Savin had overestimated himself.
'Damn it.'
Jumping off the edge of a cliff and assuming he would be able to swim his way through the remaining distance, only for him to find out that the Monument was farther away than he thought. As of right now, the sea was restless, and the waves ascended and descended in a violent cacophony. This was a real shit show.
Savin's head burst out of the water as he gasped desperately, trying to fill his lungs with much-needed oxygen. But before he could even catch a full breath, before he could even shut his mouth, a powerful wave crashed down on him from above, forcing him back beneath the surface without mercy.
'What the hell? What's going on?'
Everything had been fine just moments ago. The sea had seemed calm, even welcoming. But now, the world around him had shifted violently. The thick mist rolling in, the waves growing more aggressive with every second—it was as if the entire environment had turned against him. As if the waters themselves were rising to deny him passage. It felt deliberate, like something, or someone, was trying to stop him.
'Who the hell is the Seeker responsible for this?' he wondered bitterly, the thought pounding in his head as his limbs struggled to keep him afloat. Was this some kind of cruel trick?
For a split second, the terrifying thought crossed his mind—Was this place going to become his grave?
No. No, it wouldn't.
'To hell with this.'
Instead of struggling against the relentless waves again, Savin chose a different path—he stayed beneath the surface. This time, his battle wasn't with the sea's fury, but with the quiet, creeping threat of drowning. And strangely, in comparison, it felt easier to deal with. At least down here, the water wasn't slapping him around like a ragdoll. But that didn't mean it was simple.
After all, this was his first time swimming.
Every movement was slow, clumsy, and uncertain. He moved through the water like a stone, trying to pretend it belonged. His limbs pushed against the resistance with effort, inching him forward at a painfully sluggish pace. But he didn't mind. Down here, at least for now, he had time.
Or so he thought.
Without warning, a sharp burn began to claw at his lungs—a reminder that air was not in abundance. The discomfort escalated quickly, spreading through his chest like a fire that had suddenly been lit from within.
On second thought… no. He didn't have time at all. Damn heavens.
Savin clutched at his chest with one hand as the burning ache in his lungs surged, while the other arm desperately paddled in slow, weak strokes. The pressure inside him kept building, clawing at his ribs and spine. But when it reached its peak—when his body screamed at him with every fiber—he had no choice. He forced himself back up, breaking through the surface of the sea like a man being reborn.
He gasped. Great, shuddering breaths tore from his throat as his lungs scrambled to reclaim what they'd been so cruelly denied. Each inhale was like a dagger and a relief all at once. The pain, though still there, slowly ebbed away—until suddenly, when he least expected it, another wave rose behind him, and a wall of force came crashing down.
This one was merciless. It struck him hard, sending a violent rush of water against his chest and face. All the precious air he had just stolen was knocked out of him in an instant. He choked, his vision spinning as water blurred everything. The world turned into foam and noise.
'Kugh! I'm going to drown if this keeps—'
But then… something changed.
To his astonishment, he could breathe again.
Air—real air—filled his lungs, not in gasps but naturally, freely, as if the water had chosen to show him mercy. He blinked through the mist and brine and realized that he wasn't floating… no, he was rising. Not by his own effort, but with the water beneath him lifting him higher, raising him like a wave on a throne.
'What the—'
His thoughts barely had the time to take shape when something unseen moved beneath the surface. He felt it ripple through the sea, and then, without warning, the massive swell carrying him suddenly collapsed. The wave dropped him without grace or warning, and Savin was slammed face-first into the sea below with brutal force, the surface splitting around him as he plunged back into chaos.
***
Cough! Cough!
Savin's eyes snapped open as the remnants of a dying wave slapped against his face, dragging him back to painful consciousness. His body jolted, his lungs seizing as he heaved and spat up a vile mix of seawater and bile. The salt stung his throat, and his stomach twisted with every gag.
'Ugh… my head… it hurts.'
It hurt so damn much.
His skull throbbed with a pulsing ache that made it hard to think. His vision blurred and twisted, the landscape spinning around him like the world refused to stay still. Every color—every damn shade—seemed too bright, too harsh, like someone had taken a paintbrush and turned the saturation up far too high.
'What happened?' He blinked slowly, his thoughts sluggish and tangled. 'Did I… die? Is this heaven? No, wait—not that stupid thought again…'
His breath came in rasps, uneven and weak. But gradually, his senses began to return. His eyes, though still sensitive, started to make sense of what they saw. The brightness settled, and the harsh contrast of light and shadow eased into clarity. Slowly… painfully… the sky above revealed itself—a vivid blue canvas unmarred by cloud or corruption.
Cough! Cough!
Another round wracked his body as he turned his head, water still draining from his lungs.
'What's going on…?'
As he shifted on the cold, uneven surface beneath him, his gaze fell on something that made his chest clench—not from pain this time, but relief.
He had washed ashore.
The island he now lay upon was rather small and no larger than a hundred meters across from his vantage point, a rugged little patch of stone jutting out from the restless sea. Jagged and rough, it looked inhospitable—except for what sat at its very heart.
