Year 8990
Despite the heavy sweat, it never drowned the fire burning within Barzo Vieldem.
His eyes were wide. Fists clenched.
There was no time to miss this mission.
The reflecting light of the Signal projected the events from the Cylinder. Barzo adjusted for comfort, hidden inside an office closet, looking through the hinges.
Yosen was there.
The grey in his hair and beard began to show these days. He was forty nine now. He had seen more of life than his dear brother did.
And his eyes locked on the signal movements of the Agents—Bayla, Vidiax, and Fortune—whose voices echoed off the battle table as if it breathed on its own.
Barzo listened carefully, squinting until the view sharpened. He saw them leaning over the display in the Lyriax Flight, the airborne vessel's engines humming low as it glided through ash-colored clouds.
"Something isn't right," Bayla said.
"I agree," Fortune replied. "Let's assume we're wrong and go home."
"What is with you, tonight?"
"I'm tired and my Olaya is calling me."
"You named your bed Olaya?"
"I sense judgement. I will be ignoring you now."
Bayla rolled her eyes.
"It's here," Vidiax said. "Just keep looking."
Fortune turned to his right, his eyes digging deeper into the clouds. And there it was, thunder flashing.
"Guys…" he said. "Come and see this."
The Lyriax shifted toward it, lightning kissing the hull, striking its edges as if warning them back. The hatch opened, and Vidiax stared into the heart of chaos. Storm clouds spiraled below, colliding with the blackened skies. She strapped on her Reja Gear, then brushed her fingers across the four red glowing bars, bringing them to life.
Flight. Strength. Agility. Stealth.
Each one a mode. Each one a promise.
Turning green whenever one is selected.
She nodded once. The others returned it.
Then, they leapt.
Flight Mode.
Falling through the storm, three shadows cut through rain. The hiss of the Gear flooded Vidiax's ears, the storm's air siphoned and converted into power. Turbocharged.
They descended further into the storm's wrath.
Vidiax's arms ached as gravity pulled hard. But to her, it felt familiar, like swimming through an angry ocean. She had done this before. Only now, the water was thunder.
The clouds broke, vapor peeling away to reveal the ruins below. A ghost town. Their landing echoed off a roof, longer than it should have. And the silence refused to let it go.
"Checkpoint reached," Vidiax said, tapping her holo-device.
As the Agents readied their Waypnaries, Bayla swept the ruins for energy traces. Any signs of movement.
Fortune raised a hand.
"The storm," he said. "It's moving."
"Let's follow it."
The Agents ran.
Their footsteps whispered against the concrete.
❂ ❂ ❂
The sweat on JodiumPowell trickled down his jaw as he swallowed hard, burying his thoughts.
He tried his hardest, and yet, the child within was afraid.
The feeling angered him, he had worked too hard to not feel small. So with a shred of power, he exhaled the nerves away.
"The storm shall pass," Mr. Rone said. "Believe it to be the best kind. The worst ones are silent."
He turned to Jodium, gaze sharp, watching the sixteen-year-old gulp at the clouds. They stood before a crumbled castle. Vines strangled the ancient stone. The grass was drowned in mud. And armed guards flanked them.
"But Master…" Jodium said. "The storms could mean the Agents are here too."
Mr. Rone grunted at the sight of his shoes. He had just bought them. Once a shining black, now ruined by the dark brown liquid of nature.
"You know an awful lot about those people. I've yet to see one."
"They're real…." Jodium turned. "Trust me."
Memories flashed vividly, scarring him even more.
"Alright then," Mr. Rone said, cracking his neck as if shrugging off the threat itself. "If it is as you say, then let it be my concern, not yours. You focus on what matters. To not disappoint me in front of the Domeinus Union. This deal must go well. I've waited too long for it not to."
Jodium nodded as response, stiffly.
Then, a rumble. The ground trembled beneath them. What had once been a soggy, overgrown field turned slick and unstable. Mud split as the soil churned in a whirl, and from the depths below, a ship began to rise.
A Getran.
Steel and shadow, its curves shaped with spikes. The storm intensified with its arrival, and the rain could no longer hide Jodium's fear.
"Be ready." Mr. Rone's voice was steady as the Getran's entrance hissed open. Heavy footsteps echoed.
