Sacred Calendar Year 903, Month of Sumr Blossoms, Day 13.
Fresta Empire Border, Northern Ice Fields, at the foot of the Three Sages’ Snow Mountains.
This snowy expanse had once belonged to Ceylan.
But now, in the desolate ruins of the towns, only a few wild beasts road—becoming the last traces of life in the wreckage.
Boom—
A thunderous storm suddenly rolled in, sweeping across the ice fields and lifting a flurry of snowflakes into the sky.
A massive Crowned Griffon descended, its pitch-black wings blotting out the sun. The majesty radiating from its body made every beast nearby drop to the ground in submission.
The beasts that could survive in the polar regions were mostly Extraordinary Creatures, and among them, Beast Kings of Fifth- and even Sixth-Ring weren’t uncommon.
But before this awe-inspiring Crowned Griffon, even Imperial-tier Beast Kings seed no different from ants.
This was a Seventh-Ring Legendary-tier Crowned Griffon, equivalent to a Legendary Beastmaster among humans—perhaps even rarer.
After all, most Legendary Beastmasters' contracted pets were rely at the peak of Imperial-tier, only able to match a Legendary creature thanks to the amplification of their seven Soul Pacts.
In the next mont, a graceful silhouette leapt down effortlessly from the massive griffon’s back.
“Go find your own food nearby. Many of the beasts around here once took part in the Beast Tide that destroyed Ceylan.”
“That criminal may already be dead, but the fall of Ceylan had much to do with those Beast Kings. No need to show rcy.”
Isadella patted the massive griffon’s head and spoke softly.
Upon hearing her command, this creature—powerful enough to be revered as a totem in the Lost Domain—nodded obediently like a kitten, then spread its wings and took off again.
As Isadella’s contracted Summoned Beast, this Crowned Griffon had personally endured the thousand years within the Imaginary Belt, only ascending to Legendary-tier through that long passage of ti.
So it knew well why its master had co to the ruins of Ceylan.
All of it was for that man—
The one her master had defied history and the world itself to bring back.
So at a ti like this, it knew better than to stay and ruin the mood.
With a flap of its wings, the griffon swiftly disappeared into the snow-filled sky.
Isadella stood atop the ruins of Ceylan, gazing quietly at the landscape with her crimson eyes.
Her silver hair fluttered in the freezing northern wind, as did the long black-and-red military cloak lined with a golden embroidered Black Eagle emblem. Yet the Second Imperial Princess stood still as stone.
“So this is the city that gave birth to and raised you?”
Her soft whisper faded into the wind, unheard.
And so, she began walking step by step through the deserted ruins.
From the center of the ruins, where the Earl of Winter’s manor had burned to a charred tal skeleton,
To the outskirts, where empty hos and shops stood in silence.
Eventually, Isadella left Ceylan behind.
A few miles into the snowy outskirts, she stopped at a secluded spruce forest.
There, deep within the woods, stood a modest wooden cabin—simple and unadorned.
Because it lay outside Ceylan’s city limits, it had survived the great fire and the Beast Tide massacre that followed. It remained completely intact.
“This is Xia Ya’s ho back in Ceylan?”
Isadella stood outside the cabin, gazing over the quaint structure as she asked softly.
“Yes, this is the place.”
Southern Inspector Fioren, who had silently followed behind while dismissing her Black-Scaled Wyvern, responded respectfully.
“Due to Ceylan’s destruction, many records are difficult to verify...
But using ti-type Summoned Beasts and Holy Relics, we were able to reconstruct parts of Ceylan’s past.”
“Xia Ya Egut was adopted at a young age by an old hunter from the Ice Fields.”
As she spoke, Fioren gestured toward the cabin.
“This cabin belonged to that old hunter.
After he passed away, it remained Xia Ya’s ho all the way until Ceylan’s fall. It’s where he spent his entire childhood.”
After her respectful explanation, Fioren cast a puzzled glance at the princess.
Since the Month of Blossoms, Her Highness had beco a different person.
From then until the current Month of Sumr Blossoms, a full three months had passed.
Whenever she had free ti, Isadella would seek traces of that boy’s past.
From the now-empty estate in the Black Lily District of the Imperial Capital,
To the years he’d spent training at the Arcane City of Lokiah,
To the ruins of Ceylan itself.
