In the heart of the Eralos Province, there stood a palace unlike any other. It resembled neither the opulent palace of Cirrus, nor the Victorian halls of Terracola. No—this fortress looked as though a fragment of the future had crashed into an ancient world.
Its outer walls were made of sleek, black metal that shifted color depending on the angle of light. There were no traditional windows—only smart glass panels that opened and closed automatically, reacting to room temperature or the Emperor's will.
Blue and green neon lines pulsed along the edges of the structure, forming glowing geometric grids like the nervous system of a living palace. The gates themselves were made of adaptive steel, opening only to Makia's personal biometric signature. Above, mechanical watchtowers rotated with precision, fitted with advanced cameras and hovering drones. The "windows" were not for decoration, but transparent data screens streaming live military movements, weather patterns, and security indices.
Inside, there were no human servants—only elegant robots clad in black robes, gliding silently as they executed every task with flawless efficiency. The floors were reinforced glass lit from below, energy tubes pulsing like veins beneath the surface. At the palace's core lay the throne room—but it was not a gilded royal seat. Instead, a black metallic chair floated in midair, suspended by magnetic fields, rotating slowly at the center of a circle ringed with colossal screens broadcasting real-time intelligence.
This palace was not simply a seat of rule—it was a machine mind. The central processor of Eralos itself. Watching. Calculating. Executing.
Makia's palace was a perfect reflection of the man himself: practical, merciless, stripped of ornament. Nothing mattered but efficiency—and control.
⸻
In the throne chamber, walls of towering screens streamed live images, reports, and constantly updating maps. On the suspended throne sat Emperor Makia. His posture was rigid, his frame disciplined. A man in his fifties, with spiked brown hair streaked with gray, and amber eyes that looked carved from stone. His face bore no warmth, only the permanence of chiseled granite.
Before him, one of his generals—a cybernetic officer—bowed low and spoke in a metallic monotone.
General:
"My Lord… word has arrived of Terracola's fall. No body has been recovered… but she is assuredly gone."
At once, the surrounding screens shifted, rotating through high-resolution images of six teenagers. Each file appeared framed in glowing data grids, showing names, ages, abilities, affiliations, records of activity, and threat assessment.
⸻
File No. 400-Z
Name: Sakamoto Akio
Age: 14
Abilities: Lightning Falcon – Samurai, wielder of Sanguinis (under surveillance)
Activity: Assisted in Terracola's downfall
Origin: Born in Zetara to an unknown family
Threat Level: Dangerous
Makia (raising an eyebrow):
"Sakamoto… Akio? A lightning falcon? Interesting."
⸻
File No. 319-V
Name: Yukaji Ken
Age: 16
Abilities: Fire Falcon – Samurai of Yukaji bloodline
Activity: Slaughtered 500 of Cirrus' soldiers without mercy; assisted in Terracola's downfall
Origin: Royal Kaji family 'Yukaji' (exiled due to his father Akako's banishment)
Threat Level: Extremely Dangerous
The moment Ken's profile lit the second screen, a crooked smile spread across Makia's lips—not admiration, but venomous disdain.
Makia (low, staring at the image):
"So this is the boy who frightened you, Cirrus? A child of thirteen? Cut down five hundred of your men without blinking?"
He tilted his head, recalling the memory of those reports three years ago.
Makia (mocking, amused):
"I remember that day clearly… their reports read like sobs. 'A child sets the skies aflame! A child laughing amidst the blood!' … Hahaha… Yukaji Ken."
⸻
File No. 401-S
Name: Steve (alias)
Age: 17
Affiliation: Shadow of Valoria – Spy Division
Abilities: Hand-to-hand combat
Note: Former double agent for Terracola
Status: Unstable – suspicious – terminate if necessary
Makia's face hardened as Steve's file appeared, his amber eyes barren of emotion.
Makia (flatly):
"Steve, is it? What a pathetic name. Perhaps we should dig up your real one now…"
He leaned forward slightly, scanning.
Makia (sarcastic):
"A spy for some pitiful group calling itself the Shadows of Valoria… could they have chosen a more theatrical name? Pathetic. They think a handful of masked informants can topple empires. Parasites. Neither Cirrus' order, nor mine. They scurry behind masks, stealing scraps of intel, pretending they're heroes in the dark."
His finger tapped the screen, enlarging Steve's image.
Makia (sharply):
"This kind of insect is not to be monitored. It is to be crushed the moment it crawls too close."
⸻
File No. 402-A
Name: Sarutobi Ann
Age: 15
Abilities: Skilled ninja – user of forbidden ninjutsu
Origin: Province of Fawila
Threat Level: Moderate
Makia (dryly, with faint mockery):
"A girl? How ridiculous."
