Young Mason grew up in a small coastal village south of Novhaven, surrounded by loving parents and close friends.

As a child, he was shy and carefree, preferring to spend his days exploring the beaches and nearby forests rather than studying.

His parents, owners of a small café, encouraged his adventurous spirit but above all wanted him to find his path in life.

They worried, however, that their son was too fragile for the harshness of the world they lived in.

One day, during one of his explorations, he ventured too far into the forest and sprained his ankle. He called out and screamed for help for hours, but no one ever came.

Exhausted and on the verge of giving up, an unimaginably large snake appeared before him. With no one else to protect him, he felt utterly lost, but at that moment, something stirred within him.

An energy he had never felt before—but instinctively knew was the Ora, as several people he knew wielded it—flowed through him.

What he wanted most in that instant was the strength to get himself out of there. As if his wish had been granted, the Ora emanating from his body was drawn in, strengthening his bones and muscles just enough to defeat the snake and return home.

After this event, he spent months honing his mastery of the Ora, until what was bound to happen, happened.

At that time, the Rain had ended not long ago, and in remote areas like this, its aftermath caused a significant rise in poverty, which in turn led to increasingly savage acts of barbarity.

The year he turned thirteen, while he was still playing carefree, he heard screams coming from the village.

He rushed back in a panic, only to find his village in flames, attacked by ruthless mercenaries who looted, burned, and killed everything in their path.

Horrified, he ran home, sneaking in through the back, and arrived just in time to see his father being eviscerated by a man barely older than himself while trying to protect his mother, who was being abducted by those vile men.

For a brief moment, his eyes met hers, and she begged him to stay hidden. He knew he had become a bit stronger; he could feel the rage and sadness surging within him. Yet, he did nothing, paralyzed by fear.

The village burned for days, and everyone died—except young Mason.

As for his mother, like most of the women, she was taken and never found.

Left alone in that smoldering, stinking place that was once his village, Mason was overwhelmed with guilt for not being able to protect his family.

Vowing revenge, he left for the city, scraping by as best he could while continuing to strengthen his body and muscles—the only way he believed he could one day exact vengeance.

Years passed, and Mason dedicated himself fervently to his daily routine, which quickly became an obsession. He learned various martial arts, strategy, and tactics, constantly pushing the limits of his own body.

At sixteen, he took the entrance exam to the Sanctuary and earned his place with ease, becoming the youngest recruit.

Despite his status, he never let up, constantly striving to prove himself. His efforts eventually paid off, as he went on to become one of the greatest legends of the Sanctuary.

—————//————//————//—————

The next day, Nick was plagued by a migraine and fatigue that seemed to seep into his very bones, so much so that he couldn't go to school on Monday morning.

The holidays were fast approaching, and although studies were not usually a priority during this period, he decided to focus on improving his grades in a few challenging subjects.

Confined to his home, Nick used the time to study for these exams, determined to prove to himself that he still had control over something in his life.

He might have been regarded as a nonchalant genius by the younger students, but only because they knew nothing about him or how hard he worked.

After spending the entire Wednesday afternoon revising mathematics, he still couldn't make sense of it. Claiming he needed a break, he headed to the kitchen to grab a soda.

Since morning, he had felt that something was off—a certain unease, coupled with his recurring migraines.

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He had been on medication for these for a few days and thought keeping his mind occupied would help, so he had started studying math.

No sooner had he opened his soda than he was struck by violent dizziness.

He dropped the can, spilling its contents across the floor. Staggering along the wall, he made his way to his room. Once there, he collapsed onto his bed, and that's when things took a serious turn.

The pounding in his head seemed to come from another dimension, the sensation so intense and unbearable that he began to scream, clutching his head in his hands.

It was, without a doubt, the worst episode he had experienced since they began.

The ordeal lasted about ten minutes—ten utterly excruciating minutes—before the pain subsided, allowing him to calm down.

He thought he was finally free of it, but upon opening his eyes, he immediately recognized what he saw: the ruined world from last time.

This time, he felt neither fear nor pain—or perhaps he no longer perceived them after what he had just endured.

His gaze wandered inquisitively around him, wondering what might have happened. He briefly examined his surroundings until his eyes fixed on a distant point to his left.

Convinced that this world was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, perhaps a way to escape his pain during or after a crisis, he noticed something that struck him as familiar.

Approaching it, his fingers grazing the wall of his room, he saw among the debris a brightly colored plaque.

