Gathering of Broken Promises
I had Florene by the throat from the moment I leapt—dragging her through the air, away from the flower field, far away from everyone else.
We tore across the sky until the forest below blurred into a smear of green.
Then we dropped.
But before impact, Florene regained her composure.
Her body broke apart into flower petals—soft and shiny—scattering into the sky, riding the wind. And my hand closed on nothing.
I hit the ground alone.
The earth split with a violent crack, stone and soil buckling under the force. A crater formed beneath me, deep enough to swallow a wagon, its rim blasted outward. Trees near the impact bent and snapped like twigs, the forest widening in a heartbeat.
Dust surged up around me.
I rose from it slowly, my body steady, my breath controlled. My eyes stayed narrow and unblinking as I cut through the haze—refusing to look shaken.
Florene reformed in front of me.
First her head—eyes, hair, expression—then the rest of her body knitting into place as if she’d never been scattered at all.
The clearing I’d made sat between us like a ring.
Florene's face was unreadable. I stared at her with a face carved from stone.
And then… my horn.
The small horn on my forehead began to glow, pulsing with eerie crimson light. A faint mist seeped from it—crimson and thin—curling into the dust like smoke searching for something to burn.
Normally, my crimson hair hid it. But now it gleamed for the world to see. And I couldn’t stop it.
I stepped forward, slow and deliberate. My presence pressed down like a storm.
Florene’s eyes snapped fully open as her body finished reconstructing—as if nothing had happened. But her voice betrayed a hairline crack in her composure.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, calm on the surface.
I didn’t answer.
“Did you forget what I told you?” she continued, as if she expected obedience simply because she spoke.
“I’ll ask for forgiveness later,” I said, and meant it.
I had learned something in these lands: the world didn’t bend just because you were young. And the promise to Syria was one I made to a child.
Florene’s lips curled.
“…It seems you’ve dug your grave,” she said softly. “Though I cannot kill you—not yet. You haven’t broken the promise.”
Her tone darkened, malice thickening.
“And I doubt you can truly hurt me. But the fact that you would even consider stepping past the vow you made…”
Her expression twisted—not grotesque, but terrifying in its restraint.
“…is deserving of death.”
“We’ll see,” I replied, voice quiet.
For a moment, something flickered behind Florene’s eyes—like memory. As if she heard a warning from long ago:
*He will not back down, even when you show him an obstacle far above him.*
The thought made her chuckle—low, almost incredulous.
Then she straightened, regaining the posture of authority like a robe placed neatly on her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with far more determination than mine.
It was scary.
“Let me reintroduce myself,” she said, voice rising with zeal. “My name is Florene—Superior Spirit of Flowers...”
She spread her arms as if claiming the very air.
“But more importantly… I am the one who oversees the Zeus Woods,” She paused. “And my authority is absolute.”
Her voice struck the clearing like judgment.
I didn’t flinch. Instead, I shattered the momentum with the one question that mattered.
“Tell me…” I said, then roared it so the forest itself had to listen. “WHERE IS SIR MARCUS?!”
Florene blinked—genuinely caught off guard by my lack of reverence.
Then her brows lowered as she stared at me.
I stared back.
“Answer me!” I said again, louder.
“You mean the insolent human who dared to challenge me?” Florene’s voice dropped into a chilling calm. “I killed him.”
The words fell like a blade, slicing through the dust-filled air.
Though I didn’t collapse, I had braced myself for this long before stepping into the woods.
Still… my gaze dipped for a heartbeat, grief flickering where I couldn’t fully hide it.
“…I see,” I said quietly. “So he failed to keep his word... Figures.”
Marcus’s last smile flashed through my mind—reassuring, warm… and now suddenly, it felt like a cruel joke.
My horn brightened. Crimson mist poured harder, spilling across the crater floor and creeping outward like something alive.
Florene tilted her head, scorn dripping from her voice.
“Look at you…” she murmured. “I can’t believe my child would call a human like you ‘friend.’ But that will soon change.”
I lifted my eyes again.
My face was expressionless. Stone-cold.
“I might have forgiven you for Marcus,” I said. “But I will not forgive you for what you did to Asahi.”
My aura flared—controlled, but violent in intent—like a storm finally ready to break.
Florene smirked, arrogance settling on her features like a crown.
“Haa…”
I charged her without hesitation.
And in that instant, the air agreed to witness the fight.
☆☆☆
Meanwhile—back at the flower field…
The clash between Urizee and Reina ended before it could properly begin.
One decisive motion. One clean freeze. And Urizee stood locked inside a glacier beside the field—silent, unmoving, her face trapped behind thick ice like a doll in a display case.
Reina remained standing victorious… but her eyes were fixed on the sky, troubled.
“What’s the matter?” Mariada asked, breath tight as she kept working.
Reina didn’t look away. “I have a sinking feeling… That Krai isn’t himself right now.”
Her gaze stayed upward, as if she could see through trees and distance.
Mariada’s hands didn’t stop, but her expression tightened.
“Why do you say that?”
“You saw him, too,” Reina said, and her eyes narrowed as she finally turned slightly. “When he left… that look in his eyes wasn’t normal. It was sharper than even when you were taken.”
