The forges below still trembled with residual heat.
Alter stepped out from the lower sanctum of the Eternal Bastion's heart, his steps calm but weighted. The scent of molten crystal and divine steel still clung to him. His hair was damp from forging sweat, and streaks of glowing runes faintly lined his arms—scars of relentless creation over uncounted days.
As he ascended the spiral corridor, several Dragoons crossed paths with him—pausing mid-conversation to snap to attention with crisp salutes. Each bore a look of unspoken admiration… and quiet concern.
"Commander," one of them whispered under breath after he passed. "He looks like he hasn't slept in days..."
None of them knew.
None of them had seen what was coming.
Alter said nothing. He only nodded with quiet calm, his footsteps carrying him to the far residential wing—toward the single door at the end of the corridor, framed in golden motifs and etched in soft draconic patterns of light.
Selene was already waiting for him there.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, a teasing smile playing at her lips. Her long silver hair was tied loosely over one shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"You smell like a forge and shattered dimensions," she said warmly. "Perhaps a bath together? I'll be sure to clean you thoroughly."
Alter raised a tired brow—but the corner of his mouth lifted.
"I'd be in your care then," he said softly.
Selene took his hand—gently, but firmly—and led him down the side passageway toward the private bathing wing. The late hour meant most of the baths were occupied by off-duty female personnel, steam rising in lazy spirals over the obsidian tiles and pools of thermal springwater.
But when Selene entered, the mood shifted instantly.
She cleared her throat, her voice echoing with just enough sovereign authority to carry:
"This entire chamber is now reserved—for private use. No one is to disturb us."
A long pause.A heartbeat of silence.
And then—chaos.
Towels were gathered, conversations dropped mid-sentence, and splashing footsteps scattered across polished stone like startled deer fleeing into fog. The sound of sandals on tile faded rapidly as the last of them disappeared through side exits, leaving only the lingering haze of warm mist behind.
Selene turned toward Alter with an impish grin. "Efficient."
He chuckled. "You scared them half to death."
"They'll recover," she replied, stepping closer.
She wrapped her arms around him slowly, her body warm against the soot still clinging faintly to his skin. Alter returned the embrace, his breath slowing, tension uncoiling from his shoulders.
She stepped back and began to undress, her movements graceful and unhurried. Alter dismissed his armor with a mere thought, the pieces dissolving into threads of golden light.
Together, they stepped into the central bath—deep, wide, and wreathed in a veil of soft steam. The water embraced them like silence, rippling gently as they sank in. Their forms were concealed beneath the mist, visible only in outline through the drifting vapor.
Selene slid beside him and wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her head against his shoulder.
For a long moment, there was only quiet.
Then—laughter.
A light, breathy sound as Selene splashed him gently. Alter gave a mock frown, retaliating with a ripple of water. Steam rose around them in curling plumes as playful movements gave way to closer embraces.
Whispers passed between them—half-teasing, half-devoted. Words spoken not in urgency, but in warmth. In trust.
The world beyond the mist fell away.
And for a while, there was only the sound of water, the echo of low voices, and the joining of two hearts in the haze of peace.
The steam had faded.The water had stilled.And the Eternal Bastion had slipped into a deep silence.
After their shared bath, Selene had dried and dressed first, quietly insisting Alter stay a little longer to soak the tension from his body. "You need it more than you know," she had whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead before vanishing into the chamber beyond.
Now—half an hour later—Alter returned to their quarters. His hair was still slightly damp, the forge marks finally washed away from his skin. He stepped into the bedroom expecting quiet, perhaps the scent of tea or Selene already asleep.
Instead, he paused at the door.
Selene stood by the open balcony, bathed in silver moonlight. The curtains danced softly behind her as the wind whispered through. She wore a long, midnight-blue gown, loose and flowing like starlit mist—her hair unbound now, cascading down her back in glistening waves.
In her hands, she held something small—wrapped in cloth and tied with a crimson thread.
She turned at the sound of his approach, her expression soft. "Perfect timing," she said. "I didn't want to give this to you when you were exhausted."
Alter raised a brow, stepping forward slowly. "What is it?"
Selene didn't answer at first. She untied the red thread with delicate fingers, then held out the cloth-wrapped item with both hands, reverently.
"For you," she said. "I made this myself."
He took it gently. The fabric unwrapped with a whisper, revealing a pendant—a polished obsidian shard etched with softly glowing silver runes. At its center was a single crystal, no larger than a grain of rice, glowing faintly with warmth.
