The sky broke open.
From horizon to horizon, clouds twisted like torn silk, streaked with gold and scarlet.
Four volcanoes that had once roared now stood silent, glowing faintly like cooled embers — a world finally holding its breath.
And through that silence, carried by the wind, came movement.
Figures stepping through light and shadow.
Scattered souls converging again.
Aria and Suvarn arrived first, the wind guiding them toward a barren plateau surrounded by cracked stone and rivers of faint red light.
Moments later came Deyr and Sera, emerging from a curtain of rain, still dripping from Merin's storms.
Then Kaenmor and Garron, the jungle dust clinging to their boots.
Last came Lyra and Coren, pale and shaken, but alive — their faces haunted by the memory of what they had seen in the snow.
Kaenmor's gaze swept across them all. His eyes softened. "So we are whole again."
Suvarn folded his arms, smiling faintly. "Almost."
Everyone looked at him.
They all knew who he meant.
The air thickened.
Before anyone could speak, the ground beneath them trembled.
A voice — deep, rolling, alive — burst through the silence like thunder wrapped in laughter.
"Almost? That's what you call it?"
The wind rippled. The stone split.
And from the glowing fissure in the ground, a figure rose through the haze of heat and light.
He was about 5'10 — not towering, not divine, but somehow larger than the space he occupied.
Muscles carved like sculpted iron.
Tattoos marked his arms and chest — swirling ancient runes that pulsed faintly with ember light.
Braided, uneven black-brown hair.
A trimmed beard framing a grin that could start wars or end them.
His eyes were molten bronze — not kind, not cruel, just alive.
He looked around, cracking his neck with a lazy smirk.
"Well, look at this mess. You lot still know how to make an entrance."
Suvarn was the first to step forward, smiling despite himself. "Morian."
The man spread his arms, grinning wide. "In the flesh! Or what's left of it after a few centuries of geological therapy."
He looked around at the others, his grin widening.
"Kaenmor! You look… still windy. Deyr! Still pretending chaos is a personality."
He turned to Suvarn. "And Flame-boy! Still carrying the guilt of the entire world in your eyes, huh?"
Suvarn sighed, hiding a smile. "Still the same old Morian, I see."
Morian laughed — a deep, genuine, infectious laugh that filled the plateau.
Then, abruptly, his smile faded.
"Where is he?"
The shift was instant.
The laughter died in his throat.
The air itself seemed to pause.
Kaenmor's voice was quiet. "You already know."
Morian stared at him for a long time — then exhaled and chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"Of course I do."
He turned toward the sky, eyes bright with something unreadable — a mix of nostalgia and rage.
"Did you know," he said, voice low but clear, "that only one of you gave the right answer?"
The others glanced at each other.
Suvarn frowned. "What?"
Morian looked back at them, the grin returning, sharper this time.
"All that restraint, all that surrender, all that balance — nice words. But useless."
He slammed his fist into the ground.
The stone cracked open, heat pouring out like a living pulse.
"The world doesn't survive because we talk about peace. It survives because we fight for it."
He smiled again, wide and wild.
"And he — my brother in shadow — he remembered that."
They all went silent.
Even Deyr's usual smirk faded.
The air crackled faintly — reverent, heavy.
Aria stepped forward carefully. "Then… you're saying Dravon's answer—"
Morian laughed again, cutting her off. "Of course it was right! 'You don't need words — you need to fight.' That's the world I remember. Straight to the point."
He turned, grin still there but colder now.
"So. Let's see if you remember it too."
He rolled his shoulders, tattoos pulsing brighter. "Who wants to dance first?"
The ground quaked. Everyone stayed still for a minute.
Garron stepped forward. The rest turned in surprise.
"Me," he said simply.
Morian raised a brow. "You?"
"I'm the shield," Garron said. "The one who stands when the others fall."
Morian chuckled. "That so?"
He cracked his knuckles, the sound like snapping wood. "Alright, Shield. Let's see if you can stand against a mountain."
The duel began like thunder.
Garron rushed first — shield up, striking with raw, earthen force. The impact sent shockwaves through the air. Morian barely moved. He caught the strike with his bare hand, grinning.
"Good. You've got weight. But weight alone doesn't hold ground."
He pushed.
The push was gentle — and it sent Garron flying backward ten meters, crashing into the stone.
Aria gasped. Suvarn started forward, but Kaenmor held up a hand. "Not yet."
Garron staggered up, breathing hard, shield cracked, but his eyes burning.
He charged again. Morian dodged, his movements impossibly quick for his size. The tattoos across his body pulsed like lightning. Every blow Garron landed was absorbed — redirected — mirrored.
Finally, with a loud roar, Garron dropped his shield and swung bare-fisted.
Their fists collided — a sound like the world breaking.
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then Garron hit the ground hard, coughing blood.
Morian looked down at him, expression unreadable — not mocking, not pitying.
"You've got heart," he said quietly. "But heart alone dies first."
He turned toward the others.
"Your turn."
Sera moved first — healing light flashing as she covered Garron's wounds. Lyra and Coren stepped beside her, weapons raised.
"We won't let you hurt him again," Lyra said.
Morian smirked. "Adorable."
The three attacked together — coordinated, focused. For a moment, the air sang with steel and magic. But Morian was everywhere at once, laughing as he deflected, dodged, and swatted them aside like waves against rock.
Suvarn gritted his teeth. "Enough."
He, Kaenmor, and Deyr stepped forward — the air itself thickening with their combined Aether.
Morian's grin widened. "Oh, now this feels like old times."
Kaenmor raised his hand. The wind howled.
Suvarn's fists ignited.
Deyr's chains spun like silver serpents.
The air turned heavy, alive — three ancient forces gathering into one.
Then—
"Stop!"
Aria's voice cut through the storm.
They froze.
She stepped between them, eyes blazing, light swirling faintly around her.
Morian's laughter faded. He looked at her curiously.
Aria stared up at him, breath steady. "This isn't your fight. Not yet."
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Morian smiled — genuinely, almost warmly.
"You've got fire," he said softly. "And not just his."
She frowned. "What?"
He shook his head, still smiling. "You wouldn't understand. Not yet."
He turned, facing the horizon. "You all think I'm the wall. The test. The enemy. You're wrong."
His expression changed again — the grin melting into something deeper, older.
"I'm just the reminder. The proof that we don't stop standing. That's why he and I…"
He trailed off.
No one dared speak.
Finally, he looked over his shoulder, smirk returning, though softer now.
"When he joins you — then I'll come."
Kaenmor's voice was quiet. "You still refuse?"
Morian laughed, stepping back into the rising heat. "Refuse? No. I'm waiting for the only fight that matters."
Aria tilted her head. "A fight?"
He winked. "Between men who never stopped being brothers."
The earth cracked beneath him, swallowing the light.
"When he comes," he said, voice fading into the rumble,
"tell him the Titan's still stronger."
And then he started walking away.
The air stilled. The wind returned.
Kaenmor exhaled slowly. "He'll join us. In his own way."
Suvarn looked toward the horizon, where the last traces of heat shimmered. "He always does."