✦ Fields of Crystalfrost — Just Beyond Aethercastle ✦
Beneath the pale blossoms of crystalfrost trees, Orion stood alone—yet no longer lonely.
His sword rested calmly in his grip, no longer a burden, but a companion. The wind carried the scent of ice and wildflowers, brushing his coat as if the world itself was watching... holding its breath.
He exhaled slowly.
Then, with a quiet focus, Orion began to move.
The same swings. The same thrusts. The same precise steps he'd practiced a thousand times before.
But this time… something was different.
His shoulders weren't stiff with tension. His hands didn't clutch the hilt in fear.
Each motion flowed—measured, intentional, honest.
With every arc of his blade, Cryo energy began to bloom around him.
At first, it shimmered faintly along the edges of the sword—like frost tracing windowpanes in winter.
Then it grew.
Icy wind coiled around his feet. Petals of frozen light danced in the air with each swing, forming crescents of pale blue that curved with his movements like echoes made visible.
He was no longer wielding the sword.
He was dancing with it.
And the blade, at long last, danced back.
✦ Meanwhile — Arian Core, Southern Gate ✦
The ancient gate groaned open as the light shimmered strangely across the threshold—like the air itself wasn't sure how to behave in the presence of what approached.
A man stepped through.
Tall. Slender. Pale as moonlight cast over frost. His long white hair fell neatly down his back, save for one lock streaked with blue that glinted like a ripple in still water. His purple-slit eyes scanned the city beyond with quiet amusement. A formal blue suit hugged his frame—sharp, precise, and almost regal in its simplicity. Two glowing horn-like ornaments curved upward from behind his ears, pulsing gently with a rhythm not unlike the tides.
Neuvillette smiled faintly.
"Seems we've arrived earlier than the allotted time," he mused, his voice calm, composed. "But I didn't expect such a… spectacle to be arranged for us nonetheless."
Beside him, another man stepped forward with quiet authority.
He stood tall, graceful in a way that came not from effort but age. His amber eyes held a glow, the diamond-shaped pupils like crystallized thought. Dark brown hair swept back in windswept waves, ending in glowing golden tips that moved like fire trapped in silk. His coat—a blend of ancient Liyuean design and celestial craftsmanship—flowed behind him like the robes of a sage who'd once shaped mountains.
Morax nodded.
"Indeed," he said, his tone low and profound. "It seems they knew we would arrive… even if they didn't know when."
---
✦ Aethercastle — Northern Gate ✦
Lightning cracked across the sky.
The clouds trembled, folding inward as if pulled by gravity reversed.
From above, Highfall descended with a roar that echoed through the entire northern pass.
His form—sleek and serpentine—glinted with chaotic beauty. His scales shimmered between stormglass hues of dark blue and teal, dulled in places by fracture lines that ran along his limbs like battle scars. Cyan veins pulsed erratically across his body, like unstable ley-lines threatening to rupture at any second. His wings sliced the air like living blades, trailing clouds shaped like collapsed thunderheads.
Beside him came Dorores, descending with an entirely different grace.
His body flowed like liquid starlight—a dragon born from silence and sorrow.
His scales were opalescent, shifting from midnight purple to glistening pearl with each movement, as if made of dreams half-remembered. Ribbons of golden aether weaved through his mane, trailing behind like the tails of forgotten constellations. His horns curled elegantly back like polished obsidian blades, and his wings unfolded in slow, deliberate grandeur—less a threat, more a proclamation.
The wind fell still as they landed.
Highfall exhaled sharply, a gust of anemo-charged air scattering the frost along the ground.
"…Seems that man has improved," he muttered, his tone low and tight with restrained emotion. His gaze was towards Orion, who is in midst of connecting with his sword.
Dorores tilted his head, his gaze inquisitive.
"You know him?"
Highfall didn't answer.
Before he could, the Royal Knights of Aethercastle rode out in formation—armor gleaming, banners raised, movement unified.
One stepped forward and bowed deeply. "On behalf of His Majesty and the Queen Minerva, we welcome your arrival. Your presence is honored."
Dorores landed gracefully beside Highfall, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.
"So it begins."
♦Inside the Womb of Arian♦
The stillness was unnaturally tender. Almost… sacred.
Seraphyx's unconscious form lay cradled in the moss and leaf-soft cradle that had grown around him—nature itself bending to keep its death-touched guardian safe. The bushes beneath pulsed gently, as though mimicking a heartbeat not his own.