Mariada fell silent.
Reina swallowed whatever else she wanted to say and forced herself back into the present.
“Anyway,” she added—too casually, as if the words didn’t matter—“You’ve been healing him for a while.”
Mariada’s voice trembled despite her control. “His light attribute is fighting my dark magic. He’s healing, it’s just… slower than it should be.”
Reina clicked her tongue. “Then hurry up. I want to check on the young master.”
Mariada didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked on Asahi, watching life return at a pace that felt cruelly insufficient.
…Fine. I don’t have a choice.
"I'll switch up the magic spell and use another one," She said, her voice irritated. "And nothing must disturb my focus, Got it?!"
She said while she released Temporal Stitch and prepared to use the other spell.
Reina, on the other hand, dismissed it as nothing.
"Do whatever it takes. I'll keep watch," Reina said.
Mariada confirmed with her silence.
The spell she was hesitant to use was—Chronos’ Rewind. A spell faster than her safer methods—but far more dangerous.
Backlash and Haste worked at a life cost. Chronos’ Rewind was different.
It created a localized time bubble around the body and rewound the injury—pulling the flesh back to a moment before the wound occurred.
However, if she lost control… If even one passing thought interrupted her focus... Time could slide too far.
Past the injury. Past the body’s current state. Past everything.
The spell could spell Asahi's irreparable demise.
But it demanded less mana—only requiring perfect focus. That was the kicker of the spell.
Mariada had never practiced the spell. It was new.
But with Asahi’s light mana resisting her dark attribute like a wall, she couldn’t afford to wait while the wall slowly cracked.
This spell would bypass that conflict. Because it targeted his body—not his mana.
Mariada drew a breath.
Then she began.
“Time flows back to the hourglass… moments lost, now flow back fast…”
Her voice started steady.
Asahi’s body lifted slightly from the ground, as if the air chose to hold him. And a faint purple bubble formed around him, shimmering like glass.
“…By the void and the endless clock, by the power bestowed to me by my lord…”
The bubble brightened.
“Chronos, heed me. Let time bend for me—grant me this wish…” Her voice sharpened with authority. “CHRONOS’ REWIND!”
The spell activated.
Asahi became wrapped in a space bubble so clean that it looked as if reality had been cut and sealed around him.
Above him, a massive hourglass appeared—runes carved along its edges, glowing faintly.
Slowly, it turned upside down.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The hourglass straightened. The runes flared brighter. And the sand began to flow from bottom to top.
The hourglass represented Asahi. The sand represented his life, measured in grains.
The ticking was unsettling somehow—too loud, too precise, too final. But she didn’t dare disturb the rhythm.
One mistake and the spell would collapse into disaster.
Mariada’s eyes never moved. Even Reina, watching with tense silence, didn’t speak.
This was Mariada’s first attempt. And she was holding a life with hands that were not allowed to tremble.
The greatest requirement wasn’t mana, it was mental strain.
Clear the mind. Hold the image of healing. Do not slip. That's all.
Easy, right?
Mariada’s breathing grew heavy. Sweat gathered at her temple. But she endured.
The hourglass ticked on. The sand flowed steadily now.
Mariada exhaled slowly, relief threatening to loosen her focus—
And then—CRACK!
The glacier shattered.
Ice burst outward, shards scattering across the field.
Urizee stepped free from the ice prison.
Her movements were wrong—jerky, violent, as if her body didn’t belong to her. Her pupils rolled back. Her joints cracked. But the pain didn’t slow her.
This wasn’t the careful, puppet-like control from before. This was something rougher. A grip tightened too hard.
Urizee seized anything she could and hurled it.
Chunks of ice. Stones. Even broken wood from nearby trees.
Everything became a projectile aimed at Reina and Mariada.
Mariada didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn her head. She couldn’t afford a single wobble in her focus. If she broke the spell for even a heartbeat, Asahi would die.
The spell came first.
Because she chose it. And because she couldn’t accept losing Asahi.
Besides… She trusted Reina.
Reina planted her feet.
The projectiles came in a storm.
She couldn’t block them all with precision—so she blocked them with certainty. A massive ice wall erupted from the ground, rising like a fortress.
The objects collided with it in a barrage of impacts. Smoke and frost rose where ice chipped and cracked.
“You’re persistent,” Reina said, eyes locked on Urizee.
Urizee’s body was bruised and battered from the earlier takedown, but she attacked with relentless determination—as if her body existed only to obey the command inside it.
“I had hoped you’d stay frozen until the young master dealt with that spirit,” Reina said coldly. “But I guess her hold on you is stronger than I imagined.”
Urizee wobbled for a moment. Like strings pulled too tight. But she didn’t stop.
Reina’s gaze narrowed.
Relentless was pointless against someone like her. Someone who could block every attack with ease. And Urizee was about to learn that.
※
Asahi woke in a white void.
At first, he lay on a floor that looked like polished snow—no seams, no horizon, no shadow. When he sat up, the emptiness sat up with him. Infinite. Silent. Unmoving.
“…Where am I?” he asked.
