The wind howled across the high ridges of Aerith's Spine, whistling through the jagged canyons and whispering ancient secrets into the ears of those brave enough to listen. It was early morning, but the sunlight couldn't quite reach the stone where Arslan stood—thick clouds draped the sky like a mourning veil, casting the world in cold hues of blue and silver.
He stood quietly, his dark cloak fluttering behind him in the breeze, his black, messy hair rustling like shadows against his forehead. His eyes, calm yet tired, stared across the vast plateau where once the monumental P.R.I.M.E. event had taken place. Now it lay silent, an echoing chamber of ghosts, wind, and legacy.
Beside him, the flames of another presence ignited into existence. Without footsteps, without formality, Kar'Thæl materialized—his demonic energy sizzling faintly in the cool morning air. Eyes like molten rubies glowed with otherworldly brilliance, and the curled black horns atop his head shimmered faintly as he crossed his arms.
> "So," Kar'Thæl spoke, his voice low and crackling like fire licked over stone, "this is where it all began… and where we now open a new chapter."
Arslan's reply was a soft nod. He stepped forward, his boots crunching faintly on scattered pebbles as he looked out over the old arena ruins. Every inch of the ground beneath them still held the memory of cheering crowds, of fierce battles, of lives changed and broken under the weight of awakening powers.
> "King's letter… it confirms what we suspected," Arslan said, his voice quiet but resolute. "Everyone thinks I've gone to Alberto. No questions. No attention. That means we can move freely."
Kar'Thæl smirked, his long black coat whipping like flame behind him.
> "A clever maneuver by the King," he said. "He knows the stakes. He knows how important you are. And now… the path is ours to carve."
The clouds above stirred, shifting in anticipation, as though the world itself braced for what would come next.
Kar'Thæl turned to face Arslan fully, and then slowly reached beneath his coat. From a sheath hidden along his waist, he drew out an ancient key which they found from Arslan's father office—a strange relic made of swirling black metal entwined with glowing blue runes. It pulsed gently in his palm, as though alive.
Arslan's eyes narrowed, recognizing its power instantly.
> "That's the Dimensional Key…" he murmured.
> "Yes," Kar'Thæl replied. "Forged in the Eternal Fold in Arcana… bonded with both our essences. Now, it answers."
Kar'Thæl raised the key high, and the wind stopped.
Not slowed. Not faded.
Stopped.
Time seemed to freeze around them, as if the very act of lifting the key tore through the veil between moments.
Kar'Thæl's voice thundered out with incantational weight:
> "Portal Dimension: Earth to Sun land of Arcana."
The words rang like a hammer against a bell—deep, resonant, echoing through the empty arena. And then… silence.
For a breath.
For two.
Then, the key began to glow.
A soft, silver light bled from its edge first—trembling like moonlight on water. Then the runes along its spine pulsed, one by one, from the base to the head. Each pulse brighter than the last.
Suddenly, a blue circle formed in the air before them—shimmering and spinning, its edges traced with celestial glyphs and flickering lines of dimensional code. It grew rapidly, expanding in diameter like a breath being drawn in by the universe itself.
> "It's responding," Kar'Thæl whispered, his eyes gleaming.
Arslan's cloak rippled behind him as the wind rushed back in, drawn toward the forming portal.
Then—clink.
The key, now glowing fiercely, shot forward and embedded itself into an invisible lock on the side of the dimensional ring. A faint hum pulsed outwards, vibrating in their bones.
Suddenly—
BOOM.
With a blast of light and a whooshing inhale of energy, the portal snapped open.
It hovered in the air, a swirling vortex of deep blue and shifting stardust, its surface shimmering like liquid glass. Through it, one could see… nothing clearly. Only movement. Color. Light. And a whisper of something immense beyond comprehension.
The portal to Arcana had opened.
The world held its breath.
Arslan took a step forward, eyes locked on the veil before him. His reflection blinked back at him in the swirling energy—then vanished, overtaken by shadows and stars.
> "So this is it," he said quietly. "No going back."
Kar'Thæl stood beside him, his smirk replaced by something almost reverent.
> "We step into a realm untouched by time. Arcana is not just a place—it's the forgotten bloodline of all power. It breathes, it watches. It's alive."
Arslan looked to him, his voice serious.
> "Do you think we're ready?"
> "We don't have the luxury of doubt," Kar'Thæl replied. "Arcana calls to us… and what we seek lies within its depths. If we hesitate, we fall. If we fear, we lose."
Arslan exhaled deeply, nodding.
> "Then let's make this count."
He took one final look back at the silent arena—the empty stands, the faded sand, the sky that bore witness to so many firsts.
His heart ached softly.
He thought of Nirela's voice, tearful and warm. He remembered her head on his shoulder, her whispered "I'll miss you…" He remembered the firelight in the courtyard, the laughter of the other Mythics, the smell of bread and spiced stew on the morning wind.
But he had already said his goodbye.
Now was not the time for longing. Now was the time for legacy.
> "Let's go," he said.
And with a surge of wind and flame, Arslan and Kar'Thæl stepped into the portal.
The blue energy wrapped around them like ribbons of starlight, the hum turning into a low roar as their bodies were pulled through the dimensional gap. The world behind them blurred and vanished—and ahead, the secrets of Arcana awaited.
Just before the portal sealed behind them, a final flicker of the key glowed in the lock, as if to salute the courage of the ones who dared to enter.
And then—silence.
Aerith's Spine stood empty once again.
But the world had already changed.