The aura was familiar.
It was hers.
"I channeled a portion of my soullight into it," she said quietly. "It's attuned only to you. If you're ever in danger—if your heart ever falters or your energy runs dry—this will call me. I'll find you. No matter where you are."
Alter was still for a moment, staring at it. He felt the resonance immediately—the same calm pulse that lived within Selene's presence. Gentle. Fierce. Unshakably loyal.
"You… imbued this with soullight?" he said, voice low. "Selene, that's—"
"Dangerous?" she smiled. "Maybe. But not for me. I've grown stronger since the Still World. And you've done so much, Alter… more than anyone can ask."
She stepped closer, lifting her arms to clasp the pendant around his neck.
"I wanted to give you something that reminded you… that you're never alone. Even when you forge in silence, or fly through shattered skies. You always have someone who'll come for you."
The pendant settled over his chest, resting right above his heart.
For once—he didn't know what to say.
Selene leaned up on her toes and kissed him gently.
"You don't always have to carry everything, you know," she whispered.
He exhaled slowly, closing his arms around her as he buried his face in her hair.
"Thank you," he murmured. "This means more than I can say."
She smiled against his chest.
The moonlight shimmered through the balcony, dancing across their silhouettes. And in the quiet warmth of that gift—there was peace.
For just a little while longer, the world could wait.
The moon had climbed higher.Their embrace lingered longer.But eventually, hand in hand, they returned to their shared chambers.
Selene sat on the edge of the bed, the soft velvet of her gown pooling around her legs like flowing starlight. Her fingers still brushed the pendant now glowing faintly on Alter's chest, a content smile playing across her lips. But she noticed something different in his eyes. Not just warmth, not just gratitude—but anticipation.
Alter turned from her for a moment, moving toward a cabinet built into the wall—his personal storage seal etched subtly across its face. With a flick of his hand and a pulse of divine essence, the seal unraveled in threads of golden light. From within, he retrieved a small, rune-inscribed box wrapped in platinum-white silk.
He returned and stood in front of her, offering it with both hands.
"For you," he said simply. "You gave me your soullight… This is what I forged for you in return."
Selene tilted her head, intrigued. Her fingers brushed the silk—warm to the touch, as if it had been resting near a hearth. She slowly unwrapped it, her breath catching slightly when she opened the box.
Inside—lay three items, nestled in layers of draconic velvet:
A pair of silver-threaded earrings, shaped like twin dragon wings. Runes pulsed faintly along the inner ridges, delicate yet strong.
A bracelet of radiant crystal links, each one shifting hues from pearl-white to amethyst depending on the ambient aura.
And a single ring, slim and unassuming—but bearing the mark of the Prime Dragonic Sovereign carved inside, alongside her soul signature.
Selene lifted the earrings gently. "These are…"
"Linked to your ascension state," Alter nodded. "They stabilize the internal backlash. Prolong the duration. And if it fails—you'll have a built-in fallback layer of resonance. They harmonize with your frequency."
Her eyes widened. "You… monitored my energy channels during combat, didn't you?"
Alter gave a sheepish smile. "Every time. I've been adjusting them for months."
Selene stared at the bracelet next. "And this?"
"Mental clarity. Mana amplification. It can regulate your casting flow and shorten your cooldowns in long engagements. Also… it glows when I'm nearby."
She blinked. "...Of course it does."
"And the ring," he said, quieter now, "is a matching soul resonance piece. It won't replace the Veil of Origin—this is different. It's just for you. Not a command ring. Not a seal. Just… a bond."
Selene gently removed her earrings, slipped in the new pair. The moment they connected with her skin, she inhaled—a warmth rushing up her spine, grounding her.
"Alter…" she whispered. "These are divine-grade…"
He didn't speak—only nodded once, his expression quieter now.
Selene stood, stepped close, and placed her hand on his cheek. "I already gave you my heart. And still, you keep finding ways to overwhelm me."
"I just want you protected," he murmured. "If anything ever happened to you, Selene—"
She stopped him with a kiss. Slow. Certain. Then pulled away just enough to press her forehead to his.
"You've done enough. More than enough."
She pulled the ring from the velvet bed and slipped it onto her right hand, above the wedding ring he had placed there in the Still World. The resonance hummed through the air—softer than before, not explosive like a forge, but steady… like the beat of a vow.
They held one another in silence.
Then Selene smiled.
"…Still want that reward I promised you?"
Alter blinked. "What—now?"
