The smoke that rose from Astralyn's broken spires wasn't the clean, hopeful smoke of hearth fires or festival pyres. It was the acrid black column of a civilization's confidence burning away, thick with the ash of dreams that would never be rebuilt.
Three days had passed since Rinako's victory over the shadow-titan, and the true scope of the devastation was only now becoming clear. What the emergency reports had called "significant structural damage" was, in the unforgiving light of dawn, nothing short of catastrophic.
The Great Plaza—heart of commerce and culture for over two millennia—existed now only as a perfectly circular crater filled with glass that had once been cobblestones. The Royal Academy's eastern wing had simply vanished, as if reality had forgotten it ever existed. In District Seven, where Kairo and his friends had fought their desperate battle, entire city blocks lay twisted into impossible geometries that hurt to look at directly.
And the bodies...
Hina Morisaki knelt beside a makeshift medical station in what had once been Memorial Park, her Verdant Bloom ability coaxing healing herbs to grow directly from the essence-scarred earth. Around her, the wounded lay in neat rows—some bearing physical injuries from flying debris or beast attacks, others suffering from what the healers were calling "essence shock," a condition that left victims staring blankly at the sky while their souls tried to process energies too vast for mortal comprehension.
"Thirty-seven thousand confirmed dead," she murmured to Maya, who was using her Echo Veil to replay the final words of the dying for their families—a grim but necessary service in a city where so many had simply vanished without trace. "And that's just the count from the outer districts.
They're still... still digging in the noble quarter."
Maya's hands trembled as she wove another echo into existence—a merchant's voice telling his wife he loved her, preserved in sound and memory as his body was consumed by shadow. "The Masters are saying it could have been worse. That if Rinako hadn't intervened when she did..."
"It could have been everyone," Hina finished quietly.
Across the ruined capital, similar scenes played out in every surviving district. Masters from the great dojos worked alongside common citizens, their abilities turned to rescue and recovery rather than combat. A smith whose fire-essence had once forged decorative jewelry now used his flames to cut through twisted metal, searching for survivors. A dancer whose grace-manipulation made her the toast of noble parties now coordinated rescue teams with inhuman precision, her ability to sense movement allowing her to find life buried beneath tons of rubble.
But for all their efforts, for all the small miracles and acts of heroism that bloomed like flowers in the wasteland, one truth was becoming impossible to ignore:
Astralyn was no longer invincible.
In the upper levels of Cloudspire Tower—one of the few noble district buildings that had survived the attack relatively intact—a different kind of reckoning was taking place. The emergency council chamber buzzed with voices raised in fear, anger, and barely controlled panic as representatives from every major house and guild demanded answers that no one seemed able to provide.
"Three thousand years!" Lord Vextros of House Ironward slammed his fist on the crystalline table, the impact sending ripples of light through its essence-infused surface. "Three thousand years of perfect peace, and now this? Where were the warning systems? Where were the ward-monitors?"
"The ward-barriers held against the Tide Wars, the Essence Storms of the second millennium, even the reality fractures during the Great Convergence," added Lady Miraeth, her voice sharp with accusation. "Now you tell us they simply... failed? Without warning? Without cause?"
Master Jorik Vayne, still wearing his battle-damaged Wave-steel cuirass from the defense of the harbor district, stood slowly. His weathered face bore new scars from the three-day battle, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of a man who had watched his carefully maintained defenses crumble like sand.
"The creatures—whatever they were—didn't break through the barriers," he said, his words falling into the chamber like stones into still water. "They found gaps. Spaces between the ward-lines that shouldn't have existed. As if someone who understood our defenses intimately had been... preparing."
The silence that followed was thick with implications no one wanted to voice.
Finally, Lord Chancellor Aldeus—the King's chief advisor and one of the few mortals permitted to speak for the Crown in official matters—cleared his throat. "Master Vayne, are you suggesting this was an act of... sabotage?"
