The heavy sorrow and turmoil from the attack on Aerion slowly subsided, and the city began to weakly stir back to life.

The pace of work at the Central Investigation Bureau became more frantic and urgent than ever. The already serious gray stone corridors now felt even heavier with the hurried footsteps and worried expressions of the investigators.

The rustle of turning papers, the dry slap of parchment scrolls, and the hushed, tense discussions about newly received intelligence reports seemed to never cease, replacing the familiar sounds of a once-vibrant city.

Amidst this busy work, Henry felt like an outsider, carrying a secret he couldn't share. The feeling of having a vital part of his memory erased, of a miraculous world of energy that he once clearly felt now reduced to vague echoes, made him feel deeply unsettled.

He tried to bury himself in work, accepting it as a temporary anesthetic, a way to keep his mind from thinking about the haunting images of Bonecrack Valley or the strange, confusing feelings that were creeping into his subconscious. He told himself that these were just the lingering effects of psychological trauma, illusions caused by exhaustion and stress.

Chief Investigator Ragley assigned him to investigate a series of minor anomalies scattered throughout the outer districts of East Aerion. These were areas where the aftershocks of the major attack still lingered, like small fires burning beneath cold ash, waiting for a gentle breeze to ignite them again. One of these tasks, a report that seemed insignificant, unexpectedly stirred a strange feeling in him.

It was information about an ancient, abandoned catacomb near the edge of the gloomy Verodawn Forest, where local people often whispered ghost stories and rumors of dark rituals. Lately, woodsmen and hunters living nearby had started hearing strange noises, wailing whispers from deep underground on moonless nights, and feeling an unnatural cold, along with the smell of death that made even the most ferocious predators wary.

The mission seemed simple , just a preliminary investigation that didn't require more than the experience and strength of a seasoned Rank 3 like Henry. Alone, he rode the Bureau's familiar black steed, crossing fields that were beginning to turn yellow after the harvest, heading towards the Verodawn Forest, where ancient tree canopies were so thick they formed a dark green wall that blocked out the sun. The catacomb was deep in a sparse part of the forest, completely separate from the usual paths.

The entrance was hidden by thorny bushes and vines that wrapped around mossy, damp rocks. The air here was unusually damp, carrying the smell of decaying earth and leaves, and something rotten, like the smell of creatures long dead whose spirits still lingered in the darkness.

Henry carefully drew his sword, its metal gleaming weakly in the eerie gloom of the old forest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart, which was beating a little faster than usual. He activated his Mystic Sense at its normal probing level, with a range of about seventy meters, and cautiously pushed aside the thick bushes, stepping into the dark entrance of the catacomb. The moment his first steps touched the damp ground, a shiver ran down his spine.

The air inside was stifling, as if it had been trapped there for centuries, with no wind able to get in. The narrow, dark corridors opened before him, winding like an endless maze, with stone walls covered in green moss and strange, faded carvings. The only light came from the small magic stone he carried, which cast strange, flickering shadows on the walls.

The deeper he went, the more Henry felt that something was wrong. His Mystic Sense, which had only been providing a normal aether energy map and the physical structure of his surroundings since the event in Bonecrack Valley and Pope Vincent's "examination," suddenly vibrated in a strange way. The vibration carried a familiar and unsettling feeling, a kind of awakening he couldn't explain.

He "saw" the crumbling stone coffins that had decayed with time, lying scattered in the dark corridors, and also faint, shimmering lines, like energy streams silently flowing deep underground, piercing through thick layers of solid rock. They were a faint, emerald green color, a color that felt vaguely familiar to him.

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A strange warmth spread through him, but he couldn't remember where he had seen it before or under what circumstances. This feeling was so new, almost like rediscovering a lost ability, a secret that had just been revealed in his subconscious. Before, since the memories of the Sanctuary Enclave had been cruelly erased, his Mystic Sense had never shown such special, pure energy flows.

Could it be that the intense psychological trauma, the extreme use of his energy in recent life-or-death battles, and the influence of some other forces had accidentally reactivated a part of his hidden abilities, a part he didn't even know he had? He stopped in a narrow, dark corridor, trying to focus more on those ethereal emerald flows.

They were weak and fragmented, but they were clearly real, not an illusion caused by fatigue or stress. They seemed to be trying to snake through the thick layers of rock and earth in a certain direction, towards a distant, mysterious place, like tiny fireflies trying to find their way in the dark.

A strong curiosity and an urge to understand the origin and meaning of these strange energy flows rose within Henry. He felt like he was standing before a great secret, a truth that could change his life. But his mission was his first priority. He pushed away those strange feelings, trying to focus on investigating the catacomb and finding the cause of the unusual phenomena that had been reported.

After a careful search through the dark, winding corridors and damp burial chambers, he found the source of the strange noises that the local people had reported. A few low-level Ghouls, Undead creatures that feed on carrion, had likely been attracted by the strong smell of death in the old catacomb.

They had dug burrows and made their nests there, turning the resting place of the dead into a nest of filth and pestilence. They were not a great threat to an experienced Ranker like Henry. With just a few quick, precise sword strikes, enhanced by a bit of pure aether, he easily eliminated the disgusting monsters, restoring the quiet of the forgotten catacomb.

The mission was completed quickly and without much trouble, with no real challenge to his strength. But on his way back to the Bureau, the image of those weak but mysterious emerald energy flows continued to haunt Henry's mind. He felt as if he had accidentally stumbled upon a secret of this world, a world of energy that lay just beneath his feet, a parallel reality whose existence he had never realized before. Or perhaps he had known and felt it once before, but had simply forgotten.

That night, back in his small apartment, when Sophia was fast asleep after a long, tiring day at the Cathedral, Henry had strange, vivid dreams, dreams that felt so real he thought he was actually living them. He saw himself standing in a boundless, undefined space, with no beginning and no end. Around him were streams of colorful light twisting and dancing like ethereal rivers, beautiful and enchanting.

A warm, white aura, strangely familiar, appeared before him, whispering words he couldn't quite understand, but which brought a sense of comfort, trust, and peace, as if it were a close friend or a respected teacher he had known for a long time. Then, an image of a majestic tree appeared in his mind, radiating a soft, pure emerald light, its roots deep in the earth as if to embrace all of Tehra, its leaves reaching out to the starry sky. He felt a deep connection to the light tree, a feeling of peace and hidden strength rising within him.

When he woke up the next morning, with sweat still on his forehead, Henry was confused and disoriented. The dream had been too real, too vivid, as if he had actually experienced it, not just imagined it. He tried to remember the words of the white aura, to understand the deeper meaning of the mysterious Light Tree symbol, but it was all vague, like a mysterious veil covering his mind, not letting him see clearly. When he woke up, Henry held his head, trying to shake off the dizziness.

That tree, that white light, Will? The name popped into his head unconsciously, but he couldn't remember who or what it belonged to. The emptiness was terrifying. What have I forgotten? He asked himself, a sense of loss, as if a part of his soul had been torn away. No, it wasn't forgotten. It was taken. The thought flashed in his mind with a strange certainty. Someone did this to me.

But why? And more importantly... who? The feeling of emptiness and loss in his chest pulsed more than ever, like a reminder that there were secrets and responsibilities waiting for him. He knew he had to find the answers to the strange things happening to him, to discover the true meaning of his dreams, of the energy flows, and of the haunting Light Tree symbol. The road ahead, though still unclear and full of danger and mystery, would no longer be simple or peaceful, as he had once thought. A call from the past, from a forgotten part of his memory, seemed to be quietly leading him on a new, challenging journey.

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