The gates of the Mythral Dawn estate swung open with familiar weight.
Even after months away and countless battles since, Takayoshi—or rather, Alter beneath the veil—felt something subtle shift in his chest.
The sprawling front garden was still dotted with pristine white stones.
The banners overhead still fluttered with the crest of the wolf-sun emblem. The scent of grilled meat, polished wood, and faint alchemical incense hung in the breeze.
Voices echoed from within the main hall—laughter, footsteps, excited chatter about divine blessings and unfathomable punches.
Alter stood quietly at the edge of the courtyard, his cloth-wrapped hands tucked behind his back as he took it all in.
The estate had not changed.
Not much, anyway.
"Still the same walls. Same damn squeaky gate hinge. Same weight in the air."
His gaze swept over the tiled rooftop, the vine-lined stone path, the windows of the western wing where sunlight used to filter through onto a certain desk.
"Even now… it feels like I'm the one out of place."
He exhaled slowly.
Then smiled.
Just a little.
That night, the celebration began.
The grand hall was packed wall to wall with noise, food, and divine chaos. Someone had summoned ethereal floating jellyfish-lanterns (probably Mira), and Garran was in the corner using his fire magic to grill skewers midair while Thorne kept knocking over trays of mead with his shoulder plates.
A small orchestra of summoned spirit-bards played dramatic dinner music entirely too epic for the buffet line.
But the real spotlight?
Takayoshi.
Seated at a long banquet table like an accidental war hero who hadn't agreed to be famous.
Selene sat two seats away, sipping from a tall crystal glass, eyes frequently—coincidentally—glancing his way.
Revyn, practically upside-down in a chair, pointed toward Takayoshi's wolf mask.
"Alright, now that we've fed you, you owe us something."
Takayoshi, not missing a beat:
"...A receipt?"
Mira, leaning over with dangerous sparkle-eyes:
"Your face."
Garran, already grinning:
"That's right. Let the man behind the mask be known!"
Sorei, flatly:
"We're literally giving out blessings. It's weird if we don't know what his nose looks like."
Takayoshi paused.
Truthfully, he had already anticipated this moment. So, he did what any mildly over-prepared, possibly divine-tier martial artist in disguise would do.
He had already changed his face.
Just in case.
Slowly, he raised a hand and unclasped the side buckle of his mask.
The room hushed.
The mask dropped onto the table with a quiet thunk.
And there he was.
A man in his early twenties. Smooth skin. Clean-shaven. High cheekbones. Sharp, sword-like eyebrows. A perfect symmetry that looked less like a warrior and more like a K-drama lead who just happened to moonlight as a one-man dungeon-clearing catastrophe.
Silence.
Then—
Mira gasped so hard her drink backfired.
Ilyra covered her mouth.
Veyna, from across the hall:
"Who let him look like that?!"
Revyn, squinting:
"Wait. Wait wait wait. That's illegal."
Someone leaned in, a soft, slightly trembling voice.
"S-So… if you don't mind us asking... how old are you?"
Takayoshi blinked once.
"Thirty-one."
Time stopped.
Mira's eyes widened to the size of dessert platters.
Garran dropped a grilled mushroom.
Caelum flew into a support beam.
Thorne spilled mead down his beard and didn't notice.
Ilyra, flustered:
"You're THIRTY-ONE?!"
Veyna, clutching her head:
"He looks TWENTY!"
Mira, in full heart-eyed-mode:
"What serum do you bathe in?!"
Sorei, suddenly invested:
"What moisturizer? Be honest. Is it enchanted?"
Selene, watching all of this with a bemused, very high-elven expression, leaned to the side.
"You all realize age means nothing to me, yes?"
She blinked.
"I stopped aging before your grandparents were born."
Mira, eyes still fixed on Takayoshi:
"Yeah but this is different, Selene! This is human sorcery!"
Revyn, dryly:
"It's worse. He fights like a seventy-year-old monk, looks like a prince, and punches things like a demigod with marital issues."
Takayoshi sighed and took a quiet bite of sweet-fried radish.
"I drink water. I sleep early. I don't use fire magic on my face."
Garran, scandalized:
"Was that an indirect insult?"
They laughed. They drank.
And even Takayoshi—surrounded by commanders he once trained, under a roof he once called home—allowed himself to smile.
He still didn't reveal who he truly was.
But that night…
He didn't feel like an outsider.
Just a strange older brother with a good skincare routine and dangerous fists.
The celebration roared on behind him.
Laughter echoed from the great hall, distant and muffled by the quiet blanket of night. Bottles clinked. Someone was singing terribly. Someone else was unconscious in a flowerbed.
