The grand library of Ashville loomed before them, its towering white stone walls stretching toward the sky, its massive doors carved with the symbols of wisdom and knowledge.
The moment Callian stepped inside, a familiar scent of parchment and aged ink filled the air, mixing with the faint warmth of candlelight flickering in golden sconces along the walls.
In his arms, Violet wriggled excitedly, her silver hair bouncing as she tried to get a better look at the endless rows of bookshelves.
"Papa, so many books!" she gasped, her violet eyes shining like amethysts.
Callian chuckled, adjusting his grip on her. "You like books that much?"
Violet nodded enthusiastically. "I love them! I wanna read all of them!"
Callian hummed, amused by her eagerness. "All of them, huh? That might take a while."
Violet puffed up her cheeks. "Then I'll read every day! Every morning and every night!"
He flicked her forehead gently, making her giggle. "Then we'll need to start somewhere, little bookworm."
Guided by instinct, Callian walked toward the history section, weaving through the towering shelves filled with knowledge from across the continent. His golden eyes scanned the titles, fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound tomes.
Meanwhile, Violet's attention was drawn to a nearby geography book. Her tiny hands reached out, and Callian set her down so she could flip through the pages.
"Papa, look! Mountains, oceans, and islands!" She pointed at a beautifully drawn map, her excitement bubbling over.
Callian leaned down, glancing at the pages. "The seas are from the Goddess of Justice, the land from the Goddess of Mercy, and the sky from the Goddess of Wisdom…" He sighed. "Nonsense."
Violet tilted her head. "Huh? What's nonsense?"
Callian ruffled her hair. "Nothing, just your father thinking too much."
He knew this world better than anyone. After all, his sister wrote it.
None of these deities were real—not in the way people believed. The oceans, land, and sky were not gifts of goddesses but forces of nature, shaped by time and destruction. And yet, myths and stories had painted a far more convenient version.
Callian moved toward another shelf. History.
The Orphea Empire had long dominated the continent, ruled by an Emperor with a Prime Minister as his advisor. Four great ducal houses held power, each representing a season:
Noct (Autumn) – The house of scholars and merchants, controlling trade and diplomacy.
Celeste (Spring) – A noble family that controlled vast farmlands and provided the empire with food.
Tersia (Summer) – The military stronghold, producing the greatest generals and warriors.
Ashville (Winter) – The cold, untouchable ducal house, known for its wealth, magic, and political power.
Together, they formed the foundation of the empire's power. Beyond them were smaller noble houses, border kingdoms, and the Holy Empire.
And beyond that—
Callian's fingers hovered over a different section of the book.
A hidden continent.
One that humans had yet to reach.
The lands of Elves, Dwarves, and Dragons.
His golden eyes darkened.
These weren't just stories.
In the novel, this continent would be discovered fifteen years from now.
And when that happened…
The Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Calamities would begin.
Callian closed the book slowly.
The war between humans and mythical beings would shatter the world. The so-called heroes of the empire would lead the charge, slaughtering innocent creatures in the name of expansion.
And the one who had commanded that war…
His eyes flickered toward Violet, who was still mesmerized by her geography book, happily kicking her legs as she read.
Callian exhaled, lifting her into his lap.
She blinked up at him, confused. "Papa?"
"Nothing," he murmured. "Just sit with me for a bit."
Violet tilted her head, but she obeyed, curling up against his chest.
The name of the war's leader was written clearly in the book's pages.
Violet Ashville.
She was destined to be the commander of that war. The villainess of this world.
But…
Callian hugged her closer.
He wouldn't let that happen.
"Papa," Violet suddenly said, her voice soft. "Can we visit all these places in the book?"
Callian raised an eyebrow. "You want to travel?"
She nodded eagerly. "I wanna see the oceans, the big mountains, and the floating islands!"
Callian smirked. "Alright. We'll go."
Violet's excitement faded for a moment. She clutched his sleeve, hesitant.
"But…"
Callian waited. "But what?"
Her small fingers tightened around the fabric. "But… you'll grow old, right?"
Callian blinked.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was a quiet, knowing chuckle, one that made Violet frown in confusion.
"Papa?" she asked, tilting her head.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he simply smiled and ruffled her hair.
She couldn't see it.
But floating in front of his eyes, a soft blue hologram flickered.
A single glowing message.
— Blessing of Eternity —
His age was listed clearly.
254 years old.
Yet, he looked no older than twenty-five.
He would never grow old.
Not before Violet. Not before her children. Not before her grandchildren.
Just like in his past life, when he was called the Immortal Soldier, he would watch as time passed around him—watching his loved ones grow, age, and eventually fade, while he remained the same.
His parents, his sister, his comrades… all of them had grown old and died while he had remained unchanged.
And now, it would be the same.
Callian exhaled softly, looking down at the little girl in his arms.
She was worried about him growing old.
But the truth was, it was the opposite.
She would age before him.
Her children would grow before him.
Her grandchildren would pass before him.
And he would remain.
Violet pouted. "Why are you laughing, Papa? It's not funny!"
Callian shook his head. "It's nothing, little one."
She frowned, unconvinced. "You're hiding something!"
Callian only smiled.
Because she was right.
Some things were better left unsaid.
For now, he would simply hold her close and enjoy this moment—because as much as time moved forward, this moment belonged to him alone.