⸻
File No. 286-K
Name: Akira
Age: 20
Abilities: Werewolf – extraordinary physical strength
Origin: Formerly of Terracola – now rogue
Activity: Escaped Darkova Prison at age six; killed numerous of Makia's soldiers
Threat Level: High
Makia (narrowing his eyes):
"He must be watched—not because he's clever… but because he knows no fear. Beasts like that… you either tame them… or you put them down."
⸻
File No. 403-N
Name: Falkhart Nyoro
Age: 14
Abilities: Hybrid of fire and ice (weather manipulation) – rare Yukaji bloodline
Origin: Son of exiled Kaji princess Amisa
Threat Level: Stable – Limited
Makia:
"Yukaji blood… again. That family's curse keeps spreading like rot. But weather… that isn't just a flashy trick. If he ever gains full control, he could reshape the very land itself."
He glanced again at the classification stamped beneath the boy's profile: 'Status: Stable – Limited Threat.' A cruel chuckle left his throat.
Makia:
"Limited threat? That kind of miscalculation is what topples empires. It's always the children we underestimate… who drive the knife into our backs first."
With a flick of his finger, Makia shut off the screen, his face as cold as steel.
Makia:
"I'll start with him first."
⸻
[Zetara Empire – Outside Vanko's Home]
The gray Zetarian sky let thin rays of sunlight pierce through drifting clouds. In the small garden, the Hexarith carriage was prepared—bags packed, food containers, and water flasks neatly stowed. Everyone gathered by the gate, ready to depart.
Koto stood near the doorway, her long coat draped over her shoulders, a small satchel resting against her side.
Koto (calmly, as always):
"Listen, everyone… I've already stayed longer than I should. If I don't return to Fawila today, I'll lose my post."
Akio:
"Oh… so you mean you're leaving us now?"
Suddenly, the pendant around Koto's neck began to vibrate, glowing faintly with a violet shimmer. Everyone's attention snapped toward it.
Akio (staring):
"That's… a summons, isn't it?"
Koto (opening the pendant, scanning the magical message):
"It's from Yoko… my sister. A direct call. It seems things over there are unstable."
She extended her hand, calmly weaving open a small portal of violet light before her. Taking a single step toward it, she paused and turned back.
Koto:
"Take care of yourselves… don't die on the road."
Ann (softly, with faint sadness):
"Koto-chan… I'll miss you."
Koto (with a gentle smile):
"And I, you… Farewell."
With that, she stepped into the portal, her figure fading into the glow as the gateway sealed shut.
Moments later, Murasaki emerged from the house in her kimono, carrying a leather bag.
Murasaki:
"School started half an hour ago. If I'm lucky, they won't expel me for missing my exam!"
Akio (calling out, full of energy):
"Take care, sis! We're off to another adventure!"
Murasaki (quick smile as she hurries off):
"And you—try not to get yourself killed, idiot!"
She waved once, then ran down the street toward school.
Now only Ken, Akio, Steve, Ann, Akira, and Nyoro remained, standing before the stolen black Hexarith carriage.
Akio (throwing out his arms with enthusiasm):
"So! How about we head to the mountains outside Zetara? A perfect, quiet place for training."
Nyoro (scratching his head):
"Mountains, huh? I hope they're cold enough… the city air is choking me."
Ken (quietly, boarding the carriage):
"As long as it keeps us far from the cities… then fine."
Everyone climbed aboard. Akio took the driver's seat as usual, gripping the reins with a grin as the Hexarith rolled slowly onto the winding stone road toward higher ground. The further they traveled, the thicker the forests grew, the lonelier the path became. Hills rose, rocks loomed, and mist began to seep between the trees.
Nyoro (gazing out the window):
"Smell that? Rain and frost in the air. Perfect weather to try out a new technique… or freeze to death."
Akira (laughing):
"Don't worry. If you freeze, I'll make an art piece out of you. A fine ice statue. I'll even carve an inscription: Here lies Nyoro—died with a cold smile."
Ken sat silently by the window, eyes following raindrops sliding down the glass. But he wasn't admiring the view like the others—his mind was elsewhere.
Suddenly, an image flashed through his memory: Commander Latyno, summoning a water dragon inside Terracola's palace. Ken's chest burned faintly as his own fire responded to the thought. He opened his eyes slowly, held out his left palm… and conjured a small flame, staring at it.
Ken (whispering):
"A fire dragon… Will I ever create you?"
Steve sat beside him, quiet as always, but noticed the flicker dancing in Ken's hand—and the reflection in his gray eyes. He realized this wasn't play… Ken was serious.
