Two days had passed since Name met the god cloaked in Prussian blue mist and the unknown woman. And yet, the memory of that encounter clung to him like smoke...indistinct, but impossible to ignore.
He sat on the edge of the hospital bed now, staring at the sterile white walls, his thoughts heavier than ever. The sunlight filtering through the window painted soft lines on the tiled floor, but it brought him no warmth. His body felt... strange. Stronger. Lighter. Sharper.
Charles had told him what happened.
"You started screaming," the doctor had said, his face pale and tight. "Blood came out of your mouth, ears, nose...even your eyes. We thought we were going to lose you. For six hours, you writhed on the floor. Nothing worked. And then... you just stopped."
Name had regained consciousness a full day later, confused but healed...completely. No injuries. No fatigue. Even the small scars on his body were gone.
He should've been afraid. But all he felt was a quiet tension, like something important was just beyond his reach.
Charles had only added one thing before leaving:
"Someone is coming today. Someone who will clear all of your confusions about Aarin."
And now, Name waited. Not with hope, not with dread...just a quiet resolve.
The door creaked open.
He looked up, expecting Charles.
But it wasn't him.
It was the boy who had brought him to Aarin.
Name hadn't expected to see the boy...not after two days of silence. But he didn't speak, and the boy didn't wait for a greeting.
"I've come to escort you to the Zenith," the boy said calmly.
His voice had changed. It was colder now, stripped of the quiet warmth Name remembered from the night they met. His face, too, was blank...no smile, no flicker of recognition. Just silence wrapped in frost.
Without another word, the boy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small silver sphere. Name recognized it immediately. Before he could speak, the boy crushed it in his palm.
A violet flame burst forth, curling upwards like a living thread of smoke and fire. It began to twist and spiral, faster and faster, until it formed a glowing vortex of light and heat. It illuminated the room with an otherworldly glow, casting strange shadows on the walls.
Name watched the flame spin.
"Will I lose consciousness again if I enter?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off it.
The boy shook his head. "No. At most, you'll feel dizzy. You fainted last time because you were too weak." He nodded toward the swirling fire. "Enter the Riftmere. The Zenith awaits on the other side."
Name turned to him. "Riftmere?"
The boy finally looked him in the eyes. "That's what it's called. The spiral of violet flame...it's a gate."
There was a pause, then Name asked, "Aren't you coming?"
The boy gave a slight shake of his head. "No. You have to meet him alone."
Name frowned. "Does the Zenith have powers like you? Do the people of Aarin all have abilities like yours?"
The boy exhaled slowly...almost a sigh.
"You've forgotten too much," he said softly. "If I told you now, there's a high risk… we'd both die."
Name froze.
The boy stepped aside, eyes steady. "Go. The Zenith will tell you what you need to know."
Name stepped into the spiral of violet flame.
For a moment, there was nothing but light...soft, warm, and oddly familiar. It wrapped around him like a memory he didn't know he had. Then, just as suddenly, the sensation vanished.
He was standing in an enormous room.
The spiral behind him disappeared without a trace, like it had never existed. Name turned around, stunned. Nothing. Just polished obsidian tiles stretching endlessly across the floor. The room was larger than the entire Luxia railway station...tall, cavernous, and impossibly silent.
Ahead of him stood two figures.
Both looked young, perhaps in their early twenties. But something in their posture, their eyes, their presence...felt far older.
The man on the left had striking white hair that shimmered faintly in the low light. He wore a white sweatshirt intricately embroidered with black patterns, layered beneath a flowing black cloak detailed with red stitching. Hanging from his ear was a small, metallic spear...wrapped tightly by a violet serpent, its tiny mouth was symbolizing it's violent nature.
Beside him stood a man with dull green hair. He wore a black kimono embroidered with thin lines of silver that caught the light like spider silk. But what caught Name's attention the most were his eyes...lifeless, glassy, like the embers of a fire long gone cold.
The green-haired man turned toward the white-haired one.
"He's the one," he said with no inflection, no emotion.
Then he walked toward Name, stopping just short of him. His eyes briefly scanned Name from head to toe, as if reading something beneath his skin.
"He acquired a new Apace," he murmured.
Without another word, he turned and strode toward the far end of the room, where a massive door waited. His footsteps echoed faintly before fading into silence.
