Across the Stars…
Though Neyru thrived in peace, the galaxy stirred.
The prophecy — once a sacred whisper — now rippled through distant constellations like thunder rolling across cosmic shores.
In every corner of known space, from glacial suns to crimson moons, the words echoed. Different tongues. Same meaning. Destiny was coming.
The Ilyron Dominion
Beneath crimson skies and obsidian towers, the Dominion burned with purpose.
These humans were not of Neyru — they were Ilyron, born from war, tempered by fury.
In the citadel of Valgryn, within the Chamber of Iron Flame, sat three children encased in an arena of flame and blade.
"Harder!" barked a figure clad in gleaming blacksteel. His name was Commander Riven — Warlord of the South Reach, and father to one of the Bladespawn elites.
The children clashed again — clang! crack! swipe!
On a raised platform, a woman watched with calculating eyes. Her white battle robes bore the sigil of a dying sun.
"They're only six," she murmured.
"Exactly," Riven replied. "If they bleed now, they won't shatter later."
High above, the War Council's decree rolled across every channel.
"No child of Ilyron will fall behind a Neyru!"
---
The Drosari Tribe
In a land of twilight rivers and silver meadows, the Drosari stirred. Beastkin of the moonlit wilds, their fur shimmered with power.
Under a massive white tree that pulsed like a heartbeat, Chief Orran stood before hundreds.
"Let the weaklings chase prophecy," he growled. "We do not chase fate. We earn it."
A chorus of howls answered, echoing hooo-aaaahh into the heavens.
"If a Monarch is to rise," Orran roared, "let it be the one whose blood remembers the wild sun."
---
The Oracles of the Outer Veil
High above any world — in a temple woven of starlight and runes — the Seers gathered. Unbound. Unsworn. Eternal.
Esta, the blind oracle, sat upon a platform of drifting stone. Her silk-covered eyes glimmered faintly.
Her voice, barely above a whisper, froze the air around her:
"The threads converge. A tide of souls. The veiled crown appears."
Glyphs ignited in the air — not written but sung from the soul.
"In the Age of Ruin's Quiet, the Era of Monarchs shall bloom.
From soil and star, many shall rise, and fewer shall remain.
A thousand thrones shall tilt, and only one may stand.
The one scorned by all will once again rise — and their crown shall break the sky."
The seers fell to silence.
---
Back on Neyru…
CRACK!
Wood clashed with steel.
The eastern training yard echoed with rhythm — blade against blade, breath against breath.
Ash, now six and a half, flowed through sword forms like a silent storm. Sweat dripped, muscles flexed, breath burned.
Each motion refined. Every correction absorbed.
"Again," came the even voice of Selene Dorne, arms behind her back, eyes sharp.
Ash didn't hesitate. He moved.
Recursion spun like a silent machine in the background — patterns learned, faults erased.
Inside the Imperial Hall, soft humming filled the chamber. A floating orb projected Ash's every movement.
Emperor Vaerion stood watching, his eyes gleaming with quiet interest.
Beside him, Empress Selyra laughed softly as she sipped fragrant tea.
"He's nearly mastered Form Seventeen," she said.
"Faster than Ary. Almost as fast as Kaelilth," Vaerion murmured.
Selyra gave him a side glance, her tone dipping:
"We won't force him. The marriage pact is the last thing decided for him. Let him live his life."
Vaerion said nothing — but his eyes never left the boy.
----
One and a Half Years Later…
Ash had grown.
Now eight, his body stretched lean, defined by thousands of hours of discipline. His grey hair danced across his shoulders.
CLANG!
His steel sword collided with a training construct, which crumbled beneath the blow.
Then… silence.
Ash fell to his knees, eyes closed — breathing calm, meditative.
thump-thump... thump-thump...
Suddenly, his body pulsed. A wave of heat flooded his veins — but it wasn't pain. It was clarity.
A screen shimmered across his vision.
[Milestone Reached: Evolution Threshold 1 — Ascension of Pattern]
[Adjustment speed increased. Combat growth accelerated.]
Ash blinked.
"An evolution threshold…?" he whispered, gripping his chest.
"Well, that's interesting…"