Following the meeting, King Xerxez, escorted by Matheros, Phalleon, Vethor, and Catana, was ushered into the Betelgeuse district. Awaiting them were ministers, their faces etched with a profound concern for Thallerion's future, fearing the shadow of another dark chapter.

The elders' hushed whispers painted a chilling portrait of the Ossibians: their attacks would shroud the land in darkness, and ravens, those grim harbingers, would circle above, patiently awaiting the spill of blood before descending like a plague to gorge on human flesh. More horrifying still, the dead were prophesied to rise in monstrous forms once the Entity unleashed its most potent magic.

"I agree with the old saying that ravens bring ill omens," Vethor murmured, his eyes fixated on something beyond the window. He recoiled abruptly, drawing curious glances from his companions.

"What's wrong, Vethor?" Matheros asked, following Vethor's startled gaze.

"Raven! A black raven!" Vethor gasped, his voice laced with horror. "That brings misfortune!" he exclaimed, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger. "It needs to be driven away, banished from this place, or killed immediately!"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Xerxez stated, taking a guard's pistol. "Perhaps Sapar sent it to spy on us here in the kingdom." He slowly approached the window, weapon in hand.

"No, Xerxez, I'll kill that raven," Phalleon interjected, snatching his own pistol and carefully pushing the window open.

"At first, I believed that seeing such a thing was a bad omen," Matheros explained, his voice strained with urgency. "A danger, but with the Ossibians, I say it carries a vile curse! Don't get too close!" Fear gripped everyone, paralyzing them. Even the king seemed utterly convinced by Matheros's words.

"But if we butcher that raven, they won't hear any news about what we're discussing now," Phalleon said, a chilling, almost unsettling smile playing on his lips.

Caw!

Phalleon then feigned nonchalance, as if he had no intention of harming the bird. "What's wrong with you? It's just a raven!" he chuckled, still smiling. "Why do you believe in things that are often just meant to scare children?" He playfully admonished his companions. "Look, it'll fly away immediately. Maybe it didn't see us; perhaps it's blind!" He opened the window wider, revealing the raven perched outside.

"Shoo! Shoo!" he shooed, but instead of taking flight, the raven merely stared at him with an eerie, knowing gaze. Its dark feathers gleamed with an unnatural sheen, and its red eyes, fixed intently on them, held an unearthly intensity. It let out a loud, unsettling caw.

"Caw! Caw!"

"Don't touch it, Phalleon!" Matheros cried, his voice laced with heightened alarm at Phalleon's dangerous recklessness.

"Don't worry, this raven is kind!" Phalleon quipped, but his tone instantly shifted from feigned innocence to pure rage and contempt as he faced the bird. "Hey, you wretched bird, don't you dare scare us!" Phalleon lunged, attempting to strike the raven, but as his hand neared, the bird suddenly pecked him with surprising force, drawing blood.

"Ow! You damned raven!" he cursed, firing his pistol. The shot merely grazed the bird, but it swiftly took flight, disappearing into the sky. "May you die!" Phalleon yelled after it, but it was gone.

In a fit of anger, Phalleon slammed the window shut, then turned, clutching his bleeding right hand. A strange, agonizing pain pulsed through him, unlike anything he had ever felt, as if crabs were relentlessly pinching the muscles of his hand.

"W-what happened to your hand?" Catana's eyes widened in horror, fixed on his bleeding hand.

Phalleon's face abruptly paled, and a chill, known only to him, seized his frame. Yet, it wasn't just the cold. Screams, high-pitched and guttural, tore through his mind, not from without, but from deep within, as if malevolent spirits clawed at his sanity. He felt as though a virulent fever was consuming him, and his vision blurred, almost blinded by a light that wasn't there in the dimly lit room. He was convinced, utterly, that his flesh was twisting, elongating, his teeth sharpening into fangs—though outwardly, he remained unchanged. He alone experienced the grotesque transformation within his body.

A wave of vertigo washed over him, followed by the stench of decay that dissipated as quickly as it came. Then, just as suddenly, his well-being returned, the agonizing voices in his head quieting to a sinister hum. He stared at his hand; the blood had ceased its flow, as if desiccated, yet the wound's color shifted, a sickly pallor replacing the crimson that should have been. The change, though subtle, was unsettling. His companions stared, their faces contorted in shock, especially after his sudden turn towards them.

A laugh, cold and unnerving, escaped his lips.

