Darken didn't realize his mistake until it was too late—until he felt his foot meet nothing but air, and his body plummet downward, into the raging ocean below. The waves crashed violently against the rocky cliff, as if trying to tear it apart. Fortunately, he hadn't landed on the rocks. If he had, death would've been certain. But as soon as the water swallowed him, he was pulled into the depths—unable to swim, and with no desire to survive.
He didn't fight it. He didn't scream, didn't reach out for help. It was as if something inside him had been waiting for this moment for a long time, pushing him to abandon any thought of escaping. Drowning wasn't the problem—it was a silent conclusion to a tragic life filled with bitterness and pain. A long-hidden wish had finally come true. A strange feeling washed over him, a mix of relief and surrender, as though his chest—tightened by life for so long—had finally found comfort in death. He tried to think, to form one last thought to say goodbye to himself, but silence overtook him. The weight of the water around him seemed to muffle even his thoughts.
His long, wet hair slowly wrapped around his face, clinging to his eyes, twisting over his mouth, choking him with a quiet softness. It didn't hurt, but it shut the world out. He could no longer see the light. All he felt was the heaviness of his body sinking, and his heart beating slower and slower, as if counting down its final pulses. Everything in him was coming undone, falling apart, quietly leaving life behind. Even his soul seemed to slip away from between his ribs, with a stillness that felt like eternal absence.
'This feeling... my fingers are burning... as if fire is eating them.'
' The sun... it's getting farther away... like it's leaving me... abandoning me. '
Water rushed into his mouth—he hadn't shut it when he fell—giving him no chance to resist. It was as if the sea had decided to consume him completely, inside and out. A sharp suffocation gripped him. His chest tightened violently, as though the air had betrayed him at the last moment, leaving his lungs to writhe in search of breath. Every attempt to breathe only drew in more saltwater. With each second, his consciousness faded a little more. His vision blurred. The sun above the surface was no longer light—it was a distorted, broken shape, vanishing in the swirling currents, disappearing like the last hope inside him. His body surrendered to the deep, sinking without resistance, into the cold darkness, into the heavy silence, into the unknown he had always feared... and now, it embraced him.
' Is this... death? The way Aidi described it? I can't remember his exact words... but he said something about cold... about heaviness... and losing consciousness. Yes, I think this is it... '
Still, he didn't panic. He didn't fight back or cling to any thread of life. Instead, he welcomed death with open arms—like someone returning to a place he knew well and secretly missed. In his eyes, death wasn't an end. It was another beginning, free of pain, free of fear, hunger, cold, and the humiliation that had torn him apart inside. Death was a promise of peace—never to be beaten again, never to be insulted, never to be dragged like an animal under the lash of cruelty. There, he would finally be left in peace.
Darken surrendered, and the light in his eyes faded—but something inside him hadn't fully gone out. In a strange moment between drowning and disappearance, a few memories slipped into his soul—warm, soft—easing the sea's cold and the bitterness of the end. He saw himself again, sitting near the horses, beside the flowers, closing his eyes as tiny butterflies brushed his face while the caravan moved along. And he remembered Aide—the slave he had never truly known, but from whom he had learned so much. Aide was like the captain of Darken's ship in the sea of ignorance. He gave him understanding, taught him how to speak, how to think, how to be human.
As for Mary… she was something else entirely. Their encounter lasted no more than three days, yet she lingered in his memory like an entire lifetime. She wasn't just a memory—she was a rare warmth that slipped into his frozen heart. Her embrace was different, her gaze free of the cruelty he was used to. Her words carried no poison of insult, but the purity of calm. With her, for the first time, he felt that his heart could be at peace—could be still. He wanted to stay by her side, to taste that peace once more. But the sea, in its silent stubbornness, had already decided to take him away.
A faint smile formed on his face—not one crafted by conscious will, but etched into his features by surrender. His skin was turning blue, his expression dimming, but the smile remained—gentle, clear—as if it were a signature marking the end he had chosen with a content heart. And deep within him, at the last thread of consciousness, he whispered silently to himself: "I… accept my death."