Yet that boy, who had shone so brightly at the recent banquet, becoming the center of attention across the Western Continent,
Had vanished without a trace—along with the girl later revealed to be the only daughter of the Earl of Winter.
Their last known location was a hotel in Lokiah.
There, Isadella had held a private eting with another banquet guest—the one who had slain Earl Guderian—the Tower Master of the White Chalk Tower, the Argent Witch.
What they discussed remained a mystery.
But afterward, the Second Imperial Princess abandoned her massive pile of military and political duties,
And set out on a journey to trace Xia Ya’s footsteps.
In this ti of national unrest and imperial succession, such a reckless move by the leading heir to the throne had sparked anger from imperial nobles and even the royal clan elders.
But at the imperial council—
Isadella shut down all objections with a single, calm statent:
“Xia Ya Egut.”
“He is the future Prince of the Empire.”
“And also, the one I love.”
“When I take the throne, he will be my King Consort. No one else will do.”
Such a bold and direct declaration of her chosen consort—
It wasn’t hard to imagine the uproar it caused across the Western Continent.
In fact, it was a statent that could shape the Empire’s fate for decades to co.
And for Fioren, who had once served the White Tower, followed both the Princess and the Argent Witch,
The implications were even more painful.
Because if she was right—
The Tower Master of her maternal family—the White Chalk Tower—clearly had feelings for Xia Ya as well.
And it wasn’t just one-sided affection. It was a full-on pursuit.
So the Princess’s bold public declaration?
It was an open declaration of war—a love rival’s challenge aid squarely at the Argent Witch.
The Empire and the White Tower had only just started building an alliance. The Tower even opened a branch tower in the Capital.
But Her Highness’s actions were practically tossing both factions into a fire pit.
If things went south and the White Tower and Empire actually split—
One side would be her current employer, the other her maternal family.
Just imagining the scenario made Fioren’s head feel like it was going to explode.
"And also..."
"Xia Ya Egut."
Fioren silently repeated that na once more in her mind—the sa na she'd whispered to herself countless tis over the past six months.
Forget about Her Excellency the Tower Master... how did Her Highness the Princess get involved with him, too?
Just three months ago, Fioren had seen it clearly: the relationship between Isadella and Xia Ya was rely one of mutual respect—Swordbearer and trusted companion.
It hadn't even shown the first signs of romantic interest.
So how the hell had it escalated from no emotional sparks to full-blown love, even to the point of declaring him her future consort?
To make a princess of the Empire, a Legendary-tier powerhouse, the future Empress, speak such decisive words...
Just how deep must that love run?
…
On the other side, Isadella paid no attention to Fioren’s inner soap opera.
After the Imaginary Belt had been corrected by the true history, even Legendary-tier beings could only faintly sense distortions in the River of Ti.
Only those at the Throne Tier or Demi-God level could retain full mory of the vanished tiline.
Isadella, of course, knew her actions would draw criticism from nobles and elders alike. But she didn’t care.
If she did, she wouldn't have once betrayed the entire Round Table just to create the Imaginary Belt.
And with her current standing, she had long earned the right to ignore public opinion and do whatever she pleased.
She gently reached out and pushed open the wooden door in front of her.
The hunter's cabin creaked open.
Isadella didn’t allow Fioren to follow. She stepped in alone, quietly observing everything within.
The room wasn’t large, but it wasn’t cramped either.
It held a single bed, a wooden table with a simple hourglass and a lted candle, and every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust.
Against the wall stood a wooden bookshelf, filled with introductory tos on arcane arts, magitech, and Beastmaster knowledge.
Such books would be common in a place like Lokiah, but in this backwater city of Ceylan, they were rare.
Aside from noble family collections, only traveling rchants could have brought them in.
It was clear that gathering these books had been no easy task for Xia Ya.
Isadella inspected them one by one. Each was well-worn—so nearly falling apart.
And in every book, blank spaces had been filled with rows of detailed notes in a strong, upright script.
In the magitech volus, she found sketches and blueprints of constructs—
Rough, unfinished drawings—but she could still recognize designs resembling the black ch Xia Ya had used in Aisgania’s final battle,
and prototypes of those alchemical bombs that detonated like miniature stars.
Opposite the table was a window.
