Chapter 39: A Colourless Past

A/N: I would put a character profile here, but this whole flashback is basically one anyways.

"This is the office of Ellion Mertens, our top researcher. You'll be working with him from now on."

Vincent gave a quick nod to the administrator and left him to go and introduce himself to Ellion Mertens, or Lars Mertens' father. They had come to Ellion's villa, as that is where most of his notes were stationed, and often where he did a lot of his research. As he opened the door, he saw a man hunched over his desk, scribbling down calculations.

His long, shoulder length matted brown hair moved gently around his shoulders every time he made a brief movement, and his blue eyes sparkled with the anticipation of finding a new discovery. His moustache and beard were joined to each other, and he wore a white lab coat, inscribed with what Vincent percieved to be the Mertens family insignia, with black tunic, black trousers and no shoes, but a pair of grey socks.

Vincent tentatively approached the man. "Good evening, sir," he said in a monotone voice.

Ellion looked up from his work, standing up to scrutinise this intern that had waltzed into his study. The apprentice could now see that he was quite tall, taller than he had anticipated. He stood head and shoulders over Vincent, walking up to him. He could smell the hot chocolate on the big man's clothes.

"Why do you pursue science?" Ellion barked.

Vincent raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Ellion, who honestly just wanted to return to his work, barked, "Out with it, boy! Why do you pursue science? Why have you come here?"

Vincent took a deep breath, unfazed by Ellion's outburst.

"It's the only way for me, sir. I was born to pursue science. I don't believe in fate, but-"

"Enough talk!" Ellion said, a big grin spreading from ear to ear. "Welcome to my apprenticeship. Who are you?"

"My name…Vincent Schmidt," Vincent muttered.

"A colourless human in a black and white world… I give you the name Acroma," Ellion proudly declared.

Acroma blinked, processing the name Ellion had just given him. The way the man spoke, so intense and definitive, made him feel as though he'd been suddenly painted in an entirely different shade. He didn't resist it; something about "Acroma" resonated with him in a strange, unexpected way.

"Acroma," he repeated softly, his expression neutral but with a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Thank you, sir. I'll bear it well."

Ellion waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, we'll see about that. Now, Acroma," he said, testing the name on his tongue with a satisfied gleam in his eye. "Tell me, what fields of science do you focus on?"

"Alchemy and theoretical magic applications, mostly," Acroma replied, steady but not boastful. "I've spent years studying how to refine various metals and materials to enhance magical conductivity. And in theoretical magic, I'm working on something I call 'Cascading Resonance'—the idea that multiple spells can amplify each other under specific conditions."

Ellion paused, tilting his head. "Cascading Resonance, you say? Hmm… intriguing. It sounds ambitious, but—" he narrowed his gaze, studying the young man before him, "—it's probably riddled with flaws, like most theories. What kind of flaws have you encountered?"

Acroma didn't flinch. "Mana depletion rates spike when spells overlap, even if they're of the same element. And there's the question of control—cascading magic tends to spiral, becoming unpredictable. I haven't yet figured out how to prevent that."

Ellion gave a low hum, his eyes gleaming with something that almost looked like approval. "Good, good. At least you understand the limits. Far too many aspiring researchers rush in with grand ideas and refuse to see the weaknesses. The moment you close your eyes to flaws, boy, science becomes nothing but fantasy."

He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms as he looked down at Acroma. "But you didn't come here just to tell me about your theories, did you? What do you hope to gain from this apprenticeship?"

Acroma thought for a moment, his tone as calm as ever. "I came to learn, sir. I know what I don't know, and I know that in this field, the path to discovery is never-ending. Working with you, someone with a reputation for pushing boundaries… it felt like the right step forward."

Ellion's eyes narrowed, though he looked somewhat pleased. "Very well. I'll tell you this: if you want to work with me, you'll have to be ready for the unconventional. I don't abide by textbooks and protocols. Theories, hypotheses, experimentation—these are the bones of science, but true discovery lies in what you're willing to risk."

He gestured to the scattered papers and half-filled journals covering every surface in the room. "Most of my theories were born from moments of intuition, pure flashes of madness, and seeing patterns where others saw chaos. If you're truly here to learn, you'll learn to embrace the chaos as well. So tell me, Acroma, do you have the nerve for it?"

Acroma's gaze was unwavering, his voice steady. "I do."