And no matter how many years passed, he would always be there.
Watching over her.
Just like he always had.
Just like he always would.
*****
The afternoon sun bathed the streets of Ashville in a golden hue as Callian and Violet returned to the inn.
The scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the comforting aroma of roasted meat, drifting from the kitchen where the old innkeeper, a kind woman with warm eyes, busied herself preparing the evening meal.
"Ah, you two are back!" she greeted with a wide smile. "Come in, come in! I've got a fresh pot of stew, and there's still some honey cake left."
Violet's eyes sparkled. "Honey cake?!"
Callian chuckled as he set her down. "Only if you eat your dinner first."
Violet nodded eagerly and rushed inside, her silver hair bouncing as she ran toward their usual seat.
The inn was lively today—travelers chatting over drinks, merchants sharing tales of distant lands, and adventurers boasting about their latest conquests.
The cozy warmth of the inn made it feel like home.
The meal was peaceful—until it wasn't.
A loud thud echoed across the inn as a wooden chair was knocked over. A scuffle broke out near the entrance.
"Oi, watch where you're going, you filthy brat!" a rough voice snarled.
A boy—no older than ten—was shoved to the ground. He was thin, his body hidden beneath a ragged cloak that barely fit him. His messy hair covered his eyes, and he reeked of filth, as if he hadn't bathed in weeks.
Before Callian could react, Violet jumped down from her chair.
"Hey!" she shouted, storming toward the commotion.
Callian exhaled slowly. That's Julianna's rashness.
The nobleman who had pushed the boy was fat, red-faced, and reeked of arrogance—the type of man who used his status to bully those weaker than him.
"And who are you, little girl?" The noble sneered. "Do you know who I am?"
Violet crossed her arms. "I don't care who you are! Why are you hurting him?!"
The boy, still on the ground, shrank back and hid behind Violet despite being taller than her. He clutched the edges of his cloak tightly, avoiding the noble's glare.
Callian sighed. Fairness. That's something she inherited from me.
The noble scoffed. "Tch. Brat, stay out of this."
Violet stomped her foot. "No! Say sorry to him!"
The noble's face twisted with rage. "You filthy commoners dare to—!"
Callian had planned to ignore it. Offending an aristocrat, even a minor one, was trouble.
But then the man made a mistake.
He touched Violet.
A filthy hand grabbed her arm.
And Callian's patience snapped.
The moment the noble grabbed Violet, Callian moved.
A single punch.
A solid crack rang through the inn as Callian's fist connected with the noble's face. Blood sprayed as the man stumbled backward, crashing into a table.
The inn fell silent.
No one dared to move.
But Callian didn't stop there.
He grabbed the man by the collar and delivered another brutal punch, his golden eyes flashing with cold fury. The noble's nose broke with a sickening crunch, followed by another blow to the ribs.
"Who… the hell…" the noble coughed, barely able to speak.
Callian didn't answer. He simply raised his fist again.
A scream pierced the air.
"Papa!"
Small hands grabbed onto his coat, trying to pull him back.
Violet.
She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes. "Papa, stop!"
Callian paused. His breathing was steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it—one Violet had seen before.
She knew his temper well. Insult him, and he would laugh. Touch her, and a man would die.
He had never tolerated anyone hurting her.
The inn's guards rushed in, their weapons drawn.
"Step away from Lord Hubert, commoner!"
Callian barely glanced at them before delivering a swift kick.
Two guards were sent flying, crashing into the walls. The remaining guards hesitated, exchanging wary glances.
The innkeeper—who had been watching in stunned silence—finally snapped out of her shock.
"A-A noble's been beaten! Call the city guards!" she gasped.
Callian sighed. This is annoying.
Then—
A woman rushed inside.
She had long golden hair.
For a second, Callian's breath hitched. Julianna?
No.
The woman's face was slightly different—her features softer, less sharp. And she wasn't looking at him.
She was running toward the boy in the ragged cloak.
"Vincent!" she cried. "What are you doing here?!"
The boy flinched but didn't move.
Then something strange happened.
The noble, Lord Hubert, who had been moaning in pain, suddenly shut up. The guards lowered their weapons. The surrounding nobles bowed.
Everyone in the inn, except Callian and Violet, suddenly stood at attention.
Violet looked up in confusion. "Papa… why is everyone being respectful?"
Callian's golden eyes narrowed.
Because the woman's face, her rings, her crest—he had seen them before.
And he knew exactly who the boy was.
The boy slowly removed his wig.
Silver hair spilled out.
The same shade as Violet's.
The woman turned to look at them. Her blue eyes widened in shock as she took in Violet's hair, her eyes, and the man beside her.
Callian knew the names.
In Julianna's generation:
William Ashville (eldest, first wife)
Harrison Ashville (eldest, third wife)
June Ashville (eldest, second wife)
But in Violet's generation…
There were nine.
Oldest one for each of the eight siblings.
And among them, a pair of twins.
The boy before him…
Vincent Ashville.
Violet's cousin.
Known for sneaking out of the mansion, causing trouble, and disappearing for days.
Callian's eyes darkened.
So this is how fate plays its hand.
And Violet—unaware of the weight of the moment—simply tilted her head.
"Papa…" she murmured. "He looks like me."
The boy stared back.