Date: September 24, 637, Time: 20:32

Location: The cursed room where I refuse to accept the truth.

My consciousness had abandoned me, leaving me stranded in an unfamiliar and nonsensical place, as if it had traveled to the darkest corners of the void. When my sense of time returned, it didn’t take long for me to feel trapped in a vast emptiness and darkness. “So, I’ve returned to the beginning,” I thought to myself, just as reality started to re-emerge; the surroundings formed into a scene before my eyes.

This scene belonged to the world where destruction had taken place. Once again, I was left facing the nightmare-like landscape. I could perceive the dim sun struggling to pierce through thick gray clouds, the suffocating stench of decayed corpses mingling with the polluted air, and the remnants of a ruined land. Amidst the rubble, a young girl with short, dirty white hair was searching for something among the dirt and debris.

My body felt strange. I didn’t want to approach her, but it was as if she was pulling me toward her. My movements weren’t under my control. Within seconds, the rubble scattered to the sides, clearing a path between us, and an invisible force lifted me, carrying me to her side. As I struggled to make sense of what was happening, she began to speak. Her question left me frozen:

“How did it feel when you saw the truth?”

Yes, I had seen myself in that mirror Malle showed me, and I looked entirely human. I knew it was impossible, yet what I saw was undeniably real; it wasn’t an illusion or a trick of the light. She was referring to the truth that had been clear all along but which I had refused to see or accept.

I had noticed that my hands, arms, legs—in fact, my entire body—resembled that of a human. But I had chosen to ignore it, to dismiss it as unimportant. Now, however, the full weight of this truth had been thrust upon me, and I was unable to bear it. The state of my body and the collapse of my mind revealed how incapable I was of carrying this burden.

As I drowned in the depth of her question, she, sensing my silence, continued speaking:

“I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I already know what your answer is. My purpose was to drown you in the depth of the question, and it seems I’ve succeeded.”

She turned to face me then, and I saw her crimson eyes glinting brightly. She let go of the iron rod she was holding, moved closer, and placed her right hand on my head.

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to die,” she said. “But you will wake up as a human. We’ll rewrite your rules. Instead of clinging to those meaningless rules you don’t even understand, you’ll move forward with truths you trust and believe in. When I see you again, I expect you to have made some progress.”

Then, placing her hand over my chest, where a human heart would be, she added:

“Listen to your heart.”

I felt a deep warmth emanating from her hand as she continued:

“Not your thoughts.”

With those words, she pressed her middle finger firmly against my forehead. That strange force, slow at first but accelerating rapidly, began pulling me out of the scene. As everything around me unraveled, she dissolved into pixels, disappearing entirely.

I woke up once again, gasping for air, finding myself in the same bed, staring at the same ceiling as always.

Should I have been relieved to return to reality, or should I have focused on overcoming the shock of what I had experienced? I couldn’t decide which to prioritize. Pushing the blanket aside, I got out of bed. My left leg still ached, but I had grown used to the pain. Using my crutches, I moved toward the mirror. It was positioned near a faintly glowing wooden stove, its warmth providing a comfortable spot in the otherwise chilly room.

I lowered myself in front of the mirror, crouching to examine my face and body in the flickering light of the fire.

My eyes were bright crimson, and my hair was snow-white. I looked just like that strange figure in my dreams. Around my eyes were faint traces of white and black, almost like thin feathers, and small red marks drew my attention to the edges of my eyes. I couldn’t discern the cause of these marks. My face appeared paler and more gaunt than before. When I touched my hair, I noticed how thick, straight, and soft it felt.

Curious about the rest of my body, I removed the loose white garment I was wearing and set it aside. I focused on my chest and the scars that adorned my skin. My body seemed... fine, I guessed. Though the injuries were still visible, they appeared to be healing well. Perhaps I owed that to the Archive.

But should I trust the Archive?

My rules, her words... My mind was a storm of uncertainty, leaving me unsure of what to think. Were my core beliefs nothing but a lie? Could what she said be true? After all, I had no knowledge of this world or why I was here. Anything was possible. However, both perspectives shared one common thread: they advised me to approach everything with doubt.

For now, I decided to stop relying on the Archive commands and focus on learning from Malle.

I struggled but managed to put my clothes back on. Then, gripping my crutches, I stood and made my way to the door. Outside, the world was dark, but I wanted to see it nonetheless. What did the outside look like?

The door had a handle. I reached out with my left hand and gripped it tightly. I tried every combination—pushing, pulling, lifting, and pressing down. On my final attempt, I succeeded. A sound came from the door, a creaking that resembled splintering wood. I ignored it; nothing was stopping me from stepping outside now.

