22nd- Dream Domain
Merin's consciousness descends into his dream domain for the group's discussion. Noticing that Song Qi has not appeared at his usual time, Merin quickly concludes that Song Qi is likely attempting to break through to the first realm of the mortal realm.
In the martial way, the first realm is known as the Inner Energy Realm, the second as the Condensed Energy Realm, the third as the Forging Energy Realm, and the fourth as the Resonance Realm. Merin had once tried this path and quickly reached the third realm, but failed to advance to the fourth. In the barren land, no external energy is present, making it impossible to resonate with outside forces and step into the Resonance Realm.
Bringing his roaming thoughts back to the present, Merin listens to the conversation. Everything is uneventful except for Ivy's report.
After completing the entrance test, Sulla has turned his full attention to the fighting competition at the Guard Training School. This competition is critical because the top five participants will be sent to Valkyrie City, located on the largest sky island. Although it could have been the capital of the Light Spirit Empire, the honour went instead to another sky land that contained a light energy vein, necessary for powering the portal to other realms.
Curious after hearing Ivy's descriptions of their world, Sulla wonders whether their realm is classified as a mortal realm, a spiritual realm, or a divine realm. This information was not available in the books he had read in the library, so he asked the librarian. The librarian informed him that their world—the Sky Island Realm—is classified as a spiritual realm.
Merin also learns that six other races call the Sky Island Realm home: the Night Fox Race, the Cloud Giant Race, the Wind Fairy Race, the Half-Dragon Race, and the Corvus Race.
This is the information Sulla has gathered over the past two weeks. Meanwhile, Talon has spent the last two weeks practising to master the power of the TideHunter and focusing on hunting. Due to living in a small tribe, he has not found any new information.
Omar's situation improved after the war ended a week ago, allowing him to return home. However, it cannot be said he is happy. With the war's end, he lost the opportunity to gather the resources needed for his practice. By the time the war concludes, he is able, with tremendous difficulty, to perform the 11th movement once a day. Without resources, however, further strengthening his body becomes difficult, especially since his family is not wealthy.
To break through to the first realm of the mortal realm, Omar begins practising the inner breathing exercise—the Evergreen Pine—which he received from Song Qi. His body is already strengthened, and now, after mastering the first step of the Evergreen Pine, he feels that within two to three days, he will succeed and be ready to attempt his breakthrough.
He chooses to practice the exercise from Song Qi because both he and Song Qi are human, and although the names of the four mortal realms differ between his Weapon Waster Way and Song Qi's Martial Art Way, the descriptions and abilities of the realms are the same.
Meanwhile, the Shadow Serpent does not bother gathering any information about their realm. In its inherent memory, it already knows the name of the realm—the Demon Mountain Realm, a mortal realm. After emerging from the Shadow Pool, it focuses solely on fighting and hunting low-level demons in the same realm. According to the Serpent, if it manages to take three more dips in the Shadow Pool, it will be able to break through to the Middle Demon Realm.
Then Ivy talked about what happened during the day. Today, the inspector from the mage school she would be joining arrived. The mage school is called Emerald Isle, and the inspector's name is Mage Olivia. Ivy learned that she must complete a trial, not only she but all those in this mortal realm who are going to join any mage school located in the Azure Spiritual Realm.
They will enter a broken mortal realm that can only accommodate cultivation up to the first realm in the Mage Seal Realm. Those who can gather ten crystal cores from the zombie monsters roaming the broken mortal realm will pass. Ivy, even after hearing about the dangers of the trial, readily agreed because it was an easy way to change her destiny.
While the dream domain could eventually change her fate, joining the mage school would allow her to quickly transform her life from the daughter of a baker to an official mage, the first realm in the Mage Seal Realm.
She did not bring much new information today because she could only gain new knowledge from her master, who recently became busy and met with Ivy only a handful of times to advise her on the two spells she had given her to practice. In truth, her master did not directly give her two spells but placed ten 0-level spells in front of her and let her choose two.
In the low-level mage realm, only two 0-level spells can be accommodated in the mind space. Ivy chose Magic Shield and Magic Missile—a straightforward defence and attack spell combination.
