The world was nothing but a blend of light and ash.

A golden glow shimmered above me, too bright to be real. I tried to move, but my body refused. Every breath burned my throat, every heartbeat struck my skull like a hammer. The air tasted of iron. And blood.

I cracked my eyes open. Everything was drowned in a golden haze. The ground, the shadows, even my hands seemed to float in that thick light. I couldn't tell if I was still alive or already gone.

Sounds leaked through the veil — a hiss, a crash, something like a muffled roar.

Then another noise: the breath of mana — heavy, pulsing, almost animal.

I squinted, trying to focus.

Before me, through the halo, a shape moved. Slim. Fast. Wings. Yes, wings. Azure, torn, beating amid a cloud of luminous dust. A spear cut through the air, shattering a monstrous figure into a rain of golden particles.

I couldn't make sense of it.

A hallucination? An angel? Or just the last flicker of my mind before the end?

The noise drew closer. An explosion erupted — blue and sharp — as if light itself had just fractured. A wave of heat slammed into me, pinning me to the ground again. I tried to breathe, but only a rasp escaped. My whole body screamed, my mouth too slow to follow.

The earth trembled beneath my cheek. The sounds stretched, distorted, as if muffled underwater.

A shadow swept past me again — swift, slicing the air. And for a moment, just before my consciousness gave out, I thought I saw a face leaning over me. Two golden eyes, hollowed by exhaustion, burning with a too-human light.

Then darkness. Deep, warm, painless.

~~

The world pulsed slowly, like a throat breathing.

When I opened my eyes, I was hanging in the void. No ground, no sky. Only that golden light throbbing around me, as gentle as warm water, as false as a dream.

I wanted to move, but my body no longer belonged to me.

Something — filaments of mana, maybe — rose from the invisible floor below. Veins of light, thin and alive. They coiled around my arms, my waist, then my neck, and I understood they were pulling me upward.

I floated at first, slowly, then the pressure increased.

My lungs compressed. The air ran out. The burn came back — first in my bandaged eye, fierce and animal, then through my whole body. The golden threads clung to me like magnets, forcing pain through every nerve.

I screamed — or tried to. Nothing came out. The sound was lost somewhere between my throat and that light that devoured everything, even voice itself.

Then the sky opened.

A massive shadow formed above me — fluid, shifting, both liquid and alive. It engulfed me, and for a brief instant, I saw the perfect circle of a mouth lined with golden teeth, turning slowly like wheels.

Terror stole my breath.

I struggled, uselessly. The mana was pulling me in, dragging me toward that gaping maw — that hole in the sky beating in time with my heart. Everything tightened, my pulse quickened, and one stupid thought crossed my mind: I'm going to be swallowed by the sky.

And suddenly — heat.

A jolt struck my chest. Something — someone — caught me around the waist. I felt an arm close, then another, and a grip — strong, almost brutal. Wings. Wings wrapped around me. Their surface was warm, rough, half skin, half metal. They blocked out the light and broke the pull.

A breath brushed my ear, half lost in the wind.

A hoarse, breathless, almost broken voice whispered:

— "Hold on, idiot."

Everything collapsed at once. The light folded inward, the filaments snapped, and I fell. Not alone this time — carried, enclosed in trembling warmth that smelled of ash and iron.

The sky vanished above me, swallowed by blackness.

I sank again — no fear, only heat in my chest, my head resting against a heartbeat louder than my own.

~~

The world returned in fragments.

The smell of metal and burned rain. The taste of blood at the back of my throat. The feeling of warm, cracked earth beneath my cheek.When I opened my eyes, the sky wasn't blue anymore — it was burning, tinted with liquid orange, as if the horizon itself were melting.

All around me, the ground still smoked, riddled with craters and open wounds oozing mana. Golden ash drifted down slowly, floating through the shafts of light, giving the silence an almost sacred air.

I tried to rise. My body weighed a ton. Every muscle screamed, my ribs protested, my fingers trembled out of sync. My throat was dry, the air thick with dust and heat. Still, something pushed me to move — a sound, a breath, a struggle.

