Dusk came slowly on the festival's last day.

  The sky turned golden orange, and the crowds that had felt rowdy since morning started slowing their pace. Street music could still be heard in some corners, but people's steps were no longer hurried.

  As if the whole city had agreed to savor what remained of the day before everything returned to normal.

  We walked without a clear destination, just following the flow of people moving toward the harbor.

  Actually, I'd passed through this square several times. That statue had always been there, standing silent in the middle of the commotion, serving as a backdrop for tourist photos and a place for children to run around.

  But somehow, only today did I really pay attention to it.

  A man carved from gray stone, standing with two swords in his hands.

  One pointed forward, as if holding something back, while the other was pulled behind, ready to slash anyone who tried to cross the invisible line in front of him. His robe was carved as if blown by sea wind.

  Dual sword user, huh?

  Visually, it looks cool. Very 'protagonist-like.'

  One of the statue's swords pointed toward the sea. Following that direction unconsciously, my gaze fell on the giant sword at the end of the peninsula.

  I stepped closer to the statue, releasing my grip on Dad's hand for a moment. At the base, there was a bronze plaque already tarnished by time.

  I stood on my tiptoes a bit, tilting my head, trying to read the inscription carved there.

  'Allain Vaelmorath - Bearer of Glory'

  A name that sounds... grand.

  "Sera, don't go too far," Mom called from behind.

  "Yes, Ma..." I nodded, then returned to Dad's side.

  We continued our journey along the road toward the harbor.

  Every time there was a gap between buildings, I could see it: the sword standing firm and silent at the end of the peninsula.

  I held Dad's arm, swinging it. "Dad, when? When are we going there?" My index finger pointed at that giant sword, which now gleamed orange, bathed in afternoon light.

  Dad crouched down to my level, then followed my finger's direction.

  "Soon, Sweetheart. See that sun?" His hand pointed at the western sky starting to redden. "We'll wait until it drops a bit more. People say that's the best time, when the sunset, then fireworks light up."

  I nodded, though I was already impatient.

  My hand stayed gripped tight in Dad's as we walked again. Mom on the left, carrying the picnic bag that kept shifting on her shoulder.

  Around us, the crowd thickened. One direction.

  Everyone was walking the same way, slowly climbing along the stone road toward the end of the peninsula. My feet started getting tired, but I didn't want to say so.

  Lights started turning on one by one along the road, replacing the sunlight that was steadily sinking behind the sea.

  In the distance, that giant sword looked bigger with every step we took closer. Its shadow stretched across the ground, as if pointing toward the city behind us.

  My feet started feeling heavy.

  I glanced at Dad briefly, then stared at the long road ahead with a slightly... weary expression.

  "What's wrong, Sera?" Dad immediately noticed.

  "Nothing." I swung our linked hands gently.

  Dad stopped for a moment, then crouched. "Come on, get up."

  "Eh, that's—"

  "No way Papa can't carry his favorite princess." Dad already patted his back. "Come on, before Papa changes his mind."

  I hesitated briefly, then finally climbed onto his back. Quite perceptive.

  "Honey, I'm tired too," Mom said, shifting the picnic bag on her shoulder while glancing at us with an amused smile.

  "Here, Honey." Dad, who was carrying me, still managed to take the bag from Mom with his other hand. "Let me carry it."

  "You sure? That's heavy, plus Sera."

  "I'm strong." Dad grinned proudly, though he accidentally kicked a rock that made him almost stumble.

  I turned my face toward the sea from atop Dad's back.

  Really... this man never misses a chance to show off.

  When we were finally close enough, I realized how massive that sword actually was. Its blade was deeply embedded in the stone cliff, towering high until its tip was covered by thin clouds. From below, it felt impossible to see all the way to the top.

  The air around here felt heavier than usual, but not suffocating. Just dense, like something pressing gently around us.

  We finally arrived at the plateau.

