The library fell completely silent.
Only the soft hum of the hologram remained, its flickering blue light painting faint reflections across the walls of ancient books.
Noctis's expression had changed — no trace of the smirk, no teasing glint in his eyes. When he spoke again, his tone was colder, heavier.
"You're the key, Noel," he said slowly. "But not because of destiny or blood or prophecy. You're the key because you're different every time."
Noel blinked, his voice barely a whisper. "Every time…?"
Noctis nodded once. "Every cycle, when the world collapses, it starts again. The continents reset, the people are reborn, and time rewinds to the beginning. But the key—" he motioned toward Noel "—changes. A new soul. A new will. Sometimes a coward. Sometimes a hero. Sometimes… something in between."
Charlotte's lips parted, her voice trembling. "Then that means there were others like him before?"
Noctis's eyes dimmed. "Thousands. And every one of them failed."
