Far beyond Ji-hyeon's humble village, past rivers of silver and mountains crowned with ice, stood the heart of the Kingdom: Astraea—a city of spires, scholars, and swords.
Within its highest tower, deep in the Grand Archives of Magic, an ancient orb trembled.
The keeper of the archives, Archmagus Thalion, frowned. His silver beard brushed against the crystal table as he leaned in closer.
> "The flow of mana has... shifted," he whispered to himself.
He waved a hand, revealing a magical map of the continent. One region pulsed—faintly, but unmistakably. It was a small village, long forgotten by the capital, marked only by forest and farmland.
> "That place… why now?" he muttered.
Across the continent, in the dark citadel of the Obsidian Order, a cloaked figure stood before a mirror of shadows. The same village appeared—blurred and clouded, as if resisting divination.
> "The seal is cracking," the figure hissed. "The Demon King's soul… it stirs."
And in the Holy Temple of Lumina, the High Priestess awoke from a dreamless sleep, sweat glistening on her brow.
> "He has returned," she breathed, her voice trembling. "And he walks… among the innocent."
—
Back in the village, Ji-hyeon sat at the edge of the same clearing where the woman had vanished. He didn't know why, but his senses were sharper now. He could feel the mana in the air—the heartbeat of the earth beneath him.
He clenched his fists.
> "What am I becoming?"
Unbeknownst to him, the world was already watching.