Eight years passed.
Like the clouds above the Reiss territory, silently drifting by.
Aeternus Andres had grown to eight years old. To everyone else, he was no different from any other farm boy—messy black hair, amber eyes, boundless energy, running between the field ridges and haystacks.
Only he knew.
A cold mist was invading his world.
The dreams were becoming clearer.
They were no longer fragments.
They were tangible sensations: blinding white light, a metal table, a boy’s screams, the instant severed fingers fell, the sound of his own detached voice recording data...
Like ghosts, baring their claws in his sleep.
"Aeternus! Go call your father back from the fields for lunch!"
His mother Luna’s voice came from the kitchen window, gentle enough to melt anything.
The boy sat on the doorstep, staring blankly at the chicken coop.
He had not heard her.
Only when Luna came over and patted his shoulder with her damp hand did he suddenly snap back to himself.
As though he had just surfaced from underwater.
"Huh? Mom?"
"Go call your father home for lunch." Luna crouched down and smoothed the unruly lock of black hair over his forehead, her fingertips brushing his faintly furrowed brow. "What is it, my little Aet? Did you sleep badly again last night?"
Worry hid in her eyes.
Aeternus shook his head, then nodded.
He could not remember clearly.
Every night, he sank into nightmares where a sea of white sand intertwined with a frigid laboratory. When morning came, the details faded like water slipping through his palms, leaving behind only crushing exhaustion and the hollowness of a soul torn apart.
It coiled within his small chest.
"Go on," Luna said softly, as though she wished to pour her own strength into him. "There’ll be hot soup when you get back."
Aeternus nodded, rose to his feet, and slowly walked toward the field ridge.
The Andres family’s cottage stood on a gentle slope. Behind it lay a small grove that provided firewood and shade. Beside the house was a fenced vegetable garden, planted with potatoes and cabbages—Luna’s domain, which she tended until it brimmed with life.
Several strips of farmland spread out ahead, planted with rye and oats. Not far outside the yard stood a chicken coop, along with a quiet sheep.
Their life was poor.
Yet with the stable, if hardly merciful, rents imposed by the Reiss family, and the generosity of this land, they could barely keep themselves fed and clothed.
There were even occasional moments of warmth.
From the doorway, one could see the enormous gray arc in the distance—Wall Rose.
Like a boundary crafted by gods, it silently divided the safety they knew from the dangers they did not.
It was the silent backdrop of this world.
And the only heart-stopping reflection in reality of the white sea of sand in Aeternus’s dreams.
He walked along the path, his gaze unfocused.
The sunlight was beautiful, pouring golden over the ears of wheat.
But he felt as if a sheet of glass stood between them.
The warmth could not reach his heart.
It was canceled out by the cold memories flashing through his mind.
In the field, Sander swung his hoe. His bronze skin shone with sweat, droplets sliding down his back. At the sight of his son, he broke into an honest smile, set down his tool, and strode over.
"Hey! My little man! Did your mother send you?"
Sander ruffled Aeternus’s hair with a large hand as rough as sandpaper, without any sense of restraint.
It was full of unguarded love.
Aeternus shook his head and gave a quiet hum in reply.
The warmth of his father’s palm—the warmth of soil and sunlight—temporarily dispelled some of the chill.
Sander bent down, carefully studying his son’s face, his brow creasing.
"What’s wrong? You look like an eggplant hit by frost. Come on, let’s go home! Fill your belly and you’ll have your strength back! Maybe you’ll even grow taller than your old man!"
He laughed heartily, lifted Aeternus in one motion, set him on his shoulders, and carried him home.
Like a victorious general.
Aeternus wrapped his arms around his father’s head and felt the steady rhythm beneath him.
The gloom in his heart scattered a little.
This simple family affection was his most precious anchor in this era.
Lunch was not lavish, but it was enough to fill their stomachs.
Black bread and thick potato soup, with a few beads of oil and wild vegetables floating in it.
Luna was not much of a cook—the soup was too salty, and the bread was hard enough that one had to chew it vigorously. But Sander always ate with gusto and praised it loudly, as though he were enjoying an exquisite feast.
"The soup tastes wonderful today, Luna! Just the right amount of salt!"
"Really? I think I might have added too much salt again..."
