Five years had passed since that bloody night—the night the Valerion Clan was erased from the world.
Now, Zevaron was ten years old. Serina was eleven. And Lylia, the eldest among them, had reached thirteen.
That afternoon, a leaden sky hung low over their silent residence. An old man stood with his back to the three children. His hair had turned entirely white; his shoulders were no longer as steady as they once were. He took a long breath—as if the burden he had carried for five years could finally no longer be held.
He was Zevaron's grandfather.
"It is time you knew the truth," he said softly, yet his voice felt heavy.
"The entire Valerion Clan... was slaughtered. And the only survivors... are the three of you."
Silence.
It was as if the world had stopped turning.
Serina's eyes widened, her breath hitching. "So... all this time... Mother has..."
Her words cut off. Tears fell uncontrollably.
Lylia clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. She tried to stand tall, trying to look strong in front of her younger siblings. But her lips trembled. Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed. All this time, she had held onto a small hope—that her mother might still be alive somewhere.
That hope shattered in a single sentence.
Zevaron said nothing.
He only stared blankly at the floor... then suddenly turned and ran toward his room.
The door slammed shut.
That night, his crying did not stop.
One day.
Two days.
Three days.
Four days.
No one could persuade him to come out. His voice was hoarse, his eyes swollen, yet he kept weeping—not just because of the loss... but because he was too young to understand why the world could be so cruel.
On the fifth day, his bedroom door opened.
Zevaron stepped out with a calm face. Too calm for a child his age. His tears had dried.
But deep within his chest... something had changed.
It was no longer sadness.
But a small ember glowing in the silence.
Revenge.
He did not speak it. He did not show it.
He simply gripped that resolve tightly—and waited. Waiting until he was strong enough to avenge it all.
Six years have passed, and Zevaron is now 16 years old. Both of his sisters own massive corporations, and Zevaron's life is undoubtedly steeped in luxury, yet they choose to live simply and avoid drawing attention.
Currently, overcome by boredom, Zevaron was pacing aimlessly in his backyard. After a while, a thought suddenly crossed his mind—his sister's garden of rare plants.
He made his way toward the garden. As he stood near a Flame Sunflower, Zevaron felt a strange fluctuation of energy. The vibration was faint, but clearly not something ordinary. Curiosity drove him to draw closer. He knelt and began digging into the soil around the flower.
Before long, an ancient scroll emerged from the earth.
The moment the scroll opened, Zevaron's vision shifted. His consciousness was dragged into a fragment of memory—the final moments of the scroll maker's life.
Before him, a man hovered in the air, radiating an oppressive aura.
"You have grown weak and are no longer as powerful as you once were," the man said with a condescending tone.
The person standing below him offered a thin smile.
"Perhaps I have weakened, but there is still one thing I can do."
Suddenly, a golden pitcher appeared in the air. This was no ordinary pitcher. From within it, glowing chains shot out, swiftly binding the hovering man's body. He tried to resist, but it was in vain. The chains dragged him into the pitcher, sealing him completely.
With his remaining strength, the man below formed a Soul Scroll—the very scroll now in Zevaron's hands. Shortly after, his body lost its spark of life and collapsed lifelessly.
Zevaron's consciousness returned to the real world. Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind:
"Whoever you are that finds this scroll, I bestow my legacy upon you. My legacy is vast, so you may share it with several people. Go to the place I have marked."
Instantly, a glowing map appeared before him.
"Do not show this scroll to anyone. Only when this scroll reacts may the truth be revealed."
Zevaron stood silent for a moment, his mind still fixed on what he had just witnessed.
"What actually happened in that era?" Zevaron thought.
He then refilled the hole he had dug, ensuring no suspicious traces remained. He carefully tucked away the Soul Scroll and the glowing map.
Zevaron's gaze hardened.
"With that man's legacy... I might finally gain the power to take my revenge," he murmured softly.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet trembled.
"An earthquake?" Zevaron reflexively looked around. Without hesitation, he immediately left the underground garden.
At the same time, a girl with black hair and dark blue eyes felt the tremors—she was Lylia, Zevaron's eldest sister. Reacting swiftly, she raised her hand and cast a protective spell: "
Instantly, a transparent shield enveloped the entire house, reaching down to the underground sections, absorbing the vibrations coming from outside.
As soon as Zevaron emerged from the door of Lylia's rare plant garden, he was stopped by his sister's sharp gaze.