At first glance, it seemed to hold little value or significance as a landmark, but after some reflection, he realized what it was.

He recalled standing there with the others in front of the massive building that seemed to draw everyone in, vividly remembering the sign that had struck him the most: the enormous banner at the entrance reading "Grandsberg Shopping Center."

The realization sent shivers of terror down his spine. A thought crossed his mind—a thought he promptly dismissed.

He continued to search among the debris and was forced to accept the truth: it was indeed the shopping center he had visited just days earlier with the others.

This confirmation elicited a scream of terror. His bulging eyes left no room for doubt. The events, the situation—everything was slipping out of his control. No, this can't be possible. This cannot be, he repeated mechanically.

This state of denial and rejection overcame him, and as he paced around aimlessly, the dizziness returned suddenly. He toppled over, hit his head on the arm of a chair, and passed out.

Nick awoke three hours later in his bed, with Scarlett by his side. She had entered his room unannounced after school and found him lying on the floor.

She immediately took care of him, doing what she could, laying him in his bed, contacting their grandparents, and waiting.

Despite her impetuous and brash demeanor, she was deeply concerned for her brother. When he woke up, it was a relief for her.

She informed the elders and Dante and Maddie, whom she had called half an hour earlier when he wouldn't wake up.

He sat up in his bed, his face embodying pure exhaustion. He thanked her and promptly dismissed her, which made her sulk for a moment but without consequence.

As she closed the door behind her, she turned and said:

— By the way, Grandma is waiting for you in the living room. Get dressed quickly and go see her.

After a brief hesitation, she added: She was worried about you, you know. And Grandpa too. You haven't seemed well lately.

These last words darkened his face. Nick nodded in agreement and, once alone, tried to recall the events that had brought him here.

He searched his memory, but in vain. He decided to give up and go see his grandmother.

This prospect didn't particularly thrill him, as his grandmother had a habit of looking at you with an inquisitive eye so piercing it seemed to uncover the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

Of course, he had to go see her, but he would be careful not to let anything about his condition slip.

A few minutes later, he descended to the ground floor and headed toward the living room.

Sometimes, like today, this immense house seemed deserted to him—too vast for four souls: two teenagers and two elderly people.

He saw his grandmother, engulfed in her beloved armchair in a corner of the room. She would sit there for hours, pensive, seeking ways to fill her days.

She always emerged with a new idea. Her face radiated pride, bordering on vanity. It was one of the day's most joyous moments, and neither Nick nor Scarlett ever grew tired of it.

He approached quietly. Her eyes remained closed, but despite the gentleness she exuded, her stern features alarmed Nick. Something was off. Without opening her eyes, she murmured:

— Is that you, Nick?

— Yes, Grandma, he replied.

— Sit down, my boy. I need to talk to you, she continued, her tone serious.

Nick stepped closer, feeling a heavy atmosphere. Her eyes stayed shut, but he could sense her piercing gaze.

He sat on the couch facing her, his heart heavy. He began to evaluate the situation from another angle. The seriousness his grandmother displayed deeply unsettled him.

What did she want to talk about? Was it serious? Had she figured out what happened the other night? Had she noticed his weariness these past days? Did she have an answer for it?

So many questions swirled in his mind at that moment. After a moment of confusion, he shook his head vigorously, dismissing those seemingly futile thoughts.

He then glanced quickly at his grandmother. She might have seemed a bit shrunken in her immense armchair, but don't be mistaken—she had a profound understanding of the human soul.

Moreover, she was famous across the continent, even the world, for her unparalleled mastery.

She had been the first to tame the three forms of Ora, a feat that had overturned preconceived notions about this mysterious energy.

— Nick, something is troubling you, isn't it? Her voice was soft but sharp. I can see the fatigue in your eyes, the fear that dwells within you. What's going on, my boy?

Nick, taken aback, wondered how she could guess his distress. Words stuck in his throat. He stepped closer, a mix of anxiety and curiosity churning in his stomach.

His grandmother, with her incomparable wisdom on Ora, was his last glimmer of hope to shed light on the darkness that had engulfed him for days.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains created a warm, soothing effect in the room, making Nick feel a little more at ease.

Her eyes were still closed, but her expression suggested she understood every worry plaguing him.

He even felt almost relieved just by looking at her face. He pondered for a moment, then, gathering his courage, he asked her:

— There's something I'd like to talk to you about, Grandma.

As if coming to life, she immediately replied:

— Of course, go ahead.