Takayoshi walked alone through the outer grounds of the Mythral Dawn estate, his steps slow, deliberate. Not in weariness, but in thought.
It was exactly how he remembered it.
The curved pathways leading to the sparring fields. The neat rows of combat dummies. The grass, still trimmed with soldierly discipline. The old training platform—scarred from a thousand blade clashes—still stood in the center like a forgotten shrine.
He stopped in front of it.
Folded his arms.
And simply… looked.
"Some of them bled here for the first time."
"Some of them learned fear here."
"All of them grew stronger."
The silence was gentle here.
Soothing.
Until it wasn't.
A soft footstep behind him. Delicate, yet firm.
He didn't turn.
She didn't ask him to.
Selene Virellia stepped up beside him, her form a silhouette of moonlight and grace. Her usual precision was softened by the flush on her cheeks and the faintest sway in her posture. In her hand, she held a half-filled glass of amber wine—something expensive and no doubt earned.
Her long silver hair fluttered lightly in the breeze, catching the starlight like threads of spun moonlight.
They stood together without words for a moment, gazing at the quiet arena of their shared pasts.
Then, her voice—soft, slightly slurred, and beautifully honest:
"...So. What are your plans after this?"
Takayoshi didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed ahead, tracing the phantom movements of younger days and unfinished strikes.
Then he said, quietly:
"Probably travel again."
A breath.
"This dungeon gave me clarity. Two new strikes… both with their own philosophies."
"That makes sixteen and eighteen."
"But I'm still missing the seventeenth."
Selene listened, letting his words sink into the silence between them.
She glanced sideways at him—his posture composed, his expression unreadable, yet undeniably present. The alcohol made her bold, but not careless.
She tilted her glass slightly.
"Then why not stay?" she asked, voice low, almost playful. "Join Mythral Dawn."
"With the demon invasion looming… we could use someone like you."
She laughed softly, though the blush in her cheeks deepened.
"Besides…" her voice wavered for just a moment, "...maybe the Twelve Commanders can help you forge that last strike."
Takayoshi finally turned to her—just a little.
Enough to see the earnest light in her violet eyes.
He didn't smile.
But the silence that followed wasn't cold.
It was… thoughtful.
"I'll consider it," he said.
Simple.
Sincere.
And far more than she expected.
Selene looked back at the training field, her lips curving slightly.
"That's good enough… for tonight."
She lifted her glass in a half-toast.
The moonlight shimmered through it like frostfire.
And for a brief moment—there was nothing but stars, memories, and two warriors standing where legends once bled, contemplating the path forward.
Together.
The wind carried tension like a wire drawn taut between stars.
Selene's expression had sharpened the moment Takayoshi spoke the name.
"You know Alter."
It wasn't a question anymore.
It was an accusation, wrapped in calm.
Behind her, Revyn popped out from a nearby roof beam with the grace of a nosy cat.
Mira materialized behind a bush as if she'd always been part of it.
One by one, the rest of the Twelve Commanders appeared—bleary-eyed, curious, some still mid-dressing (Thorne had a sock on his hand), but all alert.
Their stares were fixed on Takayoshi like wolves circling a quiet stranger who suddenly spoke the alpha's name.
Takayoshi regarded them with casual ease, unshaken by the scrutiny.
"Yes," he said simply. "I knew him."
"We cleared several dungeons together. Some above your current tier."
A beat passed.
"He's as strong as I am now."
Silence.
And then—collective pain.
Garran, jaw slack:
"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You're saying Master is as strong as you now?!"
Sorei, eyes wide:
"You just demolished a frost boss with your fist."
Thorne, dramatically collapsing to his knees:
"I have failed as a man."
Revyn, twitching:
"I thought I was catching up! I TRAINED THROUGH MY BIRTHDAY!"
Veyna, trembling:
"I've been journaling my progress…! In color-coded ink!"
Selene, however, remained still.
"You fought beside him?"
Takayoshi nodded.
"Learned beside him, too."
"He used to favor his sword techniques, but over time… I watched him evolve. Especially the Sky Piercer."
Selene's brows knit slightly.
"Alter changed the Sky Piercer?"
"No," Takayoshi corrected. "He refined it."
"There are three forms now. Each one adapted for different conditions: rapid execution, overwhelming force, and delayed rupture."
Every Commander was now leaning in—some subtly, others shamelessly.
Revyn, whispering to Mira:
"Three Sky Piercers. THREE. I can't even throw three daggers without falling over."
Garran, reverent:
"This is like learning your hero got DLC."