With the help of the dream domain, she half-mastered both spells, and her progress in the second stage of meditation reached 14%. This is why she is confident she will be able to pass the trial. There are still two months left, and even if she does not complete the second stage of meditation—visualising her muscles and breaking through to the Intermediate Mage Realm—she is confident she will fully master the two spells.
To increase her chances further, Ivy decided that once she mastered the two spells, she would start practising the inner breathing technique Song Qi gave her.
After they finished their daily discussion, they went to practice on their own. Merin also stopped paying attention to them and started practising one of Ivy's magic spells. Previously, he had divided his consciousness to practice combat techniques, which worked fine. But when he started practising the two magic spells, he realised it was difficult to practice with only part of his consciousness. Some of his divided consciousness even collapsed when he performed the magic spells, which consumed the energy within his consciousness.
With multiple consciousnesses, it is difficult to control them all. He could only give them simple orders, and they would perform like robots. However, mastering a magic spell is different. One cannot master a spell by simply repeating it continuously, as he did not have a golden finger where hard work alone would guarantee success.
Repeated practice is necessary, but only to find mistakes in the spell model. To truly master a spell, one must understand every rune within the spell model. Only then could they adjust and harmonise the spell with their mental energy, allowing the spell model to be activated and constructed with a single thought inside their sea of consciousness, or what Merin calls his spiritual world.
Ivy opens her eyes, waking from her sleep. Today is the first time she will be leaving her home, and she does not know when she will return. A few hours later, she finds herself aboard a flying ship heading east. As the ship lifts higher, she gazes down at her town, imagining her stoic father holding back his emotions, her mother and little sister crying. After a few minutes, the town fades from view, and she turns away, walking inside the ship toward her assigned room.
Inside, she sits down and begins meditating, using her spirit to draw in the free magic energy around her to enhance her cultivation. Just as she starts to fall asleep, she hears Mage Olivia's voice in her mind, asking her to come to the deck.
Stepping out onto the deck, she sees Mage Olivia already there and the ship slowly descending. Ivy bows her head in respect before walking to the railing. Below, a large city built on an island in the Ghost Cry Ocean comes into view, filled with tall towers and buildings. But the ship does not dock on the island itself; instead, it docks at a nearby smaller island.
After disembarking, Ivy follows Mage Olivia into the dense jungle. Along the way, she sees creatures she has never encountered before—armoured squirrels, flying lizards, long-legged chickens, stone-skinned boars, rainbow deer, and snakes. Yet none of them come close, all giving way to the two figures walking through the forest.
Soon, they reach a clearing where a three-storey mansion stands. Before they even reach the door, it swings open, and a man steps out, bowing respectfully to Mage Olivia.
Inside the mansion, Ivy is separated from Mage Olivia and led to the room she will be staying in. Within minutes, someone arrives and serves her dinner. After eating, she falls asleep and enters the great being's dream domain.
Tonight, all six members of their team are present, with Ivy being the last to arrive. The meeting is brief, as most have nothing new to report except for her and Song Qi. Ivy shares only a little—most of her day was spent aboard a flying ship, and now she is resting in a mansion on an island after arriving just before sleep took her.
Song Qi reveals that he has broken through and is now a martial artist in the inner energy realm. When he reported this to the deacon's office, he was informed of an upcoming martial artist competition for the sect's menial disciples, held once a year.
The winner becomes an outer disciple. Since he has reached the inner energy realm, participation is mandatory. For the next two weeks, he is excused from all duties and will use the time to prepare for the competition.
Afterwards, she practises her spells for a few hours, then works on her visualising technique until her body naturally wakes, and she opens her eyes in her new room. After waking, she completes her morning duties and leaves to find food and figure out what she should do today.
A servant leads her through the mansion's corridors to a large dining room with a long table. She sees others around her age already eating and takes a seat beside a girl. Through conversation, she learns that everyone present is a mage apprentice like her, all preparing for the upcoming trials in two months. However, they arrived four months earlier and have been receiving basic mage training from senior apprentices in the mansion.
After they finish eating, everyone disperses to attend classes or practise. But a servant calls Ivy and leads her to a classroom where she is told to wait for a teacher. After a few minutes, a woman slightly older than her, wearing a black robe, enters. She looks at Ivy and says, "So, Signe recommended you. She should have recommended you for the next trial, not this one, with only two months left. Your chances of passing are minimal."