"I'm suggesting nothing," Vayne replied carefully. "I'm stating facts. Those ward-barriers were inspected last month by our most senior essence-architects. They were perfect. Flawless. And yet something found weaknesses that our greatest minds couldn't detect."
Lady Syenna of House Dawnbreaker leaned forward, her golden eyes reflecting the unease that filled the chamber. "Then we're saying one of two things. Either our defenses were never as strong as we believed... or someone wanted them to fail."
The words hung in the air like a curse, and more than one council member found themselves glancing suspiciously at their neighbors. If the attack had been orchestrated from within, then any one of them could be complicit. Trust—the foundation upon which their civilization had been built—was cracking as surely as the city's walls.
While the nobles argued and pointed fingers, a very different meeting was taking place in the depths of the Concordium—the sacred crystal hall at the heart of Virelios where lies were impossible and truth shone with its own light.
The six Trueborns sat in a circle of throne-like chairs that had been carved from single pieces of living starlight, their forms casting no shadows in the otherworldly illumination. Between them floated a three-dimensional map of Astralyn, its surface marked with thousands of tiny red flames—each one representing a confirmed casualty from the attack.
Yunrei, his green eyes reflecting calculations that spanned centuries, spoke first. "The synchronization was too perfect. Seven different breach points, all activated within seconds of each other. These weren't random animals following instinct—they were directed."
"By what?" Mizuko's blue hair rippled like water as she gestured toward the tactical display. "I've felt the currents of every ocean, traced the flow of essence through every stream and sea. Nothing I've sensed had the intelligence to coordinate an assault of this magnitude."
"Nothing you've sensed that belongs to our reality," Tsuyari corrected, his silver eyes holding depths that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The Nullweaver's voice was soft, but it carried undertones that made the crystal walls vibrate. "We've always assumed the Beyond was simply... empty space. Unexplored territory waiting for our attention. But what if we were wrong?"
Yureina, her golden hair catching the truth-light and throwing it back in patterns too beautiful for mortal eyes to fully process, leaned forward with growing concern. "You're speaking of intelligence from outside the realm. Entities that exist beyond the boundaries of Vilaris itself."
"I'm speaking of the obvious," Tsuyari replied, his form shifting slightly as shadows that shouldn't have been able to exist in the truth-light began to gather around his feet. "We've been so focused on governing what we've built that we've forgotten to watch for what might be watching us."
Kurojin, silent until now, spoke in a voice like mountains grinding together. "The timing troubles me more than the method. Why now? What has changed that made this moment favorable for such an assault?"
It was Rinako who provided the answer, her pink eyes holding memories of her battle with the shadow-titan. "Because something has been taken. Something they needed." Her gaze found each of her fellow Trueborns in turn. "Brothers, sisters—when did we last attempt to contact the other realms? When did we last verify that we remain... alone?"
The question hit the assembled gods like a physical blow. For three millennia, they had assumed their isolation was protection. Now it was beginning to look like blindness.
Yunrei's temporal senses, attuned to the flow of cause and effect across vast spans of time, suddenly focused with laser intensity. "There's something else. A disturbance in the timestream that I've been tracking for months. Small at first—barely detectable. But growing stronger."
"What kind of disturbance?" Mizuko asked, her connection to the cosmic tides allowing her to sense the ebb and flow of great events.
"Someone—or something—has been altering the past. Not major events, nothing that would cause paradox cascades or reality fractures. Just... small changes. Subtle enough to avoid detection until now."
The implications settled over the chamber like a shroud. If someone had been manipulating history itself, then everything they thought they knew about recent events might be suspect. The missing boy from Silverstone. The sudden interest in Beyond Order expeditions. Even this attack might be connected to alterations in the timestream that had been building for months or years.
Tsuyari was the first to voice what they were all thinking. "We need to accelerate the Beyond Order's next expedition. If there are forces operating from outside our reality, we need to know their nature and their goals."
"Agreed," Yureina said, her truth-sight already probing the edges of what they could know versus what they feared. "But we also need to strengthen our defenses in ways that can't be sabotaged from within."
