When the sky above Ashguard split in ribbons of golden light, the entire state stopped.
Farmers left their plows. Merchants abandoned coin stalls. Cultivators dropped to one knee as a soul-bound imperial vessel carved a slow arc across the clouds—its hull emblazoned with the sigil of the Don Empire: the twin phoenix and sun.
At the gates of Ashguard Keep, Zaxton waited in full ceremonial regalia—silver-black robes etched with constellations, his beast companion Nyx curled in shadow beside him.
The ramp descended, and Emperor Auren Don IX, now in his mid-thirties, stepped down, wearing a crownless circlet and the proud, calm strength of a ruler who had earned his throne with fire.
They embraced not as nobles—but as brothers forged in war.
> ZAXTON (bowing):
"Welcome to Ashguard, Your Radiance."
AUREN (smiling):
"It seems you've made a second empire. Good. Let the realms know: Don is far from finished."
---
A Public Declaration
That evening, beneath the Starborne Hall, Zaxton stood before thousands—citizens, envoys, and representatives from the Four Trade Pacts.
With the Emperor at his side, he raised the Ashguard Standard—a black flag with a golden arc over three stars—and fastened it beneath the Don Imperial Crest.
> ZAXTON (to the crowd):
"Ashguard is no breakaway state.
It is Don's Will made manifest.
We do not kneel, because we never left."
The message was heard across the Second Realm—and echoed back into the First.
All doubts about Don's decline vanished overnight. Where once there was only a fractured empire rising from ashes, now stood two worlds united by blood, loyalty, and fearsome power.
---
The Concord of Realms
Inside the palace, over maps and moon-brewed wine, Zaxton and Auren forged a new decree:
> The Ashguard Concordant – A pact between Don Empire and Ashguard State
Terms:
Ashguard is recognized as an official Dominion of Don, with autonomous governance.
Each year, twelve elite cultivators from Don's rising generation will train in Ashguard for ten years.
In return, Ashguard will send back instructors, spirit beasts, and formations to reinforce Don's outer cities and sectors.
A shared intelligence network, codenamed Project Starbridge, will be built between realms to monitor for realm breaches or aberrant cults.
---
The Realm Reacts
In the First Realm:
Don's prestige surged. Lesser empires sought alliance or restructured their own youth training programs.
Former rival sects sent tribute, hoping to join the training selection pool.
Hidden enemies trembled, watching the next generation of Don warriors receive Second Realm battle-forged tempering.
In the Second Realm:
The Core Territories began to whisper.
"What power is this that rules across realms?"
"Will the next Gatekeeper not be one of ours?"
"Zaxton builds empires... while we hold tournaments."
Not everyone was pleased.
But no one dared interfere.
---
Zaxton and Auren, Beneath the Stars
That night, atop the observatory tower, Auren sipped from a cold jade cup and watched the stars rotate slowly above them.
> AUREN:
"You've done more than any sword or ancestor could, Zaxton."
"You've made them believe in Don again."
ZAXTON (quietly):
"Now we just have to survive their belief."
The emperor chuckled.
> AUREN:
"You always see the storm behind the sky. That's why I chose you."
Then he pointed toward the horizon—where, faintly, another crack shimmered in the atmosphere.
> "That is why you must keep going. I'll guard the First Realm.
You carve the path forward."
Zaxton nodded.
> "Then I'll carve it deep enough for the whole Empire to follow."
A Message on the Road
The road was wide and silver-veined, paved by the Second Realm's ancient builders—intended for imperial caravans, not bloodshed.
But blood stained it anyway.
Zaxton was returning alone from a diplomatic visit to the eastern jade marshes, the stars turning over his head like a patient wheel. Nyx padded beside him in silence, her eyes glowing violet in the low mist.
They were a day from Ashguard when he felt it—spiritual pressure, frantic and sharp, like a fox cornered by wolves.
He stepped off the road and into the trees.
---
The Boy
He found them in a glade: a young cultivator, barely seventeen, staggering through mud, bloodied and panting. Four older men in Yin black-and-gold armor circled him like jackals. Their swords hummed with malevolence.
