Once they were well away from the three, Eli finally let go of Edlyn’s hand; she drew breath to complain, a little sparrow puffing its feathers.

He gently covered her small mouth, a palm like a leaf stilling a ripple, and looked at the silent figure now standing ahead. He smiled. “Just as I thought. None of those three knew spatial magic. Yet you hid in the air; I almost missed you. I’ve got to admit, your power’s strong.”

A man in a white robe stood there, masked, only his mouth exposed like a pale crescent. He chuckled. “I must have made the Hero laugh.”

Eli’s pupils tightened, and a fierce aura rolled off him like a stormfront. The white-robed man stepped back in a hurry. “Ahem, Hero, I mean no harm.”

Eli glanced at Edlyn—when had the man put her to sleep?—and his arms tightened around her, weight settled like a promise. “What do you want?”

“Hero, we know you’re at the first stage of waking. So you should be looking for this, right?”

He produced an ornate pure-silver box, moonlight caught in filigree. He opened it slowly. A dark-red crystal floated inside like a drop of clotted dusk.

Eli’s pupils stayed wide. “This is my… memory… crystal?”

The man smiled. “Yes. For this, we slaughtered every Red Elf here.”

Eli glared, words dropping like stones. “What. Did. You. Say?”

“Eh, we killed them all. Over ten thousand—what a hassle.” He shrugged as if brushing dust from a sleeve. “All because they wouldn’t let us into the altar to take the crystal.”

He pressed his hand down, and the air around Eli hardened like glass. “Don’t be angry, Hero. You still can’t beat me right now.”

Eli found he couldn’t even twitch a finger, so he watched the man with eyes cold as winter water.

The man walked closer, lifted his palm, and the crystal rose like a firefly. It drifted toward Eli as if pulled by a tide.

He sat cross-legged like a monk at dawn. “Rest assured. Our New Era Sect will never harm you. We welcome your rebirth. Look—this crystal cost us dearly to secure for you.”

Eli closed his eyes. The crystal’s pulse felt familiar, like an old friend waving from across a sunlit road.

He sighed. He knew men of their level couldn’t tamper with the memories of the Hero he once was, no more than a child could chisel a mountain.

The crystal touched his brow and began to melt inward, snowlight sinking into earth.

White light wrapped Eli like a cocoon, and he slipped from the spatial bind as easily as a fish from a net. The white-robed man couldn’t help but praise, “As expected of the Hero.”

What is the New Era Sect after?

Do they simply want to resurrect the Hero?

And if they do—what then?

All of that lay in fog. But a hand held out in daylight is still a hand; help delivered is help not to waste.

Eli felt the past grow clear, a lake losing its silt. His understanding of magic deepened, root threading deeper into rock. Certain arcane truths thickened, iron in the blood.

His Myriad Spirit Lock, born of his and Birand’s experience, shifted as a kaleidoscope shifts, patterns turning one into a hundred.

Memory flashed. He stood on a mountain’s crown, watching the Alliance Army clash with the Demon Race below like waves breaking on black reef. The corner of his mouth lifted. The alliance moved step by step toward victory, a tide taking the shore.

He raised the Holy Sword, and endless power gathered like stormclouds. He shouted to all, “It’s time.”

The blade fell. Rivers of blood ran.

The vision ended. The crimson crystal merged completely.

Soon the white light faded. Eli’s hair had grown to his waist, drifting like a silk banner in the wind.

He opened his eyes. A small white magic array bloomed in his hand, and what had been translucent layered to a milk-white sheen.

The white-robed man’s smile froze to ice and cracked into terror. He sprang back. Eli’s smile was a quiet knife. “Too late.”

The white array flared outward and spat white mana bolts like machine-gun fire, a hailstorm shredding the air.

Under that dense tide of force, the white-robed figure flickered once and vanished like a lantern snuffed.

Eli frowned. “Fast runner.” He crouched, gathered Edlyn into his arms, and the killing pressure around him ebbed like an outgoing tide.

“Whew. This little thing sleeps like a log.”

Edlyn’s head lolled, a silver thread of drool at her lip. Eli wiped it away, torn between a laugh and a sigh.

“Dreaming of something tasty?” He stroked her soft cheek, then sighed again. “Don’t tell me I’m actually a lolicon?”

He shook his head, helpless amusement in his eyes, and looked toward the distance. “So there are ten memory pieces left in total?”