She tugged his hand gently toward the bed. "You've kept me waiting days, Sovereign. It's time I show you my gratitude properly."
The laughter between them was quiet, knowing, and full of affection.
And though the moonlight still shone through the curtains, and the Sovereign's forge waited below, for this moment—
—there was nothing else in the world but the two of them.
The morning sun filtered through the arched crystal windows of Eternal Bastion, casting golden rays across the great atrium. A summons had been issued at first light. One by one, the Dragoon recruits filed into the central courtyard—a sanctum of polished obsidian stone, surrounded by towering banners, shimmering with runic script that pulsed softly in the presence of divine aura.
They stood in full formation now—three hundred strong. Hardened by training, bonded by survival, and reborn through Alter's teachings. But none were prepared for what awaited them today.
At the far end of the platform, the massive black-forged vault doors opened with a thunderous clang, followed by a rising gust of heat and mana pressure that swept across the field like a stormfront.
From the radiant light within, Alter emerged.
Clad in a fresh set of ceremonial draconic robes—his aura subdued but unmistakably sovereign—he stepped forward, golden eyes sweeping across the assembled warriors. Behind him, levitating in geometric rows, floated hundreds of armor sets and long katanas. Each one resonated with faint pulses of divine energy, adorned with runes that shimmered like breath on cold glass.
The suits of armor looked like dragonkind cast in steel. Sleek. Elegant. Vicious. And utterly alive.
Some bore curved pauldrons shaped like folded wings. Others had visors molded to resemble fanged draconic snarls. The glowing sigil of the Dragoons—half-blade, half-dragon wing—was emblazoned proudly across each chestplate. And at the heart of each, embedded in a reinforced socket, lay a Resonating Crystal, softly pulsing with the recruit's attuned signature.
The long katanas beside them were no less breathtaking.
Each one, forged in the image of Alter's Starsever, gleamed with folded alloy etched with deep silver veins. The blades were longer than standard issue, slightly curved, and bore enchantments that bent the light around them. When drawn, they would howl with a barely-contained hum—as if each one carved through the space around it.
They were not just weapons.
They were Riftcarvers—quasi-celestial grade long katanas imbued with the rare ability to fracture the fabric of reality itself. Each blade carried the resonance of a sovereign's will, woven through layers of divine metallurgy, alchemical attunement, and spatial enchantments. Where most swords cut flesh or armor, these blades could rend barriers, dimensions, and certainty.
Strike with them in sync—and the world itself would shudder.
Alter stepped forward. The moment was silent. Reverent.
"Each of these," he said, voice echoing across the atrium, "was forged from dragon-soul alloy and stabilized with my own divine resonance. These are not decorations. They are not medals. They are extensions of your will. Each suit, each blade, is attuned to you alone."
He raised his hand.
The floating arsenal split into streams of light, each piece gliding through the air toward its rightful owner. Helmets descended gently upon heads. Armor wrapped around torsos with divine precision. Swords sheathed themselves at the hips of waiting hands.
Gasps filled the courtyard as the Dragoons were claimed by their armaments.
Talia Fenreith dropped to one knee, hands trembling around the hilt of her blade as it resonated against her skin like a heartbeat. Rhed Velgroth let out a wild yell, slamming a gauntleted fist into his palm, the armor reacting with a burst of golden light. Elira Mistshade turned her head slowly, her visor glowing faintly as her shadow shifted beneath her—her stealth enchantments already aligning.
Selin Varrow, silent as ever, simply lowered his stance, vanished in a flicker, and reappeared on the far terrace without a sound.
The courtyard pulsed like a living thing.
Alter's voice rang out again—low, proud, absolute.
"You are no longer just warriors. You are sovereign blades. Let this armor remind you—not of power—but of the burden that power demands. Carry it well. Fight without regret. Protect each other without fear."
He raised Starsever in salute.
The Dragoons followed suit.
Hundreds of swords lifted high, the courtyard gleaming in one unified blaze of steel, flame, and light.
They had been forged not just in fire—
—but in purpose.
And the world would soon know the sound of their march.
The morning sun filtered down in radiant gold through the mountain-ringed courtyard behind Eternal Bastion. It was a ceremonial clearing, now restructured into a display arena. Long obsidian platforms stood like altars, each adorned with velvet-lined rests and containment seals pulsing faintly with divine locks.
One by one, the platforms activated.
And one by one—the Commanders of the Mythral Dawn stepped forward.
