Deep beneath the capital’s Cathedral of Light, hidden away from even the highest priests, the Seer stirred.

  Chains of glowing script bound her arms, etched with holy enchantments. Her cell was silent, save for the constant hum of divine magic suppressing her powers. Her eyes—pure white—stared into the darkness, unblinking.

  She saw him again.

  Kazuki.

  Walking across bloodied fields, eyes void of emotion, carrying darkness and brilliance in equal measure. Each step echoed with the weight of fate, as if the world itself shifted to accommodate him.

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  She clenched her fist as the vision burned into her mind.

  > "The one born under no star... the world will try to shape him, bind him... but he will carve his own fate through fire, blood, and void."

  The prophecy was never meant for heroes.

  It was meant for survivors.

  Suddenly, the door creaked open. Executor Varn entered, the temperature dropping around him. The Seer didn’t flinch.

  “You’ve seen him,” he said.

  “I always see him,” she whispered. “The child with no past, no chains—only pain and purpose.”

  Varn stood quietly, observing her.

  “You said he would bring ruin.”

  “I said he could. But he could also bring renewal. The difference lies in how you treat him.”

  “We don’t take chances with chaos.”

  “Then you’ll make your own prophecy come true.”

  Varn turned to leave, but paused. “We will ensure the world is protected. Even if that means eliminating him.”

  The Seer tilted her head, smiling faintly for the first time in years.

  “You can’t kill him. Because he’s already died once… and this world needs what rises from ashes.”

  As the heavy doors closed behind Varn, the Seer turned to the floating lights in her cell and whispered, “Kazuki… don’t lose yourself. The world will try to make you a weapon. But I hope… you stay human.”