When the door opened, I heard the voice of a child speaking with Malle. The door didn’t lead directly to the outside world but instead opened to a wooden porch-like area that seemed to be part of the house. In front of me stood rows of wooden pillars arranged in an orderly fashion, enclosing the space. Two openings in the structure stood out—one leading to a staircase descending to my left, and another directly in front of me, connecting to pathways leading to other buildings.

Turning to my right, I followed the sound of the voices. I saw a rectangular wooden table surrounded by benches arranged in an “L” shape. Malle was seated with two small children, reading aloud from the book she had shown me earlier. The children appeared to ask occasional questions, interrupting her reading.

The moment I opened the door, all eyes turned to me. The children froze, their expressions stiff, while Malle’s face showed a mix of worry and mild annoyance, likely due to the sound of the creaking door.

In those brief seconds of silence, Malle composed herself and broke the awkward tension:

“You’re awake. You look better.”

Her voice carried a faint rasp, and her smile seemed forced. It was clear she wasn’t pleased with me breaking the door handle, though she tried not to show it. The children remained stiff and motionless, their eyes locked on mine.

When I didn’t respond, Malle continued:

“Why don’t you come join us? I was reading your book to the children. You can listen too.”

Curiosity about the book’s contents sparked an eager excitement in me. Quickly, I maneuvered my crutches to the shaded corner of the bench and sat down. The children shuffled slightly away from me, keeping their distance. I didn’t understand why they were acting so cautious.

One of the children, the smaller boy, stared at me with an unsettling intensity. His gaze was fixed and unwavering. While he stared, I locked eyes with him, determined to hold his gaze. If Malle hadn’t resumed reading, I might have continued staring until he looked away.

“All right, where were we? Amice?” Malle asked.

The other child, excitedly, responded, “The traveler had just started their journey through the lands, Malle!”

Malle nodded, maintaining her composure as she continued reading:

“Exactly. The traveler had decided to embark on a long journey to explore the four lands. His goal was to witness the lands with his own eyes and search for the truth. He were seeking God. First, he headed to Alphia, a freezing land surrounded by high-altitude snowy mountains in the far north of Amura. During their journey, the cold forced him to change horses several times. In his journal, he wrote:

‘By the time I reached Alphia’s borders, my third horse had perished. There were no inns or merchants nearby anymore. The harsh winds and freezing temperatures between the snowy mountains and valleys meant I would have to continue on foot. At one point, I was so cold that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I thought I was going to die until I encountered a young Alphian.’

He described how this young Alphian led him to a hidden Alphian village, where he stayed for a few days. The traveler even mentioned being allowed into the Alphian Temple, where he found ancient inscriptions and writings about a Messiah.”

Amice interrupted suddenly:

“What does Messiah mean, Malle?”

A genuine smile appeared on Malle’s face as she explained:

“A Messiah is the name given to someone who is awaited with great hope, Amice. As you know, there are four different races besides us humans. Each one believes that a Messiah from among them will come one day.”

Amice, with a confused expression, asked another question:

“Then why don’t we humans have a Messiah, Malle?”

“Because our culture doesn’t have such a belief, Amice. Believing in the Creator isn’t wrong, of course, but we humans don’t have a tradition of expecting a Messiah. Why that is, you’d have to ask our ancestors,” Malle replied.

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Before she could continue, I interrupted with a question that had been bothering me:

“You said I was Alphian.”

Malle didn’t hesitate and responded with a serious tone:

“Yes, you are Alphian. That much is certain. But whether or not you are the Messiah is something we can’t know. In fact, even the authenticity of these stories is debatable.”

Sensing unnecessary seriousness in her reply, I decided I would need to press her further to uncover the truth:

“What are the Messiah’s characteristics?”

Although Malle appeared knowledgeable, she claimed not to know. I suspected she was lying but chose not to push the issue for now. There would be other ways to get that information from her. For now, I decided to focus on learning general knowledge by letting her continue her story uninterrupted.

“The traveler chose Terrestia as their next destination. However, he couldn’t record anything about it. He wrote that upon arrival, he were met with severe warnings and threats to prevent him from sharing any information about the region. He spent five days near Terrestia’s borders but returned to Amura with almost no memory of his time there, except for the threats he had received. As a result, he could barely write anything about the area.”

Amice, wide-eyed with curiosity, listened intently, while the smaller child seemed less interested, merely pretending to pay attention. Malle continued:

“The traveler’s third destination was Volarna. He ventured south to the volcanic region of scorching sands and crimson ash flowers, a barren land deadly to humans. The area was so harsh that survival seemed impossible. However, the Volarnans developed unique clothing and equipment, using their region’s ores and abilities to protect humans in these conditions. Unlike Alphia or Terrestia, Volarna had a more advanced societal structure.

