Three years had passed since that rain-soaked afternoon on the pavilion.
Now eight years old, Arkiz had grown taller, bolder, and just a little more dramatic.
And for once, the sun had the audacity to show its face.
Golden rays streamed through the high-arched windows of the Ryla estate's eastern study room, casting soft shadows across bookshelves and polished stone floors. It was one of those rare days on the Vaelmir Isles when the rain decided to take a vacation. The clouds, usually so clingy, had cleared, revealing the blue sky like it was some kind of miracle.
Inside the study, silence ruled.
Until—
"Arky, are you even listening?"
The sharp voice sliced through the air like a thrown quill.
Arkiz blinked awake, eyes wide as his spine jerked upright in his seat. His head had been tilting at an angle that definitely wasn't conducive to learning. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look like someone who had not just been seconds away from snoring in the middle of a lesson.
His tutor, Lady Thariel, stood near the whiteboard-like Aether Panel, her arms crossed and one brow arched. She was a full-blooded Wood Elf with sharp, leaf-hued eyes, golden hair braided neatly behind her pointed ears, and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose that made her look both scholarly and constantly unimpressed.
"If your attention wandered any farther, Arky, we'd have to send a search party," she added dryly.
"I was just... meditating," he mumbled.
She didn't even dignify that with a response.
Arkiz scratched his head, fingers brushing the short ponytail that now tied back his longer hair. It had grown out over the last year or so. He actually liked it. There'd been an epic battle of parental opinions about it. His dad had campaigned hard for short and neat — the military cut. But Elowen, his mother, had immediately taken the opposite side. She adored long hair on boys. After a few rounds of playful bickering ( and some not-so-playful bribery involving blueberry tart ), she'd won.
She always won.
And honestly, Arkiz didn't mind. He liked the style. Gave him a bit of flair. Sure, he hated the arrogant young masters in those old cultivation novels, but even he had to admit — those dudes knew how to rock good hair.
Not that his was that dramatic. Yet.
Thariel snapped her fingers, breaking his train of thought.
"Since you're so refreshed, why don't you tell me how the celestial chart works in Vireya? Start with the elemental cycles."
Arkiz sighed, stretching his arms. "Alright, alright... The Vireyan calendar is based on elemental alignment, not just solar cycles. Each year has twelve months, and each month is named after an element. The order follows the classical elemental cycle starting with Sun."
He raised one finger for each as he recited:
" Solaria (Sun) — January.
Ferrum (Metal) — February.
Ignis (Fire) — March.
Terra (Earth) — April.
Aeris (Wind) — May.
Aquaris (Water) — June.
Fulmen (Lightning) — July.
Sylva (Wood) — August.
Lunaris (Moon) — September.
Luxia (Light) — October.
Umbra (Darkness) — November…"
He hesitated.
"And... right — the twelfth one is
Glacium (Ice) — December. After the 31st of Glacium, a new year starts, and the cycle begins again."
Thariel nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in rare approval. "Correct. And what about the time zones?"
Arkiz groaned. "Time zones are split by continental leyline flow, not just geography. So, even though Caladria and Ignisar are east-west neighbors, they have different aether tides, which affect the local time offsets..."
As he droned on, he couldn't help but glance outside — the rare sunlight calling to him like a long-lost friend.
Three more minutes of timezone trivia, and then he was making a break for it.
Thariel adjusted her spectacles and paused, her leafy-green eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're planning your escape, aren't you, young master Arkiz?"
Busted.
He sat up straighter, clearing his throat. "Me? Never. I live for learning."
She gave him a look — the kind that said 'don't push me, twigling' — and then let out a sigh that sounded both exhausted and amused.
"Well then," she said, tapping the edge of the desk with her pointer stick, "how about something more thrilling than months and moon phases?"
That got his attention.
Thariel leaned back on the windowsill, sunlight catching the gold threads woven into her forest-green tunic.
"Let's talk about power."
Arkiz blinked. "Power?"
"Yes. Or more specifically — Omniscript."
Now that woke him up.