Darken closed his eyes, surrendering quietly. He didn't ask for much—just hoped that his fate would lead him to that pure place where he had once glimpsed the child, Begarius—that being who embodied innocence and clarity. He wished to return to him, to play with him, to laugh like he never had before—to feel, even for a moment, that he was alive… even if only in a bodiless form, a soul drifting in peace.
But suddenly… a strange sound erupted. It wasn't just a call—it was a cosmic roar that thundered through his core, tearing through the silence of the sea, tearing even the laws of reality itself. In an instant, the feeling of water vanished, the weight of drowning melted away. Even the fear that had wrapped around his heart shrank—replaced by a terror of a different kind. A fear that wasn't of death—but of something beyond understanding, a presence greater than existence itself. He was floating—aimless, without direction—surrounded by absolute emptiness. But at the heart of that stillness… the same voice rang out—loud, furious, beyond dispute: "ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLISHNESS… I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"
That mighty voice wasn't just sound—it was a bolt that tore through his being, shaking his soul like lightning shakes the heart of an ancient mountain. Darken no longer saw death as a peaceful escape—but as a desperate retreat from this overwhelming presence. Death, with all its dread, seemed kinder than this being that transcended all notions of end. Its voice alone was heavier than the ocean's floor, more brutal than the darkness, fiercer than finality itself. Darken was paralyzed—even his eyes refused to open and see what stood before him.
"I AM THE GREAT SILVER DRAGON—EITHRIUS!" the voice roared like a speaking earthquake. "KING OF THE LAND OF DRAGONS, BEARER OF THE SUPREME MAGIC IN ALL EXISTENCE" and he said " I've Watched You… For Ten Long Years, I Have Observed You, Followed Your Path, And Witnessed Your Decline. You've become the embodiment of pity—AND BEYOND THAT, A DISGRACE… AN UNFORGIVABLE INSULT—TO ME, AND TO THE BLOOD THAT RUNS THROUGH YOUR VEINS!"
Every word that came from him was like bombardment—relentless, explosive—shaking the very core of Darken and pushing him toward madness. It wasn't a voice that offered comfort or brought peace. It was a voice filled with
legendary rage. And the stronger it grew, the more any last flicker of hope for survival vanished from Darken's mind—if any trace still remained. In its place, a single wish took root: immediate death—perhaps it would be the only end to this terror that surpassed anything he had ever known.
"MY BLOOD WAS SPILLED TO PROTECT THIS WORLD FROM ABSOLUTE EVIL!" the voice thundered, as if every particle in existence trembled under its weight. "And now… I see you disgrace that blood—the blood that flows through your veins—as if it means NOTHING! WHAT A SHAME!"
He paused for a moment, before continuing in a tone that allowed no argument—a tone that carried an unmistakable threat: "I will reshape you. I will remake you into what you were meant to be. You will live. You will fight. AND you will carry the power worthy of your legacy. But heed this—never, ever, walk the path of darkness. Dragons were made to serve the light, to defeat the dark, and to bring peace. NOTHING ELSE!"
Terror consumed Darken—his body could no longer endure it. Every word had been like a dagger plunging deep into his being, a sword slicing through his soul without mercy. He could no longer feel himself, or his mind—even his eyes began to roll back, as if his consciousness was collapsing, burning from within. But he wasn't given the chance to fall. He wasn't granted the right to collapse.
Ethereus roared, his voice tearing through silence and existence alike: "Now—ARISE DARKEN!, ARISE, SON OF THE DRAGON!"
Those were the last words— the final command Darken heard… before his eyes burst open, as if life itself had jolted him from the depths. He gasped sharply, like the air had returned to rescue him from death's jaws. His chest rose and fell like a startled horse, and his heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to flee a body on the brink of extinction.
"Where… am I?" Darken said, voice low and hoarse.