  Thousands of people had already gathered here, sitting on mats, blankets, or folding chairs they brought. Loud laughter broke out from one corner. In another, an old man scolded his grandchild for running around.

  The atmosphere here felt different, filled with the sweet aroma of caramel from street snacks and the rich smell of grilled corn.

  It was lively.

  Not far from where we were looking for a seat, an old man sat calmly on a simple folding chair.

  His hair was long and white, falling messily on his shoulders, but his face was clean and well-maintained. He wore a dark robe that had been worn for a long time. In his hand, an old wooden staff whose tip was already worn.

  But his eyes were still sharp. Full of spirit that didn't match his age.

  Around him, a small group of spectators sat or stood with expressions alternating between curious and skeptical. Several small children sat in the very front, their eyes sparkling.

  "Listen carefully!"

  The old man didn't speak loudly. His voice was actually calm, but it felt like it vibrated right inside my eardrums, like a voice projection technique that made the festival noise seem to dim just to make way for every word.

  Conversations around him gradually subsided. One by one, people turned toward him unconsciously.

  "You think that sword is just a monument? You think this festival is just an empty celebration?"

  Several exchanged glances. A bespectacled young man rolled his eyes.

  But the old man didn't care.

  "You see that sword every day, but never ask: why does it stand there?" His staff pointed toward the giant sword. "Why does it face the sea? Why was this city built around it, not the other way around?"

  Some people started falling silent, interested.

  I was also interested.

  "Because you don't know," he continued calmly. "That sword isn't just a weapon."

  He stopped briefly, as if choosing the right words.

  "There are many stories behind it that aren't written in history."

  We found a spot on a small hill directly facing the sea and giant sword. Mom spread out a blanket.

  "Sera, here." Dad patted the ground in front of him. "Sit in front of Papa so you can see the fireworks clearly."

  I obeyed, but when I sat...

  "Sera, scoot over a bit. You're blocking Papa's view," Dad said while gently shifting me to the left.

  "But Dad, you're the one who told me to sit here!"

  "Yeah, but..." Dad stopped, then smiled. "Yeah, yeah, Papa's wrong." He pinched my cheek gently.

  I leaned against his chest. Mom sat beside us, occasionally stroking my hair with a tender touch.

  In the distance, that old man's voice could still be heard, carried by the wind.

  "Once upon a time," the old man began in a low voice, his fingers pointing toward the horizon as if piercing space and time. "Humans lived peacefully with other races. Back then, this world was known as The Eternal Dawn, long before it changed into the Aqua we inhabit now."

  That sentence jolted me.

  I, who had only been half-listening until then, suddenly turned sharply.

  Other races?

  I thought that was just time-filler nonsense, but the silence around me felt strange. There was no dismissive laughter or doubtful whispers from other spectators. They were silent, listening attentively, as if the man was saying something they'd already memorized by heart.

  "At that time, there was no war," he continued calmly. "Humans, Elves, Dwarves... they shared land and sea. Their existence was a normalcy that didn't need debating."

  Elves? Dwarves?

  Wait... Wait a minute!

  I fell silent, my brain suddenly working overtime to reprocess everything Dad had ever told me.

  Before and now, when Dad told stories about a falling meteor and the hero who saved the world, I always imagined it happening in an advanced world, like my current world.

  Tall buildings destroyed, technology annihilated, then humans rising again from the ruins.

  Like disaster movies and novels I'd seen.

  But other races? Elves? Dwarves?

  That means...

  My heart beat faster.

  That meteor fell when the world was still in a truly PRIMITIVE era. Not a modern world that was destroyed and then became primitive again, but a world that simply WASN'T modern from the start.

  Not post-apocalypse.

  But pre-civilization.

  And that hero... lived in that era. An era when swords and magic still existed.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Is magic really real? Or is the talent they possess just called magic because it can't be explained?

  That was the era before machines, before electricity, before all the things we now take for granted.