****************************************************************************************************

On that very evening, when the clock struck midnight, a strange pull seized him. He was drawn once more into the dagger's void—not in body, but in spirit. His form remained asleep in the mortal realm, yet his consciousness now drifted through the silent expanse of the blade's inner world.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Martheuw Cereun said, his voice heavy with sorrow. The walls around them flickered faintly, their light dimming as though the void itself grieved.

The young prince's joy—once bright and warm—had faded into a solemn calm. He stood alone now, shoulders trembling, but his hands were firm—his fists clenched with quiet resolve.

"No," he said at last, voice steady. "Enough with sorrowful words. They gave their lives to kindle a new hope for every child of Thallerion. They faced Moonatoria—a beast none could ever defeat—and still they stood their ground."

Martheuw inclined his head. "You are brave. Your grandfather was right—perhaps the bravest boy in all of Thallerion."

His gaze deepened, studying the boy as though peering beyond flesh and bone.

"I see now... you are not of pure Orion blood. There is another starline within you—Cephues. I can help you awaken it. But first, you must train... mentally."

The boy frowned. "Mentally?"

Martheuw nodded slowly. "Yes. For those who bear the Cephues bloodline, the mind is both their forge and their doom. Should they suffer deeply—should despair consume them—they may walk one of two paths: to rise as heroes... or to fall as destroyers."

The boy's eyes widened. "Wait... if I suffer too much, I'll turn into some... mad creature? No—I don't want that!"

A faint echo of sorrow crossed the spirit's face. "Perhaps not. But know this—those who gain immense power must hold an unshakable will. One blink of hatred, one whisper of vengeance... and humanity itself could vanish. That is why, long ago, the Cephues lineage was hunted. Entire generations were slain. Even Infants were not spared."

" Then, why Herzthroven bloodline still exist if my ancestors were hunted down back then?"

"There are so many bloodlines extinct. But, survival is a common goal of everyone, power ability help them survive, but those who were weaker will be forgotten until it extinct. So do you think Herzthroven bloodline is weak?"

" Huh? Well... I don't know...the current generation it seemed were normal people like the other bloodlines too."

" You're only lack of training. But once you forge yourself into something you could imagine...then, better future may awaits you there."

" Goodbye."

****

He woke up simultaneously to the rang of bell. WhoMoonatoria boasted a generational bloodline of Ursa-entity power, meaning that pure Moonatorians inherited Ursa-entity abilities, their very essence steeped in ursine might. King Hedromus wasn't the sole shapeshifter; many Moonatorian warriors could transform into ferocious, wild bears. Yet, there were unfortunate Moonatorians, those of the lowest rank, mere pawns summoned to riot, frontier soldiers for whom survival or death held neither benefit nor honor.A blinding light suddenly struck Xerxez vision, then, on his mind it feels like he was teleported into the different dimension, but this time, the surrounding become louder. The visual swept him from a blinding light space into a terrifying scene. Though it is fragmenting.

"Woah, what was that light?"

He saw the light violently crashing down from the sky. He saw a wide, glowing shield affixed to the heavens like an ultimate, unbreakable barrier, and a creature trying to destroy it with a powerful mechanism. The boy was too young to understand, ignorantly watching the face of nightmare.

GRAWRR!!!!!

"Ah, is that a monster?"

"If this is still real, then, I saw a real monster, a long-tailed creature breathing fire...His is fighting...and fighting... against magic and powerful weapons? and then he become a— boy? Who is that boy? Oh, it disappear!"

Then, a vertical line rise in the sky. There is a black. An open field in the sky. Suddenly, there are giant tentacles appear too! It resembling claws, and trying to widen the hole in the sky.

"Whoah, there is a monster face, made of thorny evil energy, a halo of dark purple monster, peeked out from it. Its eyes, like... like the galaxies with malicious intent? Ehh, he stared at me!"

One tentacle, it coil at him, like an octopus!

"No, I have nothing to do with this, the man just brought me here." The boy felt like peeing himself in fear at the sight of the lashing monster as he was gripped. "Let me go!!! Please, no, don't eat me!!!"

It lunged, not just grabbing, but enveloping the boy in its crushing grip, the air squeezed from his lungs, his bones groaning in protest. He felt himself being pulled towards its mouth, not just swallowed like an egg, but pulverized, created, absorbed into its very essence, his consciousness dissolving into a painful, eternal scream as he became one with the terrifying creature.

"If this is what he say, life and death? Then, this is not funny!"

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