The battlefield of Amamba Konung lay in an unnatural silence, as though the very world had momentarily forgotten how to breathe after witnessing the clash that had just taken place. Broken pillars of dark stone leaned at impossible angles, their surfaces still smoldering from the remnants of divine flame and violent impact, while the ground itself bore deep scars where power beyond ordinary understanding had torn through it without restraint. Above, the pale light of the Lairois Leipak moon spread across the ruins, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to shift even when nothing moved, giving the illusion that the land itself remained alive with the echoes of battle. In the center of this desolation stood Masa Yaiba Tonin, his posture calm and composed, as if the destruction surrounding him was nothing more than a completed calculation. Before him knelt Sajibu Apokpa, the former Lairois Lakpa, his once overwhelming presence now diminished, yet not entirely extinguished, as his glowing eyes still burned faintly with defiance and ancient pride.
Tonin stepped closer, his gaze fixed upon the defeated ruler, and in a voice that carried neither mockery nor mercy, he spoke. "Tell me, Sajibu Apokpa… what is your final wish before death?" The question hung in the air, heavy and deliberate, causing even the surrounding Lairois to stiffen as they listened. For a brief moment, Sajibu said nothing, his chest rising slowly as he gathered what strength remained, and then suddenly his voice erupted with fury, echoing through the ruined palace like a thunderclap. "You fool!" he shouted, his tone filled with both rage and certainty. "The madness your master carries will not end in victory… it will bring destruction upon the entire world!" His words did not tremble, nor did they carry fear; instead, they were spoken with the conviction of someone who had seen far beyond the present moment. The remaining Lairois fell silent, their monstrous forms unmoving as if even they understood the weight of that warning.
Tonin, however, did not respond immediately. His expression remained unchanged, his eyes neither widening nor narrowing, as though the warning had already been considered long before it was spoken. Without a word, he extended his hand, and from the surface of his skin, a thin stream of dark crimson blood began to flow, moving unnaturally as if guided by an unseen force. The blood did not fall to the ground but instead stretched forward, creeping through the air like a living thread before piercing directly into Sajibu Apokpa's body. The moment it made contact, Sajibu's form stiffened violently, his muscles tightening as his eyes widened in shock. For a brief second, the world seemed to hold still, and then the reaction began.
A violent tremor spread through Sajibu's body as the foreign blood infiltrated his system, clashing with his own Thawai in a chaotic eruption of conflicting energies. His skin began to crack, glowing faintly from within as if something was tearing him apart from the inside, and then, without warning, his entire body exploded outward in a burst of flesh, flame, and corrupted energy. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, scattering debris and forcing nearby Lairois to stagger back. When the dust settled, nothing remained of Sajibu Apokpa except faint embers drifting into the air, the once-mighty Lairois Lakpa erased completely.
Saru Yaiba Keiba stood a short distance away, his eyes fixed on the place where Sajibu had been, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turned toward his brother. "What now?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying a hint of curiosity. "What are you going to do with all the Lairois?" The question was not one of doubt, but of strategy, for Keiba understood that victory alone did not secure control. Tonin did not answer immediately. Instead, a slow smirk formed on his lips, subtle yet unmistakable, as his gaze shifted upward toward the pale moonlight. Without speaking, he turned and began to walk, his steps deliberate, drawing attention from every remaining Lairois in the area.
He moved toward a section of the ruined palace where the moonlight shone brightest, illuminating a half-buried stone platform etched with ancient markings. Kneeling slightly, Tonin brushed away the debris, revealing an old template embedded within the structure, its surface engraved with a symbol unlike any other—a creature with the head of a dragon and the body of a lion, its form radiating a faint, dormant energy that seemed to pulse in response to his presence. The air around him grew heavier as he placed his hand upon the template, and in a low, controlled voice, he began to chant words that echoed with ancient authority. The language was unfamiliar, older than the Lairois themselves, and as each syllable left his mouth, the markings on the template began to glow, spreading outward in intricate patterns.
