"A calamity beast?"
Ingrid echoed the words softly, her steel grey eyes flicking back towards the painted tiger, towards its impossibly large form sprawled lifeless beneath Hungrad's boot, a fresh unease settling low in her stomach at the sheer weight Solarya's tone had carried.
"Mm."
Solarya's gaze remained fixed upon the portrait, distant and unreadable, her chestnut eyes tracing over the ancient brushstrokes as though she were seeing something far older than the paint itself.
"You wouldn't understand, being who you are, but there was once an age, long before either of us drew breath, when the world was ruled not by kings or empires or academies such as this one, but by beasts. Calamities, we call them now, though back then, I imagine, they were simply called death."
"...death?"
Ingrid repeated weakly, her small hands instinctively clutching at the soft fabric of her summer dress, her mind already conjuring horrid, half formed images of what such creatures might have looked like.
"The dark age, as its called now, saw half of humanity trampled beneath their sickening, unnatural power. Cities turned to ash in a single breath, oceans boiled, mountains split open like overripe fruit, all beneath the whims of beasts so powerful, so utterly beyond mortal comprehension, that entire kingdoms would simply vanish overnight, leaving nothing behind but silence and ruin."
Solarya's voice, though composed as always, carried within it something Ingrid had rarely heard from her before, something close to genuine, weary sorrow.
"It was during that age that humanity was forced, quite violently, to grow stronger. That is where the rituals of kingship first came to be, Ingrid. Do you understand what I mean by that?"
Ingrid shook her head slowly, her obsidian hair swaying gently with the motion, her curious gaze never once leaving Solarya's composed, aristocratic features.
"No, Miss Solarya, I don't."
"Kingship, dear girl, is not merely a title handed down through blood, though many foolish nobles like to believe so nowadays. True kingship is earned through experience, through suffering, through facing something so far beyond oneself that survival alone reshapes the very soul. That is why every single person who awakens a technique must, without exception, undergo their own trial, their own experience, before they can ever be considered a true soldier of this world."
"Is that why... is that why they're doing all this? The tournaments, I mean?"
Ingrid asked quietly, understanding slowly beginning to dawn behind her wide, steel grey eyes.
"Precisely. Though I doubt any of those foolish first years truly understand the weight of what they're being prepared for."
A faint, humorless smile tugged briefly at the corner of Solarya's lips as she finally turned away from the portrait, her chestnut gaze settling instead upon Ingrid herself.
"But here is the tragedy of it all, Ingrid. Once the dark age ended, once the calamities were finally, painstakingly subdued or driven back into whatever forsaken corners of this world they still linger in, humanity grew lax. Comfortable. They forgot, foolishly, that the dark age was never truly an ending."
"What do you mean, not an ending?"
Solarya's expression darkened slightly, her voice dropping into something quieter, something almost reluctant, as though she herself did not entirely wish to speak the words aloud.
"The dark age, Ingrid, was merely the entry. A door creaking open, nothing more. Something far greater, far more terrifying than any calamity beast, still waits patiently beyond that door, and humanity, in its arrogance, has convinced itself that kingship alone is enough to face it."
A cold shiver ran unbidden down Ingrid's spine, her small fingers tightening further around the fabric of her dress.
"...is kingship not enough?"
"No, child. Kingship is merely the first step. Beyond kingship lies sagehood, a state few in this current age have ever achieved, let alone survived achieving. And beyond sagehood..."
Solarya paused, her chestnut gaze drifting once more towards the tall, arched windows lining the far end of the grand hallway, towards the pale, distant stars just beginning to flicker faintly into existence beyond the darkening sky.
"...lies glory."
The word settled heavily between them, far heavier than such a simple word ought to have carried, and Ingrid found herself entirely unable to look away from Solarya's suddenly solemn, distant expression.
"Glory..."
She whispered it back, uncertain, the unfamiliar weight of the word settling uneasily upon her tongue.
"Yes. Glory. Though I suspect, dear girl, that you and I shall both be long dead before anyone in this current age ever comes close to understanding what that word truly means."