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Ellion's mouth. "Then I have a test for you." He handed Acroma a piece of parchment filled with complex, barely legible calculations, symbols, and strange glyphs. "This is an experiment I started years ago—a fusion of alchemical compounds that could, theoretically, sustain magical energy indefinitely. But it's proven... volatile."

Acroma took the parchment, his eyes scanning the chaotic notations. "And what's the objective, sir?"

"The objective," Ellion replied, "is to see if you can refine it. See if you can prevent the compounds from destabilising before the test subject's mana is completely depleted. Work on it, bring me your notes, and maybe—just maybe—I won't throw you out of this villa."

Acroma nodded, carefully tucking the parchment into his notebook. "Understood, sir. I'll begin immediately."

Ellion let out a small laugh, one that was both amused and challenging. "We'll see, Acroma. We'll see if you're as ready as you say. But remember this: in this field, nothing is ever as it seems. And the moment you think you have it all figured out, you're already failing."

Acroma nodded again, his voice as calm and focused as before. "Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

Ellion watched him with a keen gaze, his smirk widening just a little. "Good. Now get to work."

…

"Acroma!" Ellion yelled. "Put the next "volunteer" into the chamber."

It had been 4 years since Acroma had started his apprenticeship, and Ellion had cut off most of his hair now, but still keeping his beard as pristine as ever. He had a wristband attached to him that seemed to be emanating magical power, courtesy of the many small gems in the wristband.

Acroma could feel the tension in the air as he approached the chamber, a large, metallic structure set in the centre of Ellion's study. Tubes snaked around it, connected to strange apparatuses that glowed with faint, eerie lights. The "volunteer" inside was barely conscious—a man with a haunted, almost vacant look in his eyes. He was strapped to a chair, his wrists bound and his skin pale from hours spent under the chamber's draining energy.

Ellion loomed nearby, scribbling furiously in his notebook. The bright glint in his eyes revealed nothing but excitement, completely detached from any sense of empathy for his subject. Acroma was used to Ellion's intense fervour by now, though he still struggled with the moral implications of the work they were doing. Over the years, he'd learned not to question Ellion's orders; each dissent had led to cold dismissals or scornful reprimands. Ellion had drilled into him that sentimentality had no place in scientific discovery.

Acroma checked the calculations on the parchment Ellion had handed him and reexamined the symbols etched onto the chamber's surface. This experiment was designed to push the limits of mana extraction, aimed at discovering the secret to sustaining magical energy indefinitely by drawing it from unwilling subjects. It was a grisly endeavour, one that had claimed multiple lives of those whom Ellion termed "expendable assets." The stench of failed attempts and hollow, desperate cries from previous volunteers still lingered in the air.

As Acroma prepared to turn a dial on the apparatus to increase the mana output, a soft shuffle of footsteps interrupted the stillness. Acroma looked up and froze, his heart sinking at what he saw.

Standing in the doorway was a young girl, no older than four, holding the hand of a toddler. Frida's dark, serious eyes swept across the room, taking in the scene with a mix of innocent curiosity and growing confusion. Her small hand held a cup of tea carefully, its contents swaying as her grip tightened. Next to her, two-year-old Lars clung to her side, his bright eyes wide and uncomprehending.

The innocence of her gaze collided with the horror laid bare before her. Ellion hadn't noticed them yet; he was too engrossed in his calculations, muttering equations under his breath. Frida's lips parted as her gaze drifted from the strapped-in volunteer—who now whimpered faintly—to her father, whose face reflected nothing but a cold, clinical interest in the man's suffering.

"Daddy?" she said, her voice soft but breaking through the silence like a stone thrown into still water.

Ellion's head snapped up, his expression flickering with a moment of surprise before hardening. He straightened and stepped in front of the chamber, as if trying to shield her view. "Frida. Lars. You're not supposed to be in here," he said sharply, though his voice held a restrained calmness.

Frida didn't move, her eyes fixed on the chamber. "What… what are you doing, Daddy?"

Ellion's brows furrowed, and he looked down at her as though she were a particularly stubborn problem to be solved. "This is important research, Frida. It's for the future. Sometimes… sometimes sacrifices are necessary to achieve greatness."

Her tiny hands trembled, and the cup of tea slipped from her fingers, shattering against the cold, stone floor. The loud clatter broke the tense silence, and Ellion flinched, his mouth pressing into a thin line of irritation.

