A flash of radiant light tore across the air like a blade, and in the next instant, the group was there—Mr. Alden, Mr. Alaric, Mr. Felix, Dorian, Lyra, Sophia, Selena, Aria, Orin, Oliver, Darius, Eryk, Leon, Samantha, Kael, and Sylphie—standing before a vast, silent village.
The first thing that struck them was the stillness.
No wind stirred the dust. No voices carried over the walls. Even the faint hum of Aether felt... muted, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
Towering stone walls encircled the settlement, rising like a fortress carved from a single slab of ancient rock. Ahead, stood a massive gate—twenty feet tall, thick, seamless, and shut tight. Its surface bore no carvings, no handles, no visible hinges. Just a smooth, oppressive expanse that seemed to swallow the light.
Mr. Alaric's gaze swept the area, sharp and calculating. His cloak shifted faintly as he turned. "It seems Roderick and Ronan haven't arrived yet."
A scoff cut through the quiet. "Most likely, Ronan is the reason Roderick is late," Oliver muttered, folding his arms with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Probably tripped over his own shadow."
Orin didn't even look at him. She rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose. "Can you shut up for once, Oliver?"
Oliver opened his mouth—
A magic circle flared to life beneath their feet.
Light spilt outward in intricate patterns, humming with unstable Aether. Instinctively, everyone turned, tension snapping through the group like a drawn bowstring. The light peaked, and only one figure emerged.
Ronan. He stumbled forward as the circle collapsed behind him, boots scraping harshly against the stone. His breathing came in ragged bursts, shoulders heaving. His eyes were tightly shut, his brow drawn tight with strain, and in his hand—clutched so hard his knuckles had gone pale—was a glowing Aether crystal, its light flickering as though being devoured.
Samantha was already moving. "Ronan!" Her voice broke as she rushed forward, catching him just as his knees buckled. His weight sagged against her, heat radiating through his clothes, his breath uneven against her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
He nodded weakly, still not opening his eyes. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay." His voice came out hoarse, strained. "Is Boss here yet?"
Samantha blinked, her grip tightening slightly. "Boss? Wait…" Her gaze sharpened, scanning his face—the subtle difference in aura, the faint distortion around him. "You're a clone?"
A tired, sheepish smile tugged at his lips. He scratched the back of his head. "Yup."
Mr. Alden stepped closer, his frown deepening as he studied Ronan's face. "What happened to your eyes?"
The clone gave a small, breathless chuckle and gestured vaguely toward them. "Tried using Keen Eyes to analyse the barrier…" His lips twitched faintly. "Almost blinded myself."
Mr. Alaric's brow rose slightly. "Isn't Keen Eyes always active for you?" His tone sharpened. "What exactly did you do? You can cancel the clone technique and return to the origin. That would be less painful."
The clone shifted, discomfort flickering across his expression. "Yeah, well… I was trying to break down the enchantments—layer by layer. Something… pushed back." His fingers tightened faintly around the crystal. "And for some reason… I can't return to the original."
That drew silence. A faint tension crept into the air.
Ronan turned his head slightly toward Samantha, though his eyes remained shut. "Do you have any spare Aether crystals? I need more energy to stabilise."
She didn't hesitate. Her hand moved to her pouch, pulling one free and pressing it into his palm. "Here. Just… be careful."
"Always am," he muttered. He lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. The crystal settled in his lap, its glow intensifying as he began to draw from it. A faint shimmer of Aether gathered around him, swirling slowly, unevenly—like a flame struggling against the wind.
Nearby, Mr. Alaric's attention had already shifted back to the gate. His eyes narrowed, gaze tracing its surface.
"Alden. Felix." His voice dropped slightly. "Have either of you noticed something odd?"
Mr. Alden didn't look away from the structure. "No exit gate."
Felix exhaled slowly, folding his arms. "Which means we don't get to be selective." His gaze swept the walls. "We explore everything."
A few minutes earlier… The forest had been quieter there. Not silent—but watchful.
Leaves rustled faintly overhead as Ronan and Roderick sprinted through the clearing, their footsteps light but urgent. Ahead of them, a sword hovered in the air, gliding effortlessly as though guided by an unseen will.
It finally slowed. Then stopped. Another sword waited there. Identical. The moment the two came within proximity, the air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. Like something long separated had just recognised itself.
Roderick stepped forward, his expression settling into focus. "Ronan," he said quietly, "can you guard me for a few minutes?"
Ronan flashed a grin, rolling his shoulders as he glanced around. "Sure thing." His voice carried an easy confidence. "I've got your back."