There, gleaming like a treasure untouched by time, was a structure that looked divine, at least for someone like Savin who didn't know luxury.
A marble gazebo—stark white, pristine, and immaculate—rested on a circular marble platform that echoed its shape. The contrast between its elegance and the raw, grey stone of the island was almost surreal. Stairs, also marble, led up from the island's floor to the gazebo's platform, separating its serene beauty from the world's weathered grit. At the very center of it all stood a lone stone slab.
Embedded in the slab was a hollowed space—an empty ring.
But of course, Savin didn't know or care about anything concerning its features. All he cared about was...
'The Monument.'
The word echoed in Savin's mind as his gaze locked onto the marble structure. Relief surged through his chest, swelling like a rising tide—only to be crushed a heartbeat later by a cold, creeping realization that wiped the hope clean from his face.
'Bloody hell… I don't have a Seal.'
His jaw clenched. The bitter truth sat like a stone in his stomach, heavy and unforgiving. He grimaced, frustration flashing across his face, and within seconds, a darker expression took hold—one born of helpless anger and rapidly fraying patience.
'Keep calm,' he told himself, though his fists had already tightened. 'There has to be a Seal around here somewhere. Let's check.'
There was hope… yes—but it was faint, fragile, the kind that flickered like a dying ember in the wind. The odds of finding one just lying around weren't exactly in his favor. What kind of Seeker would bother dropping a Seal out in the open, anyway? It felt like wishful thinking, bordering on desperation.
And yet… not impossible.
He tried to reason with himself, grasping at any logic that might keep his hope alive. 'They knew someone would show up eventually. Someone who'd need a way down from the cliffs.' After all, not every Seeker would waste their time clambering down jagged stone like a fool—especially when they could just scale the damn thing effortlessly with the right tool.
And besides, he'd heard of Seekers who left Seals behind on purpose, small gestures meant to make things easier for the next lost soul and young'uns like himself who wandered into this forsaken place. Like breadcrumbs for the desperate. And he was very desperate.
Fighting through the relentless ache gnawing at every part of his body, Savin forced himself to his feet. His legs wobbled and his chest still burned from the sea's torment but he didn't stop. Driven by desperation and the stubborn will to survive, he trudged forward across the rough, jagged stone, with his eyes locked on the gazebo ahead.
Without wasting another breath, he climbed the marble steps. His fingers grazed the smooth stone as he pulled himself up, not trusting his balance entirely. Once inside, he began to search frantically. but with focus. His hands moved across the inner surfaces, brushing along every ridge and groove of the structure. He circled the perimeter twice, peered beneath the stone slab at the center, and checked each column that supported the pale white dome.
But there was nothing.
No seal. No token. No sign that someone had left anything behind.
Just cold marble and silence.
His heart sank a little more with every passing second… until something caught his eye.
A shape—barely noticeable at first—peeked out from behind the gazebo. Frowning, Savin stepped toward the balustrades and leaned over, peering carefully beyond the edge of the platform.
That's when he saw it.
Down below, at a lower level of the island by several meters, there was another structure. It was grounded on the rocky surface just a short distance from the base of the gazebo's platform. Similar in shape, yes—clearly designed with the same architectural intent—but everything else about it was… different. Strikingly different.
While the gazebo was white, clean, and almost too perfect in its appearance—bright and inviting like a beacon—this other place looked like the forgotten half of a dream. Ruined. It was dark, weathered, and worn by time. The top of its dome had caved in, the marble cracked and discolored, dulled to a grimy grey with age or decay. Instead of open balustrades that welcomed light and air, this one had narrow windows—tall, vertical slits that let in just enough of the outside world to remind you it was still there.
If the gazebo above felt sacred, this one felt abandoned.
It looked hidden. Uninviting. Almost repelling.
Yet something about it pulled at him. He narrowed his eyes.
'What's down there…?' Savin wondered, his gaze lingering on the ruin below.
Maybe—just maybe—there were some Seals hidden in that forgotten place.
He stood there for a few more seconds, squinting into the shadows of the ruin, weighing the risk.
Then, with a slight shift of his hand, he reached to his side and touched the thin branch he had fastened through the hole in his belt.
It still hung there, brittle and nearly colorless, as if on the verge of breaking. He wasn't sure how much life was left in it—if any—but even so, it was better than nothing.
'If there's even a flicker of life still in it,' he thought, 'I should be able to resist whatever Enigma is down there.'
He didn't know what he'd find in the structure below, but whatever it was, he hoped the branch would be enough.
He took one last look at the slab which was his gate back home, and without a second thought, he jumped over the balustrade and headed for the ruined structure.
***
The building turned out to be much larger than it had appeared from a distance. As Savin approached, its looming presence grew, swallowing more of the sky with each step he took.
He circled the structure carefully, searching for an entrance. As expected, there was a door—two, actually.
Massive metallic gates stood before him, pressed tightly together, their size dwarfing him entirely. Each door bore a large, circular knocker, shaped like the mouth of a beast. The gates were aged, dulled by time, grime, and the harshness of the sea air. Their surface was layered with dust and patches of moss, so much so that they almost vanished into the decayed facade of the building they guarded.