"Why were you in my rare plant garden?" Lylia asked, her voice calm yet firm.
Zevaron scratched his head and answered honestly, "I only went there because I was bored. I was going to grab some sunflower seeds, but before I could do anything, the earthquake happened."
Lylia let out a light sigh. "I see."
Zevaron then asked, "Where is Kak Serina?"
"She's resting," Lylia answered briefly.
Before Zevaron could respond, another rumbling sound was heard. Water began to flow fiercely from outside.
"Water... is that a flood?" Zevaron said, surprised.
Lylia turned and looked into the distance.
"It seems so. Most likely due to large-scale logging in the neighboring empire's territory. They replaced natural forests with Ignivara Palm plantations."
Zevaron frowned. "Ignivara Palm roots are fibrous. That plant is terrible at holding groundwater. Equating them to Banyan trees just because they are both trees with leaves is foolish."
Lylia nodded slowly.
"True. I despise rulers like that, especially since Emperor Suhwhowo strongly supports this program."
Zevaron watched the water flow grow even swifter.
"Strange... the distance is quite far from our territory. But the impact reached all the way here."
Before Lylia could answer, Zevaron pointed to the west. "Look at that."
From a distance, a giant wall of water began to form, moving closer at high speed.
"Stay calm," Lylia said. "This protective shield is strong enough."
Zevaron remained alert.
"What if there are sea creatures swept up in the current? The Endless Blue Sea holds too many mysteries."
Lylia observed the wave intently. "The wave height is about five meters. If there truly is a powerful sea creature being carried along, it's likely intentional."
Lylia turned toward Zevaron.
"Sometimes I forget, you and those strange creatures do have things in common," Lylia said.
"When bored, anyone can sometimes do the things they think of, even if it's risky," Zevaron replied.
Lylia didn't argue. She returned her gaze to the approaching wave, her expression turning serious.
The tsunami, which was initially just a roar in the distance, suddenly grew unnaturally large, as if something were pushing it from within. The seawater rose high, swirled, and then split apart.
From the center of the vortex, a giant dragon head emerged—its scales shimmering like water crystals, its eyes glowing a cold blue. Its roar shook the air, making the ground vibrate and sending a blast of wind pressure against their settlement.
"What kind of creature is that?"
Lylia stopped mid-sentence, her face pale. Her instincts screamed danger.
Without wasting time, she immediately turned and dashed at full speed toward Serina's room.
The door burst open.
"Rina, wake up! NOW!"
There, a girl with turquoise hair and dark blue eyes lay on the bed—it was Serina. Exhausted, Serina only managed a faint groan before Lylia pulled her up. However, once they were fully outside, a tremendous air pressure suddenly bore down on the three of them, making it difficult to breathe. Zevaron reflexively dug his feet into the ground to keep from being blown away.
The water dragon was now right in front of the transparent shield protecting their home. Its massive body circled the area like a living storm.
It let out a deafening roar.
"
Lylia swiftly formed layers of transparent shields around them. Her magic vibrations were delicate—she adjusted the energy frequency so that the dragon's roar wouldn't agitate Serina, who was on the verge of fainting from exhaustion.
With a single sweep of its tail, the transparent shield shattered, energy fragments flying like broken glass.
The water dragon then locked its gaze on Serina. Before anyone could react, the dragon's body transformed into a stream of pure water and merged directly into Serina's body.
"AAAAA—!"
Serina screamed in agony. Her body hovered slightly off the ground, veins of blue light spreading across her skin. The energy entering her was too vast, too wild.
Zevaron panicked.
"What do we do?! I can't use healing magic!"
"Zevaron, you do—"
Lylia didn't have time to finish her sentence.
Suddenly, the storage ring on Zevaron's finger vibrated violently. Then, the ancient scroll he had been hiding flew out on its own, as if possessed by a will. The ancient seals on its surface opened one by one, and a blinding light beamed directly toward Serina.
The light forced the merged water dragon's energy back out. The dragon's silhouette emerged in a half-liquid, half-physical form, roaring in fury.
From the scroll, light chains inscribed with ancient runes shot out and coiled around the water dragon's body, binding it by force.
The dragon struggled, but it was futile.
With one powerful tug, the scroll dragged the water dragon into Serina's subconscious, imprisoning it within a sealed spiritual space.
The light slowly faded.
Serina fell into Lylia's arms, her breath still ragged, but her screams had finally stopped.