During the night.
The bedroom was quiet.
Not empty —
but quiet in the way deep places are quiet, where sound feels too small to exist.
A large black bed dominated the room, its sheets smooth and untouched.
The floor was dark wood, polished to a soft sheen.
Black walls were carved with flowing patterns of nature, illuminated by the faint glow of white crystal lamps resting on either side of the nightstands.
Heavy black curtains sealed the windows, letting only a thin line of moonlight slip through.
The door to the bathroom was open.
Inside, steam drifted lazily through the warm air.
Eiden leaned over the counter, palms braced against the cool stone.
Water ran steadily from the faucet, pooling around his fingers before spiraling down the drain.
His white hair hung wet and loose, strands clinging to his face and neck.
His frame — broad shoulders, defined arms, the quiet strength of someone carved by centuries — glistened under the dim light, droplets sliding down his skin like beads of glass.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
Not with vanity.
Not with confusion.
Just… distance.
As if he were looking at someone he used to know.
Behind him, on the black ottoman, his folded robe and cloak rested neatly beside his grimoire, the pair of gloves, and the three blades that had finally returned to him — pieces of himself restored.
The bathtub behind him still steamed, the water's warmth lingering in the air like a memory.
Eiden didn't move.
He simply breathed, eyes half‑lit, lost in thoughts he didn't voice.
Then—
Soft footsteps.
He didn't turn, but he saw her reflection in the mirror.
Selyndra leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing a flowing white nightgown that contrasted beautifully with her golden hair. Half of it draped over her shoulder, the rest cascading down her back. Her golden eyes traced him slowly, quietly, taking in every detail.
Eiden finally turned his head slightly.
"Do you need something?" he asked, his voice low, steady.
As he shifted, a soft flap echoed faintly in the warm air — subtle, muted, but unmistakable in the quiet of the room.
Selyndra's gaze flicked up immediately, her expression composed but attentive.
"No," she said gently. "Just wanted to check on you."
Eiden reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a towel.
He didn't answer Selyndra right away — he simply lifted the towel and began drying his hair, slow, steady motions, water dripping down his shoulders and chest.
Selyndra waited.
"Is that it?" he asked as he continued drying his hair, the warm air carrying the faint sound of fabric brushing against him.
Selyndra looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
"Well… no. It's just…"
Her voice lowered.
"You haven't seen your family or your people in fourteen decades. I thought you'd be downstairs with the clan members. Talking. Sharing what happened to you all that time."
She hesitated.
"And… we still need to visit Morvath and the others."
Eiden wrapped the towel around his waist and exhaled, a long, quiet sigh.
"I know," he said. "But I still need to discuss many more things with my parents."
Selyndra raised an eyebrow.
"Things like… what?"
Eiden leaned back against the counter, eyes half‑lit.
"Usually, when a child in the clan surpasses the Chief in strength, they're chosen as the next Chief. And with the power I have now… they'll likely offer me that position."
He paused, voice steady but weighted.
"And if that happens… I'll be the new leader. But I still need to see Morvath. I still need to deal with the remaining four enemies I have. And at the same time, I need to protect this village."
His tone was firm, but soft — the voice of someone carrying too many responsibilities at once.
Selyndra crossed her arms.
"Shouldn't you be happy? Even a little? Being offered that position?"
"Yes," Eiden said. "But like I said — I need to visit Morvath, eliminate the remaining four enemies, and protect the village. I can't do all of that at once while I'm away. It'd be impossible—"
The door flew open.
"Eiden!"
Vaelus burst into the room, breathless, eyes wide with shock.
Eiden and Selyndra both turned sharply, worry flashing across their faces.
What happened?
Did someone breach the village?
Is there an attack?
Vaelus struggled to catch his breath.
"Downstairs— in the living room. Hurry."
He didn't wait for questions.
He spun around and sprinted back down the hall, footsteps pounding down the stairs.
"What's going on?" Eiden muttered under his breath.
Selyndra's expression hardened instantly.
"Not sure," she said.
She tapped her nightgown with her palm — it shimmered, shifting into her white dress in an instant. White boots formed around her feet, and with a flick of her wrist, her blade materialized in her hand.
"But whatever it is," she said, stepping toward the door, "I don't like it."
She hurried out.
Eiden looked at himself in the mirror one last time —
his face, his eyes, the weight behind them.
Then he reached for his things on the ottoman.
Downstairs, Eiden walked into the living room with hurried steps, his black robe and cloak flowing behind him as he entered.
Iris, Vaelus, and Selyndra sat on one couch.
Yami and Sienna sat on the other.
And on the small black table between them—
A grimoire lay.
White.
Still.
Radiating a faint, unfamiliar pulse.
Eiden froze.
He knew exactly whose grimoire that was.
