I reached into the box.
There was no need for words. The gloves were there, waiting for me, as if time itself had frozen in that moment, watching me reclaim a fifth piece of myself.
When I touched them, something leapt beneath my skin. A surge of energy—not from the metal, but from something deeper… as if the gloves knew me, as if a part of my soul had been trapped inside them.
The gloves were cold to the touch, despite the warmth of the room. Heavy, but in a comforting way. When I touched them, they weren't just pieces of metal—they were an extension of my lost power. Every engraved line on their surface carried a memory… an explosion, a scream, a moment of decision.
I closed my eyes.
I felt the hum. That faint sound only I could hear.
The moment of merging… the moment of activation.
When I opened my eyes, I was different. My form hadn't changed, but the air around me had. It was heavier, more disciplined. The gloves began to glow with dark threads dancing across their surface, then faded—as if to say this was not the time for display, but for return.
But before I left, Erbto said one thing.
His voice was still weary, but sharp as a blade:
"What do you truly intend… once you regain your full power?"
I looked at him, at the face that had regained a hint of life, then at Alvira who stood silently beside him.
I didn't answer.
No denial. No confirmation.
Just one long look—enough to leave a shadow of concern.
Then I vanished.
I found myself at the edge of the World Gate, in the world of Ifisto, a realm that knows no peace. Everything was fire, rock, and molten lava. No time for farewells. No room for hesitation.
I entered the visual code into the gate's interface. The air was charged, as if the world itself resisted my departure. But I entered. Light consumed me, and sound faded.
And when I opened my eyes again, I was in another world.
The calm hit me first.
The sky here was the color of eternal dawn, and the clouds drifted slowly as if they carried no burden. The trees were lush, in unfamiliar hues, and greenery stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by transparent rivers reflecting the sky like a mirror.
I fell to my knees from the sheer contrast.
My body, used to the heat of Ifisto and its brutal terrain, was unprepared for such sudden serenity. I breathed slowly, trying to grasp where I was.
Yes… I had arrived in the world of Andomeda.
I raised my hand and began removing the protective layer I had woven from shadow in Evisto. It wasn't a part of me—just a temporary armor that shielded me from a deadly climate. I didn't need it anymore. The layer shrank, then vanished like smoke drawn out an open window.
I stood slowly, inhaling clean air for the first time in a long while.
Then I began to think.
"Andomeda… the world of peace and kindness."
At first glance, this world seems like an unspoiled paradise. Crime is nearly nonexistent, and murder so rare it's written about like myth. But things weren't always like this.
It all began when the world was divided into two kingdoms.
The first, to the north: Ouranostma, the Crown of the Sky.
A kingdom built in the air, floating on massive platforms sustained by ancient magical sources. Its people lived among the clouds, breathing magic as we breathe air. Their city mirrored childhood dreams—but their power was far deadlier than appearances suggested.
The second kingdom was in the south: Luxidon, the Sword of Light.
The land there was harsh, but it forged its people. Known for their strength, discipline, and combat skill, they had no magic—only sweat, steel, and rigor.
For years, they coexisted in a fragile balance.
Then… the balance collapsed.
The Great War erupted.
No one knows who started it, but its flames devoured millions. The sky burned, and the earth split like open wounds. Thousands perished in meaningless battles.
Then something unexpected happened.
Love.
The prince of Luxidon, Nikolai, fell in love with the princess of Ouranostma. It wasn't forbidden love—it came naturally, as if the world itself had grown tired of war and longed for an excuse to rest.
They married, uniting the kingdoms under a new name: Enosi. A complete ban on weapons among citizens was declared. An era of peace began and lasted for years.
But peace, as I've learned, never lasts.
The princess died—for reasons still unknown.
Nikolai mourned until he broke. He wanted to immortalize her memory, so he renamed the kingdom Andomeda, after her.
But it wasn't enough. Grief consumed him from within.
And he died.
Before his death, Nikolai did one last thing.
He knew that his magical necklace—the sixth piece—would one day be claimed by someone to rule the land in his place. It was said the necklace boosted any wearer's combat ability by over 200%. He didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands, so he built Daimas—a living labyrinth that constantly changed its shape like a sentient being.
Each year, the strongest warriors, adventurers, and rebels are chosen and sent into Daimas. But no one has ever returned.
Because the necklace is not just a weapon… it is a choice.
In his final moments, Nikolai wasn't seeking an heir to his throne… but someone worthy of carrying the next piece of a mysterious power he knew all too well.
I now stood at the edge of the first village in this new world.
The people walked slowly—without fear, without suspicion or questioning gazes. As if I posed no threat. Or perhaps… as if they couldn't even imagine a threat could exist.
The tranquility here is more unsettling than war.
But I did not come for peace.
I took a step.
Then another.
Then began walking steadily toward the heart of the kingdom, where Daimas rose.
The necklace awaits.
And the sixth piece… will return to me.