He stayed there for a few moments, lying still—understanding nothing, knowing not where he was or how he survived. His limbs trembled, his body still soaked with the chill of the sea, and the memory of the roar that had torn through his awareness. The voice of Ethereus echoed faintly in his head—heavy, confusing—but something inside him began to settle, as if fear itself was slowly losing its grip. His breath grew heavier… then steadied. He was no longer fully lost—he was starting to return to himself, slowly, and silently.
"All I remember… I was about to drown… then that thing appeared… what was it called again? The Dragon King?" Darken muttered, reflecting on the name—realizing how powerful it truly sounded.
Then, slowly, he turned his head. The sand beneath him was warm. And the sea… was eerily calm, as if nothing had happened at all. But he wasn't in it—he wasn't drowning anymore. He was out. He had survived. Somehow.
But survival wasn't joy. It wasn't salvation. It was shock.
And Darken, even in his survival, realized something
deeper: he was no longer the same. Something inside him… had changed.
"My voice sounds different… it's clean, and there's no pain in my throat. Is this what the Dragon King meant when he said he would 'fix' me? Hm… not bad, after all."
Darken closed his eyes slowly. Questions flooded his mind like a river—but no answers came. He didn't fight it, didn't chase meaning. Bit by bit, the storm in his head began to calm—until everything went silent. The moment was no longer strange. And the unknown… was no longer frightening. Just a deep quiet—foreign, yet not unwelcome.
Darken opened his eyes again, this time without panic.
His breathing was steady, like his chest had already accepted this new reality. He didn't rise immediately.
He took a moment to absorb the stillness around him.
The damp sand beneath him… The waves gently touching his feet… And the air, carrying the salt of the sea… mixed with the scent of a new land.
He didn't feel like a stranger. It felt… as if he was always meant to be here.
"I don't know how… or why… but I'm no longer the same Darken. I've changed—so deeply that I might as well be someone else entirely."
He rose slowly. His body felt different—taller, more balanced. Muscles stretched firmly beneath skin that had grown harder, tougher. He lifted a hand to his face and examined it as if seeing himself for the first time. His fingers were longer, cleaner than they'd ever been before. His hair had shifted from black to silver, falling around his face in a wild, elegant way—shorter than before, but softer… and lighter.
' What I remember… is that my body used to be nothing but weakness. Thin, brittle—unable to handle any real effort. But now… it feels better. Stronger. Amazing. ' Darken thinking calmly, then glanced downward and muttered,
"Lucky me… at least I'm decently covered down there. Though… these cloth trousers feel a bit tight. Still, I can move well enough."
But what truly stunned him… was the silence in his mind.
No fear. No panic. Not even the kind of frantic curiosity he was used to. He wasn't scrambling to understand what had happened—instead, he simply observed. Eyes sharp, thoughts steady, watching everything in quiet focus. Like a wise man—not a lost one.
"My mind is clear. My thinking… precise. Even the way I look at the world—it's sharp, logical. I was never like this. I was scattered, distracted… a fool, really. But now… now I feel like I've become the best version of myself. Maybe? I'm not sure…"
He turned his head slowly, scanning his surroundings.
No living soul in sight. Only the ocean behind him, and ahead—sand stretching toward a stone bluff rising several meters high. He narrowed his eyes, estimating the distance. No visible path upward. No climbable edge.
"Judging by the size… the bluff looks to be around seven meters at most. Not too high." He didn't hesitate. He didn't know why… but he felt like this new body of his—could jump.
"This body is strong. I can feel it. But… jumping that high? Insane. Still, why not try? I'm alone here. No one to embarrass me if I fail."
His feet sank slightly into the sand—then he pushed.
Hard.
His body launched through the air like an arrow, light and fast. He soared past the top of the bluff by four full meters before landing cleanly on its rocky surface. His knees bent slightly, absorbing the shock with remarkable ease.
No pain. No heavy breath. Just… stillness.
Darken looked out at the world before him. And he studied it—truly studied it. New land. Wider sky. Nothing familiar.
He whispered to himself, voice calm—no awe, but rich with quiet anticipation: "Looks like I've arrived… somewhere new."