  I was dead wrong.

  The modern world I inhabit now was BUILT from the ruins of that ancient world. Not the other way around.

  In other words... this world was a fantasy world from the start! I just reincarnated in the future! No wonder the trees in this world are so different!

  My heart pounded hard.

  I glanced at Dad. His expression was grim, as if that part of the story wasn't something he wanted to hear for too long.

  The old man smiled bitterly. "But of course, peace always has an expiration date."

  My world suddenly went silent. That man's voice faded, crushed by one thought that kept spinning in my head: Other races.

  If that's true, then the reality I've understood all this time is just a thin outer shell.

  I stared at the people around us. They remained seated, relaxed, enjoying the sea breeze, waiting for the fireworks to start. Only I felt foreign. As if all this time there was a big secret that everyone understood, except myself.

  The festival slowly approached its peak.

  The sky changed from orange to purple, then slowly darkened. The first star began to appear. Lights along the peninsula were extinguished one by one, leaving only moonlight rising from behind the hill.

  The crowd around that old man grew larger. Those who initially just passed by started stopping and listening.

  "Then a great disaster occurred!" the old man's voice rose slightly, enough to draw attention. Several small children were startled and turned toward him. "A meteor fell from the sky. As big as a mountain."

  His hand raised the staff, drawing lines in the air, imitating something falling from the sky toward the sea.

  "It fell toward the sea, striking the ocean with unimaginable force. Its explosion shook the world. Waves as high as the sky rose, sweeping the land like the angry hand of a giant!"

  Several children in the front row swallowed hard.

  I unconsciously turned toward the sea in front of us. Its waves were calm, reflecting the twilight light almost gone. Hard to imagine water that calm had once become something that swallowed the world.

  "The seawater rose. Kept rising. Land previously inhabited by millions of creatures submerged in an instant. Cities, villages, forests; everything disappeared in a short time. Much land sank and never emerged again."

  I fell silent.

  Dad had told me about it when I was little. About a meteor. About a hero. I barely even remembered the details.

  Now, hearing it again in this place, with the giant sword standing right before my eyes... it felt different.

  More real.

  "Millions of lives lost in one night," the old man continued, his voice lowering. "No time to run away. No time to say goodbye. Only water remained."

  Sea wind blew gently through my hair.

  Then the toll of a large bell sounded from afar, marking the peak of festival night.

  Everyone fell silent.

  Even the old man stopped briefly, turned toward the bell, then smiled thinly.

  "The time has come," he mumbled.

  Then...

  Boom!

  Emerald green light exploded in the sky, right beside the giant sword blade, spreading like a tree of light slowly blooming.

  "Wow, so beautiful!" a child in front exclaimed, eyes sparkling.

  "Quick, take a picture!" a voice was heard from another crowd.

  I pressed my hand to Dad's arm, silent, mesmerized by the light in the sky. My mouth slightly open.

  "Many people thought the world had received God's punishment," the old man continued, his voice clear despite fireworks exploding all around. "They said the apocalypse had arrived. They despaired."

  Fireworks exploded again. Red, blue, gold, and silver. Their shapes kept changing: some like flowers, some like circles, some falling like star showers.

  "But they were wrong," the old man emphasized.

  "Even though seawater covered the land and swallowed millions of living creatures, some islands survived."

  A mother near me mumbled to her child, "Listen carefully, Zul, this is important."

  "Those islands were called Pillars, because they became the final support pillars of civilization. And the largest..." He stopped briefly, giving pause. "Is the Central Land we know as Arterra."

  "Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and many other races all took refuge there," the old man continued in a warm tone. "What's surprising—even though the outside world was destroyed and they lost many things, they didn't hate each other."

  He smiled genuinely for the first time.

  "They worked together. Accepted differences. Given their own symbols. Humans with fire, Elves with leaves, Dwarves with stone. But still one. One as creatures who survived the apocalypse."

