Shana carried his case, heading toward the south of the City of Fire Protection. He had arrived by boat at Bay Town’s port before embarking on his journey back home.

He traveled along the same road he had taken when he left, all those years ago.

In the distance, he could see the outline of the City of Fire Protection.

Twenty years had brought immense changes to the City of Fire Protection. The trade route connecting Bay Town and the city had become far more prosperous.

The entire path was now dotted with towns, and new cities had even been established along the way.

“I wonder how Johan Town is doing,” Shana remarked aloud.

He had once feared returning home, but after killing Camon, a powerful urge pulled him back.

He had wandered for far too long.

He had been lost for far too long.

He felt like a lonely boat adrift at sea, desperately searching for a place to dock.

Camon had been his dear friend before becoming the enemy he most wanted to kill.

But Camon’s final words had struck deep into Shana’s heart.

“You could have had your own life too.”

Why had he been so desperate to kill Camon? Why had he fixated so intensely on everything that happened in the past?

In the end, wasn’t it all for one single thing?

A life he could truly call his own.

To go home… To start over.

Everything from the past was over. Every day from this point forward would be brand new.

The Shana clan no longer had a mission, no threads binding them.

As Shana continued walking, signs of habitation began to appear.

He saw Johan Town’s familiar mill and its newly replaced windmill standing tall.

He could even faintly hear the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer and the distant sounds of children playing.

Twenty years had brought many new faces to Johan Town, while familiar ones had disappeared.

Although Snake People theoretically lived long lives, most never reached their full life expectancy.

“Who is that?” the younger townsfolk asked, not recognizing Shana.

“Someone from outside town?” People poked their heads out from their homes along the street, curious.

“He looks familiar somehow,” some residents murmured, feeling Shana resembled someone they knew, but unable to immediately place this weathered, desolate man as the noble family’s child from long ago.

One person, however, recognized Shana and called out loudly.

“Young Shana?”

“Is that Young Shana?”

He quickly corrected himself.

“No, it should be Lord Shana now.”

The Shana family were the lords of the town, and their adult children were typically granted the title of Oath-Taker over a nearby small village.

Shana turned toward the familiar voice.

It was the blacksmith’s son, a friend from his childhood.

He was now a father of three children.

The blacksmith, seeing Shana look his way, finally confirmed the stranger’s identity.

He ran over excitedly. “You’re back?”

Shana nodded slowly.

The blacksmith asked eagerly, “Are you staying this time?”

Shana replied, “Maybe…”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m staying.”

“I’m not leaving again.”

The blacksmith was overjoyed that Shana had returned. “That’s wonderful! But how did a noble like you end up looking like this? Wouldn’t it have been better if you had just stayed in Johan Town all along?”

Shana laughed.

For the first time in many years, he laughed with genuine joy.

“Yes!”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to just stay in Johan Town?”

“But sometimes,” Shana added cryptically, “things just don’t work out the way they should.”

Seeing the blacksmith didn’t understand his words, Shana patted his old friend’s shoulder. “But it’s fine now.”

While Shana and the blacksmith talked, the blacksmith eagerly recounting their childhood stories, a young man arrived with the blacksmith’s sons. Upon seeing Shana’s back, he called out excitedly.

“Father, you’ve returned?”

Shana turned in confusion, looking at the youth who appeared about twenty years old, not immediately understanding.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Suddenly, his pupils contracted sharply. He noticed the young man’s face was nearly identical to his own childhood appearance.

Recognition dawned instantly on Shana. He knew who this young man was.

He was the next generation of the Shana clan.

Shana unconsciously stepped back, the hammer strapped to his back swaying with the movement.

He stared hard at the young man before him. His face remained expressionless, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within his mind.

“What’s going on?” he thought frantically.

“How did you…”

He couldn’t understand why the other still existed.

He had destroyed the entire underground palace. He had killed the old man who manipulated everything.

Why was there still a new generation of the Shana clan?

Shouldn’t this cycle have ended?

It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over Shana’s head.

“How did you know it was me?” Shana asked, his voice strained.

Shana’s “son” told him, “I saw you when I was very young, Father.”

“It was when I was very little, but… when was it exactly?”

The young man also looked confused, searching his memory before finally saying, “I can’t remember anymore.”

Shana instantly recalled the moment he had killed the old man. The infant in the cocoon had opened its eyes.

