Raiden the Free, gone, no more. Only met with Styril for only a short period. To tell about a devastating heritage in the form of fate, a cruel path called 'Destiny'. 

No substances of the former apostle left behind, as subtle rumbles of the earth could be heard and felt, shaking every bit of beings who roam on it. A response to the loss of ancient, unwritten history from the timeline. 

Styril felt a gap in his heart, spiritually. As if he loses a part of him leaving a cold void in the depths of his consciousness.

What did Raiden mean by the word 'Dear'? Have they crossed paths in the past? Styril could not recall meeting a pair of floating lightning eyes as a kid. 

Perhaps, were they once close in the previous life? Or either Raiden mistaken Styril as someone else?

The two large spears glowing with animosity heads down towards the ravine. Accompanied by a strong gale as it goes on. A violent dark storm swirling around it like a tornado concentrating at the sharp tip. 

Amid the confusion, comes clarity. A warm sensation bloom in his chest as the marble he received from his father sunk into his torso and shines bright like the sun. Cutting the dark skies with a blinding light, like kindle within the thickest mist. 

"I need to dodge-, " Styril cringes from the sight of the deadly godlike weapons protruding from the skies. 

The hairs all over his body stood up, his instincts telling him to run away. Yet, he felt calm as seconds passed as his once cold chest was filled with gentle warmth. As if someone is providing him gentleness during the roughest time of his life. 

"I can see it now… it was foolish for me to think that I can survive without shedding blood, " His tone and breathing, smooth and composure were unwavering despite the surreal scene unveiled upon him. 

He balls his fists and grits his teeth. The will to survive flooding his thoughts, not excessive nor abysmal. Just enough to fuel the courage buried under the thick layer of his coward self. 

Styril jerks one side of his body and turns to see the endless pitch-black depth of the ravine

There are strange patterns on the walls of the ravine as if they were made by someone else instead of appearing natural. So, Styril caught on a fact, the ravine was already opened before this event. 

Styril wanted to think deeper but the huge spears were shot down to earth accompanied by a large thunderstorm. Zipping towards the cavern with terrifying speed. 

Wasting no time, he straightens his body like a diver dipping into a pool. Applying his whole weight into one point so that he can fall faster into the cavern with the light from his chest brightening the way. 

With a painful kick to the cavern walls, Styril's left leg broke as he pushed himself in a different direction. 

His whole body flings to the other walls and land roughly into a hole which seems to be a large hallway, rivalling the size of the largest cathedral. 

Styril slid against the floor with his left arm. It took less than a second for his skin to be thorned off as he resists yelling in pain. A long trail of blood stains the beautiful cravings of the strange floor, leaving bits of his flesh on the floor mangled. 

Only after several seconds, his body crashes against a sturdy glorious throne as his head bashes against it. Ignoring the sculpture of an elegant woman sitting crossed leg on it. 

"S-shit…, " Styril shivers due to the large blood loss and sudden headache. His body twitches as he tries to muffle his screams because of the intense pain. 

He could see the white joint of his bone at his shoulder, protruding out among his thorned flesh. Closing his eyes, he turned his attention somewhere else. 

An earthquake follows afterwards as he heard a loud boom coming from the outside of the hallway— the spears had pierced the ground, luckily, Styril had gotten out of its way earlier. 

The ground rumbles violently as dust forms a thick 'sandstorm' accompanied by rocks. Forming a wave representing the strength of the earthquake's shockwave. 

With no balance in Styril's body, he could only cling to the throne with his only workable arm. 

Sharp pebbles and rocks entered the grand hallway through the hole, creating. Several wounds were formed one after another on Styril as the rocks cut bits of his body. 

As each vibration shook the entire place, he could feel his consciousness slipping away. His eyelids close together while the blood from his bleeding head blocked his right eye. 

The 'sandstorm' shows no signs of slowing down, nor does Styril's blood loss. If he kept being idle, a slow torturing death would be ensured. 

"Father… I don't want him to live alone-, " He muttered under his breath. Coughing violently as some dust got into his throat. 

"For anything, I want to live… to see another day on his bicycle. "

Before this, Styril was a coward until Raiden gave him a different heart. He had many fears but not death. The thought of living alone with no one on his side frightens him. The eerie silence is akin to making a bad joke on stage in front of a crowd but eternal. 

If it comes to choices he never hesitates to decide. He fears the consequences but he always accepts them and never rejects them. 

'To move on is to accept, to be stuck is to reject' his favourite motto and inspiration to keep looking forward to the unknown. 

Tears flowing out from the edges of his eyes. His grunts growing weaker as time passes. His consciousness slipping like sand in an hourglass. 

Seeing through the gap of his eyelids, he saw his blood moved and spread out on the floor. A red circular array formed from his blood flowed like a river to the throne, sliding up to the statue of a woman. 

The eyes of the statue glow brightly in crimson red. The light on Styril's chest bends and synchronises with the ominous glow in the air. 

Styril could only watch, as cracks began to appear on the statue. 

In a blink of an eye, the stone layer shatters and blasts a strong wave throughout the room. Though, Styril was not affected by it. 

The wave created a barrier of water, negating every incoming powerful vibration from the earthquake. Protecting Styril from getting injured any further. 

Small breaths after another, Styril was on the verge of consciousness. With one last gaze on the statue, he saw a tall woman with over-the-top tattered clothing, but despite the quality, she radiates elegance and unique beauty. Her hand tightly grips upon a long beautiful spear with 3 edges.

"You are…, " Their gazes met, her eyes reminded Styril of the sea, and somehow he felt like he had met her before. A vague but close memory. Yet, he could not recall where he had met this woman.

The woman's lips trembles, as her gaze softens her poisonous gaze, "Dear?"