A week passed.
The triplets continued living their quiet, simple life—though to others, it might have seemed anything but.
Each day followed a meaningful rhythm. At dawn, they rose from their beds in the home they had built with their own hands. After a light breakfast, they ventured into the forest to **hunt Grimm**, not only to survive—but to **grow**.
Every Grimm they felled fed into the **Gauge** of their **Authority of Aeons**, allowing their weakened powers to inch closer to their true potential. Each battle became a trial. A lesson. A sacrifice willingly made to climb closer to the strength they once had in another life.
They fought not just monsters—but memory itself.
And they didn't stop at just hunting.
They trained.
Every day, the three of them would **spar**—barehanded or with forged weapons—testing each other's limits. Their fights were fast, feral, and incredibly precise for children their age. The forest echoed with the sound of clashing aura, sharpened footwork, and the grunts of youthful determination.
It was a harsh routine.
Grueling for anyone—especially for **three-year-old orphans** living alone in an abandoned village hidden deep in the woods.
But they had no other choice.
There was no one to rely on. No warm arms to hold them. No guidance from elders. Only the cold of the wind, the weight of memory, and the fire of their resolve.
**They had made a vow.**
To get stronger.
To survive.
And someday—to protect others from the same pain they now carried in their hearts.
Even with fractured recollection of their past lives, the truth remained burned into them like a brand:
They were **reincarnated**.
They were **not normal children**.
And somewhere, far beyond the trees, **a calamity waited**—looming like a shadow not yet cast.
They didn't know when it would come.
Or what form it would take.
But they trained for it anyway.
Because no matter how young they looked…
**They remembered enough to fear the silence before the storm.**
**Years passed.**
By the time they reached the age of **five**, the triplets had become a force to be reckoned with.
What began as desperate survival in the ruins of a forgotten village had transformed into something greater—*a crucible of growth*. Through relentless training, countless battles, and unwavering discipline, their strength had grown **exponentially**.
Day after day, they hunted Grimm—first together, then alone. What once took all three of them to subdue could now be dispatched by one. Beowolves, Ursas, even mid-tier threats like Beringels and Creeps—they fell before them like shadows at dawn.
And with each Grimm defeated, the **Gauge** of the **Authority of Aeons** filled slowly but steadily.
Until finally, the limit was broken.
Each of them—**Aetherion**, **Zephine**, and **Virelia**—**unlocked the full potential** of their respective **Authorities**. The weakened fragments they had been using were now awakened in full.
* **Arsenal Authority** no longer simply summoned weapons—it forged divine armaments of thought and history.
* **Elemental Authority** could now bend storms, awaken volcanoes, and reshape terrain on command.
* **Tech Authority** became a mind-machine interface, able to build, reprogram, and integrate living technology.
* And more still—**Genesis**, **Martial**, **Eclipse**, and even the dangerous **Eidos Authority**—all stirred, fully realized and waiting in silence behind their will.
But power came at a cost.
The full force of the Authority required **enormous amounts of energy**—more than they had ever anticipated. Their aura alone could no longer sustain the techniques for long. Even with the triplets' incredible endurance, each activation of a high-tier Authority taxed their bodies, minds, and souls.
So they adapted.
They hunted *more*.
They trained *harder*.
And they cultivated their **Mana Cores** with even greater focus.
Each child had now reached the **8th Ring**.
Only **two rings away** from completing the mythical **Ten-Ring Mana Core**—a feat considered impossible in their past lives. A goal only whispered of in ancient records, laughed off as legend.
But that wasn't all they accomplished in those passing years.
While their bodies grew stronger and their powers evolved, the triplets never forgot their quiet dream — the one that had begun the day they rebuilt their first home.
**They rebuilt the village.**
Piece by piece.
Brick by brick.
They didn't just restore it — they **reshaped it**, molding the ruins into a haven that reflected both their memories and their hopes.
What had once been an overgrown graveyard of civilization was now something else entirely — **an oasis** in the heart of the wild forest.
* **Homes** stood tall and firm, constructed from hardened wood, reinforced stone, and modern alloys crafted through their combined Authorities. Their designs were both elegant and practical — beautiful to the eye, yet strong enough to withstand a horde of Grimm.
* A **workshop complex** sat at the edge of the village, filled with specialized forging tables, technical equipment, and clean energy conduits running through it like veins of light — the perfect lab for their endless experimentation.
* A vast **garden** bloomed beside their home — not merely for beauty, but function. Virelia cultivated it using Elemental Authority, shaping herbs, fruit-bearing trees, and vibrant flowers. The garden pulsed gently with life, a small paradise of stillness amidst their chaotic world.
* At the heart of the village was a wide, circular **combat arena**. Its floor was a polished stone disk laced with runes. Here, the triplets sparred, tested new techniques, and prepared themselves for the future. Scorch marks, cracks, and elemental scars painted the ground like a tapestry of their growth.
And all around this oasis flowed clean air, glowing lanterns of softly humming tech, and a peace that **shouldn't have been possible** for three children forged in tragedy.
But they had made it real.
They had taken their grief, their power, their memories — and built something *lasting*.
Aetherion stood atop a tall balcony one morning, gazing down at the village as the early light bathed the rooftops in gold. Below, Zephine adjusted a lens on a satellite array while Virelia hummed in the garden, encouraging the morning dew to gather around her roots.
Suddenly, a high-pitched ping echoed through the triplets' comm links—a distress signal from one of their perimeter drones. A Grimm presence had been detected nearby.
Without hesitation, they geared up. Aetherion slung his twin-edged blade across his back, Zephine snapped her visor into place, and Virelia summoned her lightweight gauntlets from the dimensional pocket. In near-silent unison, they darted into the trees, a blur of motion and focus.
\[ In the middle of the forest ]
The scent of smoke and blood mixed in the humid air. A man—late 30s, tall, sharp-eyed—moved like a seasoned predator at the center of a Grimm horde. He wore a weathered white coat, its hem torn and stained, and in his hands he wielded a massive **claymore**—which shifted mid-swing into a **scythe** with a fluid mechanical rotation.
His strikes were cold and efficient. Every slash was calculated. Every step placed with deadly intention. He didn't fight like someone desperate.
He fought like someone **used to surviving alone**.
From the trees above, the triplets crouched, hidden in the foliage, their expressions unreadable. None of them spoke. Their eyes tracked his movement, each of them analyzing him in their own way. Zephine studied the shifting mechanism of his weapon. Virelia noted the Grimm patterns encircling him. Aetherion narrowed his gaze.
None of them could answer the question forming in all their minds—
**Why was t
his man here?**