Without waiting for Ivy's response, the woman continues, "It doesn't matter to me whether you pass or not. My name is Catherine, and I will teach you about runes."
Ivy quickly replies, "Yes, teacher Catherine."
Catherine asks, "Let me see, what do you know about runes?"
Ivy answers, "Runes are used to draw spell models."
Catherine responds, "So, you know nothing."
Catherine continues, "Runes are letters of a language that describe the rules of the world according to the perspective of the creator. There are many types of rune languages, but I am going to teach you Cavendish's rune language, which most mages learn, and the spell models you use are written with it. So, it is called the mage rune language."
Ivy nods. Catherine waves her hand, and a book, along with a notebook and pen, float down, landing on the table in front of Ivy. On the book's cover is written Cavendish's Rune.
Catherine says, "You can open the book later. Now open your notebook and take notes on my explanation."
Catherine begins her lecture, and Ivy diligently takes notes. Before leaving, Catherine says, "Stay here. Your next teacher will arrive any minute." With that, Catherine exits the room.
Left alone, Ivy reviews her notes, thinking over what Catherine taught. Catherine explained that Cavendish's rune language contains only 1,487 runes—Not nearly enough to describe all the world's rules, but sufficient for the first two stages: mage apprentice and official mage. Today, she explained the meanings of the first fifteen runes.
As Ivy finishes reviewing and opens the book, Cavendish's Rune, her next teacher, a man, enters. He teaches her methods to quickly absorb outside energy and form it into magic energy.
Before leaving, he informs her that since only two months remain before the trial, she will be taught only the two subjects necessary to help her pass. If she wants to learn anything else, she can study from the books in the library or wait until she passes the trial and enters the mage school.
With nothing to do she return to her room and increase her magic energy reserve as to breakthrough intermediate mage appreintice realm. The magic energy in her body should be adequate so that it can fuel her transformation of her consciousness that takes place when breaking through the intermediate mage apprentice realm. And as night came, she fell asleep.
23rd- Dream Domain
Merin only paid attention to their conversation. Afterwards, he went to practice the Magic Missile spell in the real world, as it couldn't be properly performed in the dream domain. All his energy was still fighting against the black energy. But after practising the inner breathing exercise, which begins with a rhythm of breathing to sense the energy in the body, and in the next two stages focuses on transforming inner energy, he managed to utilise most of the energy stored in his cells, increasing his energy reserve.
However, he didn't use this energy to fight the black energy. The rise in strength of the four people linked to him increased his reserve by one day each day, and now it had stopped at 21 months and 11 days. If this trend continued, the time limit would begin to extend.
He then transformed the vital energy in his body into magic energy, since casting mage spells required it as fuel. A Magic Missile formed in front of him and shot out. He didn't know where it landed, as it flew beyond his sensing radius, and without ears, he couldn't hear the impact. From preparation to casting, the entire process took one second. To reduce this time further, he knew he had to comprehend the runes within the Magic Missile's spell model. So, he began his study of the runes.
24th- Dream Domain
Omar
Omar wakes from his sleep, quickly completes his morning duties, and walks out of his house with a sword. Since returning home from the war, he hasn't worked, spending his time solely on practising the inner breathing exercise. But during last night's dinner, his mother mentioned the household funds were dwindling, especially after sending his two younger brothers to a warrior training school. She told him to find some work, reminding him that he and his brothers together eat enough for ten people. Omar only nodded—his mother was right. His father, working at the blacksmith shop, couldn't support their increased food needs, especially with their warrior training.
So, Omar decided to become a hunter to support his family and, as a warrior, gain access to the most important resource: meat. At the break of dawn, while more than half the city still sleeps, he walks through the quiet streets toward the city gate, which remains closed. He sees two guards leaning against the wall on either side of the gate, both asleep. Recognising one of them, he approaches and calls out softly—"Amur." He repeats the name two or three times from a distance, cautious not to startle the warrior into reacting violently.
Amur jolts awake, shakes his head, and stares at Omar for a few moments before saying, "Omar, why are you here at this hour?"
"I want to go out to hunt," Omar replies.
Amur looks him up and down. "If you want to hunt, you should buy a bow—it would make things easier."
Omar nods. Today's my first day. Once I earn some money, the first thing I'll buy is a bow."