Frida didn't notice the shards of porcelain by her feet. She stared at the man in the chamber, then at her father, and for the first time, she understood that he wasn't the same loving father who used to read her stories. He was someone else entirely, someone colder, someone distant—someone who would hurt others for the sake of his experiments.

"Daddy, stop," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You're hurting him."

Ellion's face darkened. "Frida, you don't understand. One day, you will. This research will change everything for us—no, for the whole kingdom."

But Frida shook her head, backing up slightly. "No… I don't want it. I don't want this." Her eyes filled with tears, and Lars whimpered softly, clutching her hand as though sensing the growing turmoil.

Ellion took a step toward her, his voice softening just a little, attempting to reason with her. "Frida, listen to me. There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing. Science doesn't care about feelings. It's about progress. I'm doing this for our family, so that one day, we can live in a world without limits."

She clenched her small fists, her gaze turning fierce. "If this is what science is, then I don't want it, either! I… I hate it! I hate you, Daddy!"

The words struck Ellion like a blow, his face going rigid with shock. He opened his mouth, perhaps to scold her, but something in her expression stopped him cold. The defiant stare, the raw pain in her young eyes—it was the look of someone who had seen him for what he truly was, and for the first time, he felt the weight of her judgement.

Acroma stood silently to the side, watching the scene unfold, caught in a mixture of dread and reluctant fascination. He could see, in Frida's eyes, a finality to her words that even Ellion's genius couldn't unravel.

Frida scooped up Lars, who was on the verge of tears, and turned on her heel, her tiny feet crunching over the broken cup as she left the study. Her sobs echoed faintly down the corridor, leaving a deep, aching silence in her wake. For a long moment, Ellion stared after her, his expression unreadable.

In that moment, something in the Mertens family was irrevocably fractured, and though neither father nor daughter could see it then, the wound would only deepen as the years went on.

…

Acroma paused at the threshold, one hand resting on the doorframe as he looked back over his shoulder, giving Ellion a look that was almost disdainful. The flicker of humanity that had once resided in Acroma's eyes was now a hollow, glacial void, a remnant of his former self buried under his unyielding pursuit of scientific dominance. To him, the weakness of sentiment was not something to lament but a necessary sacrifice.

"I expected more from you, sir," Acroma said, his voice unfeeling and measured. "I thought you understood what was at stake, that you knew the cost of brilliance. You've taught me all that I am, yet now you recoil. Perhaps it's best that you're stepping away. Perhaps the future of science…no, the future itself, belongs to those unburdened by frailty."

Ellion's shoulders sagged, his fingers trembling as they clutched the desk. He searched Acroma's face for any spark of compassion, any sign of the young man who had once stepped into this villa with a passionate hunger for discovery tempered by a sense of wonder. But there was nothing. Only that icy resolve—a reflection of Ellion's own ambitions, yet stripped of any humanity. The full weight of what he had done settled into his bones.

"Don't you see?" Ellion's voice was barely above a whisper, a ragged plea. "Science, knowledge…they were supposed to be beacons of hope. We were supposed to make things better, not sink into this… this darkness. It's more than results and theories—it's about the people we affect, the lives we touch."

Acroma turned to face Ellion fully, his stance almost dismissive. "Hope? People? They are distractions, sir. You taught me to reach beyond the limits, to defy what others considered impossible. But progress is not kind. It's ruthless. It does not wait for those who waver. I'm prepared to go farther than you, if that's what it takes to understand everything."

Ellion flinched at the words he'd once thought himself. He could see now how they had taken root, warping and hardening Acroma into something he himself had once feared he'd become. Ellion felt the weight of his years more than ever, and with a heavy sigh, he crossed the room to the window, looking out over the grounds of his once-vibrant home. The gardens had grown wild and unkempt, much like his life, overrun by his own neglect. His children had long since stopped visiting him in his study, and he could barely recall their voices.

"Years ago," Ellion murmured, more to himself than to Acroma, "I thought I was forging a legacy. Something greater than myself. But all I've done is create ruin… I let this madness consume me. And now…" His voice cracked, his hand tightening on the window frame. "Now it's claimed you too."

Acroma's gaze was devoid of pity, his voice low and cold. "It was my choice to accept this path. No one forced me. What you call madness, I call dedication. In the end, the discoveries we've made—those transcend any personal consequences, don't they?"