Their gazes had met then, one innocent and pure, the other filled with horror.

Apart from that single instance, they could not have possibly met again.

Shana’s “son,” unaware of his father’s inner turmoil, continued happily.

“Father, you’ve been away from home for so long, but you’re finally back!”

“Grandfather would be so happy if he knew.”

Shana suddenly lifted his head. The word “grandfather” was synonymous with “nightmare” in his heart.

“Grandfather?”

Shana swallowed hard. “Is he… still here?”

The moment Shana asked, he roughly guessed that this “grandfather” was probably his own father.

Yet, even he couldn’t be entirely certain whether this person was his so-called “father” or that strange, ancient old man from before.

The young man pulled Shana’s hand insistently. “Grandfather is at home right now. He’s been waiting for you to return.”

The “father and son” walked together toward the Shana family castle. While the “son’s” heart swelled with joy, Shana, the father, felt his emotions surge to an extreme tension.

Who was this “grandfather” waiting in the family castle?

Had that old creature truly died?

The moment Shana saw his “son,” the future he had envisioned instantly dissolved into uncertainty.

At this moment, Shana’s “son” suddenly asked, his voice full of admiration and eager anticipation.

“Father, have you completed the divine being’s mission?”

Shana looked at him, at that young and naive face.

He remembered being the same way as a child, never questioning what the divine mission actually entailed.

His response didn’t directly answer the question.

“I thought I had accomplished something,” he said slowly.

“But it seems…”

Shana looked at the confusion reflected in his “son’s” pupils. “Everything still continues.”

His “son” couldn’t understand his words at all, merely thinking they sounded profound.

By now, they had reached the castle.

The main gate opened, revealing servants standing ready in the courtyard.

The “son” rushed into the courtyard, calling out to the Shana family patriarch standing on the steps.

“Grandfather!”

“Grandfather!”

“Father has returned! He’s finally back!”

Shana raised his head slowly, his gaze fixing on the figure standing on the steps.

The elderly Shana leaned heavily on a cane, advancing with painstaking slowness.

But to Shana’s eyes, it seemed as if an overwhelming shadow spread from beneath the old man’s feet, reaching out, trying to envelop and strangle him in darkness.

That figure and that gaze were nearly identical to Shana’s former grandfather.

And Shana failed to notice that his current weathered and desolate state mirrored his former “father’s” appearance exactly.

After a long, tense wait, the old man finally stood directly before Shana.

The old man’s eyes were clouded, yet within that cloudiness lay a terrifying, penetrating gaze.

The old man fixed Shana with hook-like eyes, pressing down on him with the weight of a mountain until he could barely breathe.

Neither spoke. They only stared intently at each other.

To the onlookers, this appeared as the touching scene of a father and son reuniting after many years, rendered speechless with overwhelming emotion.

But Shana could barely restrain himself from attacking outright. His mind screamed.

“That old monster.”

“It’s him.”

“He’s alive… alive again.”

“Still here…”

Beneath his sleeves, his fingers trembled uncontrollably. His entire body was rigid with tension, his jaw clenched tight from gritting his teeth.

Just as Shana felt he was about to snap, the old man spoke first, his voice rasping and hoarse.

“You’re back, my… son.”

After a “warm” family dinner, the old man lifted his head to look directly at Shana.

“That should be enough for now,” he said. “Come with me later.”

Shana’s “son” looked up from his meal. “Is something wrong?”

The old man replied, “Your father and I have some matters to discuss.”

Then he added, turning to the younger man.

“Your coming of age ceremony is in just a few days,” the old man said, looking at Shana’s “son” with a complex mix of pride and expectation.

“When the time comes, you will leave Johan Town and take on your responsibilities in the outside world.”

Shana’s “son” grew excited, his face flushing red in the warm lamplight.

The middle-aged Shana followed the old man deep into the corridor, passing painting after painting, stone carving after stone carving.

The old man stopped before a great door inscribed with ancient text that read, “When the Creator returns, that shall be when the gods awaken.” He pushed it open.

The familiar sloping pathway led downward, like a great mouth ready to devour everything.

The two descended the long slope together in silence.

The old man broke the silence, asking Shana, “What happened with Camon?”

Shana answered him flatly, “Camon is dead. I killed every last member of the Camon clan.”

Shana stared meaningfully at the old man.

“The threads that bound us no longer exist. Everything is over.”

The old man simply said, “Is that so?”

