The soft rays of dawn filtered through the stone-framed window of Arslan's room, painting the walls with a pale amber hue. Morning had come — quiet and heavy — as if the base itself knew someone was about to leave.
Arslan sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The events from last night echoed in his mind: Julius's sudden appearance with Royal Guards, the announcement of a ten-day Collaboration Training for all Echelon Knights, and the letter. The letter that only he and Kar'Thæl knew the truth of — a carefully constructed lie to ensure Arslan's departure remained unnoticed.
He dressed in silence, wearing his signature dark hoodie over reinforced combat gear, the same pale light reflecting faintly off the silver chains hanging from his belt. His expression, calm yet weighted, masked the turmoil beneath.
As he stepped into the courtyard, the buzz of conversation greeted him like a comforting tide. The 15 other Mythic-ranked Knights were gathered around breakfast tables under a stone canopy laced with flowering vines. The air smelled of roasted bread, fruit steam, and spiced tea — a scent that clung to memory like comfort in chaos.
Vaelith was joking with Ravik about who would end up carrying Tharion again during training drills. Ismere sat cross-legged, absently flipping a spoon in the air using her Blood Echo energy, while Zhalya was sketching something on the side of her mug with her nail. Everyone seemed lighter, more united than before — a result of spending days together under the same roof, bonded not just by rank, but purpose.
"Morning, Arslan!" Seris called out, waving a cup of lemon tea.
"You're late," Caelis added with a teasing smirk, "We were beginning to think you left early for Alberto."
Arslan smiled faintly and walked to join them, grabbing a cup and sitting beside Elyra and Nirela. "Just slept a little extra," he said.
Tharion grinned. "You deserve it. Starting tomorrow, the Council plans to break us."
The entire table chuckled, and even Arslan joined them this time.
Then, without warning, the iron gate creaked open.
Everyone turned.
A Royal Guard in black-and-gold armor stepped in, his voice firm and formal. "Honored Mythic Knights. The arena is prepared. If you're ready, I am to escort you to the Collaboration Training Grounds."
There was a unified clatter of chairs and mugs as everyone stood. Bags slung over shoulders. Gear was tightened. Excitement flickered in their eyes.
"Finally," said Seris Vahla, stretching her arms.
One by one, they began walking toward the open pathway that led beyond the Mythic Base.
But then Tarric turned. "Wait—Arslan isn't coming with us...?"
The group paused.
Yuna glanced back with a concerned expression. "Oh… that's right. Julius said you were being sent to Alberto."
Ravik stepped forward. "That's rough. We'll miss having you train with us."
"Same here," Caelis added, walking toward him and offering a strong handshake. "But maybe you're the lucky one. Alberto's nice this time of year."
"I heard they have hot springs," Orien said, laughing.
Arslan forced a half-smile. "I'll send you a postcard."
Laughter broke through the group again, but the mood was beginning to weigh down. The lightness was turning bittersweet.
Then, one by one, they each came to say goodbye.
Vaelith placed a firm hand on Arslan's shoulder. "Train well, wherever you are."
"I'll keep your spot in the sparring line," Tharion said, with his usual thunder-like confidence.
Ismere gave him a nod and simply said, "Don't vanish."
But it was Nirela who came last.
She approached quietly, hesitant. Her moonlit hair flowed down her back, her eyes shimmering with something deeper than just parting sadness. As she stopped in front of Arslan, the air felt still — even the others gave space, watching from a respectful distance.
"You really are going…?" she asked, voice nearly a whisper.
Arslan nodded. "It's important."
She looked down, twisting her fingers nervously, then — without thinking — stepped forward and placed her head gently against his shoulder. The world shrank to that moment. Her touch was soft, like memory, and her breath trembled against him.
"I'll miss you," she murmured.
Arslan's arms rose slowly — uncertain at first — then cradled her shoulders. He bent slightly, kissed her forehead with quiet tenderness, and whispered, "I'll miss you too… And when I come back, I want to see you stronger than me. All of you."
He glanced at the others. "So just focus on your training."
Nirela nodded against him, pulling back with watery eyes. "You take care too… have a safe journey, Arslan."
"I will."
With that, she returned to the group. The Royal Guard gave a nod, and one final wave passed among them before they turned and followed him toward the gates. Soon, the courtyard was silent again — empty, except for Arslan.
The wind rustled the vines above.
Then came the familiar voice, smooth and dark like smoldering ash.
"So… the curtain has dropped," said Kar'Thæl, materializing beside him in a shimmer of dark flames. His fiery aura curled around the space like smoke, though no one was left to notice.
Arslan didn't flinch. "They've gone. No one suspects anything."
Kar'Thæl folded his arms. "You handled it well. Especially the girl."
Arslan turned his face away. "She didn't deserve a lie."
"No one does," Kar'Thæl said, then gave a smirk. "But this is survival. And if this mission fails, a lie will be the least of their worries."
Arslan said nothing, his eyes fixed on the gate that had just closed behind his friends.
Kar'Thæl continued, stepping beside him. "It's time. The portal needs to open at a secluded location. Aerith's Spine will do."
"Aerith's Spine," Arslan repeated. "Where the first P.R.I.M.E. event took place."
"Yes," Kar'Thæl said. "The ancient foundation is still filled with raw, untouched energy. No one goes there anymore — the Council made sure of it. But its magic will let me open the path to Arcana… undetected."
Arslan nodded, pulling his cloak tighter around him as a gust of wind passed. "Then let's leave before the base sends scouts."
Kar'Thæl held up a hand. A swirling tear of red and black energy opened mid-air — a temporary path leading to the outskirts of Aerith's Spine. Light flickered inside the rift like storm lightning trapped in glass.
Together, they stepped into the portal.
The courtyard, once full of laughter and shared meals, fell still again — only the vines above swayed, whispering secrets to no one.