The cheers still echoed across the Derngian Empire when a ripple of white light swept over the battlefield.
A circular crest appeared beneath Damian's feet, spreading outward like a glowing seal. Denis and Newt looked down as the symbol enveloped them too.
Damian exhaled quietly. "They're summoning us already?"
Denis lifted a brow. "Didn't expect it to be this fast."
Newt shrugged. "We did slaughter the hydra."
The light flashed then the trio disappeared.
—
They reappeared inside a vast chamber, one of the highest halls in the Empire. Voices clashed wildly from every corner.
All of participants, some vibrant, some exhausted, some bragging loudly filled the room.
Armored boots echoed over polished stone. Magic sparks flared occasionally as arguments ignited. The air was thick with tension and noise.
It was chaos.
Pure ruckus.
Damian didn't seem fazed. He adjusted the collar of his dark coat and stepped forward as if the noise didn't exist.
Eyes turned toward him immediately.
Whispers followed.
"That's the cold non chalant wonder Damian who cut the Hydra."
"He finished it alone and didn't even use his full power."
"Is he even human?"
Damian ignored all of it as though expected and continued straight through the crowd.
Someone stepped into his path...Louise, one of the elite fighters from the western district. Her armor was still dented from her battle, but her posture remained sharp.
"Well done," Louise said, crossing her arms with a proud smirk. "The Hydra… that was impressive."
Damian stopped. His expression softened just slightly. "You fought well too."
Louise chuckled. "Not well enough to slice a monster like that in half."
"You did what you needed," he replied simply. "That's enough."
She blinked, then smirked again. "Still as modest as always."
Damian nodded once before continuing on.
But another figure stormed forward the moment he passed, his footsteps loud and aggressive.
Adonis.
Broad-shouldered, silver-eyed, brimming with pride that often crossed into arrogance. His cloak swung behind him as he walked, chin high.
"Damian!"
The hall quieted slightly around them.
Damian paused.
Adonis stepped closer, eyes sharp with irritation. "Don't think for a second that defeating the Hydra puts you above the rest of us."
Damian tilted his head. "You sound upset."
"I'm not upset," Adonis snapped. "I just don't like seeing someone praised more than they deserve."
Newt leaned toward Denis. "He's definitely upset."
Denis nodded. "One hundred percent."
Adonis glared at them, then returned his attention to Damian. "If I had been there earlier, I would've handled it. You just—"
Damian suddenly laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
Just a quiet, amused laugh.
It stunned the entire nearby crowd.
Adonis stiffened. "You… you're laughing?"
"You're not worth the while," Damian replied calmly. "Let the Hydra talk stay with those who actually fought."
The room reacted instantly some gasped, others snickered, a few outright laughed.
Adonis' face tightened with frustration, but before he could react further
A presence descended upon the hall.
The noise dropped.
Even the sparks of magic from bickering participants froze mid-air.
Because Aaric had appeared.
He did not arrive with a loud entrance. He simply walked through the main doors, hands behind his back, the faintest glimmer of power surrounding him.
A leader's aura.
A natural command.
All eyes shifted.
Aaric scanned the room once, noticing Damian and Adonis standing across from each other. He approached calmly.
"Well done," Aaric said, stopping before the trio. "All of you."
Damian inclined his head slightly. Denis saluted in respect. Newt nudged Damian with a smirk, whispering, "Look at you, getting special praise."
Aaric turned to the entire hall.
"Your battles have been broadcast across the empire," he announced. "Every district, every household, every citizen has seen your courage."
A roar erupted cheers from the participants, applause pounding through the raftered ceiling.
Aaric raised his hand.
The cheering faded.
"It is only the beginning."
A glowing sigil appeared beneath everyone's feet.
The air shimmered.
Participants straightened, gripping weapons or adjusting cloaks.
Aaric spoke again, voice echoing with authority:
"Prepare yourselves."
Light enveloped the room and the entire group began to rise.