"What happened to your military pay? Using a sword in a dense forest makes it hard to chase fleeing beasts," Amur says.
"There's not much left. I used the money to send my two brothers to warrior school."
Amur nods and opens the small gate for him. As Omar steps out, he hears Amur say, "Good luck, and return safely."
"Thank you. I will," Omar replies and heads toward the Red Mountain Forest, which surrounds the Red Mountain Range.
After a couple of hours, the forest stands before him. A few meters outside its edge, he hears the chirping of birds and insects—fully awake now. He rests briefly, then takes a deep breath and steps into the forest.
Omar walks carefully through the dense forest, each step deliberate and quiet. The early morning light filters through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. He keeps his eyes sharp and ears alert, moving between thick tree trunks and over tangled roots. Along the way, he spots a few rabbits darting into bushes and small animals rustling in the undergrowth—squirrels, tree weasels, even a fat badger waddling across his path. But he pays them no mind. His goal is bigger—he's looking for a boar or a deer, something that would not only feed his family for days but also bring in enough coin to support their warrior diets.
After nearly an hour of walking, something glides through the edge of his vision. He turns and freezes. A fox stands between two trees, its fur white as snow, almost glowing in the dim forest light. Omar's eyes narrow. A fox like that—its pelt would fetch a high price in the market, enough to ease their financial burden for weeks. But he knows better. A fox is fast, too fast for him to catch with just a sword. And even before he takes a proper step forward, the fox vanishes, slipping between the trees like mist.
Sighing softly, Omar continues his journey, his sword resting loosely in his hand. He moves deeper into the woods, careful not to disturb the brush too loudly. Time passes, but no large animals cross his path. Just when doubt begins to creep in, he steps into a small clearing. His eyes immediately land on a shallow water hole at its centre, the surface rippling gently as something drinks from it.
A Red Bear.
Its fur is a deep crimson hue, shining in the light with an almost metallic sheen. Omar's breath catches in his throat. Red Bears are known for their strength, powerful, territorial, and always more dangerous than a human of the same cultivation level.
He instinctively begins to step back, careful not to break a twig or rustle a leaf. One wrong sound could draw the beast's attention—and if that happened, he doubted he would escape unscathed. His heart beats harder as he crouches low, eyes fixed on the bear. He watches, waits. A single wrong move, and this hunt could become a fight for survival.
But Omar's plan to quietly slip away fails as a sudden thud echoes through the clearing—an acorn strikes the Red Bear squarely on the head. The bear freezes, its head jerks up, and a deep, thunderous roar explodes from its throat. Its furious eyes lock onto Omar.
Omar's face twists in disbelief. He glances up and spots the culprit—a monkey crouched on a branch above, tail swaying, clearly amused. Gritting his teeth, Omar points at it and growls, "He threw it! Why are you angry at me?"
But he knows it's pointless. The bear doesn't understand words, only threats. And right now, Omar is the threat in their eyes. Without hesitation, he draws his sword in a single smooth motion, the steel gleaming faintly in the morning light.
The bear drops to all fours, snarls, and charges. Its massive body crashes through the clearing, tearing grass and soil in its wake. Then it leaps, front claws outstretched, aiming to crush him.
Omar's heart races. He doesn't know whether this is an ordinary Red Bear or a Red Bear Demon. If it's the latter, his chances of surviving are less than ten per cent. Even if it's just a beast, brute strength isn't on his side.
What he has instead—refined reflexes and deadly sword skills.
He dives to the side, narrowly avoiding the bear's strike, and slashes along its flank. A shallow wound opens, blood dark against its red fur. The bear growls, more enraged than hurt, and turns with shocking speed. Omar breathes through his nose, calm despite the pounding in his chest, already circling to find another opening. This fight will be one of inches and moments—and he'll need to seize every one of them.
Omar shifts his weight low, his eyes locked onto the Red Bear's massive frame. The bear lunges, and he twists away, the hot breath of the beast brushing past his ear. His sword flashes again, carving another shallow cut across the bear's shoulder. Blood splashes onto the grass, but it only seems to fuel the bear's rage. Omar breathes evenly, keeping his mind clear, stepping lightly across the clearing, always just out of the beast's full reach.