Selene stood at the side with the Dragoons, her veil of origin quietly gleaming at her side, while Alter stood center stage—his armor open at the collar, hair tied back in a loose black ribbon, and eyes faintly aglow with residual forging essence. With a single gesture, the platforms lit in sequence.
He addressed them calmly.
"These weapons and armor bear your names now," he said. "I forged each to reflect who you are, what you've become, and where you'll go from here."
Each Commander's gear set was crafted to fit their class—not only in function, but in personality and spirit.
Selene Virellia – Vanguard Commander
Already equipped with celestial-grade gear, Selene was instead gifted a resonance accessory set:
Wings of Resonance (Earrings)
Celestial Focus Loop (Bracelet)
Bond of the Sovereign Flame (Ring)
Set bonus: Eclipse Harmony – enhanced combat synergy and divine aura convergence with Alter
Finn Whiteshadow – Scout Commander
Armor: Black wolf-themed plating with gold accents, retractable helm styled like a snarling wolf's snout
Weapons:
Twin plasma rifles – capable of switching range modes with rapid mana charging
Twin daggers – "Umbra Howl," forged with divine runes, shaped like black fangs
All four items surged with quasi-celestial resonance
Mira Whiteshadow – Arcane Commander
Armor: White wolf-themed plating with crimson lining, helm shaped like a howling she-wolf
Weapons:
Twin plasma rifles – custom-synced for arcane saturation and mana weaving
Twin daggers – "Crimson Dusk," enchanted to harmonize with Mira's emotion-driven casting
Each piece shimmered with a gentle temporal field—capable of momentarily shifting trajectories or spells
Darius Coalbrand – Shield Commander
Armor: Towering reinforced dragonic plate with kinetic absorption runes
Weapon: Aegismaul – a massive warhammer-shield hybrid with gravitational surge core
Effect: Could anchor allies, deflect divine pulses, and absorb shockwaves into counter-pulses
Revyn Mistclaw – Shadow Commander
Armor: Soft-edged plates layered over cloak-like weave, dissipated light on contact
Weapon: Shadepiercer – a chain blade that could split into shadow threads, then reform mid-strike
Effect: Stealth resonance active; impossible to track when stationary
Mira Snowveil – Frostweaver Commander
Armor: Frost-sealed silver lamellar with flowing arctic threads
Weapon: Glacier Thorn – a halberd-scepter capable of condensing atmospheric moisture into frost storms
Effect: Crystal amplification field; field-wide slowing aura
Thorne Ironstride – Warborn Commander
Armor: Heavy drakebone plates with overpressure joints for burst speed
Weapon: Fangsplitter – an axe-sword hybrid forged to cleave through siege beasts
Effect: When enraged, enhances kinetic redirection—each hit grows stronger
Arinelle Dawnwhisper – Spirit Caller Commander
Armor: Flowing battle robes woven with spiritual fibers from beast-kin souls
Weapon: Soulspire Wreath – twin rings that float and project summoning gates mid-air
Effect: Boosted summoning range and duration; bonded spirits gain temporary intelligence
Cidros Vane – Arcblade Commander
Armor: Sleek, segmented lightning-conductive alloy
Weapon: Voltveil – twin arc sabers that could merge into a polearm or separate for dual style
Effect: Could overload circuits to burst forward in near-teleport speed
Ilyra Faen – Warden Commander
Armor: Lightweight draconic leather with radiant shielding runes
Weapon: Bloomveil Strands – enchanted whips that could harden into swords mid-swing
Effect: Controlled battlefield vines; terrain could become lethal traps
Garran Flamecoil – Pyre Commander
Armor: Magma-insulated plate with external venting runes
Weapon: Infernal Spire – a lance that combusts surrounding area when spun
Effect: Divine fire affinity; summons fire drakes when stabbed into ground
Sorei Windshaper – Scout Commander
Armor: Stormthread weave with air current resonators
Weapon: Tempest Skyrend – a bow-staff hybrid that rode wind pressure for its projectiles
Effect: Instant repositioning after each long-range shot
Veyna Lux – Crystal Commander
Armor: Reflective light-crystal plate with passive deflection matrix
Weapon: Shard Symphony – ten floating daggers controlled by mental thread
Effect: Prism Split – each dagger can duplicate itself once per battle
Caelum Dray – Skyreach Commander
Armor: Aerolite-drake alloy with altitude stabilizers
Weapon: Heaven's Reach – a long spear with magnetic wind loops along its shaft
Effect: Could draw lightning from atmosphere into his thrusts
By the time the final containment seal dropped, the entire arena pulsed with artifact-tier energy. Four of the sets, including Finn's and Mira's, carried quasi-celestial resonance—powerful enough to ripple the space around them even at rest.