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Two fireworks explosions lit up simultaneously, illuminating the sky.

  "And they promised," his voice trembled slightly, "to protect each other. No matter what happened."

  The crowd around him was already very large. Hundreds of people stood or sat, transfixed by the story and fireworks dancing in the sky.

  Suddenly the old man's tone turned dark.

  "After the meteor fell," the old man began in a calm voice, almost like stating facts, "suddenly, from nowhere, a new race appeared."

  Boom!

  A blood-red fireworks explosion burst in the sky.

  "They called themselves Sea Devils," the old man looked down, his voice full of disgust. "Because they ruled the oceans that became the grave of millions of lives."

  Sea wind suddenly blew harder. For a moment, the air around us felt cold.

  "They were cursed evolution. Corpses exposed to meteor energy transformed into creatures not fully alive, not fully dead. They thirsted for blood, thirsted for destruction. They were bold toward the strong... and trampled the weak."

  "All races on the Pillar Islands were terrified," he continued, his eyes sharply staring at the crowd. "Those monsters emerged from the sea without warning. Only death awaited anyone who was close."

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Fireworks exploded in succession in the sky, as if following the story.

  "Seawater rose high, swallowing anyone too close to the shore," he continued. "People were dragged, torn apart. No one could help."

  Several children looked scared. Parents held them tight.

  "But the leaders of all races didn't give up," his voice remained calm, full of authority. "Through cooperation of all races, they fought that creature."

  BOOM!

  The biggest fireworks explosion so far colored the sky, its light so bright it split night into day momentarily.

  "That was the beginning of 'The First Generation: The Era of Raluni,'" he added, closing the story.

  "Then came the shift of eras," the old man's voice flowed again.

  "Humans and Dwarves, who didn't have magic miracles as great as Elves, started using their brains. They created steel, steam, and gunpowder. The Industrial Era began! Giant warships were built to hunt sea monsters."

  I, who had been leaning relaxed against Dad's chest, suddenly stiffened.

  I grabbed the edge of Dad's clothes, squeezing it while continuing to listen. Knowledge about 'industry' usually only leads to one thing I understand very well: large-scale warfare.

  "But you know what happened to our race? Humans?" He stopped briefly, then snorted cynically. "Because we don't have magic and breed faster than rabbits, other races saw us as only one thing: Cannon Fodder."

  Brief silence.

  I heard someone behind us click their tongue quietly.

  No one objected. Several people looked down. Another old man clenched his fist softly.

  I glanced at Dad. He just stayed silent.

  "We were sent to sea in iron boxes they called ships, just to make sure Elf nobles could drink tea peacefully on land."

  "That's why we hate them now," someone mumbled softly, almost whispering.

  No one was angry. Instead... they agreed?

  Are Elves at odds with the human race?

  "In the midst of that rotten system," the old man continued, his eyes gazing toward the yellow fireworks that just exploded, "a child was born named Allain... The Hero we know now. His mother a cook, his father a ship mechanic. A very... ordinary family."

  "Wait..." a bespectacled man furrowed his brow. "Wasn't Allain the son of General Kaine? I read in—"

  "Allain had no noble dreams. He just wanted to live, eat well, and maybe not get eaten by Sea Devils. But in this world, fate likes to joke. At age eighteen, he was forced onto a warship, following his father's footsteps as a lower-class crew member."

  The bespectacled man fell silent, unsure.

  The old man kept telling the story while swinging his staff dramatically.

  "He thought he'd die a bachelor in the middle of the sea without ever touching a woman's hand. And he was right! His ship was attacked by Sea Devils, shattered to pieces in minutes. As he sank, his lungs starting to fill with salt water, he was ready to see the light at the end of the tunnel..."

  "But turns out, what saved him wasn't an angel. But an incredibly beautiful girl."

  A young man in the front row shouted, "Then?! Did they get married? Why does the history book say the hero was single from birth?"

  The old man suddenly stopped.