She continued, her voice taking on a rhythm like a story passed down too many times to be just legend.
"It's been 180 years since Omniscript first arrived on this planet. That marked the beginning of the New Era. You were born on the 21st day of Fulmen — the Lightning Month — in the year 172."
"Which makes this year…" Arkiz muttered.
"New Era — 180," she finished for him. "And in ten years, when you turn 18 — the year 190 — the next Planetary Convergence Games will begin."
His brow furrowed. "Planetary... what now?"
Thariel smiled. "Ah, finally asking the right questions."
She turned, picking up a wooden pointer and tapping lightly against a star-chart scroll mounted beside the window.
"They're called Planetary Games by most — a grand competition held by Omniscript itself every thirty years between planets. A test of might, skill, strategy… and a good deal of madness, depending on who you ask."
Arkiz tilted his head. "So it's like… a school tournament?"
"It's more like a festival of war — but with planets, lad."
That shut him up.
She chuckled at his expression. "Only those between Tier 1 and Tier 3 can participate. You must have awakened and reached Tier 1 at minimum. Those beyond Tier 3 are barred — they'd be far too powerful. Every thirty years, qualified individuals from around the world are gathered and sent… somewhere else."
"Somewhere else?" he echoed.
"You'll learn more about where, when you're older — and especially in the academy. For now, just know the next Games will be in the year 190, when you turn 18. Perfect timing, wouldn't you say?"
He leaned forward, interest fully caught now. "Wait, so what happened when Omniscript first arrived?"
Thariel's gaze shifted slightly, her tone growing thoughtful.
"The first ten years after Omniscript's arrival were pure chaos. Aether surged through the ley lines like a dam breaking — we call that time the Aether Stabilization Period. Animals, beasts, even plants began awakening. Some adapted... many didn't."
She glanced at Arkiz, noting the slight wrinkle of confusion on his face, and added with a small smile, "And if you're wondering why the next Planetary Games are held in year 190 and not 180 — it's because the thirty-year countdown only began after those first ten years of stabilization. The Games didn't start right away."
Understanding clicked in his eyes. He gave a small nod. "So the countdown started after the chaos settled."
"Exactly."
He leaned forward slightly, curious now. "So... beasts like snakes, wolves, even birds — they all started evolving?"
"Correct. But remember, there's a difference between beasts and beastfolk."
She raised a finger, her tone sharpening just a bit — tutor mode fully active.
"Beasts were originally unintelligent creatures — the natural fauna of this world. They rely on raw aether to grow stronger, and they evolve much faster in lower tiers. Even if they lack intelligence at first, some species — like the deepwood hart or thunderhawks — awaken minds as they tier up. They often stay in their natural forms, though some gain the ability to polymorph at higher tiers."
"Beastfolk," she continued, "are a separate race. Intelligent, sapient — born with minds like humans, but with features of their ancestral beasts. They walk, talk, learn, and bleed just like us. A middle ground between human adaptability and elven longevity, you could say."
He scratched the side of his cheek. "So… wolf that turns into a big magic wolf? Beast. Guy with wolf ears and six-pack abs? Beastfolk?"
"Exactly," she said, not missing a beat. "Though perhaps we need better terminology for beasts — something less... ambiguous."
Arkiz leaned back, his mind now far removed from the timezone trivia of earlier. "Aren't there any Planetary Games for those above Tier 3?"
Thariel's expression grew unreadable. "That's a topic for another time. The Hundred-Year Wars are not your concern yet. But I guess your generation is the luckiest — and also the unluckiest — since the next Hundred-Year War starts in the New Era — 200, right after you return from the Planetary Games."
He raised a brow but let it go.
Thariel placed the pointer down, folding her arms.
"The academy exists to prepare gifted youths for the Games. Your tutors, your training — it's all meant to get you ready for that moment. Whether you participate or not… well, that's for fate and the aether to decide."
A long silence passed as sunlight pooled warmly across the desk.
Arkiz grinned slightly. "Well… at least it's better than celestial chart lessons."
Thariel rolled her eyes and muttered, "Only barely."