A look of peculiar envy appeared in the old man’s eyes. “Very good. They have completed their mission.”

“All that remains now is to wait for the final moment.”

Shana didn’t understand what the old man meant by these words, and the old man didn’t elaborate further.

Shana kept his gaze fixed firmly on the old man and asked directly, “Who exactly are you?”

“Are you the previous generation’s Shana?”

“Or…?”

He looked deep into the old man’s eyes, searching within that merciless gaze, trying to comprehend the despair that seemed to span countless ages, hooking into one’s very soul.

These were not eyes that should belong to any normal human.

As they continued walking, the old man began telling Shana about events from the past.

“When I was young,” he recounted, his voice echoing slightly in the passage, “I also had a friend. Together we rode Land Dragons across the Herdsman’s Plain just to see the legendary frozen plateau. Heaven’s Mirror was truly the most beautiful place in the world, so pure and unsullied.”

“Before that,” he continued, “I had another friend. He was a ship captain, and I went on ocean adventures with him. We tried to cross the Storm Sea together, but everyone died in the ocean except for me.”

“Long, long ago, I once started a family and had several children. Sadly, I never got to watch them grow up because I had to leave to complete my mission.”

“Even longer ago…”

“…”

Shana was stunned. He had heard some of these stories before, but not others.

The timeline spanned over a hundred years. These events couldn’t possibly have happened to a single generation of Shana.

The Shana clan were not Ability Users. They could only borrow power through artifacts, so their lifespans were similar to normal Snake People, perhaps even shorter.

They couldn’t even accept the Bestowing of Power divine technique because they weren’t truly alive. They also couldn’t transform into Ghosts, Bone Demons, or Abyss Monsters, because they were essentially just puppets.

Shana stated firmly, “No!”

“This isn’t one person’s story.”

“These are the stories of generation after generation of Shanas, from decades ago and even a hundred years ago.”

The old man’s hoarse voice spoke again. “Then let me tell you about my stories from several hundred years ago.”

“And…”

“Stories from a thousand years ago.”

Shana suddenly felt lost. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t make sense of the old Snake Person standing before him.

“What kind of monster are you exactly?” he demanded.

The old man stopped walking. They had reached the end of the path.

The old snake person suddenly turned his head toward Shana. In the dim light, their eyes seemed to glow faintly. The old snake person burst into chilling laughter.

“You still don’t understand?” he said hoarsely.

“Shana… One day you too will become me. You will possess all of Shana’s memories.”

“We have always been one person, indistinguishable from each other.”

“We were born from the same personality, and we will ultimately return to the same collection of memories, the same endpoint.”

Shana began to vaguely comprehend the horrifying truth.

The Shana clan weren’t truly living beings, not even truly a collection of puppets.

All members of the Shana clan originated from a single, specific personality. In their old age, they would recover all the accumulated memories and become the true, complete Shana.

“This is the secret of the Shana clan?” Shana whispered, horrified.

This was knowledge the middle-aged Shana should not have possessed, yet now the elderly Shana was revealing it to his middle-aged self.

It felt as if, after countless generations of reincarnation, they had finally reached some crucial turning point.

Shana’s mind went numb. He could hardly accept this horrifying answer.

Though he now understood how the Shana existed, he still didn’t understand why things had to be this way.

He didn’t understand…

What was the meaning behind the Shana clan’s existence? What kind of person had created them, and for what purpose had they been created?

“Why?” Shana pleaded.

“Why create beings like us?”

“For what purpose?”

“Was it truly all for that so-called mission?”

Shana lifted his head, looking at the back of the old man’s head.

“Why must we be so fixated on that mission? Why must it absolutely be completed?”

The old snake person didn’t answer immediately. The two of them walked together into a large stone chamber.

They descended deeper into the chamber, stopping after a long descent.

The underground palace the Shana family had meticulously built over a thousand years was gone, leaving only wreckage behind.

A cave filled with rubble and an underground pool were all that remained.

Shana saw countless ethereal threads woven together within the pool, seemingly yearning to find new vessels to inhabit.

And in the center of the pool, where the white threads converged most densely…

A newborn Snake Person infant could be seen wrapped within a cocoon, waiting to be born.

The old snake person pointed toward the cocoon and said gravely to Shana, “Look. This is the reason.”

Shana approached the edge of the pool, his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets as he stared at the new Shana clan member gestating in the cocoon.