  He reached into his robe pocket, pulled out an empty wooden bowl, and shook it until it made a clattering sound.

  "Hehe... the next story is only available for 'Premium' customers. If you want to know the continuation, please fill this bowl. Knowledge is expensive, young man!"

  "Damn!" someone shouted. "This is history, Old Man! Hurry up and say it, that should be free!"

  "Free?!" The old man glared, his face reddening. "I spent the rest of my life researching historical dust while you're busy dating under fireworks! You think I'm your mother who gives you milk without payment? Pay up, or I'm going home and you'll die wondering!"

  The atmosphere got rowdy. Some laughed, some threw coins out of curiosity.

  After a bespectacled man gave a small bag of coins, the old man sat back down with a victorious smile.

  "You might not believe it," he whispered, his voice serious again. "The girl who saved Allain wasn't an ordinary beautiful girl. She was the Leviathan Sea Queen. The highest ruler of all Sea Devils."

  "WHAAT?!"

  A simultaneous shout echoed, and I accidentally shouted too from shock.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Even the fireworks sounded distant. I could feel Mom's fingers stop stroking my hair.

  However, a second later my mind rolled its eyes.

  Seriously?

  The cliché 'monster who turns out to be a beautiful girl'? So the taste of history writers in this world isn't much different from cheesy romance novels in my old world.

  So cliché! This old man must be making up stories.

  "Nonsense!" a middle-aged man shouted. "Leviathan is a giant monster as tall as a mountain that can swallow islands! How could it be a beautiful girl? You've read too many romance novels, Old Man!"

  "That's exactly the problem!" The old man stood and pointed at the man's nose. "Your brain's been washed by official history books! Leviathan can shapeshift! This is like a novel plot where an ordinary human meets a world ruler. They become friends, share secrets, maybe even more... The point is they enjoyed the beauty of this world together."

  "Be careful, Old Man," a cold voice cut from behind. "That's already entering slander territory."

  Murmurs of agreement started being heard. The atmosphere was no longer curious, but suspicious and annoyed.

  The bespectacled young man spoke up again. "But Sir, if it started sweet like that, doesn't it usually end tragically? Like the law of drama endings?"

  "There! 100 points for you, Glasses! You're smarter than that guy earlier!" The old man pointed at him proudly. "Everything collapsed when Leviathan suddenly lost her sanity. She turned into a bloodthirsty killing machine. Why? Because of betrayal!"

  His voice thundered, drowning out the fireworks explosions in the sky.

  "Based on my research, it was all because of a conspiracy by the Elf, Devil, and Dwarf races! They were afraid if humans and Sea Devils united, their dominance would end! They poisoned the Queen's mind until she went crazy!"

  "Uh, wait..." someone shouted. "The part about the conspiracy of other races is indeed true, but..."

  "BUT NOT BECAUSE OF LOVE!" another man cut in loudly. "They poisoned Leviathan because they feared her power, not because they feared the Hero dating a monster!"

  "Right! Don't mix them up!"

  "Then what did the hero do?" the bespectacled man asked unconsciously, his voice small but heard by the old man.

  The old man smiled bitterly.

  "Allain was faced with the cruelest choice in the world: Let the woman he loved destroy the world, or kill his sweetheart to save the people who had always considered him 'cannon fodder.' And as written on this monument... Allain chose the sword. He killed Leviathan."

  "His sweetheart?" someone hissed in disbelief. "Our Hero loved a MONSTER?!"

  "This is too much," a mother whispered while covering her child's ears.

  Suffocating silence blanketed the hill.

  "But that's the plot twist," the old man's voice rose, almost hysterical. "Leviathan wasn't just a monster. She was a 'Test.' By killing an entity that powerful, Allain fulfilled the requirements to transcend this world of Aqua—"

  "ENOUGH!"

  A loud shout cut in. A man stood, his face red.

