“I poured so much effort into gathering memories. You think they’re just for show?” Eli shrugged, weary as a wind-beaten reed.

“Good, Hero. The trial lies within the Memory Crystal. Take your time and feel it,” the man said, voice cool as water on stone.

Eli drew a deep breath, like a diver facing black waters.

He checked the crystal for stray spells, then settled his mind and lifted the Memory Crystal wrapped in light, a cocoon glowing in his palm.

“The last shard no one took? Looks like the road ahead will be hard,” Eli sighed, then set it to his brow like a cold moon.

The crystal began to sink into Eli’s mind, like snow melting into spring soil.

The speaker in shadow sat on the roof, eyes flickering with strange light, foxfire under the eaves.

He chuckled softly, then stood and brushed dust from his cloak, ash shaken from winter charcoal.

A stark tattoo showed on his slender hand, ink burned into bark.

He lifted his gaze to the sky; sunlight washed his sickly face, and his eyes narrowed like a cat under noon glare.

“Finally… finally, is it time? Haha.” His laughter spilled like coins across slate tiles.

He half-kneeled on the roof and laughed without restraint, then, spent, sank to the tiles like a falling leaf.

He extended a hand; from his sleeve flew two shards identical to Eli’s Memory Crystal, twin moths flicking out of shadow.

This man was the master of the New Era Sect—Ascaraun.

Ascaraun watched the two crystals drift, held silence, then spoke, voice a bell muffled in mist. “When Eli has absorbed enough, throw these two in together. Then Lord Birand’s persona should fully wake, like dawn biting through fog.”

Ascaraun stared into the distance, his gaze drifting like smoke. “A pity. For centuries, I lacked hands. Those idiots of the Holy Sanctuary stole four shards. Otherwise, Lord Birand would return perfect, a constellation whole again.”

Ascaraun bowed his head and smiled strangely. “Sorry, Eli. You were always a sacrifice. A sacrifice doesn’t need its own will. So… in this trial, sleep here forever, stone under river.”

The Memory Crystal he gave Eli wasn’t fake. He had fused the crystals that held Birand’s persona and core soul, not shattered like the others—pouring an old river into a new basin.

Ascaraun bore Birand’s soul mark, an ember pressed into bone. He could see which parts Eli absorbed belonged to Birand; the vanished piece was the one of slaughter, a blade hidden in snow.

Thus Ascaraun knew his chance to revive Birand had come, like a storm breaking the drought.

After that crystal’s trial, Eli’s soul’s root would be wounded. Then Birand’s soul and persona could enter, take the helm, and become this body’s master, a captain stealing a ship in fog.

Eli’s soul stopped growing the moment he fused the first Birand memory. The strength that swelled after belonged to Birand’s soul, a river that wasn’t his.

In other words, Eli’s own soul was only seven or eight, a child, a sapling under a towering pine.

He seemed powerful, strong even without training, but that was simply Birand’s power, borrowed thunder in a borrowed sky.

He’d shoot up whoosh each time he held a memory vessel that was truly his, bamboo sprouting after rain.

Birand even helped Eli’s soul steer the body, to fool the kind and righteous fragments inside the Memory Crystals, so they’d see no cracks—silk laid over a blade.

Ascaraun looked down at Eli with a pitying gaze, rain on a withered flower. “What a pity. Your soul feels strong, but ninety percent isn’t yours. Otherwise, why would you forget your true love? Never felt that was odd?” He sighed, wind slipping through a broken window.

“You have nothing of your own but this body. Alas, I’m kind at heart. I planned your life from the start and gave you a… relatively sweet childhood. Didn’t I?” His words fell like seeds on hard earth.

“Of course, you meeting the Demon King surprised me. The Demon King still living was beyond expectation, a shadow that refused to fade.”

Ascaraun watched Eli step into the memory battlefield and sighed, a touch of sorrow, speaking to himself, voice a low drum in dusk. “Too bad I can’t wait. You search too slowly for the crystals.”

Ascaraun’s gaze stayed on Eli inside the room, a last look at a candle before storm.