The Vexo Wielders.
Their helmets gleamed beneath the stormlight, merging seamlessly into the armour. Mr. Rone and Jodium stepped forward, stopping as a single gloved hand rose in command.
Something else emerged from the shadows of the Getran.
Someone else.
Their armour, red over green.
A cape but no helmet.
Just a black visor, tight around the eyes.
A gasp from Mr. Rone, and without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, dragging Jodium with him.
"Believers of the Domeinus Union," One Vexon said. "You kneel before the Relion Lord of Londro. Vard Paxon. The First Wielder."
"Lord Paxon," Mr. Rone said. "I wasn't informed of your arrival."
"Be on your feet," Vard Paxon said, scanning the row of armed guards. Then fell upon the large cloak draped over a set of boxes.
Mr. Rone raised a hand, ordering the guards. They obeyed, dragging one of the boxes to the Relion's feet. He brushed the cloak aside with one swift motion.
Glowing pink.
Raxtens.
One of them sparkled as Vard Paxon picked it up.
"That'll be all," he said. "Your contract has ended."
Mr. Rone blinked. "My lord….I thought our long-term partnership was beginning today?" A nervous chuckle escaped. "I—I helped remove the competitions. We got the leak as you wanted."
Vard Paxon stared, twirling the Raxten slowly in his hand.
A cold silence.
"My Lord," Mr. Rone continued. "I've done everything to earn your trust. Please, reconsider."
In an instant, Vard Paxon drew his sword, inches from Mr. Rone's face. "You give me orders?"
"It's fine!" Mr. Rone barked at his guards, who'd thought to move. "I'm only trying to be the partner I promised to be."
Vard Paxon waved the sword slowly across Mr. Rone's face, measuring the fear in his eyes like a ritual.
Each second deepened the silence.
Jodium's heartbeat quickened. He breathed slowly, forcing the panic down. And he was calm enough to remember why Mr. Rone had brought him.
He had to be brave.
So, with a clenched fist, he spoke.
"I propose an exchange." His own voice startled him. But this time, his eyes didn't drop. Courage had found its place. "Your Vexons for our Raxtens. Let them oversee everything."
"Jodi—"
"Think about it, Master." Jodium turned to face Vard Paxon. "My lord, I know why you hide your tracks. You're masters of the shadows, you sing it in your sleep."
He stepped closer. "It's because of them. The Agents."
Vard Paxon narrowed his gaze. "And who might you be, boy?"
"Jodium Powell," he said, straightening. "At your service, my lord. I truly believe we need each other."
"Bold of you to say," Vard Paxon now pointed his sword at him. "Do I really need you?"
"Okay, maybe not," Jodium gulped. "I know what you truly seek…the Expansionals. And you have searched—"
"Be wary of your next words…"
Jodium flinched, the cold steel pressing into his skin. "Yes, my Lord. All I'm saying is that Raxtens are the closest thing to the power you crave. This is your only chance to control production. Every source. Every strand."
The wind stirred the storm clouds above.
And the steel nearly carved too deep into Jodium, but his breathing steadied. Vard Paxon stood still, and hope stirred in his mind.
He slowly lowered his sword, saying nothing.
Was this a sign?
Then, he nodded at his Vexons.
Mr. Rone and Jodium both smiled. The crates were loaded into the Getran, and a line of Vexons stepped forward to stand behind them. The storm simmered beneath this new agreement.
"I only need one of you," Vard Paxon said. He pulled Jodium to his side. Mr. Rone took a step forward, only to be blocked by Vexons.
"Lord Paxon, we had a deal!" Jodium shouted.
"And I'm honoring it," Vard Paxon replied. "It will not be me who ends your life, Mr. Rone. I'm simply choosing not to protect it."
Mr. Rone brows frowned. "Protect me from what?"
A volley of arrows descended from the skies.
Vard Paxon flicked his wrist, and electrical shields burst to life around the Vexons. The guards were the first to fall. Mr. Rone screamed as he dropped, his cry echoing beneath the mud.
Jodium watched with a subtle smirk, following Vard Paxon into the Getran as the doors sealed shut and sank into the ground again.
