A year had passed since the quiet gathering with the Komalion family.
Seasons had turned, the winds had shifted, and the boy who once brooded before a glowing gacha screen now stood at the edge of something far greater.
Morning light filtered through the tall windows of the estate, resting upon packed luggage and neatly arranged travel gear. Azael adjusted the strap of his satchel and glanced once around his room — the shelves of history books, the trainer manuals stacked with bookmarks, the small nicks on the wooden floor left behind by training drills.
Today, he would depart for the capital of the Verosia Empire — Othlon.
Not as a runaway.
Not as a confused boy.
But as a trainer stepping toward the main stage.
---
Behind him, three figures stood in quiet formation.
They were no longer hatchlings.
They were warriors.
Mantisword had evolved months ago after relentless physical conditioning and precision drills. His slender frame had broadened into lethal symmetry. Twin scythe-arms gleamed like polished blades under sunlight.
He was now Mantislayer.
His presence was stronger than before. Now with a even more sharpened shelf.
During sparring, he had awakened a new passive skill:
Hold Ground.
No matter how overwhelming the force, Mantislayer would not be easily displaced or knocked down. He would stand back up for a
Last stand.
Holycub's evolution had been quieter yet far more radiant.
In a burst of golden brilliance during a late-night training session, the small cub had grown into a teen lion-like beast crowned with a flowing mane of light.
Now known as Leonarch, he carried both nobility and restrained ferocity in his golden eyes.
But his true change came not in form but in power.
He had learned RAW Blood Fury.
A move of terrifying intensity. The more kills, the stronger the strike. When no tricks clouded the field — no summons, no interference — Leonarch's fury would erupt without restraint.
A king's judgment.
---
Gravebug's transformation had been the most unsettling.
The once wobbling insect had grown into a heavy-carapaced war beetle radiating earthly energy. Jagged edges lined his shell like ceremonial armor.
Now called Scarabian, he moved with calculated patience.
His new skill — Beetle Boost — amplified not just himself, but allied insect-types. A battlefield commander hidden within a silent shell.
The synergy between him and Mantislayer had grown terrifyingly precise.
Union Attack combinations no longer looked experimental.
They looked inevitable.
---
Azael exhaled slowly.
One year.
One year of training schedules, strategic simulations, reading late into the night.
He had completed multiple system achievements — monster bonding milestones, training streaks, knowledge completion records.
The rewards had accumulated steadily.
50 Gems.
Untouched.
He wasn't impulsive to waste his Gems needlessly.
He would save them.
For when fate demanded it.
---
Footsteps approached.
His mother stood by the doorway in her usual blue gown, though her eyes lingered longer than usual.
"So," Lina said softly, "the capital awaits you."
Azael gave a small nod. "Othlon won't wait forever, mother. I will be known as one of the greatest trainers before you know it."
She smiled. "You've grown."
He scratched the back of his neck. "I hear that often."
Mantislayer stepped forward slightly, as if declaring silent readiness.
Leonarch let out a low, dignified rumble.
Scarabian's wings vibrated once — a restrained war drum.
Lina's gaze softened at the sight.
"Your companios share the same resolution." she said.
Azael merely smiled his head.
---
The road toward Othlon stretched long and pale beneath the rising sun.
The capital of the Verosia Empire.
The stage where champions rose.
Azael stepped out of the estate gates just as the morning sun began to climb over the rooftops of the inner district.
Behind him lay the quiet comfort of home — polished streets, trimmed gardens, and the familiar rhythm of servants beginning their daily work. It was a world he had known all his life.
Ahead of him was the outer road.
Dusty.
Uncertain.
Exciting.
He adjusted the strap of his satchel and continued walking until the white stone roads slowly turned into the darker cobbled streets of the outer district.
A figure was already waiting near the main carriage plaza.
Karina.
She leaned casually against a wooden signpost, arms crossed. Her outfit was different from the elegant dresses she usually wore at home. Today she wore a standard trainer's attire — a fitted black coat with reinforced shoulder plates, dark trousers, and sturdy boots built for travel.
Practical.
Her long hair was tied behind her head, giving her a sharper look than usual.
When she noticed Azael approaching, she pushed herself off the post.
"You're late," she said, though her tone was more teasing than annoyed.
Azael shrugged. "Five minutes isn't late. I am right on time."
Karina rolled her eyes but smiled slightly.
"Ready?" she asked.
Azael nodded.
With a small flick of his fingers, he held up three sleek metallic cards between them. Each card carried faint glowing lines across its surface — the housing devices used by trainers to store their monsters safely during travel.
Inside them rested Mantislayer, Leonarch, and Scarabian.
Karina held up her own two cards as well.
"Caravans don't allow monsters roaming around," she said. "Too many accidents in the past."
"Fair," Azael replied.
The two walked toward the registration counter where several large transport wagons were preparing to depart. Merchants loaded crates while travelers negotiated fares with the caravan manager.
After a short discussion, they secured two seats.
The price, however, made Azael blink.
"100 silvers… each?" he muttered.
Karina simply said. "Travel to the capital isn't cheap."
He handed over the coins anyway.
Expensive, yes.
But he didn't lack the money.
Anyway, the road to opportunity rarely came cheap.
---
The caravan departed shortly after noon.
Six wagons rolled slowly out of the town gates, escorted by hired guards riding alongside the convoy. The wooden wheels creaked steadily as the road stretched toward the vast lands between the provinces and the imperial capital.
The journey would take seven days.
Plenty of time for conversation.
Plenty of time for thinking.
On the second evening, the caravan had stopped near a small roadside camp where travelers rested beside a fire while guards watched the surrounding woods.
Azael and Karina sat a short distance away from the others.
The night air was cool, and the stars above stretched endlessly across the sky.
Karina tossed a small stick into the fire.
"So," she said. "What are you aiming for when we reach Othlon?"
Azael looked thoughtful.
"Adventure."
Karina stared at him.
"That's it?"
He laughed quietly.
"I want to travel, see new places, learn things. Train my monsters, get stronger... but not just for fame or titles."
He glanced up at the stars.
"I want to enjoy it. Meet people. Maybe become strong enough that my family never has to worry about danger again."
Karina watched the fire for a moment.
Then she spoke.
"I want to be like my mother."
Her voice was calm, but firm.
"You know how people talk about her — one of the strongest trainers in the empire. People respect her. Fear her."
She clenched her fist slightly.
"I want to reach that level too."
Azael smiled.
"That suits you."
Karina scoffed lightly.
"And adventure suits you."
They both laughed quietly.
Two different dreams.
Walking the same road.
---
The days passed steadily.
Rolling fields turned into forest roads.
Forests turned into hills.
Hills eventually flattened into vast plains leading toward the heart of the empire.
The caravan traveled from dawn until sunset every day, stopping only to rest the horses and prepare food.
Seven days later, just after sunrise, the lead guard raised his arm.
"Capital ahead!"
Everyone in the caravan leaned forward to look.
And there it was.
Othlon.
The capital of the Verosia Empire rose in the distance like a massive crown of stone. Towering walls stretched across the horizon, lined with tall watchtowers and massive iron gates where travelers entered under the watch of imperial guards.
Beyond the walls, enormous buildings climbed toward the sky.
Training arenas.
Guild halls.
Market districts.
And somewhere within that city…
The place where legends were born.
Karina stood up slightly in the wagon, staring ahead.
"So this is Othlon…"
Azael felt a small grin spread across his face.
After a year of preparation…
After a long road…
They had finally arrived.
The true journey was about to begin.