Kurojin's dark presence pulsed with grim determination. "I will create new ward-anchors. Prison-grade barriers that respond only to Trueborn essence. If someone wishes to threaten our realm again, they'll have to go through us directly."
"And I'll begin scouring the dreamscape," Rinako added, her form already beginning to take on the fluid quality that marked her preparation for deep dream-work. "If these entities have been influencing our reality, they may have left traces in the collective unconscious."
Yunrei nodded, his green hair shifting color as temporal energies began to build around him. "I'll map the timeline alterations—trace them back to their source. If someone has been changing history, I'll find out who and why."
Mizuko rose from her throne, her blue eyes reflecting depths that had no bottom. "Then it's decided. We prepare for war on multiple fronts—physical, temporal, and psychic. The age of peace is over."
As the Trueborns dispersed to begin their preparations, the crystal chamber fell silent except for the soft humming of truth-light against stone. But in that silence, each of them carried the same terrible knowledge:
This was only the beginning.
The official classification came down from the Concordium six hours later, carried by messenger-hawks whose flight-paths had been encrypted with essence-codes that only the highest-ranking dojo masters could decipher.
By order of the Six Trueborns and the Crown of Astralyn, the entities responsible for the attack on the capital are hereby designated as Verythra—a classification reserved for threats operating at Tier 4 and above with demonstrated hostility toward organized civilization.
All dojos, training institutions, and military academies are ordered to implement emergency protocols immediately. Combat training is to be intensified. Essence-development programs are to be accelerated. Recruitment standards are to be... adjusted to accommodate the current crisis.
This is not a drill. This is not a temporary measure. Until further notice, the realm of Vilaris is to be considered under active threat from forces whose nature and capabilities remain unknown.
At the Zenkai Dojo, Master Renji Takahara read the classification order three times before the words fully sank in. In thirty years of teaching, he had never seen a Tier designation that included the phrase "capabilities remain unknown." It was the bureaucratic equivalent of admitting that their most powerful entities had encountered something they couldn't fully understand.
"Verythra," he murmured, testing the word on his tongue. In the ancient Virelic language, it meant "devourers of light"—a term that hadn't been used in official documentation since the mythological age, when legends spoke of creatures that could consume not just matter and energy, but the very concepts that gave them meaning.
Around him, the dojo buzzed with activity as instructors implemented the emergency protocols. Training schedules that had been designed to gradually develop students over years were compressed into months. Techniques that had been reserved for advanced classes were now being taught to first-year initiates. The careful, methodical approach to essence development that had served them for generations was being abandoned in favor of rapid, intensive growth—methods that carried their own risks but were deemed necessary in the face of an unknown threat.
In the student quarters, Kairo sat on his narrow bed and stared at the formal notification that had been delivered to each of them personally. The parchment felt heavier than it should have, as if the words themselves carried physical weight.
Your training schedule has been revised. Combat classes now begin at dawn and continue until dusk. Essence development sessions are mandatory and will be conducted at maximum safe intensity. You are advised to prepare mentally and physically for accelerated advancement.
Note: Due to current circumstances, the traditional safety restrictions on essence overload have been relaxed. Students showing exceptional adaptation to high-intensity training may be fast-tracked to advanced tiers ahead of normal schedules.
Be aware that this level of intensive development carries inherent risks. Essence burn, spiritual exhaustion, and in rare cases, complete power destabilization are possible side effects. However, given the current threat level, these risks are deemed acceptable in service of rapid capability development.
"They're scared," Takumi said from the bed across from him, his crimson hair still faintly glowing from their afternoon combat session. "I've never seen the Masters scared before, but they are now."
"They should be," Sayaka replied quietly from where she sat by the window, her violet eyes watching the reconstruction efforts in the city below. "I've been analyzing the tactical reports from the attack. Those creatures—the Verythra—they weren't just powerful. They were learning. Adapting to our techniques in real-time, developing counters to abilities they'd never encountered before."