The traveler befriended many in Volarna, just as they had in Alphia. Even today, many of the garments and tools used in harsh conditions come from Volarnan ingenuity. Despite their intimidating appearance, the Volarnans were described as generous and kind-hearted people.”

Amice asked nervously, “That’s where Hell is, right?”

Malle replied somberly, “Yes, Amice. It’s there.”

A look of dread crossed Amice’s face. “I’m scared of going there,” she whispered.

Malle noticed his unease and spoke gently to reassure her:

“Don’t worry, Amice. Sweet and good children like you won’t be sent there, no matter what.”

Amice seemed somewhat comforted but quickly added:

“But Brigham said that if I do bad things, I’ll be sent there!”

Malle furrowed her brows slightly but responded in a calm tone:

“Tell Brigham that when the Knights come to the Harvest Festival, I’ll throw him in front of them to take him straight to Hell.”

At this, Amice’s anxiety melted into laughter. The atmosphere grew strangely cheerful, though I didn’t understand why Malle’s words were considered funny. Sensing my confusion, Malle seemed to want to explain the joke:

“We’re only kidding, aren’t we, Amice? Brigham was just teasing you. Children as smart and well-behaved as you don’t need to worry about such things. Besides, the Knights are here to protect you…”

Her voice trailed off. For a brief moment, a shadow of sadness crossed her face. But Amice didn’t notice, responded with a bright smile:

“I know, Malle. Brigham always teases me anyway.”

Malle quickly composed herself, ruffling Amice’s hair before giving me a brief, bittersweet smile.

Malle resumed reading from the book, her voice steady:

“The traveler’s final destination was Dimenia. He described Dimenia as a deeply mystical land. The Dimenian people had developed a unique form of magic called Archive Magic, which they used efficiently and creatively to simplify their daily lives. The traveler provided an example from their journal:

‘For instance, if someone wanted to build a house, they’d need materials like wood, stone, or clay. Even if they gathered all the resources, the construction itself would take a great deal of effort. But the Dimenian people approached it differently. They would gather wood from the forest using magic, assemble the construction flawlessly with magic, and complete the entire process in just a day. Dimenia truly is an incredible place.’

The traveler also wrote about the establishment of a great academy in Dimenia, where those skilled in Archive Magic could study and enhance their abilities. They observed that the academy was open to those from other lands who demonstrated talent in this form of magic.”

As Malle finished reading, she closed the book with both hands and looked at the children. “That’s where the traveler’s story ends. Did everyone learn something today?”

Amice nodded eagerly, while the smaller child mimicked his response but without much enthusiasm. Then Malle looked at me, expecting me to respond as well. Although it felt awkward, I nodded.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” Malle declared. “It’s getting late. Time for everyone to head home. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

The children jumped to their feet, one darting around the right side of the table and the other around the left, both disappearing down the path toward the other buildings. I watched them leave before Malle turned to me and said:

“If you have any questions now, I can answer them.”

I realized, once again, how clever Malle was. She had intentionally sent the children away to create this moment for us to talk privately. Wasting no time, I began asking the questions that had been on my mind, starting with the Messiah:

“What are the Messiah’s characteristics?”

It was as if Malle had been expecting this question. She answered without hesitation:

“Each Messiah has unique characteristics, shaped by the beliefs of their people. However, most of these beliefs are myths, and it’s difficult to separate fact from fiction. That said, I can tell you about the most well-known one—Haura, the Dimenian Messiah.”

The moment Malle mentioned Haura, I recalled hearing this name during the confrontation in the forest. It was tied to religious matters, and they had referred to her as the ‘Saint.’ I listened intently as Malle continued:

“Roughly thirty years ago—around the time I was born—the Dimenian Messiah was chosen. According to their beliefs, the Messiah’s soul resided within the Dimenian Temple, waiting to be united with a body. One day, this soul would emerge, open the temple doors, and greet the people. When that happened, the Dimenian people believed they would ascend to the highest spiritual level, kneeling before their Creator.

When the temple doors opened, it was Haura who stepped out. She declared that her name was Haura, that she was the awaited Messiah, and that she had created the world. Now, she had come to rule it. The Dimenian people were captivated by her words and her turquoise, jewel-like eyes that glimmered like gemstones. At that moment, she enchanted everyone present. And thus, the order of the world began to change.”

When I asked what she meant by the order of the world, Malle elaborated:

“Shortly after Haura declared herself a deity, the Haura religion began to spread. Everyone claimed that Haura was God, and her emissary was Axtje, the Volarnan Messiah who appeared around the same time. The world was divided into those who believed in this religion and those who rejected it. Dimenia, Volarna, and Amura accepted Haura as their God, while Terrestia, Alphia, and Pulq rejected this belief.