Roderick sat cross-legged, his breathing gradually evening out as his presence settled, the turbulence in his aura smoothing into something calm and contained.
The two swords lifted.
They hovered around him in slow, deliberate arcs, circling as though drawn by an unseen current. With each rotation, their motion grew steadier, more synchronised—like twin stars falling into the same orbit.
A soft glow began to gather.
It seeped outward from the blades, at first faint, then steadily deepening, wrapping around Roderick's body in a gentle radiance. The light clung to him, brushing against his skin, sinking into his presence. It shifted. From within that glow, a figure stepped forward.
Lianxi. She emerged soundlessly, as though she had always been there, simply unseen until now. The light parted around her form, trailing faint motes as she came to a stop beside Roderick, her gaze already fixed on the circling blades.
Ronan blinked, straightening slightly. "…Lianxi?"
She didn't respond immediately. Her eyes traced the path of the swords, sharp and intent, the usual playfulness in her expression absent. There was a weight to her silence, something measured—evaluating.
Ronan's brows drew together as he watched her. "What's going on with the sword?"
Lianxi exhaled softly, her arms folding as she continued observing the rotation, the faint hum of power building in the air. "This one's incomplete," she said at last. Her voice was calm, but it carried a quiet certainty.
Ronan's gaze flicked back to the blades. "Incomplete?"
She gave a small nod. "There are eight fragments scattered across the world." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if seeing beyond what was visible. "To fully awaken Luminastra… Roderick has to reunite them all."
Ronan's eyebrows shot up. "Wait—so this really is the Luminastra Sword?"
"Mm-hmm."
He crossed his arms, studying the weapon with exaggerated scrutiny. "Still not feeling the name."
Lianxi's eyes slid toward him, unimpressed. "Oh?"
"It lacks impact," Ronan continued thoughtfully. "Something like…" A grin spread slowly across his face. "The God-Slaying Holy Sword."
Lianxi froze. Then gagged. "Eugh—no." She made a face, physically recoiling. "That sounds like something a twelve-year-old edgelord would name."
Ronan snorted. "You lack vision."
"And you lack taste."
Their laughter broke the tension—brief, sharp, human. Then the world shifted. A surge of energy erupted from the blades without warning. The force slammed into them both, throwing Ronan backwards a few steps, his boots tearing through the dirt as he caught himself. Lianxi flickered, her form destabilising for a moment. The fragment dissolved.
Light fractured outward—then streamed inward, merging into the original blade. Roderick inhaled sharply. The glow tightened, compressing into him before vanishing entirely. The swords disappeared with it, drawn into his inner world.
For a moment, he remained still. Then he stood. Something about him had changed. Not visibly—but the weight of his presence had deepened, like the air itself had grown heavier around him.
Ronan tilted his head, studying him. "You feel stronger."
Roderick flexed his fingers slightly, as though testing something beneath the surface. Then he nodded. "I think I just advanced to Master Tier Four."
Ronan's grin widened. He stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice."
Before either could say more, A teleportation circle flared beneath their feet. Light surged upward. And the world vanished.
Back at the village gate, the circle reappeared. This time, both Ronan and Roderick stepped out.
Ronan didn't pause. The moment he saw his clone, he strode forward, brows knitting together. "Hey—what happened?" His voice carried a sharp edge now. "Didn't I tell you to force-cancel the skill if needed?"
The clone let out a weak laugh, shoulders sagging. "Force cancel doesn't work." Ronan exhaled through his nose, tension flashing across his face. Without another word, his hand formed a seal.
Mist gathered. It swirled around the clone, thickening rapidly before collapsing inward. The figure dissolved into particles of light, drawn back into Ronan's body in a faint shimmer.
The City Gate. Up close, the structure felt even more oppressive.
Ronan narrowed his eyes, studying the wall as he approached. The surface was cold, unnaturally smooth beneath his fingertips—too perfect, too uniform. Like something grown rather than built.
"How do we enter the city?" he asked, glancing toward Kael.
Kael rubbed his temple, frowning. "No idea." He gestured upward. "We can't jump over it—there's a barrier covering the entire structure. Not just physical."
Ronan didn't respond immediately. He began walking along the wall, gaze tracking every inch of it.
Kael followed, continuing, "We tried blasting the door earlier." He pointed toward the base. "Look."
"But the gate?" Kael's voice tightened slightly. "Not even a scratch."