The ground trembled as a surge of chaotic energy erupted from the platform, spiraling upward like a vortex of fire and darkness combined. The sky above distorted, the moonlight bending unnaturally as if reality itself was being pulled apart. From within that swirling mass, a massive form began to emerge, its outline gradually taking shape until it fully manifested before them—a colossal beast with the head of a dragon, its eyes burning like twin suns, and the muscular body of a lion cloaked in flames that flickered with chaotic intensity. The creature let out a deep, resonant roar that shook the entire palace, its presence alone enough to force even the remaining Lairois to kneel instinctively.
Tonin stood before the summoned entity, his expression calm as ever, as if this overwhelming force was merely another piece in his plan. He turned slightly, his gaze sweeping across the gathered Lairois before speaking at last. "Now… the real plan begins."
Far away from the darkness of Lairois Leipak, under a clear sky filled with sunlight, the training grounds of Manipur Sorcery University echoed with the sharp sounds of combat. Lanthaba stood at the center of the field, his body tense yet controlled, as shards of crystal shot toward him from multiple directions at high speed. Yaikhomba stood opposite him, his hand extended forward as he manipulated the crystals with precision, his ability, Crystallokinesis, allowing him to shape and launch them like deadly weapons. The spikes tore through the air, their sharp edges glinting in the sunlight as they closed in on Lanthaba from every angle.
In response, Lanthaba activated his technique, summoning from E-FLUX a humanoid entity that materialized beside him in an instant. Its entire body was covered in thick iron plates, layered and reinforced to form an impenetrable armor, its heavy presence radiating pure defensive power. "Tank," Lanthaba muttered, the name he had given it reflecting its purpose. The construct moved immediately, stepping in front of him and raising its arm as the crystal spikes collided against its armored surface. The impact produced sharp cracking sounds, but the spikes shattered upon contact, unable to pierce the dense iron plating.
Yaikhomba did not hesitate. With a swift motion, he changed the pattern of his attack, the broken fragments of crystal reforming in mid-air before merging into a massive spear that launched directly toward Lanthaba with increased speed and force. Lanthaba reacted instantly, moving alongside Tank as the construct intercepted the attack again, this time sliding backward slightly from the sheer pressure. Lanthaba narrowed his eyes, analyzing the flow of Yaikhomba's ability, before stepping forward and using Tank as both shield and weapon, pushing through the barrage while searching for an opening.
The clash intensified as Yaikhomba increased the number of crystal constructs, filling the battlefield with a storm of sharp projectiles that rained down relentlessly. Lanthaba adapted quickly, using Tank not only to block but to deflect and create space, moving with calculated precision despite the overwhelming assault. The ground beneath them cracked under the pressure of their abilities, the training field bearing the marks of their growth and determination.
Just as the battle reached its peak, a figure approached quietly from the edge of the field. He was short in stature, his presence calm yet carrying an undeniable weight that seemed to suppress the very air around him. Lanthaba noticed him first, his movements slowing as his eyes widened in shock. Yaikhomba followed his gaze, pausing briefly before understanding the reason for Lanthaba's reaction.
Standing before them was Akhoipam Leiphunglapkpa, a name known to every sorcerer in Manipur, a legend whose achievements had been recorded in history and spoken of with reverence. Lanthaba lowered his guard completely, his voice almost trembling as he spoke. "Leiphunglapkpa… you are the greatest sorcerer of the previous decades. Your history… it's written everywhere. You are the inspiration for all of us." The man smiled faintly, his eyes observing the two young sorcerers with quiet approval.
"You must be Lanthaba," he said calmly. "And you, Yaikhomba. Both of you have passed your trials." The words stunned them, confusion immediately following. "Passed? What do you mean?" Yaikhomba asked. Leiphunglapkpa explained briefly about the banquet, the hidden evaluations, and how he had been the one who sent them on the Loktak mission, observing their actions, decisions, and growth from afar. "You have proven yourselves worthy," he continued. "And now, you will become my disciples."
The weight of those words settled upon them heavily, their surprise slowly turning into determination as they realized what lay ahead. Leiphunglapkpa turned away slightly, his tone becoming more serious. "Prepare yourselves," he said. "We leave today for the most holy places of Thawai Leipak. Your real training begins now… because the Lairois are coming."
The wind moved gently across the training grounds as the sun began its slow descent, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their journey, one that would test not only their strength, but their understanding of Tha, Thawai, and the true nature of power itself.