It was a bright, sunny day.
By now, everyone had heard of the terrorist attack by Neo Genesis at CASC.
This led to rumors circulating that the academy had stopped them. But, ironically, there were also rumors claiming that it was the Prince of the Crimson Clan, Azriel Crimson, who was responsible for the failure of the attack.
Some even whispered that Azriel had been responsible for the death of one of their seven leaders.
Naturally, as the king of rumors, most people didn’t believe what was being said.
Until… the Crimson Clan themselves officially announced it as an achievement—the entire Neo Genesis attack had been stopped by Azriel Crimson.
Not a speck of credit went to the academy.
And strangely enough, the academy remained silent. They didn’t respond, which only fueled the chaos across Asia.
The Crimson Prince had gained a single achievement, but that achievement was enough to rival the accomplishments of the other princes and princesses with ease.
Some even began to speculate that Azriel Crimson was planning to challenge Jasmine Crimson for the throne of the Crimson Clan.
A great deal of speculation swirled, especially about the children of the four great clans.
One of those very great children was currently standing in an open field.
A field that was surrounded by dirt—no trace of nature remained. The ground was filled with craters, as if the very essence of nature had been wiped away.
Celestina panted heavily, her legs trembling beneath her. Sweat trickled down her luminous skin, glistening under the harsh sun.
She wore sleek black leggings that clung to her form, accentuating her toned legs, and a matching sports bra that revealed a frame seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves. The dark fabric was damp with sweat, and it contrasted sharply with her alluring, frost-kissed hair.
In her hands, she gripped her sword tightly, eyes narrowed as she focused on Thomas, who stood before her. His calm demeanor only made her gaze harden. His gaze met hers, but he showed no signs of exhaustion.
Thomas was dressed in a simple black jogging set and a dark green hoodie, an extreme contrast to his usual attire.
He furrowed his brows in concern, seeing the exhaustion in her body.
“Your Highness, perhaps we should take a break? You’ve pushed yourself hard these past few days.”
Celestina merely raised her sword higher, her voice cutting through the air like steel.
“Not until I touch you.”
Despite the trembling in her body, her words were resolute.
There was only one thing she wanted: to graze Thomas.
That was the task he had given her, and she was determined to complete it—no matter the cost.
Even though… she didn’t quite know how.
Thomas was a grandmaster, someone close to being a demi-god. How was she, a mere mortal, supposed to lay a finger on someone who could, in the blink of an eye, kill thousands?
But Thomas wasn’t exerting the full force of a grandmaster. Naturally, he was holding back just enough to give Celestina a chance.
But even that didn’t make it easy.
Celestina wasn’t one to give up.
Definitely not.
Because right now, there was one thing she desperately wanted:
To grow stronger.
How foolish it would be to even entertain thoughts of revenge—revenge so absurd that it would make others think her mad—if she didn’t even have the strength to make anyone bend to her will.
She was considered the weakest of the children of the four great clans—on par with Caleus…
Caleus!
The thought infuriated her. How could she be compared to that Nebula bastard?
Yet, how could she blame anyone?
She was sure she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. Every child of the great clans must feel the same—a deep frustration, all because of one prince who stopped sleeping and turned the entire board around for his own amusement.
It was as if everything they had achieved had been rendered worthless, overshadowed by Azriel.
She and everyone else had to grow stronger—strong enough to achieve something greater, even if they didn’t know how.
Azriel, a prince who wasn’t even competing for the throne, was doing better than the potential future kings and queens.
It was a blow to anyone’s pride.
But Celestina wasn’t one to hold a grudge against Azriel himself.
The problem lay with her.
Her lack of great achievements.
She simply had to accomplish something that would elevate her to the top, something that would put her on the same stage as the Dusk Prince and the Crimson Prince.
Achievements were everything to the children of the four great clans.
But it wasn’t about wealth, fame, or power.
For the great children, having an achievement was about respect.
They were constantly surrounded by powerful humans—humans who could bend the world to their will. Their very parents were such figures.
To stand beside them, they had to match them.
They had to prove that they were worthy of being called the children of the great clans, worthy of one day becoming kings or queens.
They needed to be taken seriously—no matter what.
That was why achievements were so important.
For Celestina, and for the others.
As she prepared to move again, Celestina suddenly froze.
“…!”
Thomas did as well, his face filling with horror as Celestina’s gaze snapped upward.
She followed his eyes.
They both looked…
At the cracked sky.
It was shattered, its surface fractured as if made of glass.
Then, the sound of a piece of glass falling echoed through the air.
It rippled, traveling to every ear around the world.
A sound so unnatural, it seemed to shake the very air itself. The crack in the sky widened, jagged edges splitting further apart as though the heavens themselves were being torn asunder. With each inch, the broken sky stretched with a groan, the sound like a thousand shards of glass scraping against each other.
Then, it stopped.
As abruptly as it had come, it was gone—just like that.
And the world…
Everyone looked on.
Their faces shared the same expression of horror.
The crack in the sky had grown.
*****
A groan escaped Azriel’s lips as he opened his heavy eyelids, assaulted by the bright light around him.
Blinking rapidly, his blurry vision began to clear, revealing a large, high ceiling made of smooth white marble. The walls around him were also marble, giving the space a cold, clean feel. The light coming from above reflected off the polished stone, making the whole room feel bright. The structure was impressive, the marble creating sharp, angular lines that stretched upwards.
He blinked again.
Everything seemed to be made of white marble.
Azriel blinked once more—not out of confusion, but recognition.
‘White Haven…’
For a fleeting moment, he thought he might have died, that some inexplicable reason had led him to heaven.
He felt himself lying on a soft bed but didn’t move.
He couldn’t.
A certain weight pressed against his stomach. Azriel shifted slightly, glancing down to see a face… an incredibly peaceful, adorable face, sleeping on his stomach. Her obsidian hair sprawled messily, loose around her, and she wore a cute smile.
“Mm… choco… ice cream… bad Azriel…”
Azriel watched Jasmine, drowsy, as she mumbled in her sleep about… something. What concerned him, though, was that she appeared to be kneeling beside his bed, having fallen asleep while watching over him.
Azriel shifted again, careful not to wake her. It seemed that he was really in White Haven, and this bed had been prepared for him.
‘Ah…’
He was back. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he had returned to the real world.
Azriel wanted to cry from happiness but held it in.
He didn’t know how long he had been asleep or what might have changed.
But what he did know… he had changed.
Seeing his own self, and what he might have become in the future, what he had already experienced in the past—what had happened to his family…
Seeing the God of Death, and countless other things…
It was overwhelming.
Azriel looked at Jasmine’s face again, and he felt himself overcome with emotion. He bit his lip.
His sister.
The entire reason the other Azriel had done what he did was because of Jasmine and Nol’s death.
Even though it was a different timeline, Azriel still felt a hint of desperation at seeing them again.
Now… he felt so relieved. Azriel couldn’t help but move his hand forward, gently caressing her hair.
It seemed that his touch comforted Jasmine, as she nuzzled closer with a happy smile on her face.
Azriel smiled in return.
‘What an adorable creature she can be sometimes.’
Then, his gaze landed to his left, and his heart skipped a beat.
“….”
Right next to him stood a white marble round table with a chessboard laid out. On the opposite side of the table was a beautifully crafted white marble throne.
Sitting on that throne was a boy. He had one leg draped over the other, his arm resting on the armrest, his hand propped against his head. He stared at Azriel with crimson eyes.
With a grumpy tone, Nol spoke, and Azriel froze in place, petrified.
“…Looks like master has finally decided to grace us with his eyes open.”