As if to punctuate his words, A thunderous explosion echoed across the field. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet. Ronan and Kael both turned sharply.
In the distance, Mr. Alden and Mr. Alaric stood before the gate, residual energy still crackling in the air around them from their combined attack. The gate stood untouched. Not even a mark.
Ronan's eyes narrowed further as he stepped closer, attention shifting inward.
"Kael…" His voice lowered slightly. "Have you noticed something?"
Kael glanced at him. "What?"
"The Aether here…" Ronan inhaled slowly, sensing it. "It's thinner than outside." A faint crease formed between his brows. "And there's no Corrupted Aether at all."
Kael's expression shifted, scepticism flickering—then fading as he closed his eyes and extended his senses.
Seconds passed. When he opened them again, his gaze had sharpened. "You're right." His voice dropped. "The Aether's nearly drained… and no trace of corruption."
A pause. "If the Fractured come from Corrupted Aether…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "how does one escape this place?"
Ronan didn't answer. Instead, he turned. "Orin. Darius. Come with me." His gaze flicked briefly toward the others. "Sir—please don't blow us away. We're just observing."
Orin huffed faintly but followed. Darius exchanged a glance with Kael before stepping after them.
Behind them, Kael moved back toward the main group, already relaying what Ronan had sensed. Mr. Alden's expression darkened. "He's right. The Aether recovery rate here is abnormally low."
At the gate, Ronan raised his hand. A small flame flickered to life in his palm—steady, controlled. He brought it closer. The moment it touched the surface, It vanished.Not extinguished. Absorbed. Ronan's fingers twitched slightly, eyes narrowing. "It's feeding the barrier…" he murmured. "Everything gets redirected."
He turned. "Sir Alaric. Felix—can you come here for a moment?" They approached quickly. "What is it?" Alaric asked.
Ronan gestured to the gate. "Sir—can you use your God Eye on it?"
A faint glow lit Alaric's irises as he activated the ability. His gaze fixed on the surface, then shifted."…I can see through it." His voice carried a note of surprise. "There's a mechanism. Some kind of lock…" His brow furrowed. "But it's not locked."
Ronan nodded slowly, the idea settling into place. "Then maybe we're thinking about this wrong." He glanced at the others. "It's not magic we need."
Felix's eyes lit with understanding. "Raw force."
"Sylphie can boost us," he added quickly. "That might be enough."
He turned, already issuing orders. "Kael, Aria, Selena, Eryk, Leon—left side. Alaric, with them. Roderick, Dorian, Lyra, Samantha, Sophia, Oliver—you're with me on the right."
"Sylphie." She stepped forward. A pale blue aura spread outward from her, wrapping around them like a soft current. Strength flooded their limbs—subtle at first, then undeniable.
They took their positions. Hands pressed against the gate. Muscles tensed. "Push." At first—nothing. Then, A low groan. Stone grinding against stone, ancient and reluctant. Veins stood out along their arms as they leaned in harder, boots digging into the ground. Breath grew heavy. Shoulders trembled.
The gate resisted. Then, inch by inch, it moved. A narrow gap opened. Then widened. Dust shook loose from above as the massive doors slowly parted, the sound echoing like something waking from a long sleep. One by one, they slipped through.
The gate had opened. But the village had not.
Just beyond the threshold, the air warped—subtly at first, like heat rising from stone. Then more clearly, bending light, swallowing presence. The ground inside looked solid, yet no one could step further than a few feet before an invisible resistance pressed back against their bodies.
It wasn't a wall. It was everywhere. Ronan exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he extended his senses. The Aether inside the village didn't flow—it stagnated, pooling in invisible layers that pressed against one another like stacked glass.
"…So the gate was just the first lock," Kael muttered.
Roderick stepped forward. He didn't speak. But something in his presence shifted. A faint pulse rippled outward from him—resonant, quiet, but undeniable. The air responded. A shimmer flickered at his side.
Luminastra appeared. Not in his hand. It slid into existence, as though emerging from a seam in reality itself. The blade hovered beside him, trembling faintly—not unstable, but… reacting.
Ronan's gaze sharpened. "It's responding to the barrier."
The sword moved. Slowly, deliberately, it drifted forward, stopping just past the threshold. Then it tilted and pointed downward. The moment its tip aligned with the ground. A pulse of light spread outward. A magic circle bloomed into existence beneath it. Not a single formation. Layers. Dozens of them.
Intricate lines spiralled outward in overlapping geometries, symbols shifting, rearranging, correcting themselves in real time as though the array were alive. Some rings rotated clockwise, others counterclockwise, each moving at different speeds, phasing in and out of visibility.