---
Light surged upward like a vertical wave, engulfing every participant in the Great Hall. Their surroundings dissolved into streams of white, then reformed into a colossal open space where sound erupted instantly.
A thunderous roar.
A sea of cheers.
The trio, along with the hundreds of other fighters, appeared at the center of the Grand Derngian Arena the biggest stadium in the entire union of empires.
The arena stretched wider than a city square, its stone foundations carved with luminescent runes. Massive banners displaying the emblem of Derngian fluttered above them.
But none of that compared to the crowd.
Hundreds of thousands of civilians filled the towering stands, layer upon layer of spectators, every seat occupied. Their cheers rolled like waves, crashing down upon the arena floor.
"DAMIAN!"...."LOGAN!"....."AKIRA!"....."ADONIS!"
"THE DISASTER DUO BAYLE AND VENUS!"
"THE HYDRA SLAYER!"
Voices overlapped, echoing through the open sky. Flags waved. Magic fireworks burst into bright symbols. The entire empire's spirit shook the very foundation of the arena.
Even Damian paused at the overwhelming sound.
Newt elbowed him with a grin. "They're screaming your name like you're their ruler."
Denis smirked. "Don't let it go to your head."
Damian answered with a small, quiet sigh. "It's… a bit loud."
The other participants glanced around some excited, others tense, a few embarrassed by the overwhelming praise.
Louise stood proudly, arms crossed, while Adonis tried to maintain composure despite the ever-present whispers comparing him to Damian.
High above, a platform extended from the imperial balcony. From it, golden lights descended, forming a circular podium.
Aaric stepped forward onto the balcony's center.
The entire arena fell silent almost instantly.
Aaric raised one hand, letting the energy of the crowd settle.
Then his voice;strong, clear, carrying authority swept across the massive stadium.
"Warriors of Derngian!"
The crowd erupted again.
Aaric continued.
"Today, you have demonstrated what makes our empire the pillar of the Southern Union; courage, skill, and loyalty!"
A new wave of cheers.
Newt nudged Denis. "I like this speech so far."
Denis nodded. "He knows how to hype a crowd."
Aaric's tone shifted, still commanding, but heavier with importance.
"But this is not the end."
Silence fell again, thick with anticipation.
Across the arena, faces tightened, participants, civilians, even the guards felt the weight in his voice.
Aaric spoke:
"Reports have reached us. The Southern Empires are facing devastation."
Gasps shook the stands.
Whispers rippled like a quiet storm.
"Their cities are being attacked by unknown forces. Their walls crumble. Their warriors fall. Havoc spreads across every border."
The stadium fell completely silent.
Even Damian's expression sharpened.
Aaric exhaled once, then raised his voice to the highest strength.
"And as the head of the Union, the Derngian Empire will not stand by!"
The arena ignited with roaring support.
"We will aid them. We will defend them. We will restore balance to the South!"
Aaric lifted his hand, and glowing symbols formed behind him representing squads, formations, and ranks.
"Tomorrow, after a brief council meeting with the Derngian High Council, I will announce the new squads that will be dispatched across the Southern territories."
Every participant straightened, breath held.
"And I will name the captains who will lead them."
The crowd roared so loudly the entire stadium shuddered.
Newt whistled. "This is going to change everything."
Denis nodded. "This is bigger than a monster hunt."
Damian stood calmly, his gaze focused not on the crowd, not on Aaric, but on the future battles hinted in the announcement.
Aaric gestured to the competitors below.
"You, the chosen combatants of the Derngian Trials, have proven your worth. Many of you will form the frontline defense for the entire Southern Union!"
The crowd's chants began again, this time louder, deeper, a rhythmic pounding like thunder:
"DERNGIAN! DERNGIAN! DERNGIAN!"
Flags whipped through the air.
Fireworks burst.
Children waved banners with Damian's silhouette drawn dramatically.
The chants grew louder, mixing with new ones:
"DAMIAN!"
