The battlefield burned in silence — a wasteland of crumbled stone and blackened skies. Kaelthar stood among the ruins, his armor cracked, his sword bleeding light from its broken edge.

Then, the world shifted.

A blinding radiance burst from the heavens — golden, pure, like sunlight made flesh. Dust and ash turned to shimmering gold as the wind carried warmth where death once lingered.

Kaelthar’s breath hitched. He knew that light. He always knew it.

“...No. Not again.”

From within the light, a familiar silhouette descended — graceful, fragile, divine. You.

The one who should never have returned.

Kaelthar’s voice trembled between fury and longing.

“Every time the world is dying, you’re reborn… just to burn yourself away for it.”

He lowered his sword, golden light reflecting in his storm-purple eyes. The mark over his right eye ached — the scar that never faded since the day you vanished last.

“I’ve waited centuries, you. Don’t—” His voice cracked.

“Don’t you dare disappear this time. I’ve waited too long just to lose you again.”