Alric did not wake up.
His body lay still on the bed inside his chamber, breath slow, heartbeat steady. Moonlight entered through the tall window, touching his pale face.
But his mind—
Was somewhere else.
The First Vision
Alric felt weightless.
No ground beneath his feet.No sky above his head.
Then suddenly—
A battlefield.
The sky was burning.
Golden light clashed violently with endless darkness.
Alric stood frozen as angels and demons fought each other.
Blades of light collided with shadows shaped like claws. Wings were torn. Blood—golden and black—rained from the sky.
The screams were not of pain.
They were full of rage.
"This… this isn't possible," Alric whispered.
He tried to move.
He couldn't.
"I'm not dreaming," he realized."I'm watching."
The world shattered like glass.
The Second Space
Alric was thrown into another place.
This time—
There was no war.
Angels and demons stood together.
Laughing.
Celebrating.
Golden halls floated in endless space. Dark thrones stood beside radiant pillars. Music echoed—ancient, powerful, unreal.
Demons raised goblets beside angels.
No hatred.
No fear.
Alric's mind spun.
"How… can this exist?"
Before he could think further—
Reality twisted again.
The Third Space
This place was silent.
Terrifyingly silent.
A vast void stretched endlessly.
At its center stood one figure.
Alric could not see the face clearly.
But he felt it.
Power so absolute that angels and demons alike were kneeling—bowing in fear.
Wings folded.
Heads lowered.
No resistance.
No pride.
Only submission.
Alric's breath shook.
"Who… is that?" he whispered.
His chest tightened.
"Why are angels and demons afraid of him?"
Questions flooded his mind.
"Where am I?""Why am I seeing this?""What is this history?"
As these thoughts echoed—
The figure slowly turned its head.
And looked directly at Alric.
Time froze.
The figure smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Knowingly.
It spoke.
Not in any language Alric knew.
Yet—
He understood nothing.
Only one feeling reached him.
Recognition.
Awakening
Alric gasped.
His eyes snapped open.
He sat up violently, breath ragged, body trembling. Cold sweat soaked his clothes. His heart pounded like it was trying to escape his chest.
"Ha… ha…"
Fear.
Real fear.
Not of death.
Of truth.
"What… was that?" he whispered.
The room felt normal.
Too normal.
Then—
A presence appeared.
Floating in front of him.
Small.
Round.
About the size of a football.
Half of it glowed golden.The other half was pitch dark.
On its forehead was a mark.
The same mark that had once appeared on Alric's chest when he was a child.
Alric froze.
"You…" he whispered.
The entity's voice echoed directly in his mind—calm, deep, ancient.
"Do not be afraid."
Alric swallowed hard.
"What did I just see?"
The guide floated closer.
Its presence was neither heavy nor light.
Balanced.
"You witnessed Forgotten History," the guide said."Events that happened long before your world remembered itself."
Alric clenched his fists.
"The one they bowed to… who was he?"
The guide paused.
Its light dimmed slightly.
"A being erased from records.""A name swallowed by time.""And a truth the world was never meant to recall."
Alric's voice trembled.
"Then why did I see it?"
The guide stared at him silently.
Then answered:
"Because history remembers you."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the night wind whispered.
And deep within Alric—
Something responded.
End of Chapter 8