Kairo felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. "You're saying they were intelligent enough to evolve during combat?"
"I'm saying they might be intelligent enough to evolve between combats. Every warrior they faced, every technique they observed, every defense they tested—all of it could be information they're using to prepare for next time."
The implication hung in the air like a toxic cloud. If the Verythra could learn from their attacks, then each subsequent assault would be more dangerous than the last. Eventually, they would develop counters to every technique, every ability, every strategy that Astralyn's defenders could bring to bear.
"So we get stronger faster than they can adapt," Takumi said, his fists clenching as his essence began to flare with determination. "We push ourselves harder than we've ever pushed before."
"And hope we don't burn ourselves out in the process," Kairo added quietly.
As night fell over the wounded capital, a new presence made itself known in the Concordium's highest tower. The elevator that rose to the pinnacle of Trueborn authority had been designed to operate only for beings of sufficient essence-weight to trigger its mechanisms—a security measure that ensured only gods or their chosen representatives could access the most sensitive levels of government.
Tonight, it carried a passenger whose very presence seemed to bend light around the edges.
Nanook Anaxagoras stepped into the observation chamber with the fluid grace of someone who existed comfortably in multiple possible futures simultaneously. His dark hair, streaked with premature silver, caught the truth-light and threw it back in patterns that suggested vast, calculating intelligence. When he smiled—which he did often—it was impossible to tell whether the expression was genuine or a carefully crafted mask designed to put observers at ease.
"Your Eternities," he said, offering a bow that somehow managed to be respectful without suggesting subservience. "I came as soon as the summons reached me."
The six Trueborns regarded their visitor with expressions that ranged from wary respect to outright unease. Nanook was, in many ways, the greatest mystery —a being who had pushed the boundaries of essence development so far that he operated on a level approaching their own. But he was also, by his very nature, unpredictable in ways that made even gods nervous.
"Captain," Yunrei acknowledged, his green eyes reflecting timeline calculations that included thousands of possible conversation branches. "We've read your preliminary report on the Beyond expedition findings. Your conclusions are... troubling."
Nanook's smile sharpened slightly, taking on edges that suggested he found the word 'troubling' to be an interesting understatement. "The Beyond isn't empty, Your Eternity. It never was. We've been so focused on mapping the geography that we failed to notice the inhabitants."
"Inhabitants?" Mizuko leaned forward, her cosmic senses already reaching out to probe the edges of what Nanook had discovered. "You found sentient life beyond the realm boundaries?"
"I found evidence of sentient life that predates the realm boundaries," Nanook corrected, his tone carrying implications that made the crystal walls vibrate with harmonic resonance. "Structures that were already ancient when Vilaris was born. Technologies that operate on principles we don't recognize. And signs—very recent signs—that something has been studying us for a very, very long time."
The silence that followed was the kind of quiet that occurs when fundamental assumptions about reality are challenged and found wanting.
Tsuyari was the first to speak, his silver eyes reflecting depths that seemed to swallow light rather than generate it. "Show us."
Nanook raised one hand, and the air between them shimmered as his Nebula ability manifested. What appeared was not quite a hologram and not quite a memory—it was possibility given visual form, a representation of truth that existed in the spaces between certainty and speculation.
The image showed structures of impossible geometry rising from landscapes that hurt to look at directly. Not because they were chaotic, but because they were too ordered—built according to mathematical principles that suggested minds capable of perceiving reality in dimensions that mortal consciousness couldn't grasp.
"We found this approximately three hundred leagues beyond the current boundary markers," Nanook explained as the image shifted to show closer details. "The architecture suggests builders who understood essence-manipulation at a level that makes our greatest achievements look primitive."
"How long has it been there?" Yureina asked, her truth-sight already probing the edges of the vision for deception or error.
"Based on essence-decay patterns in the surrounding area? At least ten thousand years. Possibly longer." Nanook's smile took on a quality that suggested he was enjoying their discomfort more than was entirely polite. "But here's where it gets interesting."
The image shifted again, showing what appear