," he thought, eyes narrowing. "But if anything happens to them—I'll burn this world down. Again."
Moonlight glinted in his silver eyes as he stared into the distance, calm but heavy with purpose. "…It's almost time."
Morning crept slowly through the curtains. The pale light brushed Vael's features as she slowly opened her eyes, shifting under the soft sheets. The breeze carried the faint scent of wood and smoke from the city streets beyond.
"You've been up all night again," she murmured, voice tinged with mild reproach.
Reider's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."
Vael smirked faintly, brushing hair from her face. "Surprised you didn't crawl into bed with me again."
"I need to know more," Reider said, voice low, serious. "About you. Not the guardian, not the warrior. You."
Vael's eyes softened, a sigh escaping her lips. "I figured this day would come," she murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. Light spilled across her shoulders, catching in the faint tattoo that traced her collarbone. "I wasn't born. I was made. One of the first… by the Creator herself."
The world outside seemed to hold its breath as Vael spoke. Memories long buried began to stir in her eyes, distant and luminous.
Vast primordial skies stretched infinitely, stars forming like molten jewels in the newborn cosmos. A colossal white dragon soared above the clouds, wings glinting with raw power. "I was given form before time was named," she narrated softly. "A being of raw power, meant to guard the balance. I was called 'Vayr'shal'. The others feared me."
Dragons fled before her immense presence, civilizations rising and falling while she remained a solitary sentinel. Snow and ice claimed her in the silent tundra, her form motionless, half-buried, yet vigilant.
Then came the woman—a fragile, determined figure who approached without fear. Day after day, she brought stories, food, and art, treating the dragon not as a monster but as a companion. Vael's heart, untested and raw, longed for the simplicity of being seen, of being loved.
One day, the woman brought her child—a boy with bright eyes and boundless energy. He laughed atop Vael's massive head, calling her "Aunty Vael." She remembered their joy, the innocence that flickered like firelight against the dark walls of her mind.
Reider listened, hand twitching as fragments of memory clawed their way to the surface. A fleeting vision of a boy laughing, of a woman smiling, nearly shattered his composure. "That… laugh. Why does it feel… familiar?" he thought.
Vael's eyes glimmered with a single tear, though her smile remained gentle. "I lost myself that day," she said quietly. "But I remember her words. 'Even monsters can love.' That's what she told me."
Reider's breath caught. The weight of recognition pressed against his chest, the sensation of a missing link settling into place.
She stood, the faint glow of her dragon mark shimmering, and the serenity of the room was shattered by a sudden, deafening CRACK. The window behind Reider exploded inward, shards of glass flying as a shockwave of magical energy surged into the room.
Vael reacted instantly, shielding Reider with her body. "An ambush?! Now?!"
Through the fractured window stood a shadowed figure, dark energy crackling across their form. Red eyes glowed, sinister and familiar, and a smirk curved their lips.
"Found you… Dragon Queen," the intruder said, voice laced with both amusement and malice.
Vael's eyes narrowed in fury. "You."
Reider's gaze sharpened, his body tensing as he recognized the threat. "You know him?"
The intruder's grin widened. "Oh, she knows me well… We were created together."
The room trembled under the weight of the figure's power. Outside, the first rays of sunlight struggled to pierce the darkness gathering in the inn.
Reider's mind raced, piecing together fragments of the past, present, and what the future might demand of him. One thing was certain: the coming battle would not merely decide the fate of a few lives. It would decide the fate of everything.
And Reider, as always, would stand at its center.