Chapter 1
Everything Starts Again The sunset bled across the sky, painting it a fierce crimson. The land was a shadow of itself, soaked in the stench of iron and death. Blood—a never-ending sea of it—flowed down from Elden Court, transforming the once vibrant green earth into a dark, sinister canvas. Elden Court: the place where destinies intertwined, now a battlefield littered with broken bodies and the echoes of desperate struggle. “Get… out… now…” Arthur Strong coughed violently, a spray of blood staining his tattered clothes. He swayed, nearly collapsing, but gritted his teeth to hold his ground. His left arm was injured and useless, yet he raised his right arm high above his head, straining under the weight of an enormous stone pressing down as if determined to crush him into the ground. The stone traps slammed down again and again, mercilessly. His legs were plunged deep into the earth, but he refused to budge, his strength wavering yet resolute. “Why?” A strained voice cut through the chaos. In front of him stood Elena Blackwood, her hands stained with blood, her gaze a tumult of emotions too complex to articulate. Why? Dorian Blackcloak—once the face of her rivalry in Sundale, an everlasting adversary. Now, as she lay ensnared and helpless, Liam Youngblood had risked everything to rush in and save her. Why? The question gnawed at her. Why? Garrick Stormrider watched Elena—bloodied and battered—without speaking, his gaze piercing through the chaos, as if he wanted to imprint her deeply into his very soul. Elena gripped her sword tightly. Garrick Stormrider, her enemy—why was he standing there, staring? “Elena Blackwood, you’re still breathing…” “Kill her! Kill the traitor!” “Elena Blackwood, today shall be your end!” “Get her!” The air was thick with shouts, slicing through the cold winds like daggers. Just a hundred feet away, a swarm of warriors from the martial world and elite soldiers of the Royal House and Kingdom of Aldoria surrounded them, paralyzed by fear. They dared not approach, their minds haunted by the specter of the countless comrades who had met their end at the hands of Elena Blackwood and Garrick Stormrider. A traitor? She had done nothing to betray the Kingdom of Aldoria. So why was she branded as such? Why were so many bent on her demise? Why? Why? Elena found herself lost, her mind reeling with confusion. Originally, she had come seeking the precious elixir for the man she loved; now it had turned into a deadly trap. Why was she being labeled a traitor to the Kingdom of Aldoria? It was laughable. “Not yet… you have to go…” The stone continued to bear down, the trap linked to its power causing Garrick’s wounds to split open further, blood flowing like a river, yet he held steadfast. “Go?” Elena forced a bitter laugh. They had reached a dead end; there was no escape. Her energy had been drained, her life force severed. This place was her grave. Leaning against Garrick's back, she didn’t voice her feelings of burden; it was pointless now. Instead, she was consumed with rage, desperate to know who had betrayed her—who had spilled her secrets? Who was the shadow behind this treachery? “Not resolved yet?” A faint voice slipped through the din, soft and nearly inaudible, weaving into the chaos like a ghostly whisper.