I know you’re pitiful, but there’s no other way. For the goal, these methods must be used. You’re a sacrifice; now you’re just walking your last stretch as one. You never had a chance to resist, because from the start, this was set. You aren’t Birand; you can’t replace him. Only he can replace you. Maybe you’ll think it unfair, but there’s no help for it—you’re a sacrifice. I’m sorry. Your life, these decades, were false. Now, it’s time to return everything, leaves falling back to root.

Ascaraun closed his eyes and thought, like a monk before incense. His hard days were ending. When Birand woke, his curse would break, iron rust finally flaking away.

He tossed the two crystals down. They spun around Eli, circling like swallows.

When the moment came, they would fuse with him on their own, gears clicking under black water.

Ascaraun lay back on the roof, eyes closed, and waited for Eli to finish absorbing that Memory Crystal, patient as frost before dawn.

…

“Where is this?” Eli frowned, looking at his translucent body, a figure of glass floating in a sea of stars.

Here was a sky of night without ground, only the endless glitter of constellations, lanterns set across eternity.

Ahead, a silhouette he knew too well appeared and watched him with cold eyes, a mountain face under winter moon.

“Birand?” Eli frowned. This Birand felt slightly different, a blade honed again.

“I can feel what you’ve gone through with each fusion,” Birand said calmly, voice level as still water.

“That guy said there’s a trial. Why do I see you the moment I come in? Are you an illusion? Or did he lie to me?” Eli’s words scattered like startled sparrows.

Birand didn’t answer. He clasped his hands behind his back, gaze empty, a man watching distant rain.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eli pressed, a drumbeat uneasy in his chest.

Birand slowly focused on Eli. “Child of the later age. Sleep a while. Soon, even pain will drift away,” he said, and beckoned to the air, a conductor inviting silence.

Outside, the two crystals began to fuse into Eli’s body, threads stitching under skin.

Birand closed his eyes and felt for a moment, then smiled, relieved, sunrise easing a long night.

“Huh? So what’s happening?” Eli stared, confusion like fog around him. He couldn’t move at all; Birand’s gaze felt like a spell pinning him, pins in silk.

“Hey, Birand. What’s going on?” Eli called, voice thinning like smoke.

In the next instant, Birand stood before him. He raised a hand and gently covered Eli’s eyes. “You don’t need to know too much. Rest a while,” he murmured, snow settling on lids.

Drowsiness surged at once, tide pulling at Eli’s feet.

He fought it, a swimmer against current, unease welling in his heart like black ink.

“Tell me! What happened? Why are you—”

“Sleep,” Birand sighed, and poured out his power, a river filling a husk.

Eli couldn’t hold on. His eyes drifted closed, petals folding at dusk.

In the real world, Yiyi jolted, a thread tugged. She stepped out of her avatar space, brows knit, and studied the main body, a hawk peering for a pulse.

“What happened? Why can’t I suddenly feel the main body’s aura?” Yiyi bit her lip, teeth on frost.

She feared something had broken; she couldn’t sense Eli’s strength, though he still sat cross-legged on the floor, a statue before an altar.

“Hey, hey, main body. Wake up! What happened?” Yiyi hurried forward and gently shook him, hands trembling like leaves.

Eli’s eyes opened slowly. He looked at Yiyi, then sighed. “Too weak. Useless to me,” his voice a blade sheathed without care.

Power flowed back into Yiyi’s body, a stream finding its spring. She stared, wide-eyed. “Eh? That’s the avatar core? Main body, you—”

Eli—or Birand, now more fitting—extended his right hand and flicked her away, a finger snapping a sparrow from branch.

She, clutching the avatar core, slammed into the pillar behind; a white light swept through, and Yiyi vanished, like snow blown from a sill.

Birand frowned and didn’t bother with her. That flimsy avatar core was useless to him; returning it to that avatar and sending her off was his small payback to Eli, a leaf laid on a grave.

Birand smiled, face bright with confidence, sun after storm.

“Ascaraun, aren’t you coming to report the situation?” Birand said with a chuckle, hands clasped behind his back, voice thrown to the sky like a banner.

“Ah… my lord. You’re finally awake.” Ascaraun let out a long breath and floated down from the roof, a crow gliding to earth.

Only half an hour had passed since Eli fully absorbed that Memory Crystal.

Ascaraun clicked his tongue, impressed, ember flaring at thought. It seemed Birand couldn’t wait to return, thunder impatient inside the cloud.