> YIN CAPTAIN:
"You think running to Ashguard will save you?"
"Your clan failed to pay tribute. You're nothing but prey."
The boy, shaking, raised a cracked talisman and a broken saber.
Zaxton emerged from the shadows like night incarnate.
> ZAXTON:
"You made a mistake."
The Yin warriors turned—and froze. That cloak, that beast, that face...
> "That's… that's Zaxton…"
But Zaxton wasn't listening. He'd stepped between the boy and the blades, placing a hand on his shoulder.
> ZAXTON (softly):
"What's your name?"
> BOY:
"Jin… Jin Sori."
> ZAXTON:
"Then watch closely, Jin Sori."
---
The Beating
Zaxton didn't unsheathe his weapon.
He didn't need to.
With one motion, he vanished—and appeared inside their formation, his fingers glowing like coals.
He struck the first man's heart meridian, then broke the second's leg with a back-kick that echoed like thunder. The third tried to flee—only to be wrapped in Nyx's ethereal jaws and dragged screaming back into the mist.
Zaxton gripped the fourth by the throat.
> ZAXTON:
"Tell your masters in the Yin Empire—
This is my mercy.
My wrath... will come later."
Then he hurled the man into the tree with enough force to shatter bark and bone alike.
---
Aftermath
Jin Sori fell to his knees, trembling.
> JIN (whispers):
"You… you saved me…"
Zaxton knelt beside him.
> ZAXTON:
"You're strong to have survived this long."
"Come to Ashguard. Train with the Gatekeepers."
The boy looked up with tears in his eyes.
> "Yes… Grandmaster Zaxton."
And so, on a moonlit road meant for emperors, a new future began—one boy's salvation, and one empire's accidental declaration of war.
Because the beaten men left behind were not just soldiers.
They were nobles.
And Zaxton had marked them.
The Boy Who Rose
Ashguard's training field was a forge.
Not of metal, but of men.
The Gatekeeper Corps were elite — drawn from the finest cultivators of the Don Empire and trained under celestial techniques Zaxton had brought from the First Realm and reshaped through battle. Most students spent years learning just to endure the first stage of training.
Jin Sori endured it in weeks.
---
The Flame That Didn't Flicker
Though still slight in frame, the boy was focused like a blade being sharpened daily. His fingers bled from calligraphy drills, his legs trembled under spiritual gravity weights, yet he never quit. Never cried.
Zaxton often watched from the shadows, unseen.
There were whispers among the recruits:
> "Why does the Grandmaster himself drop him off?"
"He came from nowhere, but the stars seem to part for him…"
"He's Zaxton's shadow."
They weren't wrong.
Zaxton would arrive in the early dark, cloak flaring behind him like a comet tail, and nod once.
Jin would bow in return, always silent, but eyes blazing with purpose.
One night, after sparring with a Second-Realm elite and winning, Jin sat beside Zaxton on the roof of the dormitories. His lip was split, his knuckles raw, but his face held peace.
> JIN:
"Am I… making you proud?"
Zaxton didn't answer right away. He looked up at the stars, voice low.
> ZAXTON:
"You walk a harder path than most. But you never falter."
"Yes. I'm proud."
Jin's throat tightened.
> JIN:
"Then… I want to say it. Just once. Even if it's too bold."
"You feel like a father to me."
Zaxton turned to him.
For a long moment, the world seemed to still.
Then he rested a hand on Jin's shoulder — firm, steady, the way mountains might offer shade.
> ZAXTON:
"Then let it be so."
"From this moment… you are my son."
---
The Seed of Legacy
Word spread quickly, though few dared speak of it openly.
The boy saved on a misty road was now heir by bond to the greatest cultivator in the First Realm's history.
But it wasn't favoritism. Jin earned every victory. Every bruise. Every chant of Gatekeeper Jin that now echoed through the Ashguard barracks.
And Zaxton — known by so many names — now held another title.
Father.