The Marble Agents landed from the rooftops.
The battle had begun.
"Targets spotted, Leader Sift," Vidiax said. "But we just missed the Relion Lord."
Barzo's ears twitched at the mention of a Relion Lord. He rubbed his chest, wishing he were there to fight.
"Finish it, my Agents," Yosen said. "For the fallen."
They charged.
Fortune swung his spear, Golon, never missing a beat.
His Waypnary hungered under his command, answering with sharp precision as it pierced the hearts of Vexons, followed by the roar of cheers.
Bayla surrendered to the havoc within, channeling her fury through the hammer, Actora. It wasn't a regular Waypnary, it called the winds to her will.
And after a lethal slam, she vanished the Vexons.
As for Vidiax, her dual blades, Tizen, sliced through their helmets, harvesting souls like a goddess feeding herself. She moved at a speed the Vexons couldn't grasp. Then, she tossed her Secondary—three large metal spheres, raising her hand. She called upon her KayzaFinale.
"Speaker of War."
Arrows made from the spheres erupted, piercing through the last wave of Vexons, until the storm cleared.
Victory sealed in the breathless act of her Kayza Finale, a battle technique born from years of pain and training.
As the rain ceased, the twin moons shimmered through the night clouds, painting the battlefield in silver.
"No…" Vidiax stared at Mr. Rone, his skin pale.
"He told us they were getting paranoid," Bayla said. "And they left him to die. We should've listened."
"He knew the risks." Vidiax's eyes wandered to the light, as though she saw his ghost follow it.
"May the Kizen be of his peace," Fortune said. "How long until Vard Paxon finds his replacement?"
"It won't be long," Vidiax said, she kneeled, closing his eyes. "D.P. Scan him and send the data to Leader Sift."
"With pleasure, Vidiax." Said the Digital Partner.
The Agents walked toward the nearby cloak, draped over a stack of abandoned crates, half-buried in the mud. Bayla hesitated, then slowly pulled the cover away.
Pink light surged. The glow pulsed fast and sharp.
What is that? Barzo thought, wincing. Even through the projection, the brightness still burned into his vision.
Yosen stared at the Signal. His jaw clenched at the sight.
"Burn it," he said quietly. "Burn it all."
And so the Agents did. Flames consumed the corrupted remains, smoke rising like a dark omen.
Never to be seen again.
For now.
❂ ❂ ❂
The Signal faded, its Cylinder powering down. Yet Barzo watched Yosen remain.
Knowing his uncle, he was likely analyzing the mistakes more than the successes. Barzo gulped, still hidden inside the closet.
He'll leave. I won't get caught. He thought.
But as Yosen turned toward the corners, his fingers brushed the surface of his bracelets. A hum of energy pulsed through the room, metal responded. Barzo's belt jerked, yanked out the closet, then slammed against the wall with a force that left him gasping.
"Argh!" He shouted.
Yosen said nothing. His head tilted slightly, studying him as he spoke.
"I needed to see it!"
"Not until you master the ways of the Kizen," Yosen said.
"But that's not fair, I ascend in a few days. What difference does it make?"
Barzo collapsed to the ground, breath ragged, hands pressing into the floor. The bracelets switched off.
Yosen knelt before him, eyes locked on his nephew. "Why do you wish to be an Agent?"
"What?" Barzo looked up, slowly. "To get revenge for my father."
A long pause.
"That's not good enough," Yosen said.
"How? Was I supposed to say something else?—"
"You are dismissed."
Barzo gulped in silence, then sighed, forcing himself back onto his feet. Not good enough? The question echoed as he left the office, a mirror of doubts stabbing at his mind.
Now he lay on his bed, head sinking into the cushion, eyes fixed on the reflection of the twin moons. Their silver light danced across his bedroom—a place that had been his world since childhood. Yet now, at fifteen, it felt foreign.
He gripped the covers tighter as the Lyriax roared overhead, returning the Marble Agents home. But the sound no longer stirred pride. Only emptiness. This war left a void in him.
Yosen had taught him everything.
How to speak. How to walk. How to fight.
Even how to love.