“What is going on?” he gasped.

“How can there still be new Shanas being born?”

He roared at the old man, wanting nothing more than to strike him down right there.

“What exactly are you trying to do? Why create these puppets called Shana, generation after generation?”

“Does that so-called mission absolutely have to be completed?”

“Can’t you just let yourself go? Can’t you let us go?”

The old man told Shana firmly, “The mission must be completed.”

Shana objected strongly, “But there are no more threads! There is no more Camon!”

The old man looked at the still somewhat naive Shana and shook his head slowly.

“The threads are not our enemy,” he explained patiently.

“We are simply pursuing the same endpoint as them, seeking final liberation.”

Shana forced himself to calm down, no longer as impulsive as he had been in his youth.

“I await your answer,” he stated, his voice tight.

The old man’s voice seemed to hold some ancient, magic power, carrying Shana back through time as he began to tell a truly despairing story.

“Millions of years ago,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of ages, “a divine being fell.”

“Though the divine being died, they left behind a complex plan for their eventual resurrection. Their former believers and vast power structure immediately began working toward fulfilling this plan.”

“They left behind a prophecy.”

At this point, the old man recited it fluently in the ancient Trilobite language.

“When the Creator returns, that shall be when the gods awaken.”

This meant they would be resurrected in the era when the Creator finally returned.

“The divine being’s plan,” the old man continued, “involved creating a special artifact called the Destined Marionette, with the sole purpose of resurrecting themselves.”

“The threads represent the Camon clan. The puppet represents the Shana clan.”

“This is where the entire story begins. Resurrecting the divine being is the inescapable mission of both the Shana and Camon clans.”

Shana stepped forward urgently. “Where is this artifact? Why not simply find it?”

“Is finding it the reason we must complete the mission?”

The old man reached down into the pool, watching his own wavering reflection in the water.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly.

“Just as I cannot grasp this reflection in the water.”

The Shana clan did not know its location.

“When mortals die,” the old man explained, “they become life dreams that return to the Dream Starry Sea. Life dreams are condensed by the Creator’s fundamental laws and never dissipate naturally.”

“This was the law established by the Creator.”

“But this divine being manipulated the Creator’s laws. They planned to merge the artifact into the life dream at the precise moment it condensed, making this fusion part of the artifact’s very creation.”

“This ritual was incredibly complex. First, it required someone who was willing. Moreover, this person needed to possess incredibly strong faith, someone who wouldn’t dissipate from falling into nightmares, someone who obsessively believed the divine being would resurrect, thus powering this life dream of faith.”

“The life dream was born from the Creator’s laws, so under normal circumstances, it would immediately ascend to the gods’ Dream Realm.”

“But because the life dream had become intrinsically part of the artifact, in that instant, it no longer belonged completely to the category of life dreams.”

“Therefore, it could not return to the Creator’s Dream Starry Sea.”

“No one could find this life dream that had vanished, existing somewhere outside the Dream Starry Sea, not even spirits or the knowledgeable Wood Nymphs.”

“From that moment on, this artifact has eternally wandered the very edges of the Dream Realm, like a ghost drifting endlessly outside the realms of life and death.”

The reflection in the water rippled as the old man continued the story.

“But we know the Destined Marionette spawns threads from unknown places, casting them down into the mortal world.”

“Wherever there are threads, new puppets will inevitably be created.”

“This is the endless cycle of hell for both the Camon and Shana clans.”

The old man extended his finger toward the new generation Shana clan member still forming within the cocoon.

His hand trembled visibly now, his eyes filled with an endless, soul-crushing despair.

“Do you see?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Even if I die, even if you die.”

“We continue to be reborn.”

“If not born here, we will simply be born elsewhere.”

“Until the mission is finally completed, this cycle will keep repeating, endlessly.”

The old man’s voice was thick with desolation as he said, “Even with or without the threads, with or without Camon.”

“We are all the same. We are all bound to follow the mission.”

“We must complete it. Only by completing it can we finally be freed from this unending cycle.”

The old man’s voice rose with sudden intensity. “It’s not the threads that truly control us, Shana!”

“It’s the will of the divine being! It’s the destiny that has been forced upon the Shana clan for countless generations!”

Shana stood rigid before the pool for a long moment, then slowly collapsed to his knees, feeling his strength completely drain away.

He had never imagined the truth would be like this.