Selene smiled gently at the astonished expressions across the field. None of the Commanders had spoken. Not yet.
Then Thorne whispered hoarsely, "…We're gonna need bigger enemies."
The courtyard broke into laughter—and for just a moment, the burdens of war felt lighter.
Alter stepped down from the platform.
"Suit up," he said. "We train at dawn."
The courtyard was unusually quiet.
The sun hung gently overhead, casting golden rays across the mist-veiled stones of Eternal Bastion's training plaza. The 13 Commanders stood on the upper terrace, chatting in low tones, checking their new armor's flexibility or admiring the mirror-shine of their freshly issued weapons. Some lounged against the railing, others leaned over to observe the 300 Dragoons slowly trickling in below—newly equipped and wide-eyed, walking with reverence as if afraid to scuff their own boots.
Even Finn and Mira stood quietly in the back, side-by-side, hands brushing occasionally. A rare moment of stillness.
And then—
"EVERYONE—ASSEMBLE! NOW!!"
The voice echoed like divine thunder. The air cracked with command.
The 13 Commanders flinched, blinking in unison. Below, the Dragoons froze mid-step and turned toward the command platform as one.
Alter emerged from the northern corridor of the courtyard, armor still glowing faintly with residual forge-heat, hair tousled, gloves half-buckled—and a look of rising horror etched across his face.
"I forgot to tell you all about the Resonating Crystals." He held up a hand, pacing in front of the terrace like a sovereign general about to brief a war council. "We are not repeating last time."
A ripple of murmurs passed between the Commanders.
"Last time?" Garran whispered to Darius.
Alter raised his hand. "Silence. All of you—listen carefully. This is no longer just an armor upgrade."
He pointed to the luminous crystals set in the center of every Dragoon's chestplate and the engraved core nestled within each Commander's armor lining.
"Those are upgraded Resonating Crystals. The previous version boosted combat capability by 50% and allowed group stacking. But… I improved them."
"How much of an improvement?" asked Caelum, folding his arms.
Alter clenched his jaw. "They're now calibrated to increase individual combat effectiveness by 82%... and still fully stackable."
There was a brief pause.
Then a collective jaw-drop across the terrace.
"Eighty... what?" Veyna blinked.
"Tch… So when I said the armor felt too large and it fit anyway…" Thorne scratched his head. "That was real?"
"Yeah," Alter sighed. "Auto-fitting enchantments. Auto-equip protocols. Mana-memetic compression scaling. Whatever you're wearing now—it wants to make you stronger. But that's not the part you should be concerned about."
He held up three fingers. "There are 300 Dragoons, and 13 Commanders wearing these. That's 313 synchronized resonance points."
Then, with deadly calm, he said:"313 multiplied by 82 equals 25,666% combat power amplification when synchronized."
There was a long, horrifying silence.
Talia squeaked. "Did he say twenty-five thousand—"
"—six hundred sixty-six," Jaris muttered, eyes wide. "That's… That's the kind of number you use to end wars. Not fight them."
Selene, standing nearby with a soft towel over her arm, giggled quietly, shaking her head. "And he wanted to push it to 94% per person."
Every head turned slowly to Alter again.
He exhaled sharply. "Yes. I almost did. But the crystals overloaded. Shattered in my face. Nearly erased half the forge. I had to remake everything from scratch."
A stunned pause. Then:
"Why would you even try that?!" shouted Revyn.
"Because," Alter said grimly, "I wanted to see how close I could get to godslayer-class resonance. But it's fine. This is… safe enough."
He didn't sound convinced.
And then he clapped once, loud enough to draw even the wind to silence.
"One last thing. Until you are trained—do not sneeze, do not trip, do not flare your aura at full power in tight formation. At this stacking level—one sneeze could obliterate this entire continent."
The courtyard went dead silent. Somewhere in the back, a Dragoon hiccupped and covered his mouth in terror.
Alter's eyes scanned them. "This is not fearmongering. This is math. Until further notice, I want staggered movement patterns, aura control drills, and weapon syncing strictly monitored."
Selene came up beside him, brushing her fingers against his gauntlet. "My beloved… you do realize you're turning them into walking weapons of mass erasure, right?"
"I do," he replied dryly. "And that's why they need discipline first."
