A few moments later.
Usama walked through the grand halls, his steps slow and heavy. First, came the ache of his father's death. Now came the dread, crawling cold along his spine, thinking about what Grand Elder knew about his son. His mind reeled between these two poles of grief and fear so completely that he didn't even notice he'd reached the meeting room.
Usama sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and steadily pushed the open door.
Grand Elder stood with his back turned, gazing out at the starlit night sky. The room's atmosphere pressed down very heavily like a physical weight. Moonlight slipped through white curtains, painting the chamber into a soft, dim white glow.
Finally, Grand Elder turned. His expression was neutral, unreadable. "I have been waiting for you, Lord Hirata. I am glad you came"
Usama swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his chest "Elder... what did you see? What about my son?"
Elder stepped forward, stopping at two strides before Usama. "Lord Hirata, I have witnessed countless births. I have blessed every child in our clan in the last three centuries. But..."
His expression hardened, "Your son, Ronin... his aura is something I have never experienced. It is unnaturally potent. Sharp. Ominous".
The Grand Elder's palm rose to gently touch the sacred sigil embroidered on his white robes — the symbol of the Hirata Clan, tracing a symbol that spoke of millennia of the clan's ancient history, "You know the legacy of our blood, Lord Hirata. It has always manifested in our two most powerful 'Blood Innates'. The pillars of our supremacy".
Usama's mind snapped into focus. There were only two reasons the Hirata Clan stood above all others in Eldrya—powers so absolute they shaped history itself. His voice trembled.
"You mean... our Blood Innates?"
Grand Elder slowly nodded.
"Dimensional Sovereignty, he said, his voice lowering, "And Five Divine Techniques."
Before Usama could respond,
Elder snapped his fingers, with a loud —
SNAP
The space around them, seemed to wrap. Time slowed caught in the glue of reality. Moonlight froze in mid-air. Dust particles hung, motionless, in their fall.
The Grand Elder alone walked freely through the stillness.
"Dimensional Sovereignty," he continued calmly, "is not merely teleportation or spatial bending. It is authority—over distance, over direction, over reality itself."
He watched Usama's widened eyes, "This is the source of my concern. Most of our clan, who inherited Dimensional Sovereignty, can only learn phasing or short-range teleportation. "Five Divine Techniques are not spells to be learned. They are calamities given form. Those blessed with the Divine Techniques are lucky to master one, Even among our clan, mastering two is considered monstrous."
With another step, the frozen world shattered back into motion. Air rushed, light flowed, time resumed. "Your son, Lord Hirata, has inherited both. His veins carry the command of the cosmos and power to unmake the planet".
Usama was struck silent. He took a step back, looking at his own hands, which crackled with a faint golden sparks of Arcane Energy — the mark of his own hard-won mastery of the Five Divine Techniques, but his son had been born with that... and more?
His tone shifted from confusion to dreadful concern, "But... how? Every member of the Clan inherits one. Miraya is from the Isshin Clan. She doesn't carry our blood. This shouldn't be possible".
The Grand Elder offered a low, humorless chuckle, "It is the choice of fate, Lord Hirata. For the first time, since the First Hirata... a child has been born with the fullness of our legacy. The 'God of Essence of Human'. It's not a title, not a prophecy or philosophy. It's the truth of your son's nature".
Usama stood frozen. He just stared at Grand Elder's face, his voice trapped in his throat.
The Elder placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice softening to a dire whisper. "It is both a boon and a curse. It makes him the most precious heir in our history... and the greatest target. We must protect him, Lord Hirata. Who knows?" He met Usama's gaze, his old eyes sharp. "Perhaps he is the one meant to end this era of darkness in Eldrya".
With that, the Grand Elder paced from the room, his footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Usama alone with the staggering truth.
***
Usama walked back towards Miraya's room, moon casting his form in silvery light. He slid open the door deliberately.
Inside, Miraya was gently patting Ronin's little chest as he slept soundly in his crib. She was humming a soft lullaby, the rhythm matching the slow rise and fall of his breath.
She glanced up, saw the storm on his face, and stilled, "Usama? What happened?"
Usama shook his head, sat at the edge of the bed, and pressed a gentle kiss first to her forehead, then to Ronin's forehead. He whispered, his voice thick with a promise. "Nothing. Let's promise... we protect our son. Always".
In Hirata Estate, Usama comforts his family and vows to protect his son at any cost.
But in Eldrya, the news of Ryujin's death spreads like wildfire across all Seven Kingdoms.
---
Kingdom of Mage and Magis — Silversmith Estate.
The palace was not merely beautiful; it was a geometric monument to mathematical perfection. Hallways formed perfect cylinders, domes rose in sharp triangular points, and gardens were a masterpiece of symmetrical art.