At least the knockers weren't rusted—even though he had no intention of using them. There wasn't much point, after all. It wasn't like anyone would be inside to answer, even if he did.
He placed both palms flat against the cold metal doors, steadying himself as he prepared to push. Drawing on every last drop of strength his scrawny, battered body could muster, he threw all of it into the effort. Muscles tensed, arms trembled, and his teeth clenched as he strained with everything he had, but the doors didn't budge. Not even a creak.
He let out a low, frustrated groan, his shoulders shaking as he continued to press, refusing to accept defeat, yet still, the result was the same. Nothing.
Savin gave up before long, and with a deep, defeated sigh, let himself fall back, his spine crashing against the cold, unyielding metal of the door.
'Damn it, why won't this stupid door open?'
In a sudden burst of frustration, he swung his clenched fist behind him and slammed it hard against the door. Predictably, it didn't move an inch, but the sharp jolt of pain that shot through his hand was immediate and punishing.
"Argh! Damn it!" he hissed, recoiling.
He blew on his hand, then shook it violently as though that would dissipate the pain. His face twisted in a mix of anger and regret as he glared at the door like it had personally insulted him. With another long, exhausted sigh, his shoulders slumped and his head dropped forward.
'How am I going to get back to Earth?'
Savin sat there, sunk into the dust, his gaze distant and unfocused, staring at nothing in particular.
But as his head tilted upward, his eyes caught the sight of the knockers again.
'Or by chance, do I just have to knock?'
It was a thought—simple, almost laughably so. It was a choice, certainly, and not a hard one at that. But no matter how he twisted it, it just didn't make any sense to him.
'Why would anyone be inside this ruin of a place to begin with?'
His thoughts wandered. He remembered the roof. It had caved in. Or rather, it had been broken, as if something had smashed down on it with overwhelming force. That begged a question.
'Was it another Seeker searching for a Seal? Or maybe… an Enigma? But what would an Enigma want in there? Well, not exactly a surprise, those bastards are always unpredictable after all.'
Either way, with the doors refusing to budge, that hole in the roof was now his best bet at getting inside. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to give the doors one last shot. Rising to his feet, Savin reached for the knockers and rapped them hard against the metal.
Silence.
'Damn it.'
Now he really had to climb. His eyes scanned the structure for any footholds. The building wasn't too tall, and if push came to shove, he figured he could survive a jump down with maybe a few scratches. Still, he wasn't thrilled.
Eventually, he settled on the narrow windows. It was a frustrating, painful process. His first few tries ended with him sliding down, scraping his arms and hands, or completely losing grip. It took him eight tries—eight damn tries—before he managed to hook his fingers over the edge of one of the windows and haul himself up. From there, he scrambled, using whatever cracks and worn edges he could find in the stone to keep going.
Bit by bit, he pulled himself up and after an agonizing struggle, he rolled onto the fractured rooftop.
His chest heaved with each breath, his lungs burning and his muscles trembling. He lay there for a moment, face turned toward the sky, trying to catch his breath as his body throbbed with exhaustion.
After a bit of rest, Savin pushed himself back to his feet and shuffled toward the opening in the roof. He peered down into the darkness below. It wasn't pitch-black, thankfully—the windows let in just enough light for him to make out the inside.
Getting out of here came first. No second guesses.
Without hesitation, he jumped in.
His landing was rough but safe, feet slapping against the cracked stone floor with a dull thud. A pungent stench hit him immediately, thick and suffocating. It reeked of muck and rot—like something had died here… or many things had, over the years. He gagged and quickly raised a hand to cover his nose.
'Even the slums don't smell this bad.'
Still, the smell wasn't what held his attention.
The building had the air of a forgotten temple, though its exterior had done little to prepare him for what lay within. Outside, it had been round, weathered, and covered in grime. Inside, it was strikingly different—polygonal, towering, and surprisingly clean despite the stench that lingered in the air.
'Then what's the source of this smell?' he thought, still clutching his nose.
Savin didn't bother counting the corners. It wasn't important. But in each one, there was a statue—knights, massive in stature, carved in stone. Some held greatswords with the tips resting against the platform, their hands calmly gripping the pommel. Others had their blades raised toward the ceiling, paired with equally grand shields. A few bore different forms entirely, likely ancient figures lost to time. Yet none of them held his attention for long.
Because all the runes etched into the stone floor, all the strange energy hanging in the air, pointed to the center of the temple.
There stood a weathered stone tablet.
And behind it... something far larger.
A long, rectangular structure.
Savin blinked. The word hovered on the edge of his memory.
"Uh… a caffy… no, I think it was coffy… nah…" he mumbled aloud, frowning as he strained to recall the term.
After a few seconds of silence, he snapped his fingers and said, "Yes, a coffin… that's correct, right? I think."
Sure enough, resting at the heart of the building was a stone coffin. A figure was carved into its lid, faint and weathered, but unmistakably human in shape.