And still, happiness remained a distant thing. He had felt it once, years ago, holding his first blade at ten. Maybe not happiness, but something close. A feeling that life could be more. More than duty. More than being an Agent. But those thoughts felt dangerous now. The will to be an Agent had always been necessary. Especially for his father.
And yet, Yosen said that wasn't enough.
Barzo let out a breath, quiet and bitter.
Then what is?
He had to find an answer.
One Yosen couldn't deny.
❂ ❂ ❂
The alarm blared, and Barzo groaned, slamming it off with a tired swipe.
Twin suns blazed through the window, searing into his eyes. He squinted at the time.
"Oh no!"
In a flash, he jumped up, grabbing his uniform, Reja Gear, and practical blade. Then into the woods he went. Branches tore past as he zoomed between them, the wind screaming in his ears. At last, the final branch gave way, and there they were. The Marble Agents.
Vidiax stood still, her eyes locked onto him.
"Vieldem, you are late," she said.
"I'm sorry," Barzo said.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing at his Reja Gear. "Have you figured it out now?"
"The corners keep slowing me down."
"Then change modes. Between the curves, Stealth Mode must transition into Flight."
Barzo clenched his jaw, nodding. He stared up.
TheInnosaint.
A technax cliff formed against the sky, the most advanced training system in the Tophora. Its rocky terrain failed to mirror a natural cliff, yet plants still found a way to grow. A touch of life against the manufactured landscape. But the cliff itself was no concern. It was the actions upon it.
"Your Ascension is soon, Vieldem," Vidiax continued. "The Kizen won't wait for you. To not have mastered the Reja Gear by now is to accept death."
"Hey!" Bayla said, sipping tea. "Stop being so harsh, Vidiax. It won't help him."
Vidiax pointed up, toward a figure. "If Renix can do it. Then so can he."
Barzo followed her eyes.
To the edge of the cliff.
To her.
VolenaRenix.
His fellow Freshgent. Her hazel eyes locked with his, dark hair braided, the wind teasing the loose strands.
They had trained side by side since they were ten. Close as siblings, almost twins in their shared height. Yet rivalry drove them, it always had. She pushed him to strive, to catch up. And she was always ahead.
Unlike Barzo, her worries about becoming an Agent were few. The Ascension called for Freshgents to be ready when the Kizen appointed them. And time was ticking.
Volena's slowed shuffles near the cliff's edge drew wary eyes. Her Reja Gear engaged.
Stealth Mode.
She exhaled then jumped, not falling, but propelling against the cliff walls. Her world turned vertical.
A testament to the power of StealthMode, it let the user propel themselves onto any surface. The Innosaint's purpose was mastery. Every second on the wall was a step closer to a combat style born, an outcome as inevitable as ink on skin.
Metallic targets lined the path, mounted along the walls—obstacles to overcome.
Volena took a deep breath. Years of practice flooded her mind. Her grip tightened on the practical blade. As she ran, the targets felt the force of her skill, her combat style and Reja Gear moved in perfect harmony.
AgilityMode.
Dodging a near hit with lightning-fast movements.
StrengthMode.
A graceful counter, the Reja thrusters amplified her strike with explosive power. The practical blade sang as another slash whistled past the sound barrier.
Targets cleared. Mastery achieved.
Two batteries remained, an impressive feat.
"I—I did it!" she cheered, finally reaching the surface.
She raced toward the Agents, gave Fortune a high-five, then pulled Bayla into a tight hug.
"What will you call this style?" Bayla asked.
"I'm thinking….The MusicMove."
Turning, Volena waved at Barzo. It was his turn.
He gulped, breath unsteady, and stepped toward the edge of the Innosaint, Reja Gear pulsing, practical blade in hand. He rocked back and forth, eyes closed, thinking to himself.
I can do this. I can. I have to. C'mon, you're a Vieldem, Barzo. C'mon.
He inhaled deeply, as if trying to summon the minds of his ancestors. Of his father. Reaching for courage not yet his. But his blade slipped from his hand. And so did he.
I can't do it. I just… can't.
Bayla watched, her eyes heavy with quiet sorrow. She looked to Vidiax and gave a soft nod.
Vidiax exhaled, the sharpness of her usual strictness faded. Just this once, she chose gentleness. And without a word, she joined him by the edge, sitting beside him.