Through it, she could see the spruce forest, and beyond that, the distant peaks of the Three Sages' Snow Mountains piercing the sky.
Isadella imagined Xia Ya as a young child—
A small boy wrapped in thick furs, carrying a fish he’d caught from the frozen lake, running ho excitedly to cook soup with the old hunter.
She imagined Xia Ya after the old hunter passed—
A half-grown kid with a shortbow on his back and a Snow Ferret trailing him,
trading his hunted ga with passing rchants for a few tattered beginner tos and so writing tools.
She imagined Xia Ya as a teen—
A black-haired, dark-eyed boy hunched over in candlelight,
drawing dreams of machines and constellations with a worn-down feather pen on yellowed parchnt.
Spring warmth, sumr days, autumn sun, winter nights...
One year, two years...
He had grown up in this simple hunter’s cabin—
Until the day he stood before her.
Isadella reached out with a pale hand and lit the candle.
In her crimson eyes, the fla flickered.
“How lucky...”
She murmured.
Lucky that she had invited him to be her Swordbearer that day.
Lucky that the day she pulled the Sword in the Stone, they had t again—under different identities.
Lucky that the thousand years spent waiting in the Imaginary Belt hadn’t ended in delusion, but led to a miracle made real.
…
Isadella remained in the quiet little cabin for a long, long ti.
Until the sun had set and cold moonlight spilled once again onto the snowy plain.
She had lived in palaces a thousand tis more luxurious than this cabin—
But none had ever made her linger like this.
Buzz—Buzz—
A sound ca from outside.
The magitech communicator was buzzing.
Isadella snuffed out the candle.
With a wave of her ntal energy, she swept the entire room clean of dust.
Only after doing so did she finally walk out and gently close the wooden door behind her.
She looked up slightly, turning her gaze to Fioren, who had just answered the call.
The warmth she had shown inside the cabin vanished—replaced by icy solemnity.
“What is it?”
“Secret intel from the southern border, near the Lost Domain.”
Fioren answered respectfully.
“Recently, Beast Tide activity has increased drastically.
And it seems several major cult groups have begun mobilizing their followers.”
“Additionally, reports from the newly rebuilt Swordbearer Order in the Capital suggest—
that the other Oathbound Families and High Nobles—the ones who quieted down after the Borgia Family fell and Guderian died—
have started reconnecting with the Lost Domain and especially the cults. It seems they're plotting sothing.”
A flicker of hesitation passed through Fioren’s eyes. After a pause, she added:
“It may be out of line for soone like to speak ill of the current Emperor...”
“But everyone in the Empire knows—Your Highness’s father, His Majesty, is growing weaker by the day.
The succession ceremony is already imminent.”
“I believe these disturbances... are part of a plan to take advantage of the transition.”
She looked at Isadella.
“Your Highness, even though the Empire and the White Tower are now allies—
the nobles aren’t fools.”
“If they still dare to harbor treasonous thoughts even after the Borgia family was made an example of...
they must have new backing.”
“And that kind of backing... couldn’t have co from any one cult or fallen kingdom.”
“After all, just a few months ago at the banquet, Tower Master Sylvia displayed her Throne-tier power in person.”
“There’s only one force that could push them into such desperate boldness—
one force powerful enough that they’d dare defy even the Throne.”
“It’s...”
“The Abyss itself, isn’t it?”
Isadella’s cold voice rang out through the silent spruce forest.
Fioren had never stepped into the Legendary tier, and naturally, she had no awareness of what had taken place within the River of Ti.
But Isadella knew full well—those True Gods born of the Abyss could not possibly be unaware of what had transpired in that overwritten history.
A King of the Imaginary Belt returning intact…
Even in the eyes of True Gods, that was nothing short of an unfathomable miracle.
Especially considering she possessed the Holy Sword, and had once led a coalition that slew countless Abyssal Beasts a thousand years ago—
Even the Abyssal Ancient God, Crimson Moon, had fallen within that Imaginary Belt.
At this point, it was inevitable—both she and Xia Ya had already entered the Abyss's line of sight.
And Xia Ya, in particular.
Not only had he slain Crimson Moon, he had wiped out its concept and Starchalice along with it—
To the point where even resurrection in the Starrealm was impossible.
To the Abyss, this was a hatred carved into their very being.