Then Takayoshi looked at Selene directly.
"Would you like me to demonstrate them?"
Boom.
The emotional detonation struck.
Twelve Commanders recoiled in collective disbelief.
Sorei, near-panicking:
"You can execute Sky Piercer?!"
Ilyra, clutching her head:
"But it's a divine sword art! You're unarmed! You're... you!"
Mira, now bouncing in place:
"DO IT DO IT DO IT—PLEASE!"
Takayoshi merely chuckled.
"I've studied it enough. And I trained with Alter long enough to inherit the framework."
He extended one hand toward Selene, palm up.
"Your sword, if I may."
Selene hesitated.
This was sacred ground. Her blade was not just a weapon—it was an inheritance.
But something in Takayoshi's posture… the ease, the authority, the complete absence of arrogance…
She handed it over.
Takayoshi turned to the practice field, drawing the blade slowly, precisely. He took a loose stance—not identical to Selene's traditional Sky Piercer form, but balanced, grounded in something older, sharper.
"I'll keep it brief."
Takayoshi caught Selene's gaze, then lifted the sword she handed him.
"Sky Piercer isn't just about force. It's about intent—cutting space, striking through resistance, and forcing fate to move aside."
He turned to the field, took a slow stance.
"First Form: Celestial Thrust."
"Concept—linear lightning projection."
"Method—stabilize mana flow into a fine stream. Visualize a thread piercing the world."
With a clean thrust, a bolt of lightning lanced forward. The line of trees far ahead buckled and split.
"Result: Extreme-range penetration. Cuts through multiple foes."
He pivoted again.
"Second Form: Heavenfall Rend."
"Anti-air concept. Method—wind spiral injection, vertical burst."
The lightning twisted upward like a dragon's breath toward the sky. The gathered leaves incinerated midair.
"Result: Pulls airborne targets down, disrupts aerial formations."
He strode to a nearby practice dummy and whispered:
"Third Form: Zero Distance."
"Close range. Method—collapse all force inward at point of impact."
A flicker. No visible movement.
BOOM.
The dummy exploded from the back. Not even a scorch mark in the front.
"Result: Total internal detonation. Armor is irrelevant."
Silence followed.
Then clapping.
Then cheering.
Then a mixture of clapping, cheering, and faint existential sobbing from Revyn behind a bush.
Selene, speechless, stepped forward and gently accepted her blade back from him.
She looked at the practice field. Then at him.
Then whispered:
"Can I learn all three?"
Takayoshi nodded and replied yes.
He then spoke more of his relationship with Alter.
"Alter and I made a bet long ago," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard now filled with hushed anticipation. "A wager to see who could develop their techniques faster—his Divine Heaven Sword Style, or my Demon God Killing Martial Arts."
Selene tilted her head. "But… doesn't Alter have more sword techniques?"
Without blinking, Takayoshi answered with a serene, confident tone, "Eight. Eight total under the Divine Heaven Sword Style."
Gasps rippled across the gathered commanders like a magical shockwave. One dropped their canteen. Another visibly stumbled in place.
"I've only seen two of them myself," Takayoshi went on, calmly weaving his fiction with the precision of a bard's tongue. "The First Style—Dimensional Slash—slices space itself. It doesn't just cut; it removes what was there."
"Removes what—" someone muttered.
"And the other?" Selene asked.
Takayoshi raised a brow, feigning humility. "He never showed it fully. He called it… Life Sprinkler. A concept move. He once said it's a technique meant to sever mortality across multiple dimensions. Whatever that means."
Selene remained quiet for a long beat, absorbing the revelation. Then, a smile broke across her lips—a peaceful, almost liberated smile that softened every edge of her normally sharp expression.
Takayoshi felt his composure slip for the briefest moment.
Thump.
He blinked. That smile… She really is beautiful.
Clearing his throat quickly, he looked to the rest of the group. "That's enough for tonight. Rest up. We continue tomorrow."
He turned back to Selene, eyes calm. "You'll be training Sky Piercer with me. We'll start with foundation drills."
"Ooooh~" one of the female commanders teased with a wicked grin. "Selene gets a private lesson!"
"Is that what the kids call it now?" another chimed in.
Selene turned crimson. "It's not like that!!"
Takayoshi coughed. Loudly.
And thus, laughter—half-mocking, half-genuine—rose among the 12 Commanders as they gradually dispersed to rest. The night air cooled, but the energy of what they'd witnessed still lingered like static in the air.
Takayoshi stood under the moonlight a little longer, glancing up toward the stars.
He sighed… then shook his head with a faint, knowing smirk.
"Idiot…"