On one of the countless planets scattered across the vast universe, a man dressed entirely in black wandered endlessly, concealing his face and identity as he traveled from one place to another.
Behind him walked two figures almost identical in build, even in height... yet they were nothing more than specters, silently observing his journey and reliving it alongside him.
To his right walked Frey, curiosity filling his gaze, while to his left moved the present Nameless, hands in his pockets, his face devoid of emotion ... as he already knew most of what was about to unfold.
This was the era where Nameless’s journey truly began. He roamed the cosmos in search of the truth behind his fractured existence, refining the techniques that would one day define him.
After escaping the imprisonment of the Great one of Krat, events unfolded much as Frey already knew.
Nameless foresaw the demonic invasion years before it happened, preparing himself for survival. Then came the annihilation ... every being on Krat perished... all except Nameless, who survived only through his mastery of the laws of space.
What stood out, however, was that the Great one of Krat never appeared during that catastrophic battle. No one saw him. Not even a trace of his existence remained.
Nameless later tried to find him, once his strength had grown, but even then... he failed.
"I searched for him," Nameless said from beside Frey, as flashes of his past battles against other Great ones unfolded before them. "I wanted to capture him... force him to speak if I had to. He clearly knew things I didn’t. But I never found him."
"I was already powerful back then... I believe I killed one or two Great ones during my travels across their worlds. But none of them knew anything."
"I even encountered their master—Odin—once. But he came to me... and I couldn’t do anything to him. He never manifested physically... just a cursed, formless mist."
Frey witnessed those memories himself and could only agree. Even as echoes of the past, they carried an undeniable weight.
"What did he want from you? That one called... Odin."
Frey knew very little about that name. He had only heard it recently—from Audrey, who warned him about it. Even Audrey herself remained a strange existence to him... both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.
Nameless closed his eyes slightly before answering.
"I don’t know what he wanted. But from what he said... I concluded that he had an interest in me... and in the Demon King, Agaroth."
"As if he was searching for something... something only the two of us possess."
"And what exactly would that be?" Frey asked.
Nameless raised his hand in response, summoning that gray-red energy.
"He likely wanted this power... and as for Agaroth, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s tied to the source of his strength. Power like his... doesn’t come from nothing."
"Agaroth has something within him... something that made him what he is today."
Frey nodded slightly upon hearing that, then let out a faint, bitter smile.
"I should be the one who knows the source of that power... since I’m the one who created him. Yet I’m the one who understands him the least in this entire world."
There was a certain irony to it. But Nameless did not blame him. Instead, he placed a hand lightly on Frey’s shoulder, urging him to keep watching.
"There’s no need to dwell on it now. We’ll find the answers when the time comes. Come... it’s time for the next memory."
Frey nodded.
"But... now that you’ve regained all your memories, doesn’t that mean you already know everything? What exactly are you trying to show me?"
Nameless shook his head calmly.
"That’s not true. Even I... don’t know what these memories will reveal in the end."
"What do you mean?" Frey’s curiosity deepened. This was far beyond what he had expected ... even Nameless himself did not know what awaited them.
Nameless remained silent for a moment before finally speaking.
"There is a memory... that was erased. A memory I removed myself... after discovering something I couldn’t bear at the time."
Frey’s expression stiffened instantly.
What kind of memory could make even the cold, emotionless Nameless erase it... unable to endure its weight?
"There’s no need to rush," Nameless said calmly. "You’ll understand soon enough."
He gestured forward, and Frey followed without hesitation.
What Nameless showed him next were the origins of his life-and-death abilities—how he learned to ignite souls, how he shaped vessels capable of containing them, and how he brought the dead back to life.
They were extraordinary abilities, overwhelming in scope, making him one of the greatest manipulators of life and death.
Yet they all shared a single origin.
That strange gray-red energy.
A power Nameless could never fully utilize, no matter how hard he tried. Because, just as the Great one of Krat had said... his existence was incomplete.
"I was always puzzled by that power," Nameless said as he watched his past self train and experiment.
"At first, I thought it was simply an extension of life and death... but later, I realized it was far beyond that."
"A power whose origin lies completely outside this world."
He spoke those words aloud, reflecting on everything he had discovered.
"This is the same energy used by those... known as Writers."
Frey’s eyes lit up the moment he heard that word.
It was the same term used by the entity behind the system ... the one who had called itself a Writer.
"If that’s the power of the Writers... does that mean I can use it too?"
Nameless nodded.
"Without a doubt. I felt it within you when you burned your soul during our battle against Agaroth."
"But what exists within you... is incomplete as well. Just like mine."
Nameless turned toward Frey, their eyes meeting.
And in that moment... they were both thinking the same thing.
Yet neither of them spoke. They simply continued forward, carried by the current of memories.
"So... who are the Writers? What is the difference between the material world and the Aether? And what lies behind all this mystery?"
More importantly... was the Aether even real, or merely an illusion?
The idea of a far greater world existing beyond the veil was both fascinating... and deeply unsettling.
It was said that Odin himself came from that realm ... and if the Writers’ power originated there as well, then it meant Frey’s own origin might trace back to it.
That realization only deepened Frey’s existential turmoil. He had yet to fully grasp the material world... so how could he hope to comprehend something far greater like the Aether?
Even thinking about it brought a sharp headache, one that worsened with every passing moment.
So, he chose to let it go... to entrust everything to Nameless.
He followed the flow of memories, hoping that somewhere within them, the truth would reveal itself.
From that point onward, everything slowed. Both of them allowed themselves to sink into the cold, distant memories of Nameless’s past.
Yet Nameless’s presence—his guidance—gave those memories warmth... a strange sense of life they never had before.
As they walked, Nameless explained many things to Frey ... patiently, without haste.
He taught him what true control meant... and how one could push their abilities to their absolute limits.
He showed him that a single ability mastered to perfection was worth far more than dozens left incomplete.
"Aura is the life force that sustains this world," Nameless said, demonstrating his overwhelming control.
"If one fully masters it, they can perform miracles. And in the entire history of the material world... no one has controlled it better than I have."
Frey was astonished by the sheer precision of his mastery—yet something else puzzled him.
"You reached this level with aura... yet you couldn’t control that other power..."
"Because it is different," Nameless replied, calmly revealing the distinction.
"To control aura is to manipulate what already exists ... to draw it from the world around you and redirect it."
Aura filled the material world—it was everywhere, ready to be shaped and bent.
"But that gray-red energy..." he continued, raising his hand slightly, "it comes from nothing. That is the difference."
"It sounds simple... but it was the most complex thing I ever faced."
Manipulating aura meant reshaping something that already existed.
But that other power... required creating something from nothing.
It was, in essence... impossible.
Nameless had never understood how he managed to produce it in the first place. It felt as though it came from within him—from the deepest layers of his soul and existence.
And even someone like him... a master beyond compare... could not comprehend it.
"I couldn’t understand it... because its origin lies outside this world."
The moment he said those words, the memories shifted again—revealing something entirely new.
"These... are the traces," Nameless said. "Proof of the Aether... and the Writers of history."