Again and again, the bear charges. Each time Omar evades, sometimes ducking beneath a swipe so close he can smell the musky scent of the bear's fur, sometimes sliding sideways and drawing his sword across the beast's hide. The clearing becomes a battlefield of torn earth, trampled grass, and splattered blood.
After several close exchanges, Omar's nerves settle. He realises something critical—the bear, though fierce, lacks the cunning intelligence and magical pressure a true Red Bear Demon would have. This is an ordinary Red Bear, just stronger and larger than the average. Relief floods through him. He can win.
With that certainty, he grows bolder. His movements become sharper, his dodges narrower, risking even closer proximity to the bear's claws in exchange for deeper strikes. His blade slices across the bear's thick forearm, drawing a line of crimson. Another dodge, another cut—this time across the thigh. The bear's roars shake the trees, its rage mounting with every new wound.
But in its fury, the bear reveals its true nature.
Suddenly, the air around the bear ripples. Omar, mid-step, feels the change too late—a surge of energy, primal and heavy, fills the clearing. The bear's roars deepen into something unnatural. Its eyes blaze with an eerie red light.
The bear isn't just an ordinary beast—it's a half-step demon, on the verge of true transformation.
With terrifying speed, the bear's front paw ignites, flames bursting from its fur and skin as it gathers red magic energy. Omar's instincts scream at him to move, but he's too close, too committed to his last strike.
The burning paw slams into his left shoulder with a sound like breaking wood. Pain explodes through Omar's body. The force lifts him off his feet and hurls him backwards like a broken doll.
His body crashes into a thick tree trunk with a sickening crack. Bark splinters and dust showers down as he collapses onto the ground, his sword skidding from his grasp.
For a few moments, he lies stunned, vision blurry, shoulder numb and useless. Through the ringing in his ears, he hears the bear's heavy footsteps approaching, its growl a low rumble of death.
Omar grits his teeth against the pain burning in his shoulder and grabs his sword. The bear charges again, but this time Omar turns and runs, weaving through trees and leaping over fallen logs. The Red Bear, enraged, barrels after him, its flaming paw smashing through bushes and saplings alike. Omar feels the heat at his back but does not look behind. His only thought is survival.
Minutes stretch like hours as he runs, every jolt sending waves of pain through his battered body. Yet he notices something—the bear's speed begins to slow. The ground no longer shakes with each of its steps. Its growls lose their strength, and the fire around its paw flickers, weakening. Omar spares a glance over his shoulder and sees it: the bear's breath is heavy, its movements sluggish. It has run out of its limited magic energy.
Omar's instincts sharpen. He stops abruptly, turning around to face the bear, sword raised. The bear, exhausted, lumbers toward him. Omar, seeing the opening, charges. His blade flashes, slicing deep into the bear's foreleg, causing it to stumble. With swift, merciless strikes, Omar circles around the bear, targeting its weakened legs and sides. In a few brutal minutes, the giant beast collapses with a final, shuddering groan.
Victory. But Omar doesn't allow himself even a second of rest.
He sheathes his bloodied sword and, despite his mangled shoulder, grabs the bear's thick fur with his good arm. Gritting his teeth, he begins dragging the heavy corpse toward the forest's edge. Every step is agony, but Omar knows he cannot linger. The scent of blood in the air is a beacon for predators. Time is his enemy.
Luck, however, favours him this time. No beasts or scavengers cross his path. Slowly, steadily, he leaves the shadows of the trees behind and trudges across the open fields toward the city.
When he finally reaches the gates, the sight causes an uproar. Passersby stop and gape. Children shout. Guards rush over, weapons half-drawn, only to stare in disbelief as an injured Omar, barely standing, hauls the massive carcass behind him.
He wastes no time. A merchant eager for rare materials quickly strikes a deal. Omar sells the entire bear—fur, bones, meat—except for two of the bear's massive legs, which he keeps for himself and his family. The money fills a heavy pouch at his belt.
Still without resting, Omar walks to a witch doctor near the market square. The old healer clucks his tongue at the battered young man, washing and bandaging his shoulder and bruises. Omar thanks him quietly, refusing to speak much.
Money and bear legs in hand, Omar finally limps back home.
He steps inside and places the pouch of coins and the two massive bear legs on the table in front of his stunned mother. She opens her mouth to ask about the bandages, the strange meat, the sudden fortune—but Omar raises a hand, his voice hoarse but firm.