"Your father… he was a great Agent," she said.
Barzo's eyes widened.
She had never spoken of him before as she did now.
"The Mercial Stance changed the way many of us fight. It was the best, even if Leader Sift says otherwise. But don't tell him I said that."
Barzo let out a quiet chuckle, and Vidiax joined.
She leaned. "You have to show the world what it means to be a Vieldem. And the legacy Leader Sift holds… someday, that may be yours."
"You're not used to being like this, are you?" Barzo said.
Vidiax scoffed. "I hope the Gods punish me for it. But I'm glad I tried. And now it's your turn. Trying is all you need to do."
Barzo nodded at her words. They lingered like an unseen weight pressing harder under his breath.
He had to master the Innosaint. But something internal stood in the way.
And no matter how hard he trained, how far he pushed, it wouldn't break.
Why? He thought.
The question sang louder than the breeze of Londro.
His soul needed an answer. Not just for the mission. Not just for his sanity. But for the legacy he hoped to carry, and to one day avenge his father.
"Okay!" Bayla shouted. "Training is over, and sadness and doubt are skyrocketing." She clapped her hands together. "How about some s'mores while we're still in the woods? And—"
"Oh no," Fortune groaned. "Please don't say it."
"We must do harmonies!"
❂ ❂ ❂
Traditions reigned across the culture of the Kizen. All Associations had their own. For Marble, it was harmonies.
"I understand it is difficult to hear." Yosen once said.
His voice echoed in Barzo's memory as he sat before the blackened firewood, eating s'mores.
The group gathered near the flame, but it was the smoke that moved first, setting the stage. Then came a rhythmic drum from Volena, her fist bouncing against the log they sat on, echoing into the woods.
"The world you're going to enter comes with scars no one asks for."
Fortune began to strum a soft melody.
"But it's here we learn. To be proper. To be strong."
Vidiax raised a harmonica to her lips. The winds followed. And Bayla began to sing, her voice like an angel sent by the Gods.
"Sing to heal the wounds. Not the ones on skin. But the soul. The one visible only to those who care to listen."
Barzo rose, his voice joining hers, his chest full.
"When the ocean dries.
The tears of mine keep us alive.
When forever is born, fate decides.
Whether we must live beyond our time. "
The firewood flames grew higher with his voice. The instruments behind him intensified, the rhythm building, rising. But soon they faded into the background.
Each note peeled back a piece of his soul, healing old wounds through harmony. The pain, grief, and doubt.
All of it found its end in the song he offered to the night.
"We look into the stars, and our souls unite.
For the fallen, we must rise!"
His voice surged past the winds, carried beyond the trees, reaching ears far away. With every breath, every sound, his spirit grew heavier. Flames consumed everything around him, until there was nothing left but him… and a figure he knew. Tomzius.
Barzo held the final note, trembling as it left his lips.
"Heal…."
But then… black shadows poured over his father like ink. Barzo frowned. The vision twisted.
His father's form distorted.
Something else began to take shape.
Golden light rippled across his skin, warping it, and fangs grew. A creature emerged. Barzo stepped back, breath hitching in his throat.
The creature's head tilted. It moved.
A low growl sang, until it screamed.
"WAKE UP!"
❂ ❂ ❂
The scream echoed as a bulb flared, flooding Barzo's eyes. He groaned, turning away from the sting.
Slowly, he realized he was on his bed. He sat up, eyes sweeping the walls. His gaze landed on the desk—half-eaten s'mores. The harmonies session must've ended.
That was the power of it.
A sorrowful healing so deep it lulled you to sleep, letting you forget everything else.
He stepped outside. The soft grass met his warmth as he sat. The night sky still reigned above Londro, twin moons glowing cold and distant.
That creature… what was that?
It jolted into his mind again, fleeting, but real.
"You got caught, didn't you?" A voice nearby.
Barzo turned to his right.
Volena.
"I told you he would get you," she said, smirking as she sat beside him. "What did you think would happen?"
Barzo shrugged. "At least I can say I saw the whole thing."
"Really? Is it as they say?"
He paused. The images flashed behind his eyes. "Nothing we can't handle." He smiled faintly. "But the best part? Vidiax used her Kayza Finale."
