— Hanna's POV
The entrance did not resemble anything I had imagined.
In the vast darkness, there were only endless stars—no different from the space outside the gate. There were no phenomena worthy of being called a miracle.Only a road that was far too quiet, quiet to the point where even the sound of wind felt unnecessary.
That was where I saw her.
She did not appear suddenly.It was more as if—I suddenly realized she had always been there.
I stopped instinctively, my chest tightening.
The sensation was too familiar.
It was exactly the same as the vision I had seen on the eve of my awakening, when she had erupted in golden light, fighting desperately.
"...A deity?"
The word left my mouth faster than thought.
She paused slightly, then shook her head. The movement was gentle, as if she were careful not to disturb something already fragile.
"No."
Her voice was not loud, yet it was steady to the point of near coldness.
"Please do not address me that way."
I froze.
She was neither displeased nor eager in her denial.It was not humility, but rather a refusal—a refusal to be placed where she did not belong.
"I am not a deity of the Phantom Realm,"she added, without any intent to argue.
Silence stood at my side, saying nothing.
He simply looked at her, as if confirming a truth that had always existed, yet had never been named.
Sether 's reaction was more direct.
He did not bow.He did not raise his guard.
He merely straightened his posture, his gaze sharpening into something focused and restrained—the expression he only showed when facing something that could not be categorized.
Her eyes moved past us, settling on a stone statue beside the entrance.
It was heavily weathered, its form simple, yet it deliberately retained one peculiar detail—
An anonymous mask.
The figure behind the mask had no name, no expression.Only a single direction: forward.
She stared at the statue longer than she looked at us.
In that moment, I understood—
She was not reminiscing about a person.She was longing for a choice.
"He was not of this world," she finally said, her voice lower."And he was not summoned."
She raised her hand, stopping just short of touching the statue.
"He left his original world because of his beliefs, pursuing the demon in the fog."
"Not an escape," she said."A pursuit."
Sether 's brow tightened for a fraction of a second.
I knew he was calculating—risk, probability, survival rate.
She offered no conclusion.
"It was an adventure both extraordinarily brave, and extraordinarily dangerous," she said."No one knew whether he would return alive."
There was no tragedy in her tone.No praise.
Only a fact, placed there exactly as it was.
A strange unease crept into me.
Not fear—but the sensation of being seen through.
She turned back to us.
That look was not an examination.It was more like confirmation—that we truly stood here.
"Because of his conviction," she said,"I chose to respond to travelers who step into the Fantasy Continent."
Not help.Not guidance.
Response.
"And you?" she asked plainly."What is your purpose?"
I did not answer immediately.
Because I knew this was not a question that could be wrapped in rationality.
Silence spoke first.
"We are looking for the Heart of the Night Elves," he said, as steady as ever."And we are searching for Rosa."
No elaboration.No justification.
As if those two statements alone already carried sufficient weight.
She did not react.
She neither nodded nor objected.
She simply watched us.
In that instant, I understood—
She was not here to stop us.She was only confirming whether we truly understood the position we were about to step into again.
She did not respond to Silence right away.
It was not hesitation, but a necessary pause—as if verifying that what we spoke was not merely a goal, but a burden we were willing to bear.
Then she spoke.
"My name is Sophia."
No title.No explanation.
Not an introduction of identity, but an acknowledgment of existence.
I noticed the way she spoke her name—it was not a request for remembrance.It was a declaration that she allowed us to call her that.
"Since you have confirmed your decision,"her gaze moved slowly between us, never lingering too long on any one of us,"I need to make clear what will happen next."
I instinctively held my breath.
Not from nervousness, but because I sensed she was about to say something that would leave us no retreat.
"You are a group carrying a destiny spanning a thousand years," she said calmly.There was no weight of predestination in her voice—yet no space for rebuttal either.
Sether tilted his head slightly, as if verifying the logical source of that statement.
Silence did not move.
"If you wish to reclaim what belongs to you,""you must once again enter—the memories between a thousand years ago and a hundred years ago."
She deliberately used the word memories, not the past.
"That is not returning to the past," she said."And it is not starting over."
Her voice slowed, as if ensuring we would not misunderstand.
"You cannot forcibly change the outcome.""You cannot revise the ending.""You cannot save those who have already been lost."
She did not look at Silence.Nor at Sether.
She looked at me.
In that moment, I felt myself pulled back to a certain point—not the present, but much earlier.
Before I had ever made a choice for this world.
"Only by experiencing those memories," she continued,"by enduring what has already occurred yet was never truly understood, will you obtain what you seek."
Not a reward.Not a trade.
But a consequence.
Her gaze never left me.
"Rosa…"When she spoke the name, her tone shifted almost imperceptibly—not emotion, but focus.
"She is connected to you."
My chest tightened.
Not because of the words themselves, but because of the pause that followed.
"As for what kind of connection that is,"she shook her head slightly,"I do not know."
Not withheld.Not concealed.
She truly did not know.
"That is not something I can understand for you," she said."You must experience it yourself."
In that moment, I realized—
She was not standing in front of us.She stood beside us.
Like someone who had witnessed too many identical choices, yet would never make them on another's behalf.
She looked at the three of us one last time.
"So…" she asked,"are you prepared to enter those memories?"
This time, there was no wind.No echo.
Only whether we were willing to step once more into that place—the place no one had escaped back then.