"I need rest," he says simply.
Without waiting for her reply, he stumbles into his room, closes the door, and collapses onto his bed, slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Waking up inside the dream domain, Omar sits up immediately. He does not wait for the others to arrive, knowing he fell asleep far earlier than usual. The others would not come for hours. Without hesitation, he walks toward one of the exclusive rooms available to each member—a private space designed for focused training.
Inside, silence wraps around him. Omar sits cross-legged on the soft ground, closing his eyes. He begins practising the breathing technique he has drilled into his body over countless repetitions.
Tonight, after coming out of the dream domain, Omar knows he will step into the first cultivation stage of the Mortal Realm.
25th- Dream Domain
Again, Merin pays attention to their discussion at the start, noting Omar's absence. He knows Omar has already arrived earlier and left. There are no new changes among the group—no breakthroughs, and no new information about them or the world. After their conversation ends, Merin withdraws from the gathering and returns to his comprehension of the runes in the magic missile spell.
26th- Dream Domain
As usual, Merin pays attention to their discussion. Among them, except for Sulla, everyone is extraordinary in one way or another. Though all are still within the first realm of the mortal realm, their talents are beginning to show. But Merin must turn his attention away from the dream domain and back to the real world.
As his consciousness returns, his mental energy surges around his roots, where the black energy writhes and bites. Tiny snake heads emerge from within the black mist, their fangs snapping at the shield protecting his roots. If this continues, the shield will break, and the fangs will latch onto the root. Merin doesn't know what would happen if they sink in, but he doesn't want to find out.
He had believed that with the increased energy harvested from Omar, the black energy's progression would slow, giving him time—a new trend of stabilisation. He thought the worst was behind him. But now, the energy he had reserved for practising spells is being redirected—forced into reinforcing the shield.
Then something worse happens.
The snake heads stop biting. They shift, pressing their open mouths against the shield and begin to absorb his energy. They are feeding on what he produces. The same way he harvests energy from the six others… is now being done to him.
The realisation cuts deep—this black energy isn't mindless. It's harvesting his energy at the exact rate he produces it, without harming him. That precision, that control, means only one thing.
Someone is behind the black energy.
Sulla
Sulla walks slowly, his steps steady as he exits the guard training school at noon. Around him, a crowd of young trainees in matching uniforms pour out of the gate, their chatter loud at first, but the group quickly thins into smaller clusters of one or two. Sulla walks with two others—trainees who, like him, have taken the same path each day to and from school.
Their conversation is light, focused only on what was taught today: the light prism spear. Unlike a regular spear, its tip is crafted to channel and release bursts of light energy. A powerful weapon, but one that requires precision and discipline to use effectively.
They don't go into deeper topics. With just over a month left before selection, everyone will soon become a competitor. Today's classmate may be tomorrow's rival.
As their path forks, the group parts. Sulla continues alone, following the familiar road to his home. The streets are quiet, the midday sun casting long shadows. He reaches his door and pushes it open.
Then—an explosion.
The sound tears through the air, distant but powerful, and the ground beneath his feet trembles. Somewhere in the city, something has gone wrong.
Another explosion tears through the city of Aeroc—louder, closer—shaking the ground beneath Sulla's feet. Before the echoes die out, a second detonation rips through the air. A wave of panic surges through the streets as smoke rises in thick columns from different parts of the city.
In the chaos, figures cloaked in dark robes emerge from alleys and corners. They move with purpose. One by one, they throw off their robes, revealing gleaming armour beneath, etched with sun motifs, radiant patterns, and symbols unmistakably similar to the Light Spirit people. But there are no peacekeepers.
They draw curved swords of condensed light energy, their voices unified in a fanatical cry, "For the Holy Light! Death to the infidels!"
Sulla watches, frozen, a man with a light sword in his hand wearing armour with an insignia on the armour that any people of their Light Spirit Empire would recognise, lands in his street. With a single strike, the attacker cuts down a fleeing man. Blood stains the cobblestones. A moment later, three guards rush from their posts and clash with the armoured man. Steel meets light, and the street turns into a battlefield.
Sulla recognises the style, the cry, the armour. His fists clench. The men are from the Holy Light—a terrorist cult that worships their so-called god, the Lord of Light. Their belief is absolute, their violence indiscriminate.
