The room smelled faintly of oil and old parchment. Fires burned low in the hearths, throwing the faces of the gathered men and women into hard relief. At the head of the table, a man with green hair and green eyes leaned forward, voice flat and certain.
"Lucas has gone, just as we expected," he said. "You have all been thinking the same thing. In this era, the Starborn cling to their past as if it will save them. The secret of their island is known. I planted spies. Their reports are clear. We will harvest everything they have."
Murmurs rose and fell like the tide. The green-haired man did not flinch. He spread his hands as if showing them a map only he could see.
"Do not call this hypocrisy," he added. "Lucas suppressed us for years, but he has left Sid to wear the mantle. Sid is dangerous—double Vitral at once—and in time he will be worse than his father. If we wait, the cost will be higher. We move now."
A stocky man at the edge of the table, Cromwell, swallowed and spoke up. "What about the guardians? Won't they intervene and crush us?"
The green-eyed man smiled without mirth. "Cromwell, the guardians are terrible when they choose to be. But they do not step into every skirmish. A conflict of this size will not draw their hand. There is no need for fear."
A woman pushed back from her chair and folded her arms. Her voice was steady but edged with worry. "Zoltan," she said, "you know they have left protections behind. Lucas is not reckless. Even if the guardians do not move, the Starborn themselves will fight. If they counterattack and win, our families will suffer. Is a single raid worth risking everything?"
Zoltan met her eyes. For a moment he looked tired, as if he had rehearsed every answer and still found them lacking.
"It is a risk," he admitted. "But I have secured something that will change the odds." He reached beneath the table and drew out a small briefcase. When he opened it, a gold hoop lay inside, polished to a mirror shine.
"This belonged to the first forger," he said. "A one-time relic. It suppresses a bloodline for a single day and forms a barrier dome that prevents escape. With this, we hold them in place and take what we need."
The briefcase clicked shut with the sound of fate being sealed. No one moved for a moment; even the fire seemed to lean in and listen.
"If this is true," the woman said slowly, "then the plan could work. But we should be ready for any cost."
Zoltan closed the briefcase and set it back on the table. He looked around the room, meeting every pair of eyes in turn.
"In two days we strike," he said. "Bring your forces. If anyone objects, say it now. If you stand aside, know that you will taste no benefit when we divide the spoils."
Silence answered him. No one rose to argue.
"Very well," Zoltan said. "In two days, we burn out the Starborn."
The room held that oath for a long moment, then dispersed into shadow and planning. Outside, the island's wind moved over the cliffs as if warning the world itself.
Two Days Later
"Three, I'm sure your grandfather told you everything," Sid said, his voice calm but heavy. "He must have warned you about the world beyond our shores… and the enemies waiting for a chance to strike. The guardians' predictions may be wrong, but we cannot ignore them. To be safe, I've activated the defenses your grandfather left behind. All we can do now is hope they hold… and pray the enemy does not—"
A thunderous boom split the air outside, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
"Enemy attack!"
"Prepare the cannons!" a voice roared from outside.
Sid's jaw tightened. "Damn it. Could they not give us more time?"
He turned to Three, urgency flaring in his eyes. "Go to your mother. Stay by her side and do not leave the house. I'll take care of this."
Without another word, Sid vanished in a blur of light.
By the time he reached the outer grounds, chaos had already erupted. The sound of clashing steel and screaming orders filled the air as Starborn soldiers rallied to meet the threat.
"Soldiers!" Sid's voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade. "The enemy dares to strike now, when our pillar has departed. They believe us weakened. Let us show them the strength of the Starborn blood! We will not fall here. We will make them choke on their arrogance!"
As he spoke, armor of shimmering light and flame rippled across his body, wrapping him in a living fortress. With a sharp motion, Sid activated a small device left by Lucas. Immediately, the ground trembled as a massive dome of translucent energy surged into being, sealing the island in a shimmering barrier. From the dome's surface, countless cannon-like protrusions emerged, humming with deadly power, trained on the skies above.
The first wave of attacks had been nothing more than a probe. The real assault would come now.
And it did.
A deep rumble echoed through the dome as the air inside twisted unnaturally. Space itself tore open, and a swirling portal bloomed like a wound in the air. From within it, hooded figures poured out, dozens at first, then hundreds, their faces hidden, their steps silent.
The defenders froze in horror. The enemy wasn't battering the dome from outside… they had breached it from within.
Then he appeared.
Zoltan stepped through the portal, his green hair catching the light of the barrier, his eyes burning with cruel delight. In his hand gleamed the golden relic — the very hoop he had revealed to his council. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he activated it.
A second dome, darker and more suffocating, expanded outward from Zoltan's position. It clashed with Lucas's dome, layer upon layer of power pressing against the other. But this new dome wasn't just a barrier — it was a curse.
Sid felt it instantly. His knees buckled, his breath hitched. His Vitral surged like a dying flame. The strength in his veins dimmed as though invisible hands were tearing it away.
"What witchcraft has the world dabbed into…" Sid muttered, forcing himself upright. He steadied his stance, planting his feet as his aura flared weakly around him.
His eyes locked on Zoltan. Recognition cut through him like lightning.
"Zoltan," Sid spat, his voice trembling with both fury and strain. "Why? Why attack us now? What has the Starborn clan done that warrants this betrayal?"
Zoltan's smile widened, sharp as a blade. He didn't bother hiding his scorn.
"Hypocrisy does not suit you, Sid," he said, his tone mocking. "You know why we strike. Your people sit on wealth, inheritance, and power that was never meant for you. And you dare call it unjust when others come to claim it? Spare me your feigned innocence."
Sid's fists clenched, his body trembling from the suppression of his bloodline. Even weakened, his will remained unbroken.
"You'll regret stepping foot on this island."
Light surged in his palm. A radiant sword of pure brilliance coalesced into existence, its edge humming with restrained fury. Blue flames danced along its length, devouring the light itself until the weapon burned like a star torn from the heavens.
Sid raised the blade, its glow illuminating the darkened battlefield.
Zoltan only sneered, his own aura surging as the dome pulsed tighter around them.
The first clash was moments away.