In front of me, someone was still fighting.

Her.

Sylvara.

On her knees, my spear, Aurelia, in one trembling hand, her wings half torn. Her skin — usually pale as polished silver — was stained with blood and some gold-colored fluid. Each motion seemed to break her a little more, yet she kept striking, spinning, clawing at the air like a wounded beast refusing to die. Her hair, stuck to her face, shimmered wetly, and her breath came out ragged, rough, feral.

Around her, a dozen creatures remained — translucent shadows with amber eyes, still drawn to the mana.

I froze, unable to comprehend how she was still standing after all that. Then a shiver ran down my spine.

A spark of clarity — adrenaline, or maybe shame.

Mana surged inside me — heavy, dense, almost suffocating. I wasn't empty anymore. I was a reservoir on the verge of bursting. The golden threads running under my skin glowed with a steady, muted light — restrained power, waiting for a command.

I rose halfway, lifted my arm, and the word left my lips as naturally as a breath:

— "Genesis."

The Garden answered instantly.

A pulse. Then another.

Cracks spread across the ground, glowing from within. Light burst out, harsh, raw, then condensed into beams. Ten. Twenty. Spears pierced the monsters with a dry snap.

The world froze.

The bodies fell like puppets cut from their strings.

I stood there, panting, unable to move any further.

Sylvara staggered. Her spear scraped the ground. But she didn't fall. She turned slowly toward me, eyes half-closed, and our gazes finally met.

There was something in her eyes I had never seen before — not anger, not pride, but a bottomless exhaustion, and that clear awareness of those who have crossed too many lines.

She took a hard breath, her voice raw:

— "Finally… awake."

I couldn't find words to answer. Because deep down, it wasn't reproach — just truth. And it was enough to make shame tighten my throat harder than any wound.

I stepped toward her, one heavy step at a time, my heart pounding too fast. Sylvara stayed standing, leaning on her spear, shoulders slumped. Her cracked armor revealed scraped skin beneath the scales. Fatigue clung to her face, yet her eyes still held that same light — the one she'd never lost, not even in the worst of fights.

— "How many days, Sylvara? How many?!" My voice surprised me — rough, low, strangled by something I didn't want to name.

She looked up, hesitated before answering:

— "I've lost count."

I went on, softer:

— "Did you even rest?"

— "You were barely breathing, Kaito. If I'd closed my eyes, you'd be dead."

Her words cut through me like a blade.

I stopped a meter away, close enough to feel the hot breath of mana between us. The rune-light played on our faces, tracing her drawn features, the dried blood on her temple. I muttered through clenched teeth:

— "You could've died in my place."

She gave a brief, joyless smile.

I tugged at the black fabric of my dimensional kimono. Two objects fell with a faint rustle — a strip of dried meat and a flask of clear water. I set them down gently at her feet.

— "Here. Drink. Eat. Then sleep. No discussion."

She raised an eyebrow, face still stern.

— "You haven't changed. Still stubborn as hell."

I smiled — weakly.

— "I have. I've learned what it costs to let someone fight alone — and what unity's truly worth."

She stayed still for a moment, then finally sat down. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the ration. She bit into it slowly, chewing like each motion cost her effort. I said nothing.

Shame and gratitude twisted together in my chest.

I wanted to apologize, but the words would've rung hollow.

When she finished eating, I handed her the flask. Our fingers brushed. That simple contact sent a shiver through my hand — not from shyness, but from the sudden awareness that I owed her more than my life.

She drank in small sips, then looked up. Her eyes had lost their sharpness. All that remained was human fatigue, unmasked.

I exhaled, almost whispering:

— "Since I came to this world, you're the only one I've ever truly trusted. So now it's my turn to protect you."

She didn't answer right away.

Then her lips barely moved.

— "Alright… just for a bit."

She lay down against a root, head to the side, wings folding around her like a blanket of tarnished silver.Her breathing slowed, steady.

