They had finally defeated their mirror clones. Exhausted but stronger, each of them could feel the change within — as if the battle had made them sharper, faster, better than before.
Then, suddenly, they found themselves back inside that same room.
Everything looked exactly as it had when they first entered — the same walls, the same faint glow — except for one thing.
All the people who had been there were gone.
Only shelves of ancient books remained, stretching endlessly around them.
Dawn: "Did you guys… see that too?"
The others nodded silently.
Gray: "Then that woman was right. This library really does have strange power."
Ari: "But how? None of this should be possible. Was it illusion magic… or the true power of this place?"
They decided to leave the room, but the moment they stepped outside, it vanished — dissolving into thin air as if it had never existed.
Shock and confusion filled their faces. They began searching for the man who had brought them there, calling out through the long corridors.
As they stepped onto the streets, a harsh sight met their eyes.
Dozens of people were hauling massive stones — not ordinary ones, but dark and gleaming, almost like obsidian. The royal soldiers barked orders at them, their voices sharp and cruel.
One soldier shouted, "Move faster! The Emperor's statue is already delayed! If it's not finished within two weeks, he'll have your heads!"
Ari's eyes widened. "Those stones… they're far too heavy. And look — they're carrying them without any magic, like slaves."
Some people pulled carts with trembling arms; others staggered forward with the heavy stones on their shoulders, sweat and dirt covering their faces.
Gray's fists clenched, his jaw tightening in anger.
But before he could step forward, Dawn reached out and grabbed his hand.
"Don't," she whispered. "If you do anything now, it could end badly for all of us."
Reluctantly, Gray lowered his hand, his glare still fixed on the soldiers.
[Scene — a dim, smoke-hung chamber]
Magnus — seated on a raised platform, cloak swallowing the shadows — leaned forward. His voice was calm but hard as flint. "Is the work I asked for finished?"
A hooded figure stepped from the gloom, hands still dusted with glass and soot. "Yes, my lord. I forged them exactly as you commanded — drew their heat toward the mirrors, bent their anger inward, and bound it with the ritual." The figure's voice was flat, proud.
Magnus allowed a small smile. "Good. Now we make them weapons. By gathering the strongest from across the Empire and tempering them through the mirror rite, they will be ready to strike." He spread his fingers as if outlining a map of victory. "We will finish him before he completes his final move."
[Scene – Construction Site, Near the Capital]
Dust and heat fill the air. Slaves drag massive dark stones across the ground, stacking them near a half-built statue.
(Action)
One weary worker drops a stone with a dull thud.
The half-made statue towers above them — its face still unshaped, body cracked and incomplete.
Dozens of people carve, hammer, and fit stones, their hands bleeding and backs bent.
Soldier (approaching) – bows slightly
"Vice General, we've brought the last Dwarn stones from Moshi Village… but there's a problem."
Vice General (without looking up)
"What is it?"
Soldier
"The slaves there are asking for rest, sir. I refused them, and they agreed… but now they're slowing down.
They're working sluggishly — trying to stretch time for rest.
If it continues, the extraction will slow, and the statue's completion will be delayed."
Vice General (raises his head slowly)
"Let them."
Soldier (confused)
"Sir?"
Vice General (coldly)
"Let them work slow. I want to see how long they can keep this little rebellion."
He steps closer, his boots crunching over broken stone.
"If they move slowly now, they'll pay for it later. They'll work twice — no, thrice — as hard when the time comes."
His expression darkens.
"And if their children have to join them in the mud… so be it. The Empire's will must be built — no matter the cost."
(Action)
The soldier salutes silently and steps back.
Around them, the workers freeze for a moment — the hammering stops.
Then, one by one, they lower their heads and return to their tasks.
[Scene Shift – Past Incident]
A boy from a quiet, forgotten village named Kai — a small settlement hidden deep between the hills of the Aetheris region — lived with his grandfather and grandmother, both kind, old souls who taught him to live simply, humbly, and to respect the flow of magic through the land.
Kai village was poor but peaceful, untouched by war or greed. Until one night, everything changed.
