"Hey… Kaenra," Mirae said. Her eyes quickly flicked to Kaenra's hand, which held a small box.
"Hey," Kaenra replied with a smile.
"What are you doing here?" Mirae asked.
"Just picking up medic supplies," Kaenra said, lifting the box slightly to show her.
Kaenra glanced past her. "Is that Ardyn's room?"
Mirae hesitated. "Ahm… yeah." She forced a small smile.
"I'll get going then. See you," Kaenra said, already turning to leave.
Mirae watched her go, eyes narrowing slightly.
She glanced at the two sentinels posted outside Ardyn's room, then turned and made her way toward Kael's.
* * *
A voice boomed across the Sky Arena.
"Three points for Cindralune."
Elari watched another Vireos player collapse, just as his Cirran teammate sprinted past, reaching out for the tap.
"This last one's yours, Elari," his teammate said. "One more point and we're in the finals."
Elari nodded, tapped in, and launched himself into the open hollow of the Arena. He hovered midair, eyes fixed on the far platform.
His opponent leapt forward.
This one looked different—more heavily equipped than the others.
Galegears covered most of his right arm, nearly mechanical in appearance. His boots buzzed faintly with enhanced lift systems, and a full helmet gleamed beneath the arena lights, visor scanning and shifting.
Elari moved forward, eyes locked on his opponent.
The Vireos player raised his gear-heavy arm, then unleashed a barrage of wind blasts.
Elari kept moving, weaving through the storm as if the gusts weren't even there. His body angled, twisting through the gaps, every motion sharp and clean.
He closed the distance fast. A flash of blue lit from his gauntlet as he launched a strike—his opponent's mechanical arm responded instantly, almost like it moved on instinct. The two clashed, gauntlet against reinforced metal, sparks bursting from the impact.
A counter came from below. The opponent's boot, enhanced with thick gear plating, struck upward in a sweeping arc. Elari kicked back and dived into a wide hover, widening the gap between them.
The Vireos player laughed. "The others were weak. My Galegears are something else."
He raised his arms proudly. "These mechanical enhancements move on their own—predictive response, adaptive feedback."
The curved display across his helmet pulsed, symbols and target lines shifting in real time, tracking Elari's every twitch.
"Remember the name of the Cirran who will finish you—and anyone else who dares challenge this." His opponent's voice rang out. "Zairik Vaelthar!"
Elari's arms hung loosely at his sides, fists unclenched, almost resting. Then his fingers began to curl, slow, deliberate, until both hands were closed tight. The Aeroliths embedded in his gauntlets began to glow—deep red, intense and pulsing.
Then, in the space of a blink, he moved.
A sudden burst forward. A flurry of punches.
Each strike met the automated defenses of the Vireos gear, metal clashing with metal, ringing out like hammer to anvil. The Arena echoed with the sharp clangs, shockwaves bursting around them.
But just as suddenly as it began, Elari retreated again—hovering calmly, gaze steady.
Zairik scoffed. "Told you, my gears are invincible."
Elari crossed his arms, posture loose, almost at ease.
Zairik's expression tightened. His eyes narrowed behind the visor, shifting from confidence to fury.
"I'll end this!"
He surged forward—then froze midair.
Something was off.
He looked down. His brows drew together. Confusion flickered in his eyes.
The gears weren't responding.
A sharp crack rang out.
Then another.
The sound of splitting metal filled the Arena. His arm gears twitched violently, joints seizing up. Sparks burst from his boots. The outer shell of his gear cracked, plates falling away like shattered armor.
Then—
He dropped.
A blur of limbs and smoke plummeting toward the safety net below.
A voice rang across the Arena.
"Four points, Cindralune. Cindralune wins!"
The crowd erupted into noise, cheers, gasps, wild applause.
Elari hovered quietly above it all, then turned and drifted back toward his platform, the red glow from his Aeroliths slowly fading to calm.
* * *
Ardyn sat upright on the edge of his bed, a soft hum filling the Medic Hall room from the device in his hands. It was a slim, rectangular screen no larger than a book, its edges wrapped in copper alloy. A live feed played across the display.
His eyes were wide, mouth half-open.
Beside him, Mirae sat cross-legged on the mattress, watching in silence.
Ardyn slowly turned to her, disbelief written across his face.
"I knew Elari was strong," he said. "But… not this strong."
Mirae nodded slightly, eyes still on the fading footage.
"Looks like he's even stronger than during the last Skytest."
Ardyn swallowed hard. "Good thing we befriended him."
At that, Mirae burst out laughing.
* * *
Later that night, deep in the heart of Vireos, Zairik Vaelthar lay motionless on a padded metal bed. His body was a ruin. Patches of flesh scorched black, one foot fused into a half-melted shape. Tubes threaded into his arms, his chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm.
Beside him stood an old man draped in a dark-grey coat lined with copper stitching, sleeves rolled past his elbows to reveal grease-streaked gloves. Goggles with layered lenses hung loosely around his neck. A Vireos Aerolith Engineer.
"I'm going to restore your body, Zairik," the old man said quietly. "You'll be the first of Vireos's engineered Cirrans. Stronger than any who came before."
Zairik managed a faint nod, his breath rattling through cracked lips.
The engineer stepped behind the bed, unlocking its clamps. With a low hiss of hydraulics, the bed rolled into an upright containment pod, cylindrical, the glass misted at the edges with condensation. Thin wires and copper tubes coiled from its base into a bulkier machine beside it, pulsing with dim blue lights.
He moved to a case nearby and lifted its latch with care. Inside rested a smooth, white Aerolith, glowing faintly, its radiance steady and unnatural.
"We finally have this in our hands," he whispered.
The engineer turned to the machine, fitting the stone into a circular socket. The moment it settled, the entire machine gave a low, thrumming hum—subtle, but deep enough to shake the nearby floor panels.
He glanced once more at Zairik, limp and silent behind the glass.
Then he reached forward and pressed the activation button.
The Aerolith locked into the machine began to glow—bright white, its light quickly intensifying to an almost blinding brilliance. A sharp hum pierced the chamber.
Inside the containment tube, a hiss of release sounded as white gas began to flood in, swirling around Zairik's burned form. The engineer watched, eyes wide, as the vapors thickened and curled in strange, deliberate shapes.
He allowed himself a smile. "It's working…"
But then, the hum deepened, then distorted. The entire machine shuddered violently. Panels sparked. Vents screamed. Smoke began to spill from the base.
The engineer's expression twisted in alarm. He rushed to the console, slamming a red button.
Nothing happened.
Then came a blast of pressure, metal groaned and the machine erupted in a sudden explosion. The force knocked the engineer off his feet, sending him crashing into the wall. He collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
The containment tube remained intact. The Aerolith, now glowing even brighter, began to distort. Cracks webbed across its surface, and in the next second, it liquefied. White essence spilled from it, evaporating midair, turning into thick, pulsing gas.
The vapor coiled outward from the machine, swirling in a single place. It pulsed and spun, faster, tighter, until it compressed into a dense cloud.
And then… it began to take shape.
As the gas slowly thinned, a figure emerged from the center—bare, unmarked, and eerily still.
The figure opened its eyes—fierce and gleaming, all white, like something no longer human.
Zairik Vaelthar's true body still lay in the tube, lifeless.
And yet, the thing standing before it—identical to him in every way—smiled: calm, but with something cruel beneath.