Sleep took her almost instantly — without struggle.

I stood for a while, watching her. The golden light reflected on her skin, the dust, on everything that remained of that senseless battle. And in the middle of the silence, I realized someone new had just been added to the list of reasons why I had to change this world.

I sat beside her. My back found support against a still-warm root, thick as a trunk.

Aurelia stood planted in the ground beside me, her vibrating blade humming low and steady, like a metallic heart refusing to stop.

I looked down at myself.

My chest, arms, even my sides were carefully bandaged. The cloth, still damp with sap and dried blood, smelled sharply of burnt mana. I had no memory of doing it. She did. Sylvara. I let out a quiet breath — half shame, half awe. She'd treated me while barely standing herself.

I turned my head toward her.

Lying against the root, she slept deeply, wings folded around her like a torn cloak. Mana drifted across her skin, tracing every curve her broken armor no longer hid. Her large breasts rose and fell slowly, paced by calm, almost sensual breaths in the silence.

I looked away almost at once, breath tight — not out of embarrassment, but respect. This woman… she was truly magnificent. Not like an image or illusion, but something real. Untamed.

I let my head fall back against the root and closed my eyes for a moment.

— "Thank you, Sylvara," I murmured to myself, not knowing if she could hear.

The Garden had fallen silent. Everything pulsed in a slow, peaceful rhythm, and I felt that calm seep into my chest.

I sat cross-legged, closing my eyes again.

Mana flowed everywhere — through the earth, the air, my blood. It brushed my skin, slipped under my scars, whispered at the back of my throat. Every stream connected with another, a living network I could almost hear breathing.

I drew a slow breath. The heat of mana began to circle inside, pulsing, drawn in and redirected. Part of me knew I was only imitating what I'd felt earlier — when the beast in the sky had swallowed me. Its mana hadn't been human — nor organic. It vibrated on a wider, almost cosmic frequency, a wave that passed through everything. And while I'd slept, I'd felt something of that power seep in — or maybe simply brush against me.

I wanted to find it again before it vanished.

So I sank deeper into meditation, senses open, breath anchored. The night stretched on, soundless. The Garden breathed with me, inhaling and exhaling mana in a slow rhythm. With each cycle, I felt my circuits refine, cleanse. The mana grew purer, denser.

Hours passed without me noticing. The pain in my body faded, replaced by a strange clarity. When I opened my eyes, the golden dust hung still in the air, suspended like a miniature sky. Then I understood I wasn't dreaming — I was progressing.

A rustle made me turn my head.

Sylvara was stirring, her gaze still hazy but clearer. Her wounds had already started to heal; the glimmer of mana traced the curve of her wings as they slowly unfolded in the morning light. She pushed herself up with a small groan, leaning against me. Her chest brushed mine for an instant — warm, trembling with lingering fatigue. I felt her breath, soft, close, before she straightened fully.

I slipped an arm under hers to help her stand.

— "Easy…" I murmured.

She gave a tired smile.

— "I'm standing, aren't I?"

— "Halfway."

— "That's progress."

Her eyes regained their light. She stretched, sighed, then said:

— "I think I've slept enough not to hate you anymore."

I couldn't help but smile.

— "I'll take that as progress."

She shot me a sidelong look.

— "So, chief? We moving?"

I tightened my grip on Aurelia, testing my balance.

— "Yeah. Let's go — we've wasted enough time here."

We walked side by side, slowly. Sylvara still leaned lightly on my arm, her folded wings trailing in the light. Our steps fell into rhythm without needing words.

I looked up at the sky.

The blue was returning — shy, fragile, but real.

When she spread her wings one last time to steady her stride, the light they cast hit my face. A pure, azure flare — almost blinding.

I turned my head with a faint smile.

Under the wings of Azure, I understood once again why it was the symbol of our union — of all of us.

She, Sylvara, was its radiance.

She would become the true emblem of the generation to come — far more than I ever could.

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