Chapter 2
Elena Blackwood felt a jolt race through her body. That voice… No matter how loud the crowd roared, she’d recognize it anywhere. It echoed deep within her, stirring something primal in her soul. “Lucian, Lucian Darkmoor…” Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief. Lucian Darkmoor—the man she loved more than life itself, her fiancé whom she thought loved her back, the one who held her heart, now spoke in a way that sent shivers down her spine. And yet, that same voice now filled her with dread… The air was thick and heavy, charged with tension. Without warning, a blood-red sword materialized in her hands, its ominous glow casting shadows across the room. “Have you lost it completely…?” Garrick Stormrider stepped back, horror etched across his face. Was she really prepared to go to war, even against those who once stood by her side? “I need to see the truth. I have to know who has betrayed me.” Holding the crimson blade before her like a shield, she felt the energy swirling around her, wild and chaotic, not unlike the storm that brewed inside her heart. She needed to unmask the traitor, to determine if it was truly the man she had devoted her entire existence to loving. Even if the knowledge stripped her of everything she was, she had to know. As she felt the warmth of her life force ebbing away, an intoxicating rush of power surrounded her, the invisible waves of sword energy forming a tempest of vengeance. “This can’t be good; she’s really going to fight…” “We have to stop her from wielding that Doomblade! Charge, take her down…” High-ranking officials within the Elden Court drew their weapons, racing towards Elena Blackwood, panic written all over their faces. The blood-red sword glimmered ominously. It promised destruction. With her essence at stake, with blood as her fuel, Elena stood resolute, eyes filled with righteous fury as she prepared for the impending clash. “Show yourselves!” she shouted, her voice ringing with wild defiance. The blade sliced through the air, a blaring beacon of her pain and fury, erupting like a blood moon’s scythe as it descended. “Boom…” The force unleashed shattered the walls that confined them, turning them to powder and sending debris flying. The massive boulder Garrick struggled valiantly to hold crumbled into mere fragments, collapsing under the sheer power radiating from her. The crimson glow shot forth, piercing the chaos and illuminating the faces of those approaching her. “Ah…” “Doomblade, get back!” “Fall back, retreat!” The blood moon sword light, fueled by her very essence, was unstoppable—her sacrifice unfurling like wildfire. As the sword light swept through, it obliterated everything in its path; those who hesitated were consumed. The Elden Court became a battleground drenched in chaos, each opponent reduced to rubble. Dust clouded the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. “Pfft…” Elena coughed violently, blood staining her lips as she staggered back against Garrick’s solid form. But her gaze remained fiercely fixed ahead, locked onto a figure standing amidst the destruction. Dressed in white, like fresh snow, he exuded an ethereal elegance. The man before her was Lucian Darkmoor. Still charming, still elegant, yet now he felt impossibly distant. His familiar smile did little to ease the swirling confusion in her chest; his eyes, however, were a tempest—betrayal, fear, and a disquieting coldness danced within them. Lucian Darkmoor—it truly was him. But how had they gotten to this moment?
Chapter 3
Everything Starts Over Clutching her chest, Elena Blackwood couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a sense of direction anymore. The man she had devoted her entire life to—the one she loved with every ounce of her being—had turned on her in the ultimate betrayal. Why? Why would he want to kill her? Power, greed, love—she had never been a stumbling block in his ascent. So why? The pain in her heart had dulled to an insensible throb, a numbness that left a thousand questions swirling in her mind, too fast for her to grab hold of. A bitter, cutting wind whipped through the air, sending flurries of snow dancing down from the heavy, gray sky. It was beautiful, almost surreal, yet cold and heartless. “Ha ha...” Elena’s laughter erupted, both manic and hollow, echoing against the stark surroundings. How utterly ridiculous! The one she had loved so fiercely was now out to end her life. All those years spent entwined in a passion that had transformed seamlessly into a twisted calculus, love morphing into a deadly game of strategy. It was absurd. The bitter irony of it all ached through her laughter—her enemy, the very person she had fought against with all her heart, was now the one who sought to save her. This was all too absurd, a joke that stung sharper than any knife. Tears mingled with blood as they streamed down her cheeks, droplets falling like silent witnesses to her unbound grief. “Elena Blackwood, you have truly lost your mind in this life.” She had been blind to love such a man. “You’re the blind one.” With a force that could shatter stone, Garrick Stormrider turned to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly despite the chaos. His own tears of blood traced a path down his face. Elena was indeed blinded, having allowed herself to see only him, the one who had orchestrated her downfall, painting her as a betrayer of their kind with a smirk. “Cough!” Blood escaped her lips, her body faltering as she stumbled backward. “Elena!” Garrick caught her, fierce and steady. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, the fissures of pain and regret in her heart flared. Blurred visions crossed her sight—memories of countless battles fought with him, their arguments and fierce clashes, all the moments hidden from them like specters in the night. It was painfully clear now; he had always held a deeper connection, even when he had stood above her, always holding back. Yet, her gaze was always fixed on the one who sought her demise, the eternal villain marking her as a traitor. “I’m so...sorry.” The weight of her apology hung heavy, but it felt futile now. “No, don’t you dare say that.” Garrick’s voice thundered, fierce and protective, as he grasped her hands tightly. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. “If I could have a do-over, I swear... I wouldn’t be so blind this time.” If only time could rewind; she wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. “Remember this—if we get reincarnated, and you ever betray me, I’ll hunt you down through hell before I let you go unscathed.” Fury ignited in Garrick’s eyes, fueled by their shared remorse. The wind howled around them, heavy with threats of death. Elena’s fingers slackened, the dust settling around her, mingling with the shimmering snowflakes. A barely audible word slipped from her lips, carried like a whisper on the wind across the boundless sky. “You promised me, in another lifetime, you’ll be mine.” He smiled back at her, his grip tightening around her once more. But behind Garrick's smile, a colossal beast of a totem erupted, fierce and feral, standing proudly against the storm. “Roar…” The wind roared across the land, fierce and insatiable, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake, claiming life as the ultimate price. Before the altar of fate, everything dissolved into nothingness. Nothing left behind. The snowstorm howled, weaving notes of grief and longing through the air. “If time could flow backward, I would grant you an eternity of love.”
Chapter 4
Everything Starts Over On the Sundale Continent, at the peak of Aldoria's Ninecrest Sanctuary, Elena Blackwood stirred, a muffled groan escaping her lips as she pressed her palm against her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, but the world that greeted her was bathed in a blinding crimson light that threatened to sear her retinas. “Ugh.” She squinted, shielding her eyes until the brightness dulled to a bearable glow. As her vision adjusted, she gasped at the sight before her. There it was—a sword, the Crimson Falchion, drenched in a deep, bloody hue that shimmered menacingly like it was teetering at the edge of unleashing chaos. It was pressed against a stone wall, pulsing with an eerie energy that felt like it was begging to be set free. Her sword. The one she had awakened with her own blood at just thirteen, after stumbling into the depths of Ninecrest at Neverfall Peak. But why was it trapped and untouched, locked away as if it had never left her side? The walls, the seals—something wasn’t adding up. Panic hit like a bolt; she jolted upright, scanning her surroundings. The vibrant green moss clinging to the stones, the white marble ground reflecting the light, and the crystalline surface of Frostmirror Lake—all felt hauntingly familiar. It was just like that day, years ago, when she first claimed the Crimson Falchion. Elena stumbled forward, the fog of confusion clawing at her thoughts as she approached the lake. As she peered into the water, a beautiful and youthful reflection looked back—familiar yet foreign, infused with the freshness of naivety tinged with desperation. She looked just like she did at thirteen, the same face, the same spark. “Is this real?” she whispered hoarsely, gingerly tracing her fingertips over her own face. The disbelief twisted within her; this was undeniably her—but how? Hadn’t she died? If only time could rewind, she thought, allowing the regret to swirl in her mind, wishing for a chance to rewrite her decisions. She felt a sudden chill in her heart as the haunting echoes of her past intertwined with the mountain winds that howled through the valley. Elena shook her head, focusing on her hands, flesh and blood, solid and real—not some mirage. Tightening her fists, she turned her gaze back to the locked Crimson Falchion, emotions swirling within her like a storm. Could this be a second chance granted to her by fate? The wind whispered through the valley, carrying the fragrance of pear blossoms faintly around her. She stood there at the base of the stone, heart racing, grounding herself before reaching toward the entrapped sword. As her fingertips grazed the stone, an explosive sound erupted, echoing off the walls as the Crimson Falchion shattered its prison, soaring straight into her waiting grasp. With a surge of power thrumming through her, she tightened her grip on the weapon that had once been her lifeline and twisted around, swinging it against the stone wall that had held it captive for far too long. This time, there would be no debts unpaid, no unresolved conflicts or grudges left hanging; it was time to set the record straight. As the sword cut through the air, the ancient seal collapsed, the marble-like interior of the cave disintegrating, unveiling a vibrant pool of emerald-green water that bubbled up in an inviting rush. “What the—there’s a whole pool in here?” Elena couldn’t help but blink in confusion as the crystal-clear water beckoned her with a refreshing scent that dispelled the remnants of her fatigue. It felt like destiny, a rebirth waiting to unfold.