He suddenly looked up at the old snake person and asked, “Can’t it be changed?”

The old snake person told Shana bleakly, “Not even death can change it.”

“No, death was never meant for us.”

“Because we were never truly alive to begin with.”

The old snake person’s cane suddenly struck the pool, shattering the ripples in the water. “Shana…” he choked out.

“We are merely marionettes. We… we have no future.”

The old snake person crouched down, crumpling in utter despair beside Shana at the pool’s edge.

“The only way…” he whispered hoarsely.

“The only way to end this cycle is to complete the mission.”

“Without initiating the divine being’s resurrection ritual, no one can find the true Destined Marionette.”

“Only by opening this ritual will the Destined Marionette finally become part of the ritual itself, become part of the divine being.”

“And we… we will also enter eternal peace together, finally freed from this endless, agonizing cycle.”

At this point, the old snake person grabbed Shana’s hand tightly.

“However,” he said with urgency, “this is the last time.”

“This is the final cycle.”

“You found the divine being’s wisdom. The Camon clan has welcomed back their spirituality.”

“The final ritual will begin soon, taking place in Maya City.”

“You will inherit my memories, and the memories of all Shanas before us. You will execute the final plan.”

The old snake person gripped Shana’s hand with desperate strength, his eyes filled with a raw, frantic longing.

It was the look of a creature trapped for eternity, clawing desperately for freedom. Like a starving dog licking at poisoned scraps, knowing it had no other choice.

“The mission to resurrect the divine being is now yours, Shana,” he declared.

“The final moment has arrived. Shana, Camon, the Marionette… everything will return to the divine being.”

“All cycles will end. Nothing more will be reborn.”

“Complete the final task. Don’t let a new generation of Shana be born.”

“We are so tired,” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

“It’s time…”

“To bring it all to an end.”

Shana was completely stunned, overwhelmed. He had never heard such a profoundly despairing story.

The despair was so deep, so absolute, that even the thought of death seemed almost like a comforting release.

After speaking these final words, the old snake person patted Shana’s hand gently.

He then walked toward the pool.

He placed his hand gently on the cocoon floating above the water. Slowly, the cocoon began to dissolve, taking the nascent Shana clan member within it, melting away into nothingness as if it were merely an egg dissolving.

He was showing Shana that no more Shana clan members would exist after the mission was completed.

After doing this, the old snake person himself was enveloped by a swirling white cocoon and gradually consumed, dissolved into the surrounding energy.

Meanwhile, the countless threads within the pool began to coil around Shana.

The old snake person’s memories poured seamlessly into Shana’s mind, carried by the threads that bound them together. There was no need for spoken words. The old snake person’s voice resonated directly within Shana’s consciousness, as if they were his own thoughts speaking back to him.

The real world vanished completely. Two figures stood suspended in a world of pure, featureless white on all sides.

One figure slowly solidified, becoming more distinct, while the other slowly faded away into the white void.

The white world suddenly changed as countless scenes rushed in from all directions, accompanied by the old snake person’s voice, resonating within Shana’s mind.

“Look, Shana.”

“These are our memories.”

“Haven’t you also felt how similar we are? When you saw the next generation Shana, didn’t you remember your former self? And didn’t you remember your former me?”

“Because we possess identical personalities, we always make the same choices.”

“Though we experience different lives, we inevitably make the same crucial decisions.”

“At countless crossroads throughout our existence, we ultimately choose the same path, again and again.”

The old snake person’s voice grew more distant, and Shana felt it gradually becoming indistinguishable from his own voice, as if he were speaking these words to himself.

“In youth, we seek destiny.”

“In our prime, we try desperately to change destiny.”

“In old age, we finally accept destiny.”

“We wander through fate, again and again.”

“We roam endlessly within destiny’s labyrinth, finding neither exit nor endpoint.”

After speaking these final words, the old snake person completely vanished within the underground cave, the place that had hidden the Shana family’s thousand-year secret.

The older generation Shana had died, and no new generation Shana had been born.

This signified that the endless cycle was finally beginning to end.

That infinite loop started breaking at this very point.

Then, from that break, it would gradually annihilate itself.

Of the typical three-generation endless cycle of Shanas, now only two Shana clan members remained in existence.

Shana himself felt overwhelmed by the flood of endless memories. He saw countless white threads connecting two specific stones.

