Royal Capital
Central Gregoria
December 25th
Year 2060
Three months had passed.
Unlike the fractured cities and broken Dukedoms, the Royal Capital still stood.
Not untouched, but controlled.
Barriers layered upon barriers surrounded the palace grounds, shimmering faintly beneath the daylight. The sky above remained unstable, streaked with faint distortions, but nothing crossed into the capital without permission.
Or without consequence.
At the heart of it all, the throne room. Vast, Silent, Oppressive.
Polished black stone stretched across the floor, reflecting towering pillars that lined the chamber. Each pillar was carved with ancient scripts, faintly glowing with restrained power, like something old refusing to die.
At the far end, A throne.
And seated upon it, the Emperor of Gregoria.
He didn't move.
Didn't need to.
Power rested on him like a second skin.
Tall.
Composed.
He wore a fitted royal suit of deep black, tailored perfectly to his frame. The fabric absorbed light rather than reflecting it, giving him a presence that felt heavier than it should. Subtle violet accents traced along the seams and cuffs, barely visible unless one focused too long.
A long cape draped from his shoulders, black on the outside, lined with muted royal purple. It shifted faintly with every subtle movement, like something alive but restrained. Spirit Energy held in perfect obedience.
His hair was blonde.
Not pale.
Not faded.
But rich, controlled gold, falling neatly behind him in a way that matched his stillness rather than softening it.
His eyes were the same a deep, royal purple. Clear, sharp, and unnervingly calm.
Not warm.
Not emotional.
Just absolute.
He leaned slightly back into the throne.
And the entire room felt like it shrank in response.
He was Emperor Regaleon.D.Gregory
Standing below him was a man in formal attire.
The Royal Advisor. Marquis Akasha Rivera
He wore a simple suit.
No ornamentation.
No insignias.
Just clean, well-fitted fabric that carried quiet elegance rather than authority. Dark-toned, pressed perfectly, the kind of outfit that didn't try to stand out, but never blended in either.
He was a good-looking man.
Sharp jawline.
Calm posture.
Controlled expression.
Black hair, neatly kept.
Blue eyes, observant and steady.
The kind of gaze that noticed everything but revealed nothing.
"The outer Dukedoms continue to destabilize," the advisor reported calmly. "Spirit Energy is increasing in density and Ascension zones have spawned across several regions ."
Silence followed.
The Emperor's fingers tapped once against the arm of his throne.
Slow.
Measured.
"…And the Ascended?" he asked.
"Those who awakened early have begun consolidating power," the advisor replied. "Some have formed factions. Others… have gone rogue."
A pause.
"…And the Ancient Breeds? or rather High nobles? "
"Active," the advisor said. "But most remain within their territories."
Silence stretched again.
Heavier this time.
The King leaned back slightly.
"So it begins."
The advisor didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
A moment passed before the Emperor spoke again.
"Summon them."
The advisor's gaze lifted slightly.
"All the High nobles?"
A faint pause.
Then
"All the Nobles." He intoned, a smile on his flawless face. "Some of them might need to be reminded why I remain Emperor" He added casually.
No hesitation.
"…As you command."
The advisor bowed deeply, then turned and left the chamber without another word.
Silence returned.
The Emperor remained seated for a few seconds longer.
Then
He stood.
The movement alone changed the atmosphere of the room.
Subtle.
But absolute.
Without another glance, he turned and walked behind the throne.
A hidden passage revealed itself silently as he approached. The wall shifted without sound, parting just enough for him to pass through before sealing shut behind him.
Darkness greeted him.
Not empty.
Not hollow.
Alive.
The chamber was smaller than the throne room, but far more oppressive. Carved stone walls were layered with ancient inscriptions, older than the kingdom itself. Each symbol faintly pulsed, like something breathing beneath the surface.
At the center, a pedestal.
And above it, a crown was floating.
Gold.
Perfectly shaped.
But its beauty was not what held attention.
Purple Spirit Energy coiled around it slowly, thick and unstable, like it were barely contained. Each pulse sent a faint ripple through the chamber, distorting the air around it.
The Emperor stopped before it.
His expression did not change.
"…You're lashing out again."
The crown pulsed once in response.
Stronger.
The purple energy flared briefly, then settled, like it was acknowledging him.
Silence.
"Good, can't let those monsters stay ahead of me for too long," he said quietly, glancing towards the North, South, East and West direction
His purple eyes remained fixed on it.
"Let's see who submits this time."
——————
Ascension Zone — Incursion Dominant Field
——————
The silence here was different.
It didn't wait.
It hunted.
Ishmael moved through the distorted terrain steadily.
Three months had refined him.
Not changed him.
Refined him.
His steps were lighter, more efficient. His breathing steady. His awareness sharpened to the point where even stillness had a shape.
The Spirit Energy within him no longer felt unfamiliar.
It felt usable.
Three figures emerged ahead.
Elite Incursions.
They didn't rush.
They didn't hesitate.
They moved together.
Ishmael didn't stop.
The first strike came from the right.
He stepped slightly forward instead of back.
Not to avoid it
But to meet the timing.
His blade rose and cut through the motion mid-impact.
At the exact moment of contact, silver energy threaded along the edge, not exploding outward, but reinforcing the line of the strike itself.
The attack didn't just stop.
It broke its flow.
The Incursion staggered.
Just enough.
Ishmael didn't waste it.
He stepped in and cut once across the opening joint.
Clean enough to disable.
It fell.
The second was already moving.
Faster.
More controlled.
Ishmael adjusted his footing instead of reacting immediately. He let the strike come closer than necessary.
Then shifted at the last moment, not blocking, Redirecting.
Silver energy guided the blade along the impact point, reducing resistance just enough for the attack to slide off course.
He turned that same motion into a counter, A shortcut.
Controlled.
Precise.
The Incursion collapsed without noise.
The third paused.
Just slightly.
That was enough.
Ishmael stepped forward immediately.
No hesitation.
No wasted motion.
The silver energy didn't flare.
It extended.
A thin arc followed his blade outward, separating from it for the first time, not as force, but as continuation.
The strike landed before the Incursion fully reacted.
Its body fell apart mid-motion.
Silence returned.
Ishmael stood still for a moment.
Not exhausted.
Not shaken.
Just aware.
The system flickered.
[Multiple Elite Incursions Eliminated]
[Spirit Energy Absorbed]
[Spirit Core Rank Increased]
The energy flowed into him again.
Cleaner now.
More stable.
He exhaled once.
"…So it extends now."
He looked forward.
Deeper into the zone.
The pulse from before was stronger.
Closer.
Without hesitation
He kept walking.