Darkness.

  Lucius opened his eyes, only to find himself standing in a void—endless and silent. There was no sky, no ground, no walls. Just an abyss stretching infinitely in all directions. A feeling of weightlessness filled him, yet he felt bound, as if something unseen was holding him in place.

  Then, like ripples in still water, images began to appear.

  First, the memories of Lucien Velkaris.

  A child, alone in the slums, scavenging for food in the harsh winters. A young boy, staring in awe at a mage casting a simple spell, a spark of curiosity igniting in his eyes. An older man, donned in a mage’s robes, pouring over endless tomes in the grand library of the Imperial Academy. A rising prodigy, standing before nobles who sneered at his lowborn origins.

  Lucien’s life unfolded before him—the struggle, the triumphs, the betrayals. He watched himself rise to the pinnacle of magic, becoming an Archmage of the Empire, only to be betrayed, accused, and executed. The memories blurred together, and then—

  A different set of memories overlapped.

  The childhood of Lucius Ardentis.

  Born into nobility, yet ignored and underestimated. The cold gaze of his father, Duke Magnus. The quiet warmth of his mother and sisters. The mocking sneers of his elder brothers. The endless training, pushing himself beyond limits.

  Lucius saw it all—his two lives interwoven, running parallel like twin rivers before finally colliding.

  Then, a new presence emerged.

  A warm glow illuminated the void, dispersing the darkness around him. From the light, a man stepped forward.

  Lucius' breath hitched.

  It was himself—or rather

  Lucien Velkaris.

  The man before him had the same sharp features, the same amber eyes burning with intensity. His long, dark hair flowed behind him, and his robe shimmered with the faint traces of arcane power. But unlike the broken, betrayed man he remembered before his death, this Lucien stood tall, composed, powerful.

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  Lucius took a step back, his mind spinning.

  “This… This isn’t real,” he muttered.

  Lucien chuckled, his voice calm yet commanding. “Isn’t it? Tell me, Lucius… do you even know what is real anymore?”

  Lucius clenched his fists. “What are you?”

  Lucien tilted his head. “I am you. And yet, I am not. I am the past that forged you. The will that shaped you.” He took a step forward. “But the question is—what is your will?”

  Lucius narrowed his eyes.

  “You already know what I want,” he said coldly. “Power.”

  Lucien smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Power? Didn’t we have that in our past life? Weren’t we the strongest Archmage in the Empire?”

  Lucius felt his chest tighten.

  “Then tell me,” Lucien continued, stepping closer. “Did it save us? Did our power protect the ones who mattered?”

  Lucius remained silent.

  Lucien’s gaze turned sharp. “Elara. She dedicated her life to us. She brought us back. And what happened to her?”

  Lucius' hands trembled.

  “She was executed. Branded a criminal. And all because she tried to defy fate for us.”

  Lucius grit his teeth. The truth stung like a blade.

  Lucien's voice softened. “If power alone was the answer, then why did we lose everything?”

  Lucius' mind whirled. His whole life—both lives—had been spent chasing strength. He had pushed himself relentlessly, training his body, mastering magic, obsessed with growing stronger so that no one could control him again.

  But Lucien was right.

  Power alone had not been enough.

  A bitter laugh escaped Lucius’ lips. “Then what do you expect me to say? That I should give up? That I should stop seeking strength?”

  Lucien shook his head. “No. You need strength. But you need more than that.”

  Lucius frowned. “More?”

  Lucien stepped forward and placed a hand on Lucius' chest. A surge of warmth spread through him—powerful, overwhelming, but not just magic. Something else.

  "Resolve. Purpose," Lucien said. "You are no longer just Lucien Velkaris. You are Lucius Ardentis. Your past life does not define you. Your suffering does not define you. Your vengeance does not define you."

  Lucius' breath hitched.

  "Then what does?" he asked.

  Lucien smiled. "You decide that for yourself."

  Silence filled the void.

  Then, Lucien stepped back. The glow around him intensified, and for the first time, Lucius noticed something—Lucien was fading.

  Lucius' eyes widened. “What’s happening?”

  Lucien let out a small laugh. “I told you. I am the past.” His gaze softened. “But you… you are the future.”

  Lucius felt something warm stir in his chest—a deep, burning energy.

  Lucien extended his hand. “Take it. Take everything I was—all my knowledge, all my power. I lived my life in pursuit of magic. But now, it is your turn.”

  Lucius hesitated for only a second before gripping Lucien’s hand.

  A surge of immense power flooded through him. His body trembled, his veins burned as if his soul itself was being reforged. This was it. He was absorbing not just magic, but will, experience, wisdom—everything Lucien Velkaris had been.

  Lucien’s figure flickered, his form dissolving into golden light.

  His final words echoed in the void—

  “Don’t let Elara’s sacrifice be in vain.”

  Then, light consumed everything.