Every True God born of the Abyss would without doubt want to destroy this freak capable of utterly erasing a deity.
This was a hatred that would not die, would not rest—
It would not fade with the passage of a thousand years, because no Abyssal God would ever want to see the day Xia Ya ca knocking to finish the job.
“So, since they can’t find him… they’re choosing to strike at instead?”
“They assu that, as a King who bore the sins of the Imaginary Belt, my strength must have been greatly diminished by Correction Force. That I may still appear to hold a Throne-tier standing, but I’m just a hollow shell…”
“And that the Holy Sword, having been crushed under the burden of anchoring the Belt, can no longer display its full power?”
A chill flashed through Isadella’s crimson eyes.
She reached out slightly.
Golden specks of light shimred in the air, converging—
And then, solidified into a golden longsword.
Perhaps, under normal circumstances, things would have turned out just as the Abyss had hoped.
But because of a certain boy’s effort—
Their sches were destined to crumble into nothing.
Isadella’s gaze turned toward the distant Three Sages’ Snow Mountains.
But that look seed to pierce through mountain ranges and cloud layers, reaching into a world beyond form.
Though all of the Western Continent believed Xia Ya had vanished for good in the past three months—
Whether lost in a Dinsional Rift, or quietly murdered by so cult—most considered him dead.
But Isadella still believed.
She believed that black-haired, dark-eyed boy was still sowhere in the multiverse, quietly waiting for their reunion.
That faith may have seed irrational, baseless—
But she held to it with unwavering conviction.
This ti, she would not repeat the mistake of founding a Heroic Spirit Hall, or creating a new Imaginary Belt, just to try resurrecting the dead.
Back then, before parting, that boy had made her a promise—
To continue the story of King and Knight in the real world.
To be the male lead in her tale.
So she would trust him—without conditions.
Because that boy was soone who honored his promises.
Even when she was trapped in the past, a thousand years ago, he had stepped across ti itself to save her from the abyss.
And this ti, he would not break his word.
“In that case…”
“Let deal with all those who wish you harm before you return.”
“Let welco you back… with the blood of Abyssal Ancient Gods.”
The silver-haired princess’s murmur scattered on the icy winds of the north, unheard by all.
“And let declare to the entire Western Continent—”
“You are my husband. You are the Empress’s beloved.”
…
What entered her vision was a sea of boundless black.
At its farthest edge, faint illusory stars shimred—casting beams of dazzling starlight.
It looked like an illusory sea of stars.
This place was the so-called Starrealm, also known as the World’s Outer Layer—
The most hidden, most expansive domain of the Multiverse, where all mysteries converged.
No matter how powerful—Legend, Throne, Demi-God, or even True God—
Once they entered the depths of the Starrealm, they would vanish like a pebble tossed into the sea.
Unless they bore a Starrealm Mark, they could never be found again.
Who knew how many ancient beings, long thought fallen, missing, or dead…
Were now hiding in the depths of the Starrealm.
Then, all at once, those dim stars flickered.
Starlight shattered.
First appeared a pair of high heels, fashioned from crystal.
Then a flowing gothic black dress, followed by a crown made of deep crimson rare tal that rested against a pale-white neck.
With only one eye open, the Golden Elf stood calmly in the starlit void,
Gazing across the eternally undisturbed ripples of the Starrealm.
The next mont, her long-closed left eye opened.
Within her crimson-gold pupils, a flicker of blue fla quietly danced.
And then—
The Temporal Imprints of the Starrealm began to flow.
A phantom River of Ti reflected into her left eye, silent and unseen.
She stared, allowing the illusion of ti to stream through her vision.
After a long while, the Golden Elf girl let out a faint sigh.
“He said he’d be the ‘male lead who makes my heart race’...”
“But just how many people are you planning to be the male lead for, huh?”
Her icy voice rippled across the illusory star sea.
“Ten years…”
“Ten damn years.”
For so reason, her normally cold murmur carried a rare, biting tone—almost gnashing.
But soon, this Golden Elf sorceress, known by the title of The Eternal Page,
Quietly extended her hand.
One pale finger pointed gently outward.
In the next instant—
Spatial fluctuations rippled open.
And in re monts, they tore into countless razor-sharp space fractures.
Through those pitch-black cracks—
Could be seen the shadowy outline of an empty palace, lost in slumber.
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