  "He's a hero! Not a tragic novel character who killed his lover!" the man snapped, his hand pointing right at the old man's face. "Stop fantasizing and making up rotten stories!"

  The crowd started getting agitated. Several people stood, their expressions changing from curious to angry.

  "You're spreading heretical teachings and insulting the national hero with monster love stories!"

  "Get him down!" the crowd cheered, starting to feel the story was too insulting to their logic. "Crazy old man! No way our hero loved a monster!"

  "Get a job, stop bragging!"

  I curled into Dad's embrace. The atmosphere got scary.

  "Dad... why are they angry?"

  Dad hugged me tight. "Because that old man mixed truth with lies, Sera. That's the most dangerous thing."

  Mom pulled me from Dad's embrace and moved me away. "Sera, don't look."

  But I still glanced.

  Several people started throwing leftover food and trash toward the old man. The old man looked shocked; he quickly grabbed his chair and ran away toward the dark forest on the side of the peninsula.

  "You're stupid! You live in lies!" the old man shouted while running, his robe fluttering comically as he dodged sandal throws. "What I said is true! The history you know is just a bedtime story! Allain didn't save us because of love; he did it because he was forced!"

  His voice disappeared, swallowed by the darkness of night, leaving sneers and dismissive laughter from the crowd.

  "Booo! Liar!"

  "Go away, dreamer!"

  "Huh, let him run like a clown... I'm sure he'll be caught soon."

  "Yeah, let him run as far as he can."

  I stared toward where the old man disappeared, then looked back at the giant sword in front of us.

  "Sera, don't listen to that. That old man's just seeking attention," Mom said while stroking my hair.

  "Dad..." I whispered softly, my eyes still fixed on the giant steel blade monument towering before us. "That old man's story..."

  "Don't listen to it, Sera. That old man is a 'regular' every festival. Last year he said the moon was actually a flying ship."

  I stared at the sky now filled with the last fireworks, a large emerald-colored explosion illuminating the entire peninsula.

  Is that really just nonsense?

  Why don't they arrest crazy people? Isn't Sector Two as strict as I thought?

  And also... what does Dad mean by last year? Did he go secretly by himself?

  Geez, Dad... you don't even know what you're saying. Good thing Mom didn't notice... If Mom heard, you'd be done for, Dad.

  The last fireworks exploded in the sky, forming a giant golden flower that slowly faded.

  The crowd started dispersing. Street lights turned on one by one, illuminating the path down from the hill.

  Dad lifted me onto his back again. "Tired, Sera?"

  "A little," I answered softly, resting my chin on his shoulder. "But... why weren't people angry when he talked about cannon fodder? Isn't that also a lie?"

  "Because that's true, Sera," he answered quietly.

  So it's true: the Elf race in this world is at odds with humans.

  "Something true, even if painful, doesn't make people angry. What makes them angry is... lies that ruin good people," my dad added.

  I stayed silent, digesting his words.

  "But how do I know what's true and what's a lie?"

  Dad laughed softly. "By learning, Sweetheart. Read books. Listen to stories from many people. Then... think for yourself."

  We descended slowly along the stone path.

  In the distance, city lights started appearing like upside-down falling stars. Night wind blew cool, carrying the scent of sea and remnants of fireworks.

  I stared at the giant sword growing farther away.

  "Dad," I called again.

  "Hm?"

  "When we get home... can I read the book you read to me before? The one about the hero?"

  Dad turned slightly, surprised. "Does Sera remember?"

  "A little. But I want to read it again. By myself."

  "Sera can't read fluently yet," Mom said gently.

  "But I can learn!" I answered quickly. "Dad said I should learn if I want to know what's true."

  Dad stopped briefly, then stroked my head from atop his shoulders. "Okay. Tomorrow Papa will get the book for you. But don't force it, okay? Take it slow."

  "Okay!"

  We continued the journey in comfortable silence.

  But in my head, I couldn't stop thinking about that old man's story.