Ellion turned from the window, his face contorted with despair. "At what cost, Acroma? This…this is nothing but a hollow ambition. What good is discovery if it only brings suffering?"

For a brief moment, something flickered in Acroma's eyes, a faint echo of the young man who had once sought Ellion's guidance, someone who had once cared. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by that same detached, steely resolve.

"The cost is irrelevant," Acroma replied, each word sharp as ice. "There is nothing I won't give up to reach the truth. Emotions, relationships—they are burdens, sir, weights on the mind. Science requires clarity, and clarity comes from severing those ties. I've accepted that, and so should you."

The finality in Acroma's tone left Ellion feeling as if a knife had twisted in his chest. He staggered back a step, suddenly unsteady. Here, standing before him, was his legacy—stripped of compassion, stripped of kindness. A prodigy of knowledge, but a hollowed-out shell where a heart had once been. He had instilled in Acroma the desire to achieve greatness, but in doing so, he had taken from him everything that made life worth living.

Finally, he spoke, his voice weary and pained. "No, Acroma. I see it now. I was wrong to lead you down this path. This… this pursuit, at the cost of everything else, was a mistake. And it ends here."

Acroma raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation crossing his otherwise impassive face. "You're willing to throw everything away? Just because you've lost your resolve? How…disappointing."

Ellion clenched his fists, his frame trembling. "Call it what you will. But I won't stand by and watch you turn into…into this. I can't let you carry my name forward if it means you'll only sow more pain and suffering."

A faint, mocking smile touched Acroma's lips. "Then don't. I have no need for your name anymore."

The words stung, leaving Ellion silent, defeated. He sank into the nearest chair, his shoulders slumping as he finally accepted the depth of his failure. There was no redemption in this room, no undoing of the past. Only an endless, yawning chasm of mistakes.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze dull yet resolute. "Then you're expelled, Acroma. Go on, pursue your knowledge. But know that I want no part in it. You're not my student anymore."

For the first time, a faint flicker of something unreadable passed over Acroma's face, but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. He nodded, bowing stiffly, but there was no gratitude in the gesture.

"Very well," Acroma said coolly, gathering his notes and turning toward the door.

Ellion watched him go, feeling as though the last of his strength had been syphoned from him, leaving only emptiness in its wake. As Acroma stepped over the threshold, Ellion forced out his final words.

"You're expelled…my stupid pupil."

Acroma paused briefly, but he did not turn back. Instead, he left, closing the door with a soft, echoing click, sealing off the years of lessons, bonds, and dreams they had once shared.

Ellion sat alone, the quiet of the study oppressive, as if the walls themselves mourned what had been lost. And for the first time in years, he buried his face in his hands, the weight of regret finally breaking through. The silence pressed in around him, thick and suffocating, as the reality of his choices settled like ash in his heart.

…

15 Years Since Apprenticeship

Acroma stood in the shadows of the sprawling docks, the scent of saltwater mixing with the acrid tang of burnt oils and smoke. The years since Ellion had cast him out felt like a lifetime, each day spent diving deeper into forbidden knowledge. He had learned that knowledge, in its purest form, came with a price, and that price had become evident in his unrelenting pursuit of it.

When he had first joined the smugglers, it was purely out of necessity. They provided rare resources, rare magic relics, ingredients, and artefacts that no kingdom would ever allow him to possess. To him, the shady nature of their operations was nothing more than a means to an end—a way to fund his ever-growing need for research.

It wasn't long before Licht appeared in his life.

Licht had the air of someone who had seen countless empires rise and fall, someone who carried the weight of unspoken knowledge in his every gesture. Their first meeting had been in the heart of the black market, a cavernous warehouse where shadowy figures exchanged glistening crates and grimoires.

"You're a strange one," Licht had said, his voice low but commanding, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. He had watched Acroma carefully, as if reading between the lines of his every movement. "Most people join us for wealth, power, or a cause. You… you're different. You want knowledge."

Acroma had nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Knowledge is power, is it not?"

Licht had leaned back, eyes glimmering with amusement. "Power is a tool. Knowledge is the foundation upon which everything else is built."

And from that moment, Acroma had found himself inextricably linked to Licht, to the Eye of the Midnight Sun, though he had no inkling of its true nature. To him, Licht was simply an ally, a person who could grant him access to what he truly sought: the knowledge of realms beyond magic, the ancient secrets of the universe. They had forged an unspoken bond, one that allowed Acroma to procure everything he needed—magical reagents, forbidden tomes, and even relics of forgotten eras.