Felix inhaled sharply. "…This isn't a lock."
Roderick's voice came low. "It's a system."
The sword trembled again, then drove itself a fraction deeper—without touching the ground. The circles reacted violently. New layers emerged. Hidden ones. Ones that had been concealed beneath concealment.
Felix stepped forward, already raising his hand. His eyes glowed faintly as he began tracing the outermost ring. "We can't break it," he muttered. "We have to unravel it."
Roderick nodded once. They began.
Felix moved first—his fingers cutting through the air, isolating one strand of the array. The moment he touched it, the circle resisted, its structure shifting, trying to reroute itself.
Roderick reacted instantly. His hand lifted, and Luminastra responded.
The blade vibrated, and a thin line of light carved through the interference, pinning the shifting segment in place.
"Now!" Felix snapped. Felix twisted his hand. The strand collapsed. One layer down. The entire formation shuddered.
A low hum echoed through the space, like something deep beneath the ground stirring in irritation.
Layer by layer, Roderick and Felix worked. Each time Felix isolated a strand, the array retaliated—shifting patterns, spawning false structures, attempting to mislead.
Each time, Luminastra corrected it. Not by force. But by recognition. The sword seemed to know which parts were real. Time stretched. Sweat beaded along Felix's brow.
Roderick's breathing deepened, controlled but heavier now, as more of his Aether fed into the blade. Then, they reached the core. It wasn't visible at first.
Only when the outer layers collapsed did it reveal itself—a dense, tightly woven cluster of symbols, compressed into a single point beneath the sword.
Felix's hesitation lasted only a second. "…Do it."
Luminastra plunged.
Not physically—but conceptually, the blade pierced the core. Light detonated outward. The final layer shattered. A shockwave rippled through the barrier—
—and then—
Silence.
The resistance vanished. The warped air stilled. The path into the village opened completely.
As soon as the barrier opened, Ronan's world hit him. Pain lanced through his skull. Sharp. Immediate. Overwhelming. His breath caught as his knees buckled, hands slamming against the cold ground to steady himself. The surface bit into his palms, rough and unyielding.
Not silence. Never silence. The whispers. They weren't whispers anymore. They were voices. Clear. Layered. Screaming.
Beside him, Mr. Alden dropped to one knee, fingers digging into his temple. "Ugh—" His voice strained. "The voices… they're clearer now. Overwhelming."
Mr. Alaric moved instantly, kneeling beside him, a healing spell forming in his hands. "Alden! What's happening?"
Alden's jaw clenched. "Help Ronan—" he forced out. "Don't touch him."
Alaric paused. "Why—"
"Just do it!" Alden's voice cracked, sharp with strain. Then he lowered himself fully, crossing his legs, forcing his breathing into rhythm as he tried to stabilise his mind.
Ronan barely heard them. The world around him blurred. The ground felt distant beneath his hands. The voices surged.
"Why do you bring the cursed child?"
"We must kill it. There's no place for it here."
"As long as we kill it… we can save ourselves."
His fingers curled against the stone. The words scraped against something deep inside him, like nails dragged across bone. Then, A different voice. Softer. Desperate. "He's just a newborn… a child! How can he be cursed? You'd murder an infant to save yourselves?"
The screams that followed tore through him. Louder. Closer. Alive. Ronan's breath hitched. His vision trembled. "What is this—?" The thoughts came fragmented, scattered beneath the pressure. "Who are they talking about?" His heart pounded violently against his ribs. "The cursed child…?" His body trembled, a cold shiver crawling up his spine despite the heat of his own breath.
"Why… why does this feel…" A wave of stabilising energy wrapped around him. Cool. Steady.
Mr. Alaric's spell. It didn't silence the voices—but it dulled their edge, like placing distance between him and a storm.
"Ronan!" Mr. Alden's voice cut through.
"How are you holding up?" he called, still seated in meditation. "You want to back out of this mission?"
Ronan dragged in a breath. Then another. Slow. Controlled. He forced himself upright, shifting into a cross-legged position. His hands rested on his knees, fingers trembling faintly before stilling. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Then looked up. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "This isn't enough to knock me out, old man," he said, voice rough but steady. "I'm still better than you when it comes to Keen Eye."
He closed his eyes. Focused. Breathing in. Out. In. Out. But beneath the surface, the questions remained. Unanswered. Unrelenting. The echo of those voices lingered in the dark behind his eyes, coiling tighter with every passing second.