Before him—stood three figures.
Olivier, an elf with long blond hair, exuding a sharp and dignified aura. His face bore a striking resemblance to Alpha.
Freya, a human with short silver hair.
Her gaze was cold and analytical, carrying a faint echo of Alexia—not in facial features, but in the fire of ambition behind her pupils.
And Lilly, a theriantrope with ears and a tail reminiscent of Zeta.
Their first breaths returned after centuries of silence.
Their bodies, uncovered by a single thread, had been recreated from mana, flesh, blood, and the summoned soul—showing perfect contours and flawless proportions.
Yet for them, that was not the foremost concern.
Their eyes—fixed on Gabriel.
Silence.
The air felt heavy with mana, still unstable.
Gabriel—his face faintly flushed.
Not from fatigue.
He did not speak immediately.
Instead, he closed his eyes briefly and then turned around.
Gabriel snapped his fingers.
In an instant—pale white dark matter emerged from the void, stretching out like living fabric.
The substance was soft yet dense, wrapping the three Heroes' bodies with flawless precision, forming simple yet elegant white garments.
The glow of the last runes completely vanished.
The silence was broken by the first voice.
Olivier stepped forward.
His gaze pierced Gabriel's back like a blade.
"…This is not the afterlife," he said quietly.
Freya raised her own hand, feeling the flow of blood, the pulse of life.
"Biological bodies. Stable. Not an astral projection."
Lilly sniffed the air.
"Forests… stone… mana… this is the physical world?"
Three pairs of eyes were now fixed on Gabriel.
Olivier spoke again.
"Who are you?"
Not a weak question—
But a demand for an answer.
"You don't seem to be one of the researchers," Freya continued in a cold, measured tone. "Yet… you are the one who brought us back?"
Lilly tilted her head slightly.
The tail behind her moved slowly—not in aggression, but in curiosity.
"What is your reason?" she asked candidly.
Gabriel turned around. The hem of his cloak swayed gently, brushing away the lingering wisps of mist that still clung to him—a residue from the magic that had just defied the laws of death.
His gaze now fell squarely on the three of them.
Not sharp.
Not vacant.
But like that of an observer who had watched the cycles of history repeat for far too long.
A faint smile traced the corner of his lips.
"As expected from the first Heroes of this world," he said calmly, without a hint of mockery. "Instead of attacking me… you chose to ask questions."
Olivier did not relax his stance.
A thin aura of mana began to flow reflexively around his body.
"Action without information is foolish," Olivier replied tersely.
Gabriel was about to respond—then suddenly paused, as if he had just realized something more fundamental.
"Ah… right," he murmured softly.
He raised his left hand and placed it over his chest, while his right hand rested behind his back. His body bowed slightly in a graceful, formal gesture.
"How rude of me to start a conversation without an introduction."
He straightened his posture.
"In this form… I am known as Ash."
His voice was flat, yet it resonated lightly across the room still filled with residual mana from the ritual.
"The Pale Mist Sovereign who watches over the stars."
A brief silence settled over the seventh floor of the Magic Tower.
Freya narrowed her eyes, analyzing his choice of words.
"In this form?" she repeated softly.
Lilly studied him from head to toe, her wild instincts trying to read something deeper than mere aura.
Meanwhile, Olivier took a step forward.
His gaze sharpened.
"Ash," he said slowly, testing the name. "If you are capable of reviving us… then you are no ordinary mage."
The air around them began to stabilize, mana flowing naturally once again.
"Then answer us," he continued firmly. "Is this a continuation of the scientists' experiments… or do you have a different purpose?"
A pale mist swirled slowly around Gabriel.
The weight of his existence wasn't like mana unleashed aggressively—it was more like suddenly realizing the night sky is far too vast.
He looked at the three of them.
Not as legends, nor as weapons, but as beings who had once been wounded.
A thin smile touched his lips.
"If this were truly an experiment," he said softly, "you wouldn't be standing here with your free will intact."
Freya said nothing. She indeed sensed no manipulation—neither through artifacts, drugs, nor magic that binds the will.
Olivier remained silent, yet his gaze never left Gabriel.
Gabriel continued. His voice remained flat, yet there was something almost imperceptible beneath it.
"I am not continuing their research."
A brief silence followed.
"I am merely… refusing the end."
Lilly furrowed her brow slightly.
"The end?" she echoed.
Gabriel looked straight at them.
"Some stories have ended, not because they were complete, but because they were forced to stop."
The words hung in the air.
Freya narrowed her eyes, analyzing his choice of words.
"You speak as if… you've witnessed it all."
Gabriel neither confirmed nor denied.