The two stones were embedded within a stone tablet, inscribed with the image of a marionette.

“The Destined Marionette,” Shana spoke its name aloud, recognizing it instantly.

But the Destined Marionette he saw was only an image held within memory, not the true Sequence 19 artifact itself.

Shana felt countless strange and ancient species’ memories flood into his mind. He witnessed generation after generation of Shana’s painful reincarnations.

The sheer agony of the eternal cycle and the crushing weight of endless solitude overwhelmed Shana’s mind, pressing down on him like an unbearable physical force.

Shana’s body shook violently, his face twisting into a mask of profound terror and utter despair.

Shana helplessly clutched his head.

He began repeating, over and over, “Must complete the mission.”

“Must complete it!”

“Must… must… complete it…”

“At any cost, must complete it… It needs to end… it needs to end…”

“It needs… to end…”

The most ancient memories continued flooding uncontrollably into his consciousness, tracing back millions upon millions of years.

Shana writhed in agony on the ground like an insect, but suddenly he realized the world around him had changed once more.

He weakly lifted his head, finding himself standing once again in the “Lost Kingdom.”

The God-Descended City.

Before the Palace of Wisdom.

He stood again among the assembled Divine Children from the previous era. Before him stood the same Trilobite Man he had encountered in his visions.

The being’s gaze spanned countless ages as it fell upon Shana, asking once more that same nightmarish question.

“Shana, have you waited?”

Shana looked up at him, but this time, he suddenly understood.

This being was the origin of everything, the one who had created this eternal nightmare.

He looked at the being in utter despair, hot tears streaming uncontrollably from his eyes.

He demanded answers, his voice breaking into sobs and howls.

“Why?”

“Who exactly are you?”

“Why did you do this to us?”

“Why?”

“Why do you torture us like this?”

He tried desperately to grab the other’s robe, lunging forward, but the memory’s vision had reached its end.

He fell backward into the cold water of the pool, the shock pulling him abruptly back to reality.

Shana had aged considerably in mere moments. His once straight posture was now collapsed and hunched over.

He lifted his head slowly.

His eyes, now clouded like the old man’s before him, were eyes that should not belong to a human. They revealed a despair that had crossed countless ages.

The Shana family castle.

The new generation Shana was undergoing his coming of age ceremony, conducted solely by his father.

The previous generation Shana, his grandfather, had died of illness. His funeral had just been completed.

Though young Shana grieved for his grandfather’s passing, he was also undeniably excited about his upcoming ceremony.

In his youthful eyes, there shone a spark of longing for the vast outside world and a glimmer of eager anticipation for the future that awaited him.

During the ceremony, he asked his father earnestly, “Father, what is our family’s mission? What should I do?”

His “father” told him, “The divine will guide you.”

Young Shana looked confused but pretended to understand the profound words.

His “father” then took out the Wisdom Stone and, during the ritual, merged it into young Shana. Immense, unfamiliar power surged through the young man’s body.

Young Shana was amazed, looking up at his father with unrestrained, wild joy.

“Such powerful strength!” he exclaimed.

His “father” told him, “This is the divine being’s gift.”

Young Shana excitedly explored his newfound power for a moment, then turned to meet his father’s gaze.

His father opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, hesitating.

After a long pause, his father finally spoke.

“Shana,” his father asked, “you will succeed, won’t you?”

Young Shana nodded and replied confidently, “I will definitely succeed.”

His heart burned with passion, combining his longing and anticipation for the outside world with his eagerness to complete the mysterious mission.

After the ceremony concluded, young Shana packed his few belongings with palpable excitement.

He was ready to embark on his journey toward distant lands.

The Shana who had become the “father” stood silently before the ancient castle, watching his “son” depart down the road.

He suddenly muttered softly to himself, “Will he succeed?”

“Will he feel hatred?”

“Hatred… for himself?”

In his mind’s eye, generations upon generations of Shana clan members appeared behind him, silent shadows.

They all shared the same fundamental personality but possessed vastly different memories accumulated over lifetimes.

Shana asked the other Shanas silently within his shared consciousness, “Why don’t we just tell him the truth?”

The others responded within his shared consciousness, their collective thought echoing in his mind.

“That way, he would have no drive to pursue the mission.”

“Besides, telling him would only bring the despair sooner, which serves no real purpose.”

“Even fleeting happiness is still happiness once possessed.”

Before the castle remained only silence and despair.