They entered the castle.
The guards did not move.
Not even a glance.
Zenkyou walked past—
and that was enough.
But their eyes—
shifted.
Toward Shura.
Watching.
Shura noticed.
Of course he did.
Every guard stood perfectly aligned.
He stepped deeper inside.
And felt it.
The architecture rose around him—
Gothic.
Severe.
Beautiful.
Pillars stretched upward like frozen spears,
etched with scars and stories no one spoke aloud.
Arches curved high above, ribbed like the bones of something long dead.
And yet—
light filled it.
Golden.
Soft.
Not like the Beacon.
This light—
felt warm.
Like the sun.
Shura stopped.
Just for a moment.
His chest tightened.
…I know this.
The hall stretched endlessly forward.
Silent.
Not empty.
Respectful.
Breathing felt wrong here.
Too loud..
Shura felt it the moment he stepped inside.
This was not emptiness.
This was judgment.
Every step echoed once—
then vanished.
As if the space refused to remember him.
Stone pillars stood like witnesses.
At the far end—
She sat.
Empress Rose.
One arm rested against the throne,
as if the kingdom itself had shaped around her.
The light bent.
Obedient.
Zenkyou knelt.
Ren followed.
Yura.
Orin.
Shura hesitated.
Then—
slowly—
knelt.
His knees trembled.
Not from pain.
From pressure.
Orin spoke first.
"Your Majesty."
Measured.
Controlled.
"We found him near the outer drift. Barely conscious. His body was damaged—but not fatally."
Zenkyou continued.
"No records. No origin. He doesn't belong to any registered region."
Silence.
Then—
Rose's gaze moved.
It landed on Shura.
It wasn't sharp.
That made it worse.
"And yet," she said calmly,
"he finally arrived."
The words were light.
The impact—
was not.
Pain exploded behind Shura's eyes.
The Viora stirred.
No—
reacted.
Chains.
Wind screaming.
Falling—
endless—
weightless—
terrifying—
A voice—
breaking—
reaching—
Mother.
Shura's breath caught.
"I remember."
The words cut the hall apart.
He pressed his hand to his chest.
Gasping.
"I remember… something."
The hall remained still.
Listening.
"There was… light."
He frowned.
"Not Beacon light."
A pause.
"…Something bigger."
Fragments slipped.
Wind.
Height.
Space—
that didn't press back.
His hand tightened.
"…This place isn't right."
His voice trembled.
"There was a sky," he said. "Endless.
A breath.
Shaking.
"A tree… massive… touching the endless sky."
His jaw clenched.
He looked up.
Straight at Rose.
"Something terrible happened."
A pause.
"I don't know how."
His voice broke.
"…People live up there."
Silence—
Then it shattered.
Ren laughed first.
Sharp.
Disbelieving.
Yura gasped—
then covered her mouth.
Orin exhaled, rubbing his forehead.
"Pressure sickness," Ren muttered. "Classic."
But—
Rose did not laugh.
She smiled.
Knowing.
"Enough."
The word ended everything.
Laughter died instantly.
Rose stood.
The air shifted.
"What you heard," she said calmly, "forget it."
Zenkyou frowned.
"…Your Majesty?"
Rose didn't look at her.
Only at Shura.
"Memory is fragile," she said.
"It reshapes itself… to survive."
Silence collapsed inward.
Orin spoke carefully.
"…Up there? Where? Why don't we know?"
Rose turned.
Slowly.
Her gaze swept the hall.
Then—
she pointed.
At Shura.
Nothing else.
Ren swallowed.
"That's enough for today," Rose said.
Final.
Sealed.
Shura's hands trembled.
"That's it?"
His voice cracked the hall.
"You know the truth—and you let people rot down here?!"
No one moved.
"You force them to live under crushing skies—"
"Look again."
Rose's voice cut through him.
"Look at this kingdom."
Shura froze.
He looked.
Order.
Strength.
Life.
He couldn't answer.
"…The darkness?" he forced.
"Or the fact that you know there's a sky—and still bury everyone?"
His voice tightened.
"This isn't living."
A pause.
"…It's maintenance."
His eyes burned.
"You built a world where people just endure it!"
A breath.
Sharp.
"I'll reach the surface—"
Rose raised one finger.
Tapped the air.
Shura never saw it.
The world flipped.
Stone slammed into him.
His body collapsed—
as if it forgot how to exist.
Pain—
instant.
Absolute.
He couldn't move.
Rose laughed softly.
"You can barely stand."
A pause.
"And you speak of reaching imaginary worlds?"
Shura forced his head up.
Blood filled his mouth.
"If it doesn't exist…"
He coughed.
"I'll make it."
"I'll stay," he said.
"I'll train."
"I'll fight."
"I'll endure."
His voice steadied.
"And when I'm strong enough…"
"I'll reach the heart of the world."
Rose watched him.
Long.
Carefully.
Then—
she smiled.
"Very well."
Shura's breath caught.
"And when that day comes…"
She rested her chin against her hand.
"I want to see this… imaginary world."
A pause.
"If," she added,
"you survive long enough."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Welcome to Ossuarium, Shura."
She leaned back.
"Finally…"
A whisper.
Almost lost.
"…the day has come."
Shura lay there.
Broken.
Burning.
But breathing.
And for the first time—
He understood.
This wasn't rebellion.
It never was.
He looked up at the throne.
At her.
At the world that already knew him.
His defiance—
Was expected.