Amura was divided as well; some of its people migrated to Pulq. This caused tension between these two countries, which used to be on good terms. There are even rumors of a war breaking out soon, though neither side has made a move yet. Terrestia has completely isolated itself from the world, while Alphia was utterly destroyed by Axtje and her forces.”

I noticed Malle’s eyes glistening slightly as she spoke about Alphia. Watching her carefully, I realized her eyes resembled mine. Could she also be Alphian? There was only one way to find out:

“Are you Alphian too?”

Malle rubbed her eyes, tossing her long red hair back as she straightened up. Taking a deep breath, she spoke softly:

“I suppose it’s time I told you the truth about myself,” she began. “Yes, I am Alphian, like you. I was born in our homeland thirty years ago. The reason I know so much is partly because of my Alphian heritage. I know you have many questions, but first, I need to tell you everything. Once I’m done, most of your questions will be answered. If there’s anything left, you can ask then.”

I nodded in agreement, and Malle began to recount her story.

Malle continued, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of sorrow:

“There was a reason Alphia was destroyed. Haura and her followers saw both Alphia and Terrestia as threats to their religion. According to Haura, we were heretics because we rejected her divinity. Messiahs weren’t gods; they were merely emissaries of God on earth. But Haura, consumed by her selfishness and arrogance, deviated from this belief.

She wanted to erase these two Messiah races that denied her, and she formed a plan with Axtje to achieve this. They accused us and Terrestia of heresy and witchcraft, leading to our social exclusion. Once the seeds of hatred were sown, they had their justification to destroy us.”

Malle paused to take a deep breath, the pain of old memories clearly etched on her face. “I was just seven years old when the attack began. Axtje used a specialized Volarnan Knight Brigade trained in their academies to overcome Alphia’s harsh conditions. They advanced to the borders of our land and began the destruction. No one wanted to abandon their homeland, but Axtje’s power as a Messiah, combined with the strength of her elite brigade, left most of the non-pureblood Alphians with little chance of survival.”

She stopped briefly, her gaze distant. “Unlike Dimenia, we didn’t have a religious belief tied to our Messiah. That’s why we didn’t defend the temple. That’s also why the traveler was able to study it—its isolated location and harsh climate meant few ever came, and we didn’t turn away those who did.”

Her eyes seemed to fixate on a spot on the table. She appeared lost in thought, her hands absentmindedly playing with the tassels of her clothing as her words flowed effortlessly:

“I remember the traveler’s visit. We made small jokes at their expense and had fun. But during the attack, I didn’t see any of my friends again. Everyone tried to escape as far as possible using hidden mountain paths. Our elders knew we couldn’t resist the attack, so they devised a different plan.

One of the characteristics of our Messiah was that she wouldn’t have any memories. Therefore, our people needed to survive to guide her. If we were wiped out, we wouldn’t be there to show the Messiah the way and would end up handing her over to Haura and Axtje on a silver platter.

The second characteristic of our Messiah was that no one knew where she would appear. She could emerge at any moment, anywhere. So, everyone dispersed to the far corners of the world. Even if we lost our homeland, our people had to ensure our lineage continued and that we would be strong when the time came.”

Malle had previously avoided explaining the Messiah’s characteristics, but now she shared these details openly. It wasn’t hard to see how I fit these criteria, yet my mind was preoccupied with other questions. Where was Malle’s family? Who was the person she mentioned when she compared me to someone else while stroking my hair?

I realized, with a strange sense of unease, that my questions weren’t about myself but about Malle.

When Malle finished speaking, she fell silent, her gaze wandering. I couldn’t understand her expression. Then, she suddenly picked up the book on the table and spoke in a different tone:

“That’s enough for today, don’t you think? It’s getting late. How about heading to bed?”

At that moment, I noticed the faint sound of footsteps moving among the bushes and plants beneath us. It seemed Malle suspected our conversation was being overheard.

Torsten—that detestable human who wanted to hand me over to those knights—was a clear enemy. We needed to be careful not to draw more suspicion.

From what I had learned from Malle, I was beginning to understand the motivations behind her actions. She was incredibly intelligent. Our growing bond made me think she could be even more useful to me. I decided to stay close to her and let her accompany me on my journey to gather more knowledge.

Still, I wasn’t sure if I could fully trust her. The words of that mysterious figure from my dreams echoed in my mind. For now, I resolved to let events unfold naturally and not overthink it. Grabbing my crutches, I stood up. Malle escorted me back to my bed, then quietly left the room.