He turned again to face the gathering, cape trailing behind him in the wind."Training resumes at noon. Until then, meditate. Connect to your armor. Respect the blade you wield."
A moment later, Alter disappeared in a golden flash of speed, leaving 313 warriors utterly shaken—and very aware that today's drills would be unlike any they'd ever known.
The courtyard had emptied, but the air still hummed with the residue of Alter's warning.
Even with the sun shining down, there was a palpable stillness—like the world itself was holding its breath.
On the eastern steps overlooking the field, a small gathering remained.
Finn stood at the railing, his gauntleted fingers curled loosely over the blackstone edge. His new armor gleamed in streaks of black and gold, a silent echo of the storm within. Mira sat beside him on the steps, her crimson-lined pauldrons casting reflections across the marble. She held one of her daggers gently in her lap, as if afraid to disturb it.
Behind them, Selin Varrow leaned against a pillar, eyes half-lidded. Vellmar and Rhed sat not far off, the latter unusually quiet. Elira Mistshade paced slowly in the shade, her gaze not on the others, but lost somewhere in the horizon.
The silence dragged—until Mira finally whispered, "Twenty-five thousand percent... I thought he was joking at first."
"He doesn't joke," Finn replied.
"No," she murmured. "He doesn't."
Her fingers brushed the gleaming Resonating Crystal on her chestplate. "This thing… it's like it's breathing."
"It is," Elira said softly. "It feels alive."
Vellmar nodded slowly. "When I walked across the stone, I could hear it echoing… like footsteps chasing mine."
Rhed finally broke his silence. "I'm afraid to swing my sword. What if I sneeze and level the valley?"
There was a brief beat—and then Mira chuckled.
It was small, tired laughter. But the kind that cracked the tension.
"Alter said that exact thing, didn't he?" she said. "One sneeze and you wipe the continent."
They laughed, then. Softly. Hesitantly. But they laughed. Even Selin cracked a faint smile.
And from above, Selene's voice drifted down like sunlight.
"Perhaps it's time we take things slowly. Ease into your strength. Run the first dungeons in pairs. Two-person squads. Fewer resonance triggers… and more chance to connect with your new gear."
She stepped forward, her robes fluttering slightly, her tone gentle but sure.
"That kind of power needs calibration. Synchronization. Trust."
Finn looked over his shoulder. "You mean like partners?"
"Yes," Selene said. "Like dance partners in a war no one else can survive."
Rhed raised an eyebrow. "Are you assigning pairs or do we choose?"
"I'll let you choose." Her lips curved into a soft smile. "But no solo dives. I won't allow it. You are too strong now. That power must be shared—or it will consume you."
Mira stood and stepped beside Finn, lacing her fingers through his.
"We were already a pair before all this," she said. "We'll test the resonance safely."
"I trust you will," Selene said.
One by one, the others nodded. Quietly, solemnly.
Elira sat beside Selin without a word. Vellmar clasped Rhed's shoulder. Jaris was already taking notes nearby, muttering logistics under his breath. The courtyard no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like a moment suspended in glass—a calm before something greater.
Then, Selene added, almost wistfully, "This isn't just about managing strength. It's about remembering who you are beneath it."
The statement settled into their bones.
They had trained under divine sword styles. Learned the paths of death-slaying martial arts. Fought through agony and stood before gods. And now they bore weapons and armor that could bend reality itself.
Yet here they were—laughing, worrying, human.
For a fleeting moment, the burdens felt lighter. Because they didn't carry them alone.
"Let's prepare," Finn said finally. "We can request dungeon coordinates tomorrow."
"Right." Mira nodded, then looked toward the far tower. "I wonder if Master is still in the forge…"
Selene turned away with a smile, hiding the faint flush in her cheeks. "No. He's finally resting. And tonight—he'll stay that way."
The others smirked—Rhed most of all.
"Then we'd best not blow up anything before sunrise," he said.
And with that, the quiet moment passed—but the bond forged between them deepened. They were no longer just warriors.
They were sovereign blades—resonating as one.
One month later...
The war room of Aetherflame Palace was quieter than expected.
A month had passed since the day of revelation—the day the Dragoons and the 14 Commanders learned the true magnitude of their equipment. Now, the crystalline lattice of resonating energy flowed effortlessly across the fortress, humming in harmony with every breath, every step. The once-untrained resonance was now a living aura of divine synchrony.
And yet today, there was stillness.