But in his pursuit, he had begun to notice that Licht wasn't quite what he appeared to be. There was an uncanny stillness about him, an unsettling aura that made Acroma's mind itch.

17 Years Since Apprenticeship

Time passed quickly. Acroma's role in the smugglers' operations deepened as his studies intensified. He no longer just procured materials—he also began devising experiments, using the artefacts and magical relics to further his research into forbidden magics, pushing the boundaries of his understanding with reckless abandon.

It was during this time that he encountered Maelys for the first time.

She entered the scene like a whirlwind, brash and loud, with a personality that contrasted sharply with his own cold demeanour. Her hair—magenta and striking, almost electric in its vibrancy—was pulled into two large ponytails, and her outfit was a riot of clashing colours and patterns. She wore an oversized purple scarf that seemed to float in the air around her, a red tunic, and leather boots that clicked with every step. She was practically bouncing with energy, and yet there was something unnerving in her cheer.

She approached him with a mischievous grin, her eyes twinkling as she sized him up. "Well, well, if it isn't the genius himself," she teased, placing a small vial of shimmering liquid in front of him with exaggerated care. "You're not going to tell me you don't have any interest in a little chaos, Acroma?"

Acroma barely spared her a glance. "Your antics don't interest me, Maelys."

"Oh, come on! You're no fun!" Maelys huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. She held the vial up to the torchlight, watching the silvery liquid swirl with a fascinated gleam in her eyes. "This little beauty could bring a whole town to its knees if you know how to use it. We could have some real fun with it, don't you think?"

Acroma's gaze flicked to the vial, though his face remained stoic. He wasn't one for flamboyance or chaotic theatrics. "I'm not here to play games. If you have something useful, then speak."

Maelys just laughed, flicking her ponytails back in one fluid motion. "You really need to learn how to enjoy yourself, Acroma. Life's too short to be all business, all the time."

Acroma said nothing, but something in Maelys' eyes made him uneasy. She was chaotic, yes, but her energy was controlled in a way that spoke of experience. She was unpredictable, but not reckless. She was a tool, one that could be useful in his research—albeit a dangerous one.

As time passed, Maelys continued to accompany him on various missions for the smugglers. She would be the distraction, drawing attention away from their operations with her loud demeanour, while Acroma conducted his work in the background. He became adept at using her talents to further his own ends. He would stand in the shadows, watching as she wreaked havoc, all the while absorbing the rare magic and knowledge the smugglers procured.

Yet as he worked alongside her, he couldn't shake the feeling that she knew more than she let on. Her flippant attitude masked a sharpness he couldn't ignore. And every now and then, when her grin faded into something more serious, Acroma would catch a glimpse of something darker beneath the surface.

18 Years Since Apprenticeship

It had been nearly two decades since he had walked away from Ellion's teachings. Acroma had transformed since then—physically, emotionally, and mentally. His body had grown thinner, his face more gaunt, his eyes more hollow. The endless pursuit of knowledge had drained him, yet at the same time, it had given him a sense of purpose that he could no longer deny.

He had encountered other figures during these years, other people involved in the Eye of the Midnight Sun, though he still didn't understand their full purpose. They were a collection of outcasts, dissidents, and those with no place in the world. Acroma had assumed that they shared his pursuit of knowledge, but now, as his dealings with Licht grew more frequent, he began to realise that their goals might be far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

One night, as the full moon cast a pale light over the darkened streets, Licht approached Acroma with a strange glint in his eyes.

"You've done well," Licht said in his smooth, measured tone. "But your potential is far greater than simply assisting in our operations."

Acroma looked up, his gaze sharp. "What are you getting at, Licht?"

Licht's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You are a vessel, Acroma. A vessel for something greater. The Eye of the Midnight Sun seeks to awaken that potential. But first, you must understand the price of your ambitions."

Acroma felt a chill run down his spine, but he said nothing, keeping his expression neutral. He had always known that power came with a price, but he had never expected it to feel like this.

Before he could respond, Maelys stepped forward, her usual playful grin now absent. "You're not afraid, are you, Acroma?" she asked, her voice strangely serious. "I thought you'd be all about that. Power, knowledge… It's what you've always wanted, right?"

Acroma hesitated, his mind racing. Was this what it meant to join the Eye? Was this what Licht had in mind for him all along?

