"Who am I?"
This question often surfaced in the mind of Sky Hunter... or rather, Alakron.
What kind of person was I, really?
Alakron naturally knew the answer.
"I am a descendant of the Reinayl Clan."
"I am one of the kings of the Ancient Magic Civilization."
"I once visited the world known as the Source. I regarded two nations from two worlds as the most important things to protect in my life, and made protecting them my mission."
Alakron still possessed that understanding.
He even had vivid memories. Those memories constantly told him how deeply he had once loved his family, and how deeply he had loved those two nations.
To protect them, he would have offered up his life without hesitation. Even if it meant death, he would have done so willingly.
Without such resolve, one had no right to call oneself a member of the Reinayl Clan.
Their clan should have been that great.
But...
"It doesn't feel real."
Yes.
He clearly knew what kind of person he had once been, how deeply he had loved this world, and how deeply he had loved the humans who had once revered him. Yet none of it felt real.
It was like a dream. The self within the dream had been so great, so worthy of respect, but upon waking up, no one believed he was that person.
"That great self existed only in a dream."
"That powerful resolve existed only in the past."
"The current me... is no longer the same."
He had died once.
But when he awoke again, everything about him had changed.
The resolve and sense of mission he once possessed had grown hazy.
His former life and his sense of identification with his bloodline were likewise gradually fading away.
"I am still a king,