"HYDRA SLAYER!"
"TRIO! TRIO! TRIO!"
Damian closed his eyes briefly, letting the noise wash over him. Newt leaned on his shoulder jokingly.
"Relax. They're just impressed you carved a monster like a cake."
Damian half-smiled. "I don't think that's the comparison I'd choose."
Denis chuckled softly.
At the top of the balcony, Aaric declared:
"Prepare yourselves. Tomorrow begins a new era. The Southern Union will rise and you will be the blade that leads the way!"
The arena thundered with approval.
Damian lifted his gaze from the arena floor to Aaric.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Aaric gave him a single nod, a reassuring acknowledgment, approval, expectation.
Damian responded with a nod of his own.
The lights dimmed.
The chants rose even higher, echoing into the night sky, becoming a single overwhelming wave of unity and excitement.
"DERNGIAN!"
"DERNGIAN!"
"DERNGIAN!"
The trio stood together at the center of the greatest arena in the empire, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of citizens, and they understood:
The battle with the Hydra was only the beginning.
The real war was coming.
---
The air inside the enclosed region was so thick with power that it felt like fog made of pure pressure.
Ancient pillars of blackened stone twisted into spirals, glowing faintly with runes that pulsed like slow heartbeats.
At the very center of this immense chamber rose a throne wide, sharp-edged, and carved from a single monolith of shadowed marble that looked like it had been pulled out of the earth by an angry god.
Upon this throne sat Master Rahma.
He wore a calm expression, hands loosely resting on the cold armrests, robes flowing down like liquid night.
His eyes were not the eyes of a man, they were crystalline, reflecting countless fragments of visions and futures that only he could interpret.
Power coiled around him in lazy currents, like invisible serpents waiting for their master's whisper.
Around the throne stood six figures, spaced evenly in a perfect hexagonal formation. Each radiated an aura distinct from the others:
Gloxina, with her shimmering emerald armor, vines crawling silently around her gauntlets.
Karlos, tall and broad, skin hardened like obsidian plates.
Melpha, slender and unreadable, her hood concealing silver eyes that glowed like dying stars.
Pyxus, cloaked in shifting shadows, expression flickering between apathy and amusement.
Troy, carrying a spear that hummed with kinetic energy, runes crawling along its haft.
Nox, the quietest of them all, yet the air around him felt thin and dangerous, as though light itself avoided him.
They were Rahma's elite. His blades. His silent storms.
A ripple formed at the center of the chamber, sharp, clean, and bright.
Ness appeared.
A warp of violet light folded into itself, and Ness stepped out of it, boots cracking the stone beneath him.
He held a crystalline sphere in his left hand, swirling with a trapped energy that thrashed violently inside, searching for escape. His posture was relaxed, but his grin was predatory.
Rahma's eyes softened with satisfaction.
"So," he said, voice flowing like velvet across the room, "you have returned."
Ness knelt, placing a hand over his chest in a gesture of allegiance or mock allegiance, depending on the day. But today, there was genuine pride in the bow of his head.
"I bring the crystal as you commanded."
Gloxina's vines twitched. Pyxus tilted his head. Even Nox's expression shifted slightly, though it was impossible to say whether it was interest or calculation.
Rahma extended a finger. The crystal tore itself out of Ness's grip and floated upward, spiraling slowly until it hovered just in front of Rahma's face.
He inspected it, the reflections in his eyes multiplying and twisting.
"Beautiful work, Ness," he said. "You did what the others could not."
That statement alone caused a ripple among the other elite paladins. Troy's fingers tightened around his spear. Karlos' jaw flexed. No one spoke, but every one of them felt the insult.
Ness smirked.
He enjoyed that.
Rahma lowered the crystal gently, letting it float beside his throne like a loyal pet. Then he leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"Get some rest, our next target," he said slowly, "is Otrin."
A cold silence swallowed the chamber.
