The world had moved on.

The scars of the past had faded, buried under centuries of new wars, new kings, and new faiths. If anyone still remembered what had come before, they had long since turned to dust.

The Radiant Order now held dominion over nearly 80% of human lands, their golden banners stretching from the great capital to the smallest of villages. Their rule was not cruel, but absolute—a world where structure and faith dictated the course of civilization.

They claimed history had always been this way.

But Neo knew better.

The Young Traveler of the Alleys

The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the streets. The golden light reflected off the white stone buildings, making the air thick with warmth.

Neo adjusted the strap of his satchel, feeling the familiar weight of his journal pressing against his side. He was wandering through the worker districts, where the midday bustle was beginning to fade, shifting into the slower rhythm of the evening.

This was his favorite time of day.

He wasn't a warrior.

He wasn't a scholar, a noble, or a priest. He was simply someone who listened, someone who watched.

And in the streets, that was enough.

He had spent his life among the workers, merchants, and back-alley traders of the city—a world where people spoke freely, far from the ears of the Order. Here, faith didn't feed bellies, and history didn't matter unless it affected business.

And here, Neo was known.

To the guards and officials, he was just a harmless wanderer, a young man who asked too many questions but never caused real trouble.

But in the alleys, the markets, the places where the real world breathed—he was something else entirely.

A runner. A talker. A problem-solver.

A nuisance, if you asked the wrong people.

The Forbidden Book & The Watchful Eyes

And now, he had done something incredibly stupid.

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Neo adjusted the strap of his satchel, feeling the weight of the book pressing against his side.

The book that shouldn't exist.

"It's just a book," he reminded himself, though he knew better.

"Then why are they following me?"

The streets were still lively, though the rush of the afternoon had begun to settle. Street vendors were packing up their carts, workers were finishing their shifts, and groups of children ran between buildings, playing before the sun dipped below the rooftops.

And somewhere among them—a shadow moved where it shouldn't.

Neo had noticed them the moment he left the old scholar's abandoned home. A presence just on the edge of his senses. Too careful. Too patient.

They weren't a common thug. They weren't even a hired blade.

Whoever they were, they knew how to track someone without being seen.

Which meant Neo had a problem.

A problem with only one solution.

"Alright then," he thought, keeping his pace steady. "Let's see if they can keep up."

Step One: Make Them Second-Guess

Running now would be stupid. It would confirm he was guilty. Instead, he turned down a side alley, stepping into the warmth of the late afternoon market—a place alive with the scent of roasting meat, the chatter of merchants, and the clinking of coins.

He nodded to a familiar vendor, an old woman with a sharp gaze and a sharper tongue.

"Neo, back again? No trouble tonight?" Granny called, tossing chestnuts onto the open flame.

"Good. A witness."

Neo grinned, letting himself relax—just enough to sell it. "No trouble at all, Granny. Just a quiet evening."

The words were casual, but he spoke just a little too loudly.

"Go on. Think about it," he thought, imagining his pursuer hesitating behind him.

Was he really acting suspicious? Or were they just paranoid?

He needed them uncertain.

Step Two: Break Their Line of Sight

Neo grabbed a bag of chestnuts and moved deeper into the market, his eyes scanning for an escape route.

His pursuer wouldn't stop just because he chatted with an old woman.

No, he needed a moment. A distraction.

There—a wagon parked near an inn, crates stacked beside it.

And just ahead, a group of dockworkers gambling by the supply post.

"Perfect."

Step Three: Disappear in the Chaos

"Neo, my boy!" A thick-armed man named Joran waved him over. "Here to test your luck?"

Neo smirked, flipping a coin between his fingers. "Luck? Please. I only play if I know I'm gonna win."

The men laughed. Just enough noise. Just enough of a crowd.

Neo rolled the coin over his knuckles—then dropped it.

The moment it hit the ground, he kicked it into the crowd.

Chaos.

Coins rolled across the street. Dockworkers scrambled after them, curses and laughter breaking out.

The entire street turned into a mess of moving bodies, people bending down, bumping into each other, yelling at bad luck.

Neo was already moving. He slipped into the chaos, grabbed a spare worker's coat from a cart, and threw it over his shoulders.

By the time his pursuer rounded the corner—Neo was gone.

"You'll have to do better than that."

Step Four: Get Out Quietly

The golden hues of the afternoon were starting to shift to the cooler shades of evening as Neo reached the quieter outskirts of the city.

He leaned against a crumbling wall, staring up at the sky.

"Whoever that was... they weren't ordinary."

Which meant the book was more important than he thought.

The First Clue — A Hidden Message

Neo pulled the book from his satchel.

The pages were fragile, weathered by time, the ink barely legible.

"Why is this so important? Is this the only clue left?"

Most of it was unreadable, ink smudged and entire sections torn away.

But one thing remained clear.

At the bottom of a crumbling page, written in dark, deliberate strokes—as if the writer wanted to make sure it could never be erased—was a single phrase:

"Remember the Eight. They were not gods. They were not demons. They were... something else. And they will return."

Neo swallowed.

"Not gods. Not demons. Something else?"

The only readable text in the entire book.

Why?

A Hidden Writing Technique?

Neo grabbed a candle, tilting the book toward the flame.

And then—

The page changed.

For a split second, something flickered across the page—letters appearing where there had been none.

Neo's breath caught.

Slowly, the words became readable:

"The world was unmade, and what was left behind was silence."

Neo felt a chill run down his spine.

This wasn't just a book.

This was a message from before the reset.

And someone wanted it gone.