The Tower of Omens loomed ahead —
broken, ancient, shrouded in mist.
Once, it had been the heart of Azarath's knowledge, a spire that pierced even the heavens.
Now, it was a tomb.
Forgotten.
Feared.
The villagers whispered that none who entered returned.
Perfect, Max thought grimly.
He tightened his cloak around him and led the Seven inside.
The Tower was filled with ghosts of the past.
Old murals of battles long lost.
Ruined libraries, scrolls crumbling to dust.
Broken altars to gods no one remembered.
And at the heart of the Tower —
hidden deep within a vault sealed by seven locks —
Max found it.
A sword.
No —
The Sword.
It floated in the air above a cracked pedestal.
The blade was black as night, but veined with threads of living color —
red, green, blue, gold, white.
The five elements.
Each thread pulsed faintly, like veins carrying the blood of the world.
The hilt was wrapped in ancient silver, carved with runes that twisted when Max tried to read them.
At the pommel — a small, clear gem, within which a tiny storm swirled.
The moment Max stepped into the vault, the air changed.
The Phantoms behind him fell silent.
The whispers faded.
Only one voice remained:
Take it.
It is yours.
Talon moved to block him.
"This is wrong," Talon hissed.
"The Blade of Fivefold Dawn was never meant for one man."
Max looked at him.
"No," he agreed softly.
"It wasn't."
He stepped past Talon.
And without hesitation, without ceremony —
he reached out,
and grasped the hilt.
The world shattered.
For a single breath, Max stood between worlds —
floating in a sea of stars.
The blade pulsed in his grip, burning ice into his bones, fire into his heart, stone into his blood, wind into his soul, forest into his mind.
Each element screamed to claim him — to tear him apart —
but Max held firm.
He was no stranger to pain.
He was no stranger to being broken.
He had been broken before.
Now he would forge himself anew.
He pulled the sword free with a sound like a thunderclap.
And the Blade of Fivefold Dawn was reborn.
It sang in his hand —
a pure, clear note that cut through the silence of the Tower, through the ruins of Azarath, through the wounded sky itself.
The warriors fell to one knee instinctively, shielding their eyes.
Even Talon.
Even Aria.
Only Max stood.
Alone.
At the center of it all.
[New Weapon Acquired: Blade of Fivefold Dawn]
Passive Ability: Elemental Mastery (all five elements respond to Max's will instantly) Active Ability: Dawn Breaker (Unleash a combined strike of all five elements) Hidden Potential: ???
Max sheathed the sword across his back.
It hummed softly — not threatening, not hungry — simply there, like a second heartbeat.
He turned to the others.
Aria looked at him with awe.
Kaela with pride.
Mira with wonder.
Dante and Sylas with wary respect.
Luna with a strange, fearful hope.
And Talon... with suspicion hardening into something colder.
Later that night, under the shattered moon, Talon approached him again.
"You carry too much," Talon said quietly, his voice almost sad.
"Maybe," Max answered.
"You are not meant to bear all our burdens alone."
Max didn't respond.
Because deep down, he knew Talon was wrong.
He wasn't carrying the burdens.
The burdens were becoming part of him.
And soon, he wouldn't just be Max.
He would be the last door.
The final key.
The beginning and the end.
Far away, in the dead lands beyond Azarath, something opened its eyes.
It had no shape.
No name.
No mercy.
It had waited for the Key to awaken.
And now that it had...
The true war could begin.
[End of Chapter 7]