Around the obsidian war table shaped like a dragon's unfurled wings, the assembled leaders stood in full silence as a map of Terravane and Seraveth slowly unfurled above them—projected by Alter's divine sigils. Mountain ranges hovered midair in pale blue lines, rivers shimmered like veins of light, and red zones pulsed where demon infestations remained thickest.
The lights dimmed. The plan would begin.
Takayoshi stood first, dressed in the ceremonial mantle of the Mythral Dawn's Grand Commander. Though his voice was calm, there was iron behind every syllable."We split into two divisions. One strikes west—Terravane. I'll lead that force. We'll eliminate the stronghold near the Broken Sanctum and retake the Skywatch Line."He turned slightly. "The other marches east—Seraveth. The old capital is still buried in shadows. That front will require speed and overwhelming force."
All heads turned toward the second figure standing quietly to his right.
Soryn.
He stood draped in silver-black battle robes, the crest of House Vael'Zarion and the sigil of the Dragoons gleaming on his back. Despite his composed aura, there was weight behind his presence now."I'll lead the Seraveth front," he said firmly. "Our objective is to wipe out every trace of the demonic occupation… and reclaim the ancestral grounds. The Wyrmgate there still pulses. I intend to see it lit once more."
Whispers spread around the room, murmurs of resolve mixed with apprehension.
Then came the stillness again. Because one figure had not spoken.
Alter stood at the head of the table. He hadn't said a word since the plan was laid out.
All eyes turned toward him now.
His long coat shifted faintly as the aura from his armor glowed softly beneath. His golden eyes scanned the map—then lifted to meet every gaze in the room.
"My role," he said simply, "is to end the Demon Gods."
The room fell utterly silent.
No one breathed.
Not even the wind dared whisper.
Selene sat beside the map's edge, her hands clenched quietly in her lap. Her eyes were on him—watching the light in his voice, the certainty in his stance. For a moment, she had to look away, her knuckles white with pressure.
Then she felt it—his gaze on her.
She looked up.
Alter smiled. Warm. Calm. Unshakable.
Selene released her breath and her fists. Her shoulders eased.
The room didn't ask further. No one dared. The role of slaying Demon Gods was a sentence no mortal could carry—but he bore it like breath. Because to him… it was necessity.
The council continued. Names were assigned. Strategic roles distributed. The officers of Mythral Dawn took up their positions. The Dragoons, now streamlined into six spear units and five defensive units, were assigned to support both fronts.
But something else had changed in that month of preparation.
The bonds.
In the weeks of drilling, deployment simulations, and aura calibration, something far more human had bloomed.
It began with partnerships—Dragoon pairs training in full resonance. Then came shared tents. Late-night aura synchronization sessions that turned into conversations. Laughter. Trust. Closeness.
And then—
Intimacy.
It was unspoken but understood. In the polished silence of early morning, couples would emerge from shared quarters. Glances exchanged between comrades were no longer just about training—they were about warmth. Understanding. Touch. Future.
The Resonating Crystals had done more than empower them.
They connected them.
The 14 Commanders weren't immune either. Even the most composed among them—Revyn, Ilyra, Arinelle—had softened in private. In moments not recorded on war charts or scrolls, whispers passed through hallways. Quiet embraces behind columns. Lips pressed to armor-plated brows before missions.
Something was happening. The army was becoming more than a force.
It was becoming a family.
And at the center of it all—stood Alter and Selene. Not simply as leaders, not simply as sovereign and tactician, but as the unshakable axis. A couple whose presence alone radiated trust. Their bond had become a lodestar.
The war council ended.
But the war itself was only just beginning.
And the night before departure would be remembered by many not for fear—but for closeness.
For whispers exchanged under twilight banners.For hands held before parting.For armor clasped over pounding hearts.And for the silent vow—unspoken, but known in every heartbeat.
The skies over Aetherflame burned gold and rose, the last sun of peacetime casting long shadows across the courtyard where the banners of the Dragoons rustled in slow, silent waves. Torchlights had not yet been lit. The breeze was still warm. But the weight in the air—was changing.
Near the north edge of the fortress—beyond the line of the main barracks—two silhouettes sat alone beneath an outcropping of carved stone, framed by ivy and pale orange fire lilies.
Rhed Velgroth exhaled through his nose, arms resting loosely over his knees. His armor was already equipped, half-latched, the crimson edges glinting faintly in the dying light. His twin Riftcarvers rested beside him, their sheaths clicking softly against one another with each breath he took.