Rage burns in Sulla's chest. Every part of him wants to leap into the fray. But before he can move, his mother appears in the doorway, her voice tight and trembling. "What happened?"
Sulla doesn't answer. He doesn't have to.
The scene before her says everything. Smoke coils from rooftops. Sirens wail in the distance. Screams echo. Bodies lie still. The guards fight desperately just meters away.
Then her hand grips his arm, and she points toward a plume of smoke rising across the city, trembling as she speaks.
"That explosion… it looks like where your brother and sister go to school."
Hearing his mother's words, Sulla's heart skips a beat. His brother. His sister. The school. Without hesitation, he bolts from the doorway, sprinting down the street toward the rising column of smoke.
The city is in chaos. Explosions echo in the distance. Civilians scream and scatter. Fighters from the Holy Light clash with city guards in bloody confrontations. The air is thick with smoke, magic residue, and fear. Sulla weaves through the madness, past fallen bodies, some guards, some innocent, their blood pooling on the stone.
He spots a fallen guard slumped against a wall, his light prism spear still gripped in lifeless hands. Sulla stops for just a second, pries it loose, and sprints on, clutching the weapon tightly. Its prism tip glints faintly, traces of energy still humming inside.
He turns sharply, ducking into a narrow alleyway—a shortcut that should bring him closer to the school. The alley is tight, cluttered with crates and hanging wires. He forces himself through, breath sharp and fast, heart thundering.
Emerging on the other side, he halts, scanning both directions. Then, to his right, footsteps—heavy, deliberate.
A man clad in gleaming holy armour steps into view. His white-and-gold robes now cast aside, his light energy sword already drawn. His eyes lock onto Sulla, and without a word, the fanatic charges.
Sulla's grip tightens on the spear. His body shifts into stance, heart pounding not just with fear, but with resolve.
He knows this isn't training.
It's his first real fight. And he has no choice.
Sulla lunges forward, thrusting the prism-tipped spear toward the fanatic's chest. The man sidesteps, deflecting with his glowing sword, and counters with a sweeping slash. Sparks flash as metal meets metal. The two lock eyes—one a student on the cusp of manhood, the other a zealot burning with conviction.
They clash again and again in the street, blades slicing the smoke-filled air. Sulla's training kicks in, his footwork sharp, his grip steady. The prism spear hums with light energy as he channels it, shooting short bursts that force the man to dodge back.
But the attacker is skilled—his strikes measured, relentless. He moves like someone who's fought and killed before. Still, Sulla keeps up, parrying and striking, bruises forming under his uniform, muscles straining. Neither can gain the upper hand. They circle, clash, separate, then clash again, fighting amid the chaos of the burning city.
Then it happens.
A high-pitched hum cuts through the sky. A golden beam of light flashes from above. The clouds part as a massive golden eagle, wings outstretched and glowing, descends in silence.
The man steps back slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. "It's time to finish."
Sulla's instincts scream danger. He tightens his grip—but the man vanishes. In the next breath, pain blooms in the back of Sulla's head. His legs buckle. The world blurs.
Darkness takes him.
The last thing he sees is the fanatic looming above him.
The man slings Sulla over his shoulder like a sack and leaps upward with unnatural speed. The eagle swoops low, and he lands on its back, strapping himself and the unconscious boy in with practised ease. With a beat of wings, the eagle ascends into the sky.
But they are not alone.
Across the skies of Aeroc, dozens of golden eagles rise, each carrying figures in dark armour. Behind them, light-winged spirit fighters take flight, chasing them into the clouds. From both sides, spells arc across the air—beams of white and gold, streaks of blue and silver.
On the back of one eagle, the man carrying Sulla turns to cast a defensive shield. But it's too late.
Two spells from a pursuing light-winged fighter streak through the sky. One strikes the eagle's wing—feathers ignite in a burst of light. The other hits the man's back, blasting through his armour with a crackling snap.
The eagle shrieks and spirals, wings failing.
They plummet, spinning through cloud and air, vanishing into the thick forest canopy below.
Branches snap. Leaves scatter. With a thunderous crash, the eagle slams into the forest floor, kicking up dirt and broken trees.
Silence follows.
Tied to the eagle's back, Sulla and the man remain still—survivors of a fall that should've killed them.