The thin mist swirled, partially veiling his face.
"There are things in this world that Ash could destroy," he said lightly. "But destroying the perpetrators… does not erase the suffering that has occurred."
The air grew heavy once more.
Olivier finally moved.
One step forward.
A faint shimmer of mana trembled around him—not as a threat, but as a reflex of a warrior trying to read his opponent.
"So you revived us," Olivier said slowly, "to correct history?"
Gabriel shook his head slightly.
"History does not need correcting."
He paused for a moment.
"However, injustice… should never be allowed to be the end."
Silence.
Freya was the first to grasp the implication.
"You're not asking us to fight for you."
"No."
"You're not asking for revenge."
"No."
Lilly stared at him directly.
"Then… what do you want?"
Gabriel remained silent for a few seconds.
And for the first time—a subtle fissure appeared in the tone of his voice.
"A choice."
The three pairs of eyes froze.
"You never truly had one," he continued calmly. "Now… you do."
There was no grand declaration or claim of ownership.
Just that.
Olivier studied him for a long moment.
Before losing his composure, he had seen many kinds of humans: fanatics, the ambitious, the power-hungry. But the one standing before him… was different.
"You speak as if this is a debt," Olivier said quietly.
The pale mist trembled faintly.
Gabriel gave a faint smile.
"Consider it… a belated promise."
Freya lowered her gaze slightly.
A promise.
Not a word any scientist—or anyone he had ever known—would use.
Lilly twitched her tail gently.
"And if we choose to leave?" she asked.
Gabriel answered without hesitation.
"Then leave."
No pressure of mana.
No hidden threat.
Just a statement of fact.
A long silence filled the seventh floor of the Magic Tower.
Olivier finally let his aura fade.
"If this is a trick," he said coldly, "then you've created a lie far too perfect."
Gabriel tilted his head slightly.
"I have never lied," he said calmly. "Just… didn't tell everything."
Freya almost smiled faintly at that.
Lilly glanced at Olivier.
And for the first time since their resurrection—the three no longer stood as legendary heroes.
But as individuals who had just been given back something that had long been taken from them.
Choice.
The pale mist slowly dissipated, leaving a faint silence on the highest floor of the tower.
Gabriel—Ash—stood before them not as a savior.
But as someone who, for reasons unknown… could not accept that their story had been left to end that way.
After a moment, he turned around, presenting his back to the three.
His steps were calm as he walked toward the wide open window, revealing the expanse of Alexandria below—a sea of lights wrapped in eternal white mist.
"To see how far this world has advanced," he said flatly, "you may request it from my subordinate, Alpha."
The pale mist flowed around his body again, soft like a slow, unhurried current of water.
"Ah… one more thing."
He turned to face them one last time. A faint, elusive smile graced his lips.
"Welcome back to this world."
His gaze swept over them, one by one.
"Ash welcomes you to my kingdom—Alexandria. The city within the sea of eternal white mist."
In the next moment, his body dissolved into mist.
Not vanishing crudely, but merging seamlessly with the air until nothing remained but the slowly fading breath of mana.
Silence fell.
Olivier remained standing tall.
His eyes showed no shock—only deep observation.
"A kingdom…" he murmured quietly.
Freya stepped toward the window, gazing down at the city below with an analytical stare. The patterns of light, the layout of buildings, the density of mana—everything was different from the era she knew.
"This civilization has clearly advanced far," she said calmly. "The magical infrastructure is more complex. Integrated. This is not merely a continuation… it is evolution."
Lilly sniffed the air softly.
"And he rules it," she stated. Not in awe. Not in fear. Simply as fact.
Olivier walked closer to the window.
The night wind tousled his blonde hair.
"He did not ask for an oath," he finally said. "Did not demand loyalty. Did not seek vengeance."
Freya nodded slightly.
"Only giving direction."
Lilly tilted her head.
"And choice."
Silence enveloped them again.
The world they had left had changed.
Time had moved on without waiting.
Olivier gazed at the Alexandria horizon, shrouded in white mist.
"Then," he said quietly but firmly, "we will see this world for ourselves."
Not as returning legends.
Not as symbols of the past.
But as three souls standing in the future—forced once more to decide the meaning of their existence.
___
Author's Note:
Phew~ finally. We've reached the part where the three heroes are resurrected.
By the way, even though I want to explore their story… if that happens… the Filler Seasons are going to drag on forever 😭
Ugh… it's really hard to choose! Too much material to work with 😅
Ah, and don't forget to leave: all the power stones, your reviews, and your best comments! 😎
Let me burn 🔥🔥🔥🔥