His voice dropped, low and sharp.
"…Why is his grimoire here?"
He stepped around the couch and stood directly in front of the table, eyes locked on the book.
Yami folded his hands.
"We're not sure," he began. "Your mother and I were in the town, speaking with the villagers. Then something struck the ground from the sky — hard. At first, we thought it was an attack."
Sienna nodded, her expression still shaken.
"But when the smoke cleared," Yami continued, "we saw it. A white grimoire. We didn't know whose it was, so we brought it back here. When we set it on the table, Iris choked on her tea. When we asked her what was wrong… she told us."
Iris swallowed, eyes lowered.
"That grimoire belongs to Seraphel," she whispered. "The Celestial of Creations."
Vaelus, standing by the fire, nodded quickly.
"That's when I ran to get you."
Eiden exhaled slowly.
"I see…"
He reached down and picked up the grimoire.
It was cold.
Too cold.
He opened it.
Inside were only two things:
A single page, and a folded letter
Vaelus leaned over his shoulder, curious.
"Is that a letter?"
"Well, obviously," Eiden replied flatly.
He removed the letter and set the grimoire down.
Unfolded it.
Read silently.
Vaelus groaned loudly.
"Could you hurry and read it—"
"Hey. Quiet." Yami commanded.
Vaelus groaned again and retreated to the fire.
The room fell silent.
Eiden began reading aloud.
"Hello, Eiden.
You must be wondering why my grimoire was sent to find you.
Well… it isn't mine anymore.
I sent it to offer you ownership, and I want you to have it.
Days after you and the other Celestials fought, Krythos told me what happened — and what you said.
The remaining Celestials and I discussed it.
We considered allying with you, helping you however we could.
But the world learned you were alive.
They learned our numbers had fallen again.
I wrote this letter using my creation magic and the thoughts in my head, so it contains everything I need to say.
Not long after news of your return spread, Civilar came after the other Celestials while Krythos and I were searching for you — to ask for forgiveness, and to form an alliance with you.
But when we returned…
We didn't feel living souls.
We felt dead ones.
All of them.
Every Celestial who remained.
During my fight with Civilar — which I may not survive — I told him my grimoire couldn't create life, or worlds, or timelines.
That it could only create spells and objects.
I lied.
The grimoire can do everything I said it couldn't.
The grimoire can create anything.
I know you're strong, Eiden.
But everyone knows the enemies you still face.
Especially the four who remain.
Sixty years ago, we learned you only wielded one blade — not the three that were always part of you.
Not the blades that defined your strength.
Wherever you are, this grimoire will reach you.
I offer it to you so you can become powerful enough to defeat Civilar.
But even that may not be enough.
So please — learn from this grimoire.
Add it to the countless spells within your Infinite Grimoire.
Take down Civilar.
Avenge us if you can.
—Seraphel."
Eiden lowered his hands and stared at the floor, then at the grimoire resting on the table.
He placed the letter beside it and picked the book up again, turning it over in his hands.
"So… that must mean every Celestial is dead, right?"
"Sounds like it," Yami said softly.
Selyndra raised an eyebrow.
"I don't get it. If the grimoire can do so much, why didn't he create a world without Civilar? Or a weapon that could erase him?"
Eiden didn't hesitate.
"Civilar has a spell he uses against dangerous enemies — mind‑reading. Seraphel is one of the few who know that. If he even thought about creating something that powerful, Civilar would've sensed it instantly. He would've killed Seraphel on the spot, magic or not — and taken the grimoire."
"That makes sense…" Iris murmured.
Vaelus suddenly lit up.
"Oh! Oh! Then you should create a world without Civilar! And the other enemies too!"
Eiden side‑eyed him.
"W‑what?" Vaelus asked, shrinking back.
Selyndra brushed her hair behind her shoulders.
"That's not how Eiden fights. He fights with honor, not shortcuts. Even if his enemy was a god stronger than anything on this earth, he'd face them fairly. And besides… creating a world without Civilar could affect reality. Our timeline. Maybe we wouldn't even be born. Everything has consequences. Eiden might not even be titled 'The First Divinity.'"
"Exactly," Sienna added. "You don't know what it could do to the world. The Council of Mages might not even exist. Those endless consequences are probably the real reason Seraphel didn't just erase Civilar from existence — aside from the mind‑reading issue."
The room went quiet for a moment as they all processed.
Iris leaned forward.
"So… you gonna learn it?"
"Maybe."
Vaelus perked up again.
"Eiden! Eiden! What was that one grimoire you always wanted? The reality one? The— the one that lets you do anything with a thought! Something even stronger than the one you're holding—"
"The Grimoire of Divinark?" Eiden cut in.
Vaelus snapped his fingers.
"Yeah! That one! You could create a portal to find it!"