Luna smiled sheepishly, her eyes repeatedly drifting toward Aeternus, who quietly stirred his soup with little appetite.
Between large mouthfuls, Sander talked about trivial matters from the fields: which plot had wheat with plump kernels, which hen had laid eggs.
He tried to liven the mood with that domestic bustle.
Aeternus only occasionally looked up and answered with a strained smile.
For the most part, he remained silent.
His eyes were vacant.
As though his soul had drifted somewhere far beyond his parents’ reach.
Luna looked at her son and sighed quietly.
She set down her utensils and brought out a small dog doll made from leftover wool felt.
The handiwork was crude, with one ear higher than the other.
But it was endearingly shaped and filled with the warmth of something handmade.
"Here, Aeternus." She pushed the little dog in front of her son, her eyes full of expectation. "I hope it can keep you company and help you sleep a little better at night."
A faint gleam lit Aeternus’s eyes.
He accepted the woolen dog, carefully stroked its coarse yet soft texture, then hugged it tightly against his chest.
In a low voice, he said,
"Thank you, Mom."
This little toy was like a fragile barrier, temporarily holding the cold memories at bay.
A booming call came from outside.
"Sander! You home?"
Busch Hart.
Their neighbor and Sander’s best friend, a generous, dependable man as solid as a rock.
Busch was powerfully built. Years of work at the nearby pastures had given him a body of firm muscle. A hunting knife hung at his waist, and in his free time he set traps in the woods, catching game to improve both families’ meals.
He was a devout follower of the Church of the Walls, convinced that the Walls were an unquestionable sanctuary bestowed by the three goddesses.
"Busch! Come on in. You can eat with us!" Sander called warmly.
Busch waved a hand and grinned, showing his white teeth.
"Already ate! I just came by to see you."
His gaze fell on Aeternus, who clutched the woolen dog without much spirit. Raising a brow, he spoke in his booming voice.
"Hey, why’s our little Aet so wilted today? That’s not like you. Last time I saw you chasing that speckled hen, you ran faster than a rabbit!"
Sander sighed and lowered his voice.
"I don’t know what’s going on. He’s had no energy lately, and he doesn’t seem to sleep well either. Like something’s been haunting his dreams."
Busch stroked his stubbled chin, leaned closer to Sander, and lowered his voice, though it was still perfectly clear.
"Kids can’t stay cooped up at home all the time. I say he needs to hear the call of the wild!"
He patted his sturdy chest, producing a pair of thumps.
"How about this? I’ll take him up the nearby hill this afternoon. Let him stretch his legs, see if we can catch something small. I guarantee he’ll sleep soundly tonight! Mountain air blows bad luck right away!"
The spoon in Luna’s hand stopped. Strong concern appeared on her face.
"Up the mountain? Won’t it be dangerous? He’s still so young... I heard there are things in those woods..."
"Don’t worry, Luna!" Busch cut her off confidently. "I know that hill like my own backyard! The biggest living things there are hares and pheasants; you hardly even see foxes! We’ll only walk around the trail near the hilltop. We won’t go deep into the woods. Letting the boy get some fresh air and run around will do more good than any calming herb!"
Sander looked at his tightly frowning wife, then at his son, whose eyes showed a flicker of curiosity at the mention of going up the mountain. After a moment’s hesitation, he said,
"Letting Busch take him out to clear his head might be good. Better than staring into space at home. Busch knows what he’s doing."
Luna looked at Aeternus, then at the reassurance on Busch’s face. At last, she nodded gently and carefully instructed him.
"Stay close to Busch. Don’t run off, understand? You must be back before the sun sets!"
Hugging the woolen dog, Aeternus nodded softly.
The afternoon sunlight was just right.
Aeternus followed Busch onto the path behind the house that led toward the small mountain.
Busch’s mouth never rested. Along the way, he pointed out sights and endlessly recounted the “miracles” of the Walls and amusing stories of his hunting.
"Look over there, Aeternus." Busch pointed at the colossal gray Wall stretching across the horizon, his voice full of reverence. "That’s Wall Rose. Our merciful goddess Rose built it with divine power to protect us from the Titans outside. The outermost Wall belongs to the goddess Maria, and the innermost belongs to the goddess Sina. The three are one, protecting humanity’s last paradise. We must always be grateful for the goddesses’ grace and never entertain even the slightest blasphemous thought..."