No answer came.
He placed one hand on his knee and stood. His body felt light, almost weightless. When he looked himself over, he froze.
No blood.
No torn robe.
No wound.
He pressed his palm against his stomach and felt only smooth skin and steady warmth—everything where it should be.
I could’ve sworn Urizee stabbed me…
Asahi swallowed and stared out into the endless white again.
“So am I dreaming?” he murmured. “Or… dead?”
“You are neither.”
The voice came from behind him—calm, gentle, as if it had been standing there the whole time.
Asahi turned slowly, strangely unstartled, like some part of him already knew what he would see.
A man stood there in a quiet presence with his hands behind his back, wearing serene robes that looked too clean for any earthly cloth.
However, a person can process clothes, but the man had a halo above his head—soft light that made the white space feel even whiter.
“…Ah.” Asahi’s breath caught.
Not in fear. In awe.
The man smiled faintly.
“Hello, Asahi.”
Asahi dropped to both knees at once and bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor.
“Angel Graham!”
A soft chuckle escaped the angel, eyes briefly closed—as if Asahi’s reflexive politeness never stopped amusing him.
“I see you are still respectful,” Graham said. “Raise your head.”
“Right,” Asahi replied, doing so at once.
Up close, Graham didn’t look like the stories. No divine sword at his hip. No holy wings unfolding behind him.
If anything, he looked… normal.
And that was what made him terrifying.
“What can I do for you?” Asahi asked, then glanced around anxiously. “Did you call me here?”
“No,” Graham answered. “Happenstance.”
Asahi blinked. “By chance…?”
Graham’s gaze shifted, thoughtful. Then he turned his body slightly.
“Walk with me.”
Asahi didn’t understand, but his feet obeyed.
They walked through the endless white as if distance were a thing in that space.
“I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon,” Graham said.
“Me neither,” Asahi admitted. “I thought… if I saw anyone from the heavenly realm again, it would be after I died.”
Graham didn’t respond immediately.
Asahi’s throat tightened. “Am I dead?”
“You are most certainly not,” Graham said.
Asahi exhaled in relief so hard it almost shook him.
“Good…”
“If it were not for that beastwoman—Mariada Letos—placing a spell on your mind,” Graham continued, “you would have died.”
“Mariada did?” Asahi frowned. “But she doesn’t have healing magic.”
“Correct.” Graham unraveled his hands and gestured as he spoke, as if shaping the explanation in the air. “She used another method. A clever one.”
He lifted two fingers slightly.
“By slowing time within your mind, she kept your consciousness from slipping away completely.”
“So…” Asahi’s eyes widened. “We’re in my mind right now?”
Graham nodded. “Yes. But deeper than that.”
Asahi stared. “Huh…?”
“This is the subconscious,” Graham said simply. “She knew that by keeping the subconscious alive and well, the consciousness would return when the body could support it.”
Asahi's mouth opened slightly, then he placed his hand on his chin.
"Similar to a comatose state," He said.
Graham nodded.
Asahi felt it: Mariada’s power wasn’t merely strong.
It was world-class.
And yet people feared it because “dark magic” carried the weight of history.
Graham stopped walking.
Asahi stopped too, instinctively mirroring him.
“Well, Asahi,” Graham said, hands returning behind his back, “this is the end of our time.”
“Huh?”
Asahi looked down and felt it before he fully understood what it was.
His body was dissolving—starting at his fingertips, turning into faint light.
“What’s happening?” he asked, voice tightening.
“Don’t worry,” Graham said. “Your consciousness is returning.”
“…Oh.”
They stared at each other for a quiet moment.
Then Asahi stepped forward suddenly, remembering something that had haunted him since reincarnation.
“Wait.” His voice sharpened. “What you said when I reincarnated… what did you mean, that I need to save the world? Am I a hero?”
For the first time, Graham looked genuinely surprised.
Then he chuckled once—soft, almost fond.
“No,” Graham said. “You are not the hero.”
Asahi froze.
“And don’t worry so much about what I said,” Graham added, voice gentler now.
Asahi’s eyes stayed locked on him.
Graham’s tone deepened, echoing through the white.
“Child of Light… the world will change greatly in the time ahead.”
His voice softened again.
“Your task, for now, is simple: live. Watch the change. And cherish it—with the ones you love.”
Asahi swallowed, stunned.
“When the time comes to save the world,” Graham continued, “you will know.”
That was all.
The words felt both comforting and terrifying.
“…Right,” Asahi whispered, closing his eyes. “I understand.”
“Farewell, Asahi,” Graham said. “And fulfill your promise to Urizee.”
Asahi’s eyes snapped open.
“My promise…?”
Graham’s gaze sharpened.
“Save her first.”
Asahi’s expression hardened, resolve cutting through the lingering fear.
“You can bet on it,” he said.
Graham smiled faintly.
Then he watched as Asahi’s subconscious form dissolved into nothing.
The encounter ended.
For a breath, Graham’s expression shifted—joy fading into seriousness, as if his eyes were fixed on a future only he could see.
However, angels must not concern themselves with mortals' feelings. If they did… The world itself would tilt into chaos.