Volena's eyes widened. "You saw the Speakerof War? No way."
"Yeah… it made me excited for the day I awaken mine. Then I'll finally get revenge for my father."
"Yeah, that isn't happening until you beat the Innosaint."
"You don't need to remind me. I'll do it."
Volena studied him for a beat. "… you're still scared."
"What?" Barzo blinked. "No, I'm not."
"Then what held you back this time?"
Barzo looked away, the silence between them pulsed with unspoken truths. His mind drifted back to the lone nights at the Marble Castle, staring at the burnt names of the Black Micr.
He had feared his own fate might join them.
He thought that feeling had been buried, for the sake of bravery.
But the Innosaint brought it back.
Volena had seen that fear, felt it herself. A pain from the past she whispered in her sleep but never spoke aloud. They had both lost parents. Hers, however, drowned while trying to save her. It changed her in ways she never expected. Her speech grew more careful. Her heart, more open.
That's why she always pushed Barzo beyond his fear.
So he wouldn't drown in it.
"Look…" she said. "It's fear that drives us through the missions. Not the fear of dying, but the fear of failing the people we care to protect. Once you understand that… you'll beat the Innosaint. That's how I did it."
Barzo stared at her, brows raised, surprised by her wisdom. "Next time you're this serious, V. You might actually beat me at Towtric."
"Oh please," Volena scoffed. "You're going to hold on to that one time you won?"
"Absolutely."
The two Freshgents chuckled as the twin moons cast their light upon them.
A moment of relief. Of clarity.
❂ ❂ ❂
The twin suns blazed overhead, but Barzo's mind remained overcast. Volena's words echoed in him.
The air tugged at his cape as he stood once more before the Innosaint. Ascension was near, and the cost of failure today was no longer just about shame, it was about legacy.
Barzo gulped as a warmth returned, not from the suns, but from within. Hope.
His fingers brushed the locket Yosen had given him as a child. Inside was the face of his father. Still. Eternal.
The cliff's edge loomed at his boots. He closed his eyes and jumped. The wind tore past as he plunged toward the metal targets, their blades gleaming, ready to strike.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
FlightMode.
Like an eagle, he soared, gliding past the targets without a single misstep. His feet never touched the wall, and gravity was his, dancing under his control. Nothing could stop him.
Power surged, bursting with the swing of his practical blade. And swords swayed toward him like a wave, but Barzo countered, the Mercial Stance flowing as if born from storm.
Just as the harmonies session had healed the doubts of his heart, the sound of targets falling healed his fear. With every thump, the goal grew sharper, more vivid in his mind.
The goal of revenge.
The final metal target awaited, poised.
As Barzo neared, it reeled back, so far it seemed to defy its own programming, as if trying to end him before being struck. He smirked, flipping around the attack, breaking it apart with a single kick.
"Yes!" he yelled, triumph roaring from his lungs.
"Did he just fly with a Reja Gear?" Fortune asked, blinking. "Guys, am I going crazy?"
The Agents burst into applause. Volena met Barzo with a fist bump. Then he turned to Vidiax, who gave him a rare, proud smile, followed by a light shove.
"How did you figure that out?" she asked.
Barzo exhaled, still catching his breath.
"Flight Mode moves naturally with this style." He pointed at the three glowing batteries. "I think the Mercial Stance saves energy, so I don't need the other modes as much."
Vidiax crossed her arms. "A remix? So what will you call this style?"
Barzo rubbed his chin, then smirked. "The Ronan Star."
A distant clap carried through the air. They all turned.
From the distance, Yosen approached.
"Line up," Vidiax said.
While holding up the Gold Ocean sign, they bowed in silent respect. Yosen settled his gaze on Barzo.
"Ronan Star?" he said. "Now, I like the sound of that."
He turned to Volena, pride flickering in his eyes. "I'm ending training early today."
"But Leader Sift," Vidiax straightened. "They still need to prepare for their Ascension."
"I know," Yosen said, waving a hand. He scratched the back of his head, as if debating how much to reveal. "Freshgents, wear something warm. We march to the mountains."
Barzo and Volena exchanged glances.
A question passed between them.
What Has He Planned?