Aeternus listened quietly.
But Busch’s words about the sacred Walls seemed to come from somewhere very far away, indistinct and blurred.
The trees along the mountain path gradually grew denser. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the branches and leaves, casting trembling, mottled flecks of light.
His mind grew increasingly hazy.
Busch’s voice, the birdsong in the forest, and the rustle of leaves beneath their feet merged into a muddled wash of background noise.
His head began to swell with pain.
As if something sealed within it were crashing wildly from side to side, trying to break through his skull and escape.
"...So to believe in the Walls is to believe in our future..."
Busch was still talking without pause, his sharp eyes sweeping over the brush at the same time. Suddenly, he froze, swiftly and silently removed the simple sling from his back, and flicked his arm.
Whoosh—
A faint sound split the air.
There was a brief flurry of struggling in the bushes, then silence.
Busch walked over with a cheerful grin, lifted a plump pheasant that had been precisely knocked unconscious, and waved it around proudly.
"Look! Both your family and mine can have something extra for dinner tonight! Aeternus, look... Aeternus?"
Busch turned around.
A few steps behind him, the boy was walking slowly, his face as pale as paper, fine cold sweat beading over his forehead. His hollow eyes stared ahead, his breathing came fast, and his small body trembled faintly.
"What’s wrong? Tired? Or are you feeling sick somewhere?" Busch hurried back toward the boy, concern written all over his rugged face.
Aeternus did not answer.
He felt as though his skull were about to split apart!
Completely unfamiliar images, carrying an eerie sense of recognition, crashed into his consciousness like floodwaters bursting through a dam—
A cold laboratory.
The pain-twisted face of a boy behind reinforced glass.
The instant severed fingers fell.
The acrid stench of hemostatic spray.
His own rubber-gloved fingers coldly recording data on a tablet...
Deafening gunfire.
The spray of blood blooming from a taxi driver’s head and the shock on his face.
The cold, merciless faces of soldiers.
The scorching, final pain when his forehead was pierced through...
An endless white sea of sand.
The enormous tree of light connecting heaven and earth.
Frigid quicksand.
That sand sculpture of a “devil,” with ribs splayed outward, shaped like a centipede, radiating endless despair and malice!
Who am I?
Diablo?
Aeternus?
A cold-blooded researcher?
A farmer’s son?
The chaotic fragments of memory frantically tore at the mind of his eight-year-old self.
The overwhelming torrent of information far exceeded the limit his brain could bear, shattering Busch’s worried face and the beautiful mountain forest before him into pieces.
"Aeternus!" Seeing the boy sway on the verge of collapse, Busch hurried forward to catch him.
At that moment, they emerged from the last line of trees and reached the mountaintop.
The view suddenly opened wide.
Before them spread a boundless, crystal-clear blue sky, vast enough to make one’s heart tremble, as though it could swallow everything.
At the edge of his vision, that towering, silent Wall stood in overwhelming majesty.
It was the edge of the world.
The border of a cage.
The sole, cruel point of connection between the white sea of sand in his dreams and reality.
And the stage upon which countless future tragedies would unfold.
"The Wall..." Aeternus murmured unconsciously, his voice as faint as a sigh.
The blue sky.
The colossal gray Wall.
The white sea of sand in his mind, the dark abyss, the Venus-flytrap-like pillar of light, the laboratory’s deathly white, and the dark red of blood—
In an instant, they overlapped, intertwined, and exploded!
"Agh—!"
A short, agonized groan forced its way from his throat.
Darkness fell over Aeternus’s vision.
Every sound and image abruptly ceased.
His small body, like a puppet with its strings cut, crumpled onto the thick, soft grass at the mountaintop.
The woolen dog slipped from his arms and rolled aside, silently watching its little owner drown beneath the cruel flood of memory.
"AETERNUS!!!"
Busch’s cry echoed across the mountaintop, filled with terror and panic.
He rushed over and gathered the unconscious boy into his arms.
All of his earlier ease and confidence had vanished.
Only profound regret and fear remained.
The boy lay there quietly, as though he were merely asleep.
But only he himself knew—
The past called Diablo, carrying all its darkness, knowledge, and pain, had brutally and completely smashed open the door to reality.
Tearing an irreparable rift through the curtain of a carefree childhood.
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