Gwayne stared out at the horizon for a long time. For several minutes, the sheer cognitive dissonance was so great he couldn't even guess what he was seeing.
Whatever that colossal, rising arc of light was, it wasn't the sun he once knew.
The great curve continued climbing, and it moved faster than any sunrise he remembered. Before long, Gwayne could see more of its luminous surface—a massive dome, haloed in misty colors and vague, cloud-like structures. It cast light and warmth across the land, but unlike the sun of his old world, its glow wasn't harsh or blinding. He could even make out faint patterns etched across its surface.
Judging by its curve, Gwayne realized this thing's apparent diameter must be dozens—maybe hundreds—of times greater than a normal sun. Of course, that was only an illusion of proximity; in truth, it had to be much smaller than a true star, merely astonishingly close to the planet's surface.
At this distance, it would likely occupy a full fifth of the sky at its zenith.
That was just a rough instinct. The scale of it all was overwhelming enough to shatter his usual instincts.
The sheer pressure of witnessing a cosmic body rise across the sky was indescribable.
Gwayne quickly searched through the memories he'd inherited from the real Gwayne Seawright—and, sure enough, he found countless recollections of the same breathtaking "sunrise." This was no anomaly. It was the world's everyday reality.
He rapidly pieced together several theories: Maybe the physics of this world were completely different, and the local "stars" were less energetic, allowing for a huge but nearby sun without burning the planet. Or maybe it wasn't a sun at all, but some massive magical phenomenon, like a radiant rift. Or... more plausibly...
Perhaps this world wasn't a planet orbiting a sun at all.
Maybe it was a moon, orbiting a titanic gas giant—and what rose above the horizon each day wasn't a sun at all, but its parent planet.
In that moment, Gwayne felt more like a stranger in a foreign world than he ever had before.
"Ancestor? Lord Ancestor?" Hestia's voice broke through his daze, startling him back to reality.
"Ah? Ah, yes," Gwayne blinked, glancing awkwardly at the woman.
Now that they had escaped the stifling, dangerous tunnels, Hestia seemed to have regained a little of her noble composure. She bowed slightly. "Ancestor, we need to move quickly. It's not safe to linger."
Gwayne muttered something vague and nodded. Their exit was nothing more than an exposed hillside—terrible cover if anything unfriendly were to find them. "Let's get to higher ground," he said. "I remember the terrain from seven hundred years ago... but it's probably changed."
At his direction, the group set off toward a nearby ridge.
Gwayne couldn't help but steal several more glances at the colossal "sun."
"Lord Ancestor?" Rebecca, who was following him closely, finally worked up the nerve to ask, "Is something wrong with the sun?"
Amber, walking nearby, shrugged casually. "Eh, leave him be. You'd be staring too if you hadn't seen the sky in seven hundred years."
Gwayne ignored Amber's smart remark, glancing at Rebecca and shaking his head. Internally, though, he made a mental note: Whatever that thing was, the people of this world simply called it the "sun"—the same word he would have used. Names meant little here.
Searching deeper into Gwayne Seawright's inherited memories, he finally recalled something important. He looked up again, scanning the opposite, still-dark part of the sky.
There, amidst the fading stars, a single bright point gleamed—far brighter than anything else.
Locals called it "Aur," revered it in both religious rites and magical practices.
So that was it.
"Aur" was the true sun of this system, unimaginably distant. Its light was little warmer than the other stars.
The massive dome now rising on the horizon? Their world's parent planet.
Gwayne shivered slightly in the cool pre-dawn air.
Atop the ridge, he finally saw what had become of the Seawright domain.
The land stretched out before him like a corpse rotted by acid.
Fields and hills were scorched black and gray. The earth was cracked and scarred, and what few trees remained were twisted into grotesque, claw-like shapes. Farther off, the remains of walls and charred ruins littered the landscape. A cloud of smoke and ash still clung to the broken form of Seawright Castle.
Across the wasted fields, enormous, mutated beasts wandered—monstrosities born from corruption.
The fields and crops had been utterly annihilated, leaving nothing but a barren wasteland.
"Our land..." Rebecca dropped to her knees, clutching at the earth, her teeth clenched hard enough to tremble. Tears welled up in her eyes—whether from anger or grief, even she did not know. She was a child thrust into the role of a lord before she could even adapt—and now, she had lost everything.
"This is what corruption looks like," Gwayne said quietly beside her. "When the magic of chaos tainted the Old Empire, all their lands became like this."
Amber wiped cold sweat from her brow. "Gods of the Shadow... we were surrounded by this the whole time?"
Hestia was more focused, staring grimly ahead. "Can it still be saved?"
Gwayne shook his head. "You didn't stop the tide. The mutants resonated together, triggered a corruption surge. The elemental poisoning of the land is irreversible."
"How long... will it last?" Hestia asked, voice almost trembling.
Gwayne raised an eyebrow. "Has human civilization reclaimed the Old Empire's heartlands yet?"
"...No. The land beyond the Grand Barrier remains a forbidden zone," Hestia admitted.
Gwayne shrugged. "Then expect Seawright's corruption to last at least another seven hundred years."
Hestia and Rebecca stared at him, stunned.
They couldn't comprehend how their ancestor—the legendary founder of House Seawright—could face the destruction of the family's last stronghold with such calm. No anger. No tears. Just cold observation.
It unsettled them.
Gwayne noticed their stares and asked casually, "Something wrong?"
"Lord Ancestor," Rebecca said cautiously, "aren't you... angry?"
Gwayne blinked. For a second, he realized he had once again failed to fully "inhabit" his new role.
Then he drew himself up, summoned all his acting skill, and put on a properly stern face: "Anger solves nothing. Gwayne Seawright was a pioneer. Every inch of this family's land, every bit of its wealth, was built from nothing by my own two hands. If we've lost it all..."
He paused dramatically. "...then we simply start over."
Hestia and Rebecca immediately nodded, full of awe.
Of course, they thought. Only a true founder could have such a mighty heart.
(Neither dared to mention that in today's world, all unclaimed land was either owned by someone or designated a cursed zone.
Finding somewhere new to settle would not be so easy...)
Gwayne took advantage of his "inspirational speech" and swiftly changed topics. "There's nothing left for us here. First priority is finding the survivors. I remember a knight named Philip led the evacuation? Where were you meant to rendezvous?"
Rebecca straightened up, answering crisply: "North. Town of Tanson. If Tanson was attacked, we were to head up the Kingsroad as far as needed."
Gwayne nodded, ready to move.
But just as he turned, he froze.
A sudden prickling instinct screamed at him—danger.
"Down! Hide!" he shouted instinctively.
Byron the knight reacted just as quickly, hauling Hestia and Rebecca toward cover behind a boulder. Amber had already vanished into the nearest shadow. Gwayne grabbed the confused Betty—the little maid still clutching her frying pan—and yanked her into cover.
Moments later, a crushing, suffocating pressure swept down from the sky.
Silhouetted against the glowing arc of the "sun," a colossal, elegant figure soared overhead.
A Dragon!
A creature at least fifty meters long, its wings slicing through the air with slow, effortless beats.
In a panic, Hestia muttered a low spell, casting a third-tier "Refraction Field" to mask their presence—but whether such simple magic could fool a dragon was doubtful at best.
Still, the beast either didn't notice them... or didn't care.
It simply drifted past, its enormous golden eyes reflecting the devastated land of Seawright.
Then the dragon opened its jaws.
And bathed the ruined earth in a storm of searing light.