Three Days Later — Ardent City
Dawn crept over Ardent City in muted silver, the light thin and hesitant as if unsure whether it belonged here. A low fog rolled in from the southern wetlands, curling around rooftops and drifting like pale breath between the streets. Rising above it all, the spire of the Federation's Central Outpost pierced the haze — its mirrored exterior catching what few sunbeams had broken through.
Bands of runic light spiraled up the tower, each chain composed of symbols of differing size and complexity. The runes pulsed steadily, like the heartbeat of a colossal creature waking.
Inside, the Command Atrium was already alive.
Dozens of floating rune screens lit the cavernous chamber, each projecting streams of information: elevation scans of Rift 7-3C, resonance waveforms, shifting patterns of energy flux. Squads of armored scouts knelt in formation as captains briefed them in low voices, while rune engineers adjusted long-range anchors that hummed with pale-blue light.
At the center of this controlled chaos stood Vice Headmaster Taurus Grein, his posture still, his presence grounding. The glow from the rune pillars brushed against his silver hair as he studied the rotating, three-dimensional map of the rift's perimeter.
"The readings have stabilized slightly," an analyst reported, fingers gliding across a translucent console. "But the core energy is still chaotic. Based on the current pulse frequency, a secondary breach could occur within a month if left unchecked."
Taurus exhaled through his nose — not frustrated, but calculating."We don't have a month," he said quietly.
He turned toward the officers gathered around him: Captain Rynel, commander of the Federation Guard, and Master Selian, one of the Research Division's senior rune architects.
"I want the first investigation team deployed by dawn tomorrow," Taurus ordered. "Grandmaster-class operatives only. They'll take two rune masters and a sealing specialist. No one else steps foot near that rift."
Captain Rynel bowed with crisp precision."Understood. Redwind Unit has already been recalled. They'll be assembled by nightfall."
Master Selian adjusted the glowing monocle over her right eye, its runes flickering in response to her thoughts."Vice Headmaster… the spatial seals surrounding the rift are deteriorating unevenly. We've reinforced them twice already, but something is interfering with the structure."
Taurus' gaze sharpened."The cult."
Selian nodded grimly."The pattern matches. Corrupted aura is eating into the runes themselves. The seal integrity is already below safe parameters."
A ripple passed through the Atrium as the projectors refocused, enlarging a portion of the rift's boundary. Threads of dark red aura pressed against the Federation's runes, dimming the bright script with every pulse.
"Their aura again," one officer muttered. "It violates natural order."
"It does," Taurus replied quietly. "And they could not have pushed this far without someone leaking Federation cipherwork to the other side."
Silence fell — heavy and uneasy.
Taurus broke it with a decisive motion of his hand."Notify the Directorate in the Capital. This is no longer a regional threat."
He paused, then added, "And inform the Saint Clans. After what happened a decade ago — losing three major cities in a single outbreak — they won't ignore this."
Rynel saluted, cloak sweeping behind him as he left.
Meanwhile — Federation Quarters, Ironveil City
The morning haze here was thicker, caught between stone walls and training fields. Stephen stood shirtless in the open yard behind the dormitory, breath steady, palms raised. Wisps of faint blue light gathered at his fingertips before dissolving into the air.
He could feel it again — the shift.
Since his recovery, something inside him had changed. Spirit energy flowed through his meridians with a lightness that felt almost alien, and each controlled breath sent ripples of invisible force spreading outward.
The Blue Sapling's first skill.
It was subtle, delicate — but unmistakably profound. With every inhale, the surrounding energy stirred, following his rhythm. With every exhale, a fragment of what he spent returned to him, slow yet steady. It wasn't enough to sustain endless cultivation, but it was enough to extend his training to a degree he'd never imagined.
His mind drifted back to the technique resting in his room:"Twelve Supreme Swords."
The old manual was handwritten in elegant strokes, the pages still carrying a faint creamy scent that always struck him with unexpected warmth. His father had told him the origin of that scent — Irene, Stephen's mother, had written the manual herself while pregnant with him.
"She said she would teach you personally one day," his father had whispered. "But fate was cruel. She barely held you for a year before they took her away."