Name looked at the remaining man...the one with white hair. He still hadn't spoken.
But Name could sense it. He was waiting for the other to leave.
The room was vast. It took a while before the green-haired man disappeared through the door. The moment he did, the white-haired man finally turned toward Name and spoke.
"Welcome to Aarin, Name," he said, his voice calm and resonant. "I am Crown...the Zenith of this land."
Name didn't respond right away. He just stared, quietly, thoughts clashing like waves inside his head.
"What is an Apace?" he finally asked. "And… what's a Yipada?"
Crown raised an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smirk. "You're jumping too far ahead," he said, brushing a hand through his silver-white hair. "Let's start from the beginning."
He stood up and pointed toward the corner of the vast chamber. There, almost hidden in the shadows, was a peculiar table...its surface shaped like the very spiral Name had just walked through. But unlike the violet flame from before, this spiral was carved in glistening emerald. Seven chairs surrounded it, spaced with deliberate symmetry.
"Come," Crown said.
They sat facing one another...Name stiff and wary, Crown relaxed and composed. Behind Crown, mounted high on the wall, hung a massive painting. Name caught a glimpse of strange figures and swirling colors, but he couldn't focus on it. His attention was fixed on the man in front of him.
Crown leaned back slightly in his chair, then spoke.
"So, Name," he said, voice smooth like still water, "as far as I remember, this is our third meeting. But since you lost your memory, I suppose we'll treat this as our first."
Name didn't speak. He simply nodded, unsure if he even wanted to know what the other two meetings had been like.
"I can imagine you have a thousand questions. Let's take them one by one."
Crown's fingers tapped the emerald table lightly, as if tracing the spiral pattern helped him focus.
"First, about Aarin. You've heard the name, but not what it means. Aarin is a village. A very special one."
He leaned forward, his sharp eyes watching Name carefully.
"The word Aarin means 'center.' Can you guess… the center of what?"
Name furrowed his brows. "…The center of Earth?"
Crown chuckled softly and shook his head.
"No, not the center of Earth. Aarin is the center of the multiverses."
He paused, letting that word settle.
"All worlds...every plane of existence, every universe, every strand of reality...revolve in patterns, like stars in constellations. But amidst that endless chaos, there must always be an anchor. A place untouched by the shifts of time and probability. Aarin is that place."
Crown's voice grew more solemn.
"This village is not grand in size. it has quiet streets, modest homes, people who seem ordinary. But its roots go deeper than any world's core. Aarin exists in the null-space...a region that binds realities together. What happens here can echo across entire timelines. And what is decided here… sometimes shapes the fate of other universes and billions of creature living there.."
He paused, studying Name's reaction.
Name scratched the side of his head and frowned. "I don't know what a multiverse is," he said quietly.
Crown blinked once, then let out a soft laugh...not mocking, but amused, almost fond.
"Of course," he said, settling back into his chair. "I forgot you lost your memories. That's all right. Understanding doesn't always need books."
He raised a hand, and a shimmer of violet light flickered above his palm. In it, threads of color stretched and twisted into spheres...dozens, then hundreds...each glowing with a different hue. They hovered like stars in a tiny galaxy.
"This," Crown said, "is your world." One small orb pulsed with a dull, gray light. "Luxia, the broken city. The place where you were born and left to rot."
Then he pointed to another orb...blue and bright. "And this...this is another world. Different people, different skies. Maybe no railways, maybe no cities at all. Maybe magic flows there like water."
He turned his hand. The spheres spun, weaving trails of light.
"There are infinite worlds, Name. Not just one universe, but countless...each born from different choices, different rules, or none at all. This collection of all possible worlds is called the multiverse."
Crown closed his fist, and the spheres vanished like smoke.
"You may have thought you were nothing...a boy with no future, no name, no power. But even the smallest thread can shift the whole pattern. Especially when that thread ends up at the center."
He leaned forward, voice lowering slightly. "Aarin exists outside of any single world. It connects them. Bridges them. And you, Name… you've crossed that bridge."
Name swallowed hard, the weight of Crown's words pressing down on him like a storm cloud.
Before he could ask another question, Crown's eyes darkened slightly.
"There's something else you need to know," he said quietly. "And it won't be easy to hear."