Eiden looked down at Seraphel's grimoire.
"No."
He said it flatly.
"If I want something that powerful, I'll find it with determination and hard work. Not the easy way. I hate the easy way."
Vaelus groaned loudly.
"This guy…" He stomped toward the hall. "I'm going to my room!"
His footsteps echoed upstairs — followed by a dramatic slam that shook the castle.
"Augh, what a damn child," Selyndra muttered.
Yami cleared his throat.
"Eiden, there's something else we need to discuss."
Eiden lifted his head.
"What is it?"
His heart pounded.
His body felt numb.
His mind raced.
Yami looked him directly in the eyes.
"I want to offer you my position as Chief of the Whitecrest Clan."
The grimoire slipped from Eiden's hands and hit the floor.
His fingers trembled.
"A‑are you sure? You're serious?"
"Yes," Yami said firmly.
He stood, unwrapping his arm from around Sienna.
He walked to Eiden and stopped in front of him.
"And—"
He raised his palm.
A black hair ribbon materialized, radiating with immense mana.
"The family's hair ribbon."
Iris blinked.
"Just a hair ribbon? What's so special about that?"
Selyndra answered before Eiden could.
"It's not just a ribbon. It grants the wearer unlimited mana. Literally. You won't run out. You won't exhaust yourself ever again."
Iris's eyes widened.
"Well damn… that's one hell of a ribbon."
Sienna smirked proudly, watching her husband and son.
"Take it," Yami said.
Eiden reached out with trembling hands — but hesitated.
Yami gently took Eiden's hand and placed it over the ribbon.
"Clench it in your palm," he said softly. "And say, 'I now form a bond with you.'"
Eiden swallowed, then closed his fingers around it.
He lowered his hand, staring at the ribbon.
"I now form a bond with you."
The ribbon ignited with brilliant white light.
Mana surged outward, wrapping around Eiden's chest, sinking into him.
He felt something inside him shift — his mana accelerating, expanding, evolving.
…
…
Outside, in the village—
"What's with this white aura everywhere? And this feeling? It's so heavy," a woman in a white robe asked as she walked with a friend.
"No idea. Come on, we'll miss Hazard's," the friend said, pulling open the door to a black building filled with loud voices.
They slipped inside, closing the door behind them.
…
…
Back in the castle, Eiden stood frozen, the ribbon's glow fading.
He felt different.
His body.
His soul.
His mana.
Everything had changed.
He looked down at his swords.
All three radiated the same overwhelming mana — equal, unified, impossibly dense.
He stared, stunned.
No way…
Sienna stepped forward, smiling warmly.
"Oh, let me put it on you."
She plucked the ribbon from his hand, moved behind him, gathered his hair, and tied it in place.
The ribbon pulsed once — forming a subtle barrier that would never fall off, even in the fiercest battle.
Sienna finished and stepped back, circling around him to admire the view from the front.
"Well, look at that — you look like a handsome warrior," she said with bright, bubbling joy.
Then she cupped his cheeks and squished them gently. "Aw, you're just so cute I wanna smush ya," she added, smiling with soft, warm eyes.
"Eiden," Yami said.
Eiden turned toward him.
"Tomorrow morning, I'll gather the village and make an announcement in the center. I want you ready at the crack of dawn. Understood?"
"Yes… yes, I understand," Eiden replied, still a little stunned.
"Good." Yami turned to Sienna, who finally released Eiden's face. "Let's go, dear. Let's get some shut‑eye."
He started down the hall, pausing for her.
"Of course. Goodnight, you all," she said, waving before hurrying after him. Their footsteps echoed softly until they faded.
Selyndra's gaze drifted from the empty hallway back to Eiden.
"I guess I'll also go to bed," she said, rising and brushing a hand through her golden hair before heading down the hall. Iris stood and followed without a word.
Eiden remained still for a moment, the room quiet around him. Then he bent down and picked up the fallen grimoire. Standing upright, he stared out the large window at the bright moon and took a slow, steady breath.
He walked to the couch and sat, unhooking his own grimoire and laying both books side by side. He lifted the white grimoire, opened his black one to the final page — thick, heavy, and ending with no more space.
He placed the white grimoire onto it.
It began to evaporate.
A new page formed in its place.
When the last trace of white vanished, the page settled.
"Creation Magic."
A surge shot through him — a new kind of magic awakening deep within his soul.
He closed the grimoire and set it beside him, turning his head toward the crackling fire.
He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.
Thinking.
How can I leave the village… and still keep it protected?
The question pressed into him, heavy and impossible.
Then the thought hit him.
His eyes snapped open. He sat upright, breath catching as a brilliant idea formed.
He swallowed, staring at his hands as if the answer were already glowing there.
Then—
"Creation Magic—"