Across from him, seated cross-legged with her back against a rune-marked pillar, was Talia Fenreith.
Her white battlecoat had been stripped to the waist, revealing a sleeveless training top and the high-collar undersuit beneath. Her eyes were half-lidded, watching the sky through drifting strands of wind-blown hair. Her dual blades lay across her lap, silent, almost reflective in the gold-tinged gloom.
They didn't speak for a while.
Just the wind.And the slow rhythm of two synced heartbeats.
Then finally—Talia spoke.
"Rhed… does it feel weird to you?"
Rhed tilted his head. "What?"
"This," she gestured vaguely. "Sitting here. Calm. Still. But tomorrow—everything burns again."
Rhed didn't answer at first. He leaned back, shifting until he was lying against the grass, eyes tracing the clouds. Then, he let out a slow breath.
"…It feels like the silence right before a storm hits. You know it's coming. You can smell it. But there's this… moment. Where everything just pauses."He paused. "And you start thinking about things you wouldn't otherwise."
Talia turned her head to him. "Like what?"
He hesitated. Then gave a lopsided grin.
"Like how I used to think I'd die alone in some demon pit with nothing but my broken sword and a bad joke to send me off."
Talia's brows lifted. "Wow. That's charming."
"Hey, I said used to."
A silence stretched.
Then Talia stood.
Rhed blinked as she crossed over to him. She sat down at his side—then laid down on her side, facing him, barely inches away.
"…Well?" she murmured. "You still thinking that?"
He met her gaze. Her eyes shimmered like wildfire—fierce, alive, and strangely soft in the dimming light.
"No," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
She smiled. Slowly. Then reached out, took his hand, and placed it over her heart.
They stayed like that for a while. No need to say what tomorrow might bring. No need to ask for promises. The battlefield would decide what words they never got to say.
But here, in this moment—before the march, before the blood, before the screams—they were just two people.
Two warriors.Two blades.Two hearts.One resonance.
"I'll watch your back," she whispered.
"I'll protect yours," he answered.
The gates of Eternal Bastion stood wide open.
What began as silence broke into a slow, unified rhythm—hundreds of armored boots striking stone in harmony, a thunderous pulse echoing across the highland cliffs as the Dragoon Legion descended the fortified steps of the stronghold. Wind carved its way through the canyon below, carrying with it the scent of forged steel, mana-saturated armor, and the simmering tension of war.
Above them, the sky shimmered gold—not with sunlight, but with the residual energy bleeding from the resonating crystals embedded in nearly every soldier's chest. Each Dragoon wore their freshly forged armor—imposing, radiant, and distinct. Some with the sharp wings of flame, others etched with storm sigils or glowing patterns of elemental charge. But all pulsed with the same unified aura.
At the front marched Alter.
No longer cloaked in ceremony, he wore the full regalia of his divine draconic form—his Sovereignborn Draconic Plate gleaming like a starstone under morning light, the tribal dragon sigil on his forehead burning faintly. On his back, Starsever hummed softly in rhythm with the legion, and though his steps were steady, his presence felt like a beacon to those behind him.
To his left walked Takayoshi—stoic, grounded, clad in battle-worn celestial robes reinforced with a radiant aura of calm destruction.
To his right, Soryn Vael'Zarion, in armor of starlit black with draconic glyphs, carried the weight of destiny in his gaze.
Behind them, the vanguard units of the Dragoons filed in formation—300 strong, each one wielding a Riftcarver, a quasi-celestial long katana forged to break reality itself. As they moved, faint distortions rippled around their blades, as if the very air feared them.
Trailing behind the Dragoons, in tighter-knit diamond formations, came the troops of the Mythral Dawn. The 14 Commanders—now clad in artifact-grade armor and bearing personalized divine weapons—led their battalions with silent resolve. Each pair of troops bore the sigils of unity, not just in design, but in motion. The once-solo elite units now moved in synchronized duos and squads, bonded by trust—and in many cases, love.
High above, Ignivar and the other dragons soared in formation—wings trailing fire, wind, and light across the sky. Each dragon marked a rally point and direction, allowing aerial coordination to complement the advancing ground forces.
From the fortress battlements, Selene stood watching with arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes never left Alter.
Though she smiled for the sake of the others watching, inside her, the weight of what was coming pressed against her ribs like invisible armor.
He looked back once.
Even from a distance, she saw him smile—soft, knowing.
And then he turned forward.
The sovereign's flame had moved.
The march to reclaim Terravane and Seraveth had begun.