Steve (low voice):
"Training? Or another philosophical meditation about the meaning of burning?"
Ken calmly closed his fist, extinguishing the flame, and tilted his head slightly toward Steve without looking at him.
Ken:
"Do you remember that commander in Darkova? When he unleashed the water dragon?"
Steve (nodding grimly):
"How could I forget? Nearly drowned us in that cursed palace…"
Ken (glancing at his palm again):
"Since that day, I've been thinking. I wield fire… but I don't use it as I should. I fight, burn, destroy… but what if I gave it form? What if I gave it spirit? What if I forged from my flames… a dragon?"
Steve (thoughtful):
"A living construct of flame… Complex. Full control would demand near-perfect consciousness. That's the kind of thing only lunatics or geniuses pull off."
Ken (quiet certainty):
"I know. That's why I'll train in the mountains."
The carriage rattled on in silence, wheels grinding against wet stone, rain pattering heavier overhead. Akio squinted into the fog as he steered.
Catching fragments of their talk, he suddenly shouted over his shoulder, full of excitement:
Akio:
"A fire dragon? That's insane… But listen to my idea!"
Everyone looked up in curiosity. Akio thrust his right hand into the air, pointing dramatically.
Akio:
"I want to call lightning… not from my hand, but from the sky itself! I'll lift my arm, send a pulse, and then—BOOM! A thunderbolt descends from above, as if the storm itself obeyed me!"
Akira (raising a brow):
"Planning to pick a fight with thunderstorms now?"
Akio (grinning wide):
"I'm not joking! I am lightning. Storms can't kill me—I was born from them!"
Nyoro (lazily stretching):
"Terrifyingly… that makes sense."
Akira (deadpan, smirking):
"Wonderful. Forget umbrellas—we'll need protection from Akio instead of the rain."
For once, Akira grew quiet after his own joke, staring at the ceiling with an expression that carried something new.
Akira (low, but clear):
"You know… this is the first time… I've ever felt like I have something close to comrades."
The chatter stopped. Everyone looked at him—but no one interrupted.
Akira (eyes forward, tone honest):
"I spent my life pretending I didn't need anyone. Thought I could survive alone. I laughed, fought, ran from everything. But in Terracola's palace… when the walls fell and darkness closed in… I realized something."
He lowered his head, then lifted it again, voice steadier now.
Akira:
"I would have died there… not because I was weak—but because I was alone. For the first time… I felt like someone was fighting for me. That's why… I don't think you're just battle partners anymore."
Silence. Then he turned toward the window.
Akira:
"Maybe I sound like a fool saying this… but at least I won't regret saying it."
Ken (calm, watching the road):
"We're not here to judge words… only whether they're true."
Akio (grinning, teasing):
"Oh-ho! Akira just confessed he loves us! Historic moment—I should record this in my diary."
Steve (smirking faintly):
"Better start getting used to him being sentimental."
Nyoro (lazily waving a hand):
"Careful… the wolf's turning into a house pet."
Laughter broke out—even Akira himself chuckled quietly, though he said nothing more, just smiled faintly at the road ahead. Deep inside, for the first time, he felt something warm. Something close to safety.
That simple moment was his first real admission: he was no longer alone.
⸻
As the Hexarith climbed into the foggy mountains, rain thickened into a downpour. Water hammered the carriage roof so hard it drowned out their voices, and visibility collapsed to nothing.
Akio (squinting, steering slowly):
"Damn it… I can't see! The road's literally vanishing under water!"
Steve (glancing out the side window):
"At this rate we'll slide off the cliffs before we arrive."
Ken (quietly, sensing the air):
"Stop for a moment… this weather isn't natural."
Nyoro stirred, stretching like a cat waking from a nap.
Nyoro (calmly, almost lazily):
"Leave it to me… I don't like my shoes getting wet."
He rose inside the carriage, slid open a window, and extended his right hand into the storm. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. The air pressure shifted instantly, as if the mountains themselves exhaled. His body cooled, merging ice and heat into a subtle fusion.
And then—
Around the carriage, the rain simply… stopped. Droplets froze midair above their heads, hanging like glass pearls before melting harmlessly away. Beyond their small sphere, the storm still raged—but within Nyoro's radius, calm reigned, a dry bubble of silence in the chaos.
Akio (staring in awe):
"Whoa… that's incredible!!"
Nyoro (sitting back down, hands folded behind his head):
"Just tell me when training's over… then I'll close the umbrella."
Akira (with a sly grin):
"From now on… we call you Nyoro, Lord of the Weather."
And so, the Hexarith pressed on—shielded by Nyoro's quiet dominion, carried forward in that strange harmony of fire and frost.
To be continued…