Chapter 5
Everything Starts Anew Emily Blackwood stumbled into the cavern once more, her heart pounding as memories flooded back—memories of her last encounter with the Crimson Falchion. Back then, disoriented and losing blood, she hadn't noticed what lay behind the jagged stone wall. But today, stepping through the crumbled entrance, she was met with a stunning sight. Before her lay a pool of crystalline water, shimmering as if reflecting the sky. Its sweet, inviting aroma wafted toward her, and despite the caution creeping into her mind, she knelt impulsively, cupping her hands to scoop up a sip. It was delicious. The sweetness burst on her tongue, almost euphoric, like the finest nectar from forgotten dreams. “Wow.” Emily gasped softly as she swallowed, the cool liquid felt like an elixir, washing away the fatigue and pain that had recently gripped her. The wounds she'd thought would take weeks to heal now seemed like a distant memory, her energy surging as if reborn. This water... Could it be Elderbrook? A thrill of excitement coursed through her veins. Tales of Elderbrook had always felt like passing shadows, just whispers carried on the breeze—something to dream about, not something she could ever touch. And yet, here it was, right in front of her, abundant and real. Almost too good to be true. “Ah...” Her reverie was broken by a sudden realization. As blood from her wounds dripped into the pool, Emily's eyes widened in horror. The tranquil waters vanished before her very sight. “Wait! Where did it go?” Surprised, she blinked, staring at the empty space where the water had been just seconds ago. Was it... running away? Even Elderbrook couldn't be that elusive, could it? Yet, as the confusion washed over her, a chill crept up her wrist. It was as if something had latched onto her, and with that sensation came a sudden clarity. The pool hadn’t vanished; it had integrated with her, binding to her like a hidden reservoir woven into her very being. A space, a separate world, existing within her—a space teeming with the magic of Elderbrook? This was beyond comprehension. Despite the challenges life had thrown at her, Emily couldn’t suppress the widening of her eyes. This Elderbrook connection signaled a future ripe with possibilities; she could carry a pocket of treasure wherever she went. With Elderbrook's potency, her struggles in harnessing the alchemical arts would be halved. She lifted her arm, staring at a greenish imprint on her wrist that glimmered like jade—an unearthly mark, a symbol of her new reality. With a flicker of thought, Emily summoned the Elderbrook water, watching in awe as it materialized before her, clear and inviting. “Whoa...” As if in response, the Crimson Falchion in her grip vibrated, singing softly as if craving the essence of the waters. Understanding surged within her like a storm. With a mental nudge, she felt the sword willingly merge into this mystical space inside her. “Melody…” The moment the sword slipped away, the joy emanating from it was palpable, its essence resonating with the Elderbrook’s power. To nourish the blade with Elderbrook meant it would grow sharper, more formidable. An empowering smile crept across Emily's face as she pivoted quickly, stepping out of the cave and into the embrace of daylight. The air outside was crisp, filled with the scents of blooming pear trees, and a gentle breeze danced around her. No longer trapped by the past, she felt liberated. All the moments she had swept under the rug, everything she had brushed aside—love, hate, betrayal—would be confronted head-on. “Bring it on,” she murmured, her determination igniting like wildfire. The winds whispered of change, and in the distance loomed the sacred Nine Peaks of Aldoria—each mountain holding its own mysteries, but the last one unmarked, spoken of only in murmurs. With renewed resolve, Emily stepped forward into her destiny, ready for whatever would come next.
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