Stephen's throat tightened as he recalled the names etched into the pages:
The Phoenix Shakes Its Plume.The Phoenix Spreads Its Wings.The Phoenix Takes Flight…
Only six forms were recorded — because Irene herself had only mastered six. Each stroke in the illustrations felt alive, carrying a hint of her warmth, her spirit, her promise.
And written boldly on the first page:
To master the next form, you must first merge your own insight with the previous one.
"Mother…" Stephen murmured, lowering his hand. "I'll grow strong enough to bring you back. I promise."
He didn't fully understand the Azure Sparrow either — but he knew with a child's certainty that it wasn't ordinary. At times, he sensed faint distortions in the air, tremors in the fabric of space itself—transcendent energy, woven thinly into the world.
The Sparrow could sense it. Sometimes, it felt as if it guided him toward it.
A voice cut into his thoughts.
"You're pushing yourself again."
Stephen turned.
Lyra stood there in travel gear, her clan insignia glinting faintly on her shoulder. Her luggage sat beside her feet, compact and efficient.
"So this is it," Stephen said softly.
She nodded."The transport rune activates at noon. I'll be gone before lunch."
A quiet formed between them — a comfortable one, but full of unspoken things.
Lyra stepped closer."I heard a team is heading into the rift. You're planning to volunteer, aren't you?"
Stephen gave a helpless, embarrassed smile.
She raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
He sighed, remembering the scene an hour earlier.
One hour ago…
"Are you stupid, brat?" the man in charge of the base snapped, slapping the table. "With strength like yours, you'll last a single breath inside that place."
Stephen opened his mouth to argue — then froze when an invisible force seized him by the collar.
"We don't have time to babysit you," the man continued, rubbing his temple. "The next exam phase starts in a week. Join a proper institution, train hard, and stop thinking about dying early."
Before Stephen could protest, the man waved a hand. A tide of spiritual force rushed in, lifting Stephen off his feet and hurling him straight out of the office.
The door slammed behind him with an echoing bang.
Back in the present
Lyra let out a breath she'd clearly been holding."Good. Focus on the exam. Don't do anything insane while I'm gone."
He smirked. "You sure you don't want to stay longer?"
She rolled her eyes. "If I don't return soon, my great-grandfather will storm the city. And trust me, you don't want to meet him before reaching the Master realm."
Stephen chuckled, shaking his head."So that's a promise?"
"That's a threat," she corrected with a smile.
Then — unexpectedly — she reached out and clasped his wrist. Her hand was warm, her voice softer than before.
"Whatever happens in the next phase… don't lose yourself, Stephen."
He met her gaze, steady and sincere."I won't."
Lyra released him slowly and turned away. Sunlight caught in her hair, turning it briefly into molten gold as she disappeared through the courtyard gates.
Stephen watched until she was gone.
That Afternoon — Command Atrium
The room darkened as the projectors shifted again. New diagrams formed — a lattice of light stretching through mountains toward the rift.
Taurus Grein addressed the assembled strike team.
"Remember: this is not reconnaissance. It's containment. If the cult has established a core formation inside, you sever it first and report second. If suppression fails, retreat immediately and activate the Rift Suppression Protocol."
A firm, unified nod.
Each operative bore the glowing seven-pointed star of the Federation over their chest. The air thrummed as the Sealing Division's elder traced a sigil, activating the anchor crystals. Light pulsed outward, binding the team into the network.
"Energy signatures synchronized," she whispered.
The teleportation array flared.
In a blaze of white radiance, the first investigation team vanished.
Taurus remained still long after the light faded.
Then, barely audible,"…Let's hope it's not too late."
Far Away — Rift 7-3C
Deep within the rift, mist writhed over jagged stone. Corrupted runes glowed with sickly red light, painting the fractured cavern walls in pulsing color.
A single golden eye opened in the darkness.
It blinked once.
Then — with a slow, deliberate flex of will —
It smiled.
Far above, in Ardent City's rune network, a single sigil flickered.
Unseen.Unregistered.Awake for the first time in centuries.