"We will conquer it," he continued. "And obtain their crystal. Where my other allies failed… we all will succeed."
Gloxina folded her arms. "The Otrin empire are fierce most especially the punishers and they will not fall easily."
"No," Rahma agreed. "But Ness does not need them to fall easily. He only needs them to fall."
He smiled faintly.
"And he will."
The shadows pulsed around the throne like a heartbeat signaling the start of a storm.
---
The Derngian Council Hall was built like a coliseum of intellect and authority, wide, circular, and tiered with ascending rows of stone benches polished to a royal sheen.
The walls rose high into a dome engraved with the history of the empire: wars won, alliances forged, catastrophes survived.
Chandeliers of suspended crystal drifted in the air without strings, illuminating the chamber in a soft gold glow.
Today, every seat was filled.
Thirty-two ministers, each regarded as the most influential minds and hands of the empire sat in formal arrangement around the central podium.
Advisors whispered. Assistants hovered at the edges. And all eyes pointed toward the single elevated seat at the far end of the hall.
The seat of the Sorcerer Supreme.
Aaric sat there, composed yet radiating the kind of calm that could silence an army. His robes shimmered subtly with shifting sigils, each representing one of the core elements of the empire's spiritual foundation.
Every time he breathed, those sigils flickered faintly, as though reacting to the flow of magic in the room.
A deep gong sounded through the hall.
The meeting began.
A holographic sheet, thin as mist but glowing bright, floated above the central podium.
Names appeared on it, each one accompanied by a burst of light that revealed their current ranking in the results of the Derngian Trial.
The first names to blaze into existence were Adonis, Louise, Travis, Rico, and Rala.
They shined with a brilliance that drew murmurs from the ministers.
"Expected," one whispered.
"Louise's performance in the battle sector was unprecedented."
"Adonis nearly broke the obsidian trial gates"
"And Rala's maneuver during the collapsing ridge…"
Praise, excitement, small arguments, all erupted almost immediately.
Some ministers objected.
Some defended.
Some complained loudly that the evaluation was rushed.
Others argued that it was too lenient.
Aaric listened without interrupting. His gaze remained fixed on the floating list as it continued to update, new names shimmering into place.
One by one, the rankings began to stabilize.
Then came the first voting sequence.
A smaller panel appeared beside the list, showing the candidate Ranold's profile.
His achievements flashed beside his name: exceptional command skill, advanced barrier mastery, field leadership above expectations.
The ministers cast their votes.
Bright dots of light flew from their seats and merged into a tally above the room.
28 votes.
Out of 32 ministers present.
A wave of reaction rolled through the hall.
"That many?"
"He deserves it."
"He's steady,reliable."
"And he showed remarkable leadership during the chaotic beast surge."
"Yes… Ranold is a good choice."
Aaric nodded once. The panel marked Ranold with a gold frame. His name rose slightly on the floating list, glowing more boldly than before.
Minutes passed.
More votes.
More discussions.
More arguments and compromised agreements.
Then it happened.
Another set of names rose with powerful, unmistakable shine:
Venus.
Bayle.
Akira.
The hall stirred. These were not just skilled participants,they were remarkable. Spectators of the Trial still spoke about Akira's sound burst that had shattered the double headed serpent.
Bayle's speed had been the subject of half the empire's gossip networks.
Venus, though silent and reserved, had displayed tactical brilliance well beyond her years.
Their names glowed fiercely on the floating screen, and ministers leaned forward to watch the tallies rise.
A few disagreements flared, but the votes were decisive. All three earned bold frames as well.
Then Lugard one of the elder ministers, rose slowly from his seat. His voice, though aged, carried the authority of decades of service.
"What of Delsia?" he asked.
A hush fell.
"She showed remarkable talent," Lugard continued. "And she is of royal blood."
Murmurs broke out instantly.
"Yes, she was excellent"
"Royal lineage must be considered"
"Her performance in the vortex sector was outstanding!"
