"My name is Runner. My real name... I never had one. Because I chose this name when I met dad for the very first time. And... after my parents died in the Island of Peony before Peccavi found us, I was already in the middle of the ocean. My parents sacrificed themselves to save me and dad found me together with his companions."
"And you're only ten?"
"I was seven by then so yes. So don't worry about what's happening outside. Everything will be fine. Alright?"
"Okay..."
The ten year old Runner stood up and left the scared children talking to each other on the Third Floor. Known as one of the two adopted daughters of the Towermaster, they are extremely special beings, kind of like the princesses of the Halo Islands.
Runner isn't good in combat but she is extremely good in self-defense. Unlike most rune users, her major word in her Pinnacle Tether Speech Manipulation is Manipulation.
To put it in simple terms, she uses Manipulation to levitate objects. The reason why she is so special is that she is the second rune user after Vastarael who can draw runes.
She was comforting the new arrivals from Volxane and from the tree Elyonari made years ago.
The Third Floor up to the 27th was packed. Tens of thousands of displaced humans from Volxane mingled uneasily with the indigenous Phoenixborn and Summer Tribes, their centuries-old enmity simmering beneath the surface.
The humans from Volxane, stripped of their homes and dignity, huddled together in groups. The sapphire-lit interiors of the Spire offered a strange, almost surreal contrast to their grim reality they experimented a few minutes ago.
Each floor was a self-contained hub, designed to accommodate commerce, rest and gatherings, but now repurposed into makeshift shelters.
The Phoenixborn moved among the displaced with wary eyes, their pride barely contained. Their bright feathered cloaks, marking them as descendants of flame and sky, made them stand out starkly against the drab and soot-covered humans. Whispers followed them, some admiring, most resentful.
The Summer Tribe fared no better. Known for their agricultural prowess and connection to the land, since they handled the agriculture of the islands, regarded the Volxane humans with thinly veiled contempt. Many muttered under their breath about the betrayal of their ancestors, who were forced from the Lake of Miracles Island and other homes centuries ago by these very people.
Yet, despite the tension, the Spire operated like clockwork.
Rune Speakers and warriors patrolled the floors, their glowing runes ensuring order and harmony where tempers flared. Supplies were distributed with precision, meals prepared in massive communal kitchens. The Spire, for all its elegance, seemed almost infinite in its capacity, its design able to hold the staggering numbers with ease.
Everyone in the Halo Islands was inside the fifteen floors of the Spire and had lots of room to spare.
On the Third Floor, Runner stood in the middle of a group of scared children, her small frame almost hidden among them. Despite her young age, there was a calmness in her voice, a maturity earned through hardship.
Her Manipulation Runes shimmered faintly as she levitated small objects, performing tricks to distract the little ones.
Unfortunately, she wasn't ordered to fight the battle outside because anyone below First Star Essentia couldn't handle them. Even though she was almost close to being a Divine, Ferris Harrowshard was against it and Shimmer agreed.
So she got bored and decided to entertain the scared powerless humans of Volxane.
"Look," she said, smiling gently as a small crystal sphere danced above her open palm, glowing faintly. "Nothing to worry about, okay? This place? It's safe. We made sure of that. You'll see. Everything will be fine."
The children nodded hesitantly, their fear slowly replaced with fascination as she made the sphere spin and pulse with light.
Runner wasn't the strongest but she was resourceful. Though some regarded her as "too young" to take on such responsibilities, she didn't care. Comforting the new arrivals was her battlefield, and she intended to win.
Above her, on the higher floors, the Summer and Phoenixborn Tribes were less... charitable.
"You'd think we'd forget what they did to us?" One Phoenixborn elder hissed, her voice as sharp as the edge of her ceremonial staff. She glared at a passing human family, her fiery eyes narrowed in disdain. "They're lucky we don't throw them back to the ice."
"They're just humans," another Summer