In a quiet study, a man in dark blue robes patterned with silver, embroidered with an alicorn's sigil – the mark of the Silversmith clan – perched behind his desk. His sharp gaze
magnified by spectacles, seemed capable of calculating even Planck units of reality.
Yamato Silversmith.
The Ruler of the Kingdom of Mages and Magis.
He walked toward his private chambers, his stern face softening as he slid the door open. Inside, he lifted his just-few-days-old daughter into his arms.
"Ah, my beautiful Razen", he murmured, rocking her gently. "Did you miss your father? Forgive me. Those border negotiations dragged on. But..."
He bounces her softly in his arms. "Now, I am yours".
In the peaceful quiet of the nursery, a young Silversmith sorcerer bursts through the door, gasping for breath.
Yamato's eyes sweep over him, turning to ice. "Explain this insolence. You disturb me with my daughter?"
The sorcerer flinched, stammering. "M-my lord... urgent news. Lord Ryujin Hirata... has succumbed to his long illness".
Yamato's silver eyes widened. Wordlessly, he set Razen back in her crib with infinite care. He removed his glasses and sank into a nearby chair. "Ryujin... is dead?"
He closes his eyes. His chest tightened. He was the Silversmith Ruler, but once... he had been Ryujin's student.
The memory rose unbidden—
A sunlit courtyard, a lifetime ago.
Flowers bloom in eternal colors. Butterflies danced on perfumed air.
Two kids — one with dark, messy hair, the other with long, silver hair tied at the back — were a whirlwind of limbs and dust.
Yamato and Usama.
They brawled like wild animals, each desperate to be the first to demonstrate a new spell to the master.
"You idiot, brainless Hirata! I called it first!" Yamato shouted, shoving Usama into the dirt.
"You mathematical worm! My turn!" Usama roared, flipping them over and kicking Yamato away with a precise strike.
An invisible spatial barrier snapped into place between them.
Ryujin stepped forward, seizing each boy by the wrists. He sat them down firmly, his gaze stern "How many times must I say it? No brawling during lessons".
Usama puffed his cheeks, pointing an accusing finger. "He started it!"
Yamato mirrored the gesture. "Liar! He did!"
Ryujin sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. He stood them up, facing each other. "Forget whose fault it was. You will hug, and you will be friends.
"Friends with him?" Usama's face twisted in disdain. "No! Never. Ever".
I'd sooner go to hell", Yamato shot back.
Ryujin inhales deeply. He relaxes his posture, his voice final, "Very well. No lesson today. Or tomorrow. Until you make peace.
Yamato's breath hitched by the finality of his voice, "You... you can't!"
Ryujin's eyes held them both, "Friendship first".
Utterly defeated, the two boys reluctantly. Stepped into a stiff, respectful hug.
Ryujin smiled, placing a hand on their little shoulders. "Well done, my boys! I am proud of you"
---
Yamato opened his eyes in the present, wiping away a single, stray tear. The nostalgia was a physical ache in his core.
"Those days... they truly held a kind of magic", he whispered to the empty air. He looked at the young sorcerer, his voice raw. "Is it confirmed? Ryujin is truly gone?"
The sorcerer bowed deeply. "The news comes directly from the Hirata Estate, my lord. All rulers are expected at the cremation".
Yamato's gaze drifted back to the crib, where his daughter, Razen, was now quietly wrestling with a stuffed toy. His voice thickened with sorrow, "But... if I go... who will watch over sees Razen?"
A soft, familiar voice answered from the doorway, "Don't worry, Yamato. I am here".
He turned, and a soft smile touched his lips.
Long silver hairs, a match for his own, were tied. Her eyes, like a full moon reflected on still water, and her cloak flowed around her like captured moonlight.
Miyuki Silversmith.
Yamato's beloved wife.
She entered the room, her face lined with the worry of news she had overheard. Her steps were silent. "You must go. I will take care of our daughter".
Yamato walked to her. "But alone? You've just returned from your own council..."
Miyuki reached up, her hand gently cupping his cheek. Her touch was infinitely loving. "Do not worry about us. I am here. What matters now is you... and you master". She gave him a soft, knowing look. "Go".
Yamato leaned into her touch for a long moment, then slowly nodded. He turned, his shoulders set with a new, heavy weight.
The ruler who never allowed himself to be weak now felt broken by the news of his master's death.
In the Arcane Kingdom, Usama grappled with the chilling truth about his son.
In the Kingdom of Mages and Magis, Yamato Silversmith drowned in the grief of a lost father-figure.
Two men, bound by the same loss.
Two futures are beginning to shift.
But their battlefield is the same. The present.