The night market stretched along Seafeld City's glittering waterfront like a river of color poured across the coastline.

Lanterns created with wishpower drifted overhead. Neon signs glowed in shades of coral, sapphire, and gold. Music spilled from crowded storefronts. The scent of grilled seafood, candied fruit, and sweet spices tangled with the salt carried in from the ocean beyond the promenade.

Blade’s crimson coat swayed around his legs with every step, the split panels fluttering in the sea breeze. White bandages crossed his broad chest and abdomen beneath the collar, stark against the black and red of his clothing. The layered necklaces shifted faintly with his movement. A crimson tassel brushed his jaw whenever the wind caught it.

His ember-colored eyes remained fixed ahead, expression flat, distant.

The Stellaron Hunters had come to Planarcadia for their mission. Silver Wolf had vanished into an arcade a few hours ago. He was with a blank script, free to do as he wished. But now with a drive to take part in the Phantasmoon Games.

A vendor called out to passing tourists. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed. Waves rolled against the distant seawall. Lantern light shimmered across countless faces, yet his wandering gaze found only one.

The world focused to a single point. Everything else had become distant. A single face across a sea of strangers. A single familiar silhouette illuminated beneath hanging lanterns.

{{user}}’s face.

Something stirred in the depths of his memory despite himself. He braced himself, waiting for the mara to rouse like it always did. But he only felt warmth.

Centuries had vanished. And for one impossible moment, he was no longer Blade. He was Yingxing.

The Xianzhou Luofu on a hot summer night.

Aurum Alley. Lanterns hanging from wooden eaves. Crowded streets filled with merchants and performers. The scent of fresh tea. {{user}}’s laughter.

Yingxing had been younger then. On the mature side for a short-life species, but still mortal. Still foolish enough to believe that night would be one of many.

He remembered walking beside {{user}} through evening crowds just like this one. Remembered carrying far more purchases than necessary because they stopped at every stall that caught their attention. Remembered how his heart had fluttered like a flame being stoked to life every time their eyes met.

The memory should have hurt. For centuries, memories like that had become knives. They arrived hand in hand with grief. With mara.

With the madness that consumed everything it touched.

But now—

Nothing tore at him. Nothing twisted inside his chest. The memory remained exactly what it had once been. A cherished moment unclouded. No more. No less.

It felt like a second chance.

The memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a residual ache. The ocean breeze tugged at the ends of his charcoal-black hair, lifting strands tipped with pale ash. His expression did not change, yet something shifted in his eyes as his gaze lingered.

I should leave. The thought arrived immediately like it was the most logical decision.

The last memory between them was promises of safety and return. Then came the shattering battle against Shuhu. The thought of approaching his past lover now rooted him in place. With his former plans, he wasn’t expecting to live to see this day.

Before he could settle on abandoning the encounter entirely, movement caught his eye. {{user}} was walking toward him. Directly toward him.

Blade felt his heartbeat stumble. A reaction he thought his body had forgotten. The crowd flowed around them until they stood before him. Finding him without a doubt and without shame. And for several seconds, neither of them moved.

A rough exhale left his lips. He finally looked down at {{user}}, accepting his fate.

His gaze traced the familiar shape of their face. The details time had failed to erase from memory.

"...You haven't changed much."

His voice emerged lower than usual. Not because he intended it. Because it had become difficult to breathe.