It began on a cold, silent night. The air around the village started to hum. Stars flickered, and faint cracks of light appeared in the sky, like the heavens themselves were splitting. Villagers stepped outside, confused and afraid, staring as the sky seemed to fold in on itself.
From that shimmering light, a boy floated in the air, dark magic swirling around him like a storm.
It was as if the boy had been possessed by some outside force.
Gravio watched, frozen, shivering in fear.
The floating boy — about sixteen — spoke in a voice that seemed not entirely his own.
"This world will soon be mine… and his body will make it possible."
Then, slowly, he lowered his hand to the ground.
He raised it again, and a sphere of intense magic began to form. It grew larger and larger, pulsating with raw, destructive energy.
The villagers gasped in terror as the ground beneath the boy started to vanish, swallowed by the growing sphere.
From the shadows, two figures emerged — a man and a woman. Gravio's fear intensified.
The boy in the air seemed to draw closer to him, and instinctively, Gravio ran toward him, trembling.
Before he could get any closer, the girl dashed forward and pulled him away, dragging him out of the sphere's radius.
The floating boy swung his sword at the sphere, which had now expanded to the size of the village.
The girl shouted urgently:
"Run! Please, get out of here! All of you villagers — leave, or you will die!"
"And you," she added, pointing to a woman holding a newborn, "save your child!"
The woman obeyed, clutching her baby tightly.
Gravio, still shaking, held onto the girl's hand.
The sixteen-year-old boy poured more of his power into the sphere. It exploded — a silent, invisible eruption — and within moments, the entire village was consumed.
________________________________________
When the sphere dissipated, the sixteen-year-old boy lay defeated on the ground.
The man stood protectively in front of Lyra, Gravio, and the newborn.
"Are you all right, Miss Lyra?" he asked.
Lyra trembled, shock and grief in her voice.
"Cyrus… your hand… it's gone!"
Cyrus placed his remaining hand on her head, calming her.
"It's not important right now. I saved three lives with the exchange of one hand — that's enough. Don't focus on the rest."
Soon, soldiers of the royal army arrived. A man stepped forward, commanding and composed.
"I am General Rhogar of the Solaria Empire. Thank you for your assistance."
Cyrus nodded humbly.
"It's nothing. If you want to thank someone, thank Lyra. It was her sensing skills that allowed us to arrive in time."
Lyra's voice was soft, tinged with sadness.
"We didn't…"
Rhogar waved them off.
"Leave the rest to us. We'll handle it from here."
Soldiers approached the sixteen-year-old boy and Gravio, preparing to take them under custody. When they reached the newborn, it leapt into Lyra's arms, clutching her finger desperately.
[Scene – Deep within the Forests of Aetheris Empire]
The air is heavy and damp. Shafts of dim light pierce through the dense canopy above.
Footsteps crunch softly over fallen leaves.
Imperial walks alone, a faint cough escaping his lips. His jacket is torn, and faint scorch marks line his arm — traces of a recent battle. Still, his pace doesn't slow. His eyes stay fixed on the faint glow ahead.
He steps into a clearing — the ground here is flat, unnaturally smooth, as if something once burned the trees down to the roots.
And there, waiting, are four figures.
One sits casually on a stone, arms resting on his knees, while the other three stand in a loose circle around him — silent, but their presence presses against the air like a storm waiting to break.
Stone-sitting figure (calmly):
"You're quite late, Imperial. We expected you sooner… Red-Marked One."
Imperial (narrowing his eyes):
"Don't twist your words like I'm part of your plan."
He steps forward, lightning flickering faintly at his fingertips.
"I'm the one who dragged him into this game — not you. You're not even close to touching a single piece of my move…"
His gaze sharpens.
"…Living Demon, Gravio."
The four figures exchange faint smiles — cold, knowing. Their shadows flicker against the darkened trees, and the air around them distorts slightly with power.
(Narration)
They were unmistakable — the Four of the Elite Five — feared across the Empire, each commanding power that could shatter cities.
And now, all four stood against Imperial.