He didn't have an answer, but his silence was enough. Maelys took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "Let's just say that things aren't always as they seem. But don't worry," she added with a wink, "You'll figure it out soon enough."

As they walked deeper into the cave, Licht's words echoed in Acroma's mind. You are a vessel. He didn't know what it meant, but he felt the weight of it—a feeling that everything he had done up until this point was merely a prelude to something far greater, something darker.

Acroma had walked away from Ellion to find knowledge. But now, he wondered if he had ever truly understood the cost of that search.

…

"And to think you've been here, wallowing in obscurity for so long," a voice broke the silence, smooth as silk and cold as the dungeon walls. Acroma raised his head, his sunken eyes catching sight of a figure standing just outside his cell, a man with an all-too-familiar smile. It was Rhya, the mage of the Third Eye, wearing the face of one of the guards—down to the last freckle, thanks to his Copy Magic.

The weary spark of recognition crossed Acroma's face, quickly replaced by guarded detachment. Rhya strolled in, his gaze appraising Acroma like one would a rare artefact, both fascinated and scornful.

"It's only been a few days," Acroma said, his expression normal.

"It's a metaphor for your decline, genius." the elf smiled. Acroma said nothing, keeping his stare steady of Rhya.

"Your brilliance was impressive, Acroma," Rhya drawled, a mock hint of sympathy lacing his words. "But you've reached the end of your usefulness, my friend."

Acroma let out a hollow chuckle, an echo of the man he once was. "So, I'm to be discarded now that I've served my purpose? How typical of criminals."

Rhya shrugged, leaning against the wall, his expression indifferent. "It's nothing personal. Consider it... a kind of promotion, in a way. Your body will be given a second chance—better than you could've ever hoped for. An elf will soon breathe new life into it."

Acroma's eyes narrowed, though he kept his composure. "And who is this elf who deems my flesh worthy?"

Rhya smirked. "Ah, a curious one to the end. You'll be hosting Miron, an elf mage whose Alchemy Magic made him the greatest scientist of our race, before the humans took it away from him. Quite the legacy, wouldn't you say?"

Miron. The name stirred something within Acroma—a mixture of terror and fascination at the thought of becoming the vessel for someone else, an echo of his lifelong desire for transcendence. But he had no illusions about his fate. He was to be a puppet, his body a shell for another's will.

Rhya leaned down, face inches from Acroma's. "In a few hours, you'll be gone. But Miron, he'll make good use of your knowledge…or at least whatever remains of it after the transfer." His tone was laced with a hint of cruel satisfaction.

Acroma gave him a defiant glare, summoning the last shreds of his pride. "You're just another lackey in a long line of them, Rhya. I built my legacy with my own hands. I doubt Miron will carry the same dedication."

Rhya's expression darkened, and a flicker of disdain passed over his face. "You misunderstand. Miron's devotion is to something far greater than your 'legacy.' This is a rebirth, not just for him, but for the entire elven race."

And with that, Rhya straightened, stepping back as his magic began to manifest. He reached out, his hand glowing with a soft, eerie light as he prepared to begin the ritual.

The cell dimmed, and Acroma felt a weight settle over him, like the closing of a curtain over his consciousness. For the briefest of moments, he felt a pang of regret—not for the life he'd led, but for the chance he'd never had to see his own work reach fruition.

As his vision blurred, Rhya's voice drifted to him, mocking yet calm. "Goodbye, Acroma. Think of it as another experiment—one you get to witness from the other side."

And as the light faded from Acroma's world, the last thing he saw was Rhya's smirk, an epitaph for the ambitions that had once burned so bright.

Rhya's voice, full of sarcasm but laced with genuine curiosity, echoed as he smirked and stepped closer to Miron, the scientist.

"So, they finally sent one of their precious thinkers into the thick of things, huh?" Rhya chuckled, crossing his arms. "Welcome to the world of 'real' magic, Miron. Let's see if all those theories of yours hold up when you're face-to-face with power beyond your little diagrams."

He leans in, eyes narrowing, "Hope you didn't bring too much faith in humans with you."

"Oh don't worry, Rhya," Miron said, his face turning stern. "I lost that faith years ago."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this extended flashback! I crammed a lot into one chapter so forgive me if it's kinda long.

I wanted to leave you with quite a good read - since I'm taking a break for 3-4 days. (i've written 120k words in the space of a month allow it)