The vote came.
A brilliant flare of white light surged upward.
30 votes.
Nearly unanimous.
Even the usually neutral ministers nodded in approval as Delsia's name solidified in the floating list, glowing elegantly.
One by one, the debates tapered off.
One by one, the ministers settled back into silence.
At last, the floating panel began to shift.
The names crowded together at the center of the enormous screen and then parted.
Revealing a new set of names emerging slowly, with authority so palpable that even the most talkative ministers fell quiet.
The captains were about to be revealed.
--
The silence inside the Council Hall grew so heavy that even the drifting chandeliers seemed to pause.
Every minister leaned forward. Assistants froze in place. Not a single voice dared interrupt the moment.
The floating sheet of light at the center of the chamber stretched wider, its glow deepening from gold to radiant white.
Then, one by one, symbols appeared, old runes of authority that only the highest-ranking commanders had ever been permitted to bear.
Aaric placed a hand over his heart and whispered a binding incantation. A ripple of energy surged upward, activating the final stage of the evaluation.
The chamber darkened.
A single beam of pure white dropped from the ceiling, illuminating the list.
And then the names emerged.
Each captain's name appeared in bold strokes of light, larger, sharper, and more vivid than any of the previous candidates. The ministers watched, lips parting in awe.
When the final name locked into place, the beam of light shattered into a thousand sparks, drifting like embers through the darkened chamber.
The room remained silent for a full heartbeat.
Only then did Aaric rise from his throne and address them.
"The selections," he said calmly, "are complete."
The sparks settled onto the stone floor and faded away. Slowly, the lights returned to the hall, and the ministers finally breathed again.
But the weight of the moment lingered.
These captains would shape the coming war.
These captains would lead the squads that defended not only the Derngian Empire, but the entire southern alliance.
And beyond these walls, forces were already moving.
Rahma and his elites.
Ness with his next objective.
Otrin standing unknowingly in the path of conquest.
The storm was beginning.
---
Meanwhile, back in the Throne Chamber of Rahma
As the Council finished their decisions, the world far from Derngian simmered under a different type of silence.
Rahma leaned back on his obsidian throne, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest.
The crystal Ness had retrieved hovered beside him, glowing with a pulse that matched the heartbeat of the chamber.
"The Derngian Council will make their choices today," Rahma murmured.
Nox tilted his head. "Will they matter?"
"Oh, yes," Rahma replied with a faint smile. "Their captains… their chosen… they will matter very much."
Gloxina stepped forward. "Then the clash is inevitable."
"Inevitable," Rahma echoed softly. "But predictable."
He lifted a hand and made a slow swirling gesture.
Another crystal, larger, dimmer, and filled with smoky light rose from a hidden compartment beneath the throne.
"Soon, Otrin's crystal will join them," Rahma continued. "And the balance of the southern empires will shift."
Ness grinned.
"I'll handle it."
"I know," Rahma said. "That is why I am sending you."
Pyxus's shadows flickered around him. "And us?"
Rahma gazed at his seven present elites, eyes glowing faintly.
"All of you," he said, "will be needed when the tide rises."
The room pulsed with tension.
A war was coming, silent for now, but inevitable.
---
One last whisper drifted across the enormous hall as the ministers rose from their seats.
"May the captains lead us well," Lugard murmured.
"May they be strong enough," replied another.
Aaric remained standing at his elevated seat, watching the final sparks of the projection fade.
His gaze was sharp. Focused.
Understanding far more than he let the ministers see.
He knew the danger.
He felt the shift in the air.
He sensed the rising conflict that loomed just beyond the horizon.
And though no one else in the hall realized it, a faint crackle of magic lifted at the tips of his fingers, an unconscious reaction to a threat he could not yet name.
But soon.
Soon, the captains' names would be announced to the empire.
Soon, the chosen squads would be revealed.
And soon, the Derngian Empire would begin preparing for the storm that had already begun moving toward them.