Tiny bluebirds hopped gently along his shoulders, chirping lullabies older than language. Their beaks combed his soft pink hair like it was divine silk—cleansing each lock of dust and the scent of old battles. Below them, earthworms wove between his fingers and toes, nibbling at the dead skin with quiet devotion.
Beside him, the old kettle rested like a relic at a shrine. It gleamed faintly in the dim natural light—empty, for now.
LOSS OF 5 SENSES.
"I can't feel the outside world..." Seraphyx's voice echoed faintly in the hollow of his own mind. It didn't sound like thinking. More like remembering how it felt to exist.
Kaelya stood above him, arms folded, her silhouette half-shadow and half-light as glowing pollen danced around her.
"I'll let you drink from the kettle again…" she said, softly, as if promising a mercy. Her eyes flicked downward, sorrow in their stormy depths.
"…when someone dies."
She crouched beside him, brushing a petal off his cheek.
"But until then… rest. You've stolen enough pain to keep this land breathing."
A gust of wind passed, and for a moment, even the birds grew silent.
From the West Gate of Arian Core...
The clouds split—not in silence, but in a howl.
A boom echoed across the horizon like the laughter of old gods, shaking the gate towers of Arian Core. Sparks danced in the sky. And then, they arrived.
Three ThunderDragons descended in synchronized arcs of light, cracking through the firmament like bolts loosed from the grip of fate itself.
Each one was near-identical, as though carved from the same ancient storm.
Their bodies were long and sinuous, shaped like sky-serpents, covered in smooth scales the color of dark stormclouds with an oil-slick sheen. Their underbellies shimmered with crackling, violet pulses—beating like hearts made of lightning. Horns curled back like twisted crescents of obsidian, glowing faintly with cyan veins that flickered in rhythmic pulses.
Their wings weren't wings in the traditional sense—they were raw energy shaped into jagged arcs, like lightning made solid. Every flap left afterimages in the air, like ghostly arcs of plasma.
Their eyes, three pairs of them, were matching slits of golden light, sharp and endlessly scanning. Their tails ended in split prongs, constantly sparking and sending low hums through the earth itself.
As they landed, a static shock rippled through the stones of the gate floor. Sparks danced across nearby torches, some bursting into little flame-flowers, others snuffed entirely.
Raigeki was the first one to speak,"Looks like someone is becoming one with the sword..."
It's voice whispered a sense of Awe and respect.
Raimei nodded,"seems like it, Since the Elemental Energy that is swirling around that person is Cryo, It can't be someone of Hydro Sovereign.." His voice hissed hatred for Hydro Soveregn.
The third dragon's voice crackled into existence like a broken radio catching divine frequency.
"No... that one's soul is jagged. Like a blade tempered by grief," Raijin murmured, eyes narrowing. His voice was deeper than the others, layered with an echo that seemed to come from the past and future at once.
"He's not dancing with the sword… he's mourning with it."
And for a brief second, all three dragons fell silent. Thunder growled in the distance, not from the sky—but from within them.
Raigeki's tail sparked violently, Raimei's wings flexed, and Raijin tilted his head ever so slightly, as if already seeing how this warrior would one day stand between heaven and lightning.
Suddenly, steam filled the air around them. The scent of scorched stone and spice followed as the 10th Firstborne of the Pyro Sovereign, Izel, emerged through the haze.
"Such a flashy entrance doesn't suit dragons who claim wisdom," Izel said smoothly, his smirk sharp enough to cut through thunderclouds. "Raigeki, I thought you had better judgment. Though... I expected this from Raimei and Raijin."
His voice carried a taunting tone—one of those rare ones dipped in sarcasm but delivered with just enough grace that any rebuttal would make you look like the fool.
Raigeki narrowed his eyes, his massive dragon form looming.
"You came alone?" he asked with a growl that barely masked amusement.
"Better than arriving with two overgrown brothers and causing a public disturbance," Izel said coolly, gesturing to the cracked road beneath their claws. "Look at you—making life harder for the Arians just by standing here."
Raijin groaned,"Like you are in your human form."
"At the very least my form is small enough to not cause trouble."
Raimei sighed, his tone half-apologetic.
"He has a point. We should revert to human form before the guards get too nervous."
Raijin, ever the silent storm, nodded in agreement.
With a shimmer of lightning and echoing crackles, their bodies began to shift, scale and storm giving way to flesh and form.