Held within his mother’s embrace, Nameless uncovered the truth hidden behind his world. Frey did the same ... seeing everything with his own eyes, hearing every word his mother spoke with his own ears.
The Nameless of the past seemed shattered after learning the truth. It was far too heavy—even for someone like him—and he could barely keep up with the weight of it all.
His eyes trembled, glossed with tears, before rising toward her.
"...You... you were the one who created the demons?"
Dark, vile beings... responsible for the deaths of astronomical numbers of living creatures since their very first appearance.
How many planets... how many civilizations... how many races had been wiped out because of them?
The race of Krat was only one among thousands that had vanished without a trace.
And it would not be an exaggeration to say... that the woman before him was the direct cause of all of it.
The burden of those countless souls—their sins, their weight ... rested upon her shoulders.
And yet... she did not care in the slightest.
"Don’t tell me you care about them?" she whispered coldly.
"They are nothing more than constructs born from our pens... beings that can be replaced at any time."
Her words carried an unnatural weight ... one that bent the will of anyone who heard them.
Even Nameless himself... was affected.
No... more than anyone else.
Because he was her son.
Because he had been raised by her.
Clea was prepared to wipe out every living soul within the world of Land of Survival if necessary ... just to retrieve her family, reach that monster known as Agaroth, kill him... and reclaim the object hidden within him.
She appeared devoid of emotion—her presence overwhelming, her aura suffocating.
There was a certain dignity about her... a crushing gravity that made it nearly impossible to meet her ruby-like gaze.
Even Nameless found himself lowering his head whenever their eyes met.
And yet... despite that coldness...
Clea truly cared for her family.
For her eldest son.
For her husband, who was also trapped within that world.
She never showed it openly... but it was there.
She was a resolute woman—one who understood her duty, and the immense role forced upon her as the bearer of the title First Writer.
That responsibility alone kept her bound to the Aether world, where her presence was essential to hold back the creatures of the Mist.
Had it not been for that burden...
She would have entered the world of Land of Survival long ago.
She had waited.
And waited.
For far too long.
What they were witnessing now... was merely the past.
Because the future... had already changed.
Clea had reached her limit.
And so ... she did something insane.
She forced the worlds to overlap—merging the Aether world with the world of Land of Survival.
Thus, she became capable of existing in both realms at once.
But in doing so... she also opened the gate.
A gate through which the horrors of the Aether could enter that world—through the mysterious continent that had appeared out of nowhere.
That very continent... where the strongest of Land of Survival were now fighting—unaware that the ground beneath them was nothing more than a gateway...
...to a realm filled with terrors beyond comprehension.
The First Writer had arrived.
With only two goals.
To retrieve her family...
...and to kill the monster known as Agaroth.
But that was the present.
And This memory belonged to the past.
At that time, Clea was still willing to wait longer ... placing the burden of the task upon her son’s shoulders.
And so, she whispered to Nameless—her words heavy with influence, seeking to convince him of the worthlessness of the beings within his world.
Then, when she sensed his hesitation...
She leaned close to his ear.
And whispered softly ...
"You’ve killed many of them yourself... haven’t you?"
The question struck deeply.
A sensitive truth.
Nameless... and his journey.
His experiments—responsible for the deaths of countless living beings, across countless races.
"You killed them with your own hands... so many of them," she continued.
"Perhaps I caused far greater numbers to die... but unlike you, my hands were never stained with their blood."
"It was easy, wasn’t it?"
"So very easy..."
"You felt nothing when you took their lives. To you, they were nothing but tools... means to an end."
"And you were not wrong."
"They were created to serve the will of their creator. That is their purpose."
"So do not hesitate, my dear child."
"Go forward... kill as much as necessary."
"Fulfill the task entrusted to you... and return to me."
Her voice seeped into every cell of Nameless’ body...
And Frey’s as well.
It felt as though every fragment of his soul longed to obey her—to satisfy her.
As though that alone... was the purpose of his existence.
"Mother... I..."
Nameless trembled slightly within her embrace.
He did not resist.
Because he felt... an unfamiliar comfort in her arms.
The reason was simple.
She was his mother.
And despite everything—despite her coldness, despite her twisted logic—
She truly loved him.
No matter how cruel she seemed... no matter how different their beliefs were...
He felt no true desire to oppose her.
He wanted to remain there.
To stay within that embrace forever.
To be the obedient son... who never defied his mother.
And yet...
At the same time ...
Billions of voices screamed within his mind.
He could hear them clearly.
Ever since he touched that black book...
That single touch had shaken both his mind and his soul—revealing the hidden truth of his world... and the beings that lived within it.
They were alive.
Not puppets.
Not tools.
They were living creatures ... beings who had evolved on their own, growing into what they had become.
Some of them...
Had even reached a level of power that could rival true existence itself ... should they ever step into the real, Aether world.
Nameless, who had long struggled with an existential crisis...
Now faced something far worse.
A deeper, more devastating realization...
About the lives that had been born ...
...through him.
Gaining emotions only made everything worse.
The weight he bore after learning the truth... and the pressure from his mother, whose poison had seeped into his mind the moment he understood it all.
The Nameless of the past felt as though his head would split apart. And at that time, he was still an incomplete existence—unable even to properly wield his own power.
Only minutes passed before his world began pulling him back, as the Aether realm rejected him in that state.
His true body remained out there... but his soul was now trapped within ... alongside his imprisoned father.
Drawing a steady breath, Nameless lifted his head and faced his mother with resolve—eyes identical to Frey’s.
"Mother... I am your son."
He spoke firmly, even as his existence began to fade from the Aether.
"I am your son... so please, trust me."
"I will fix everything. Somehow, I will... so please—do not interfere with my world again."
"Do not tamper with the beings I wrote with my own hands..."
"I beg you..."
His body fractured like glass, shattering as he bowed before her ... pleading, fearing she might create something worse than demons.
Or worse still...
Rewrite those who already existed within the world of Land of Survival... and change them entirely.
At that time, Nameless was still lost—unsure of what he should do.
He needed time.
And he could not allow his world to be altered any further.
The demons were already more than enough.
Clea was overwhelmingly powerful ... and Nameless understood that all too well after learning the truth.
He knew she was more than capable of interfering again.
And that... was something he could not allow.
In that moment, he did not understand why.
Was it the sight of her son breaking before her ... the son she had watched for years, unmoving... emotionless?
Or was it longing... stirred by his pitiful state?
He did not know.
But Clea granted his request.
She did not interfere with his world again.
Though she said nothing, she trusted him... and waited.
For a very long time.
Even when she could no longer endure the wait...
She entered the world of Land of Survival—
Yet she did not alter it again.
She created no new abominations.
She rewrote no living being.
This time... she came herself.
To end everything.
As though granting him one final chance.
Nameless left the Aether world soon after ...
And with him, both Frey and the present Nameless were pulled away.
As they were drawn back, Frey could only look at his mother from afar—bitterness gnawing at his chest.
And once again...
Clea looked at him.
As though she truly saw him.
She said nothing.
Yet her obsidian-like eyes met his directly... and conveyed everything.
As though entrusting the task to him as well ...
Just as she had entrusted it to the other fragment of his being.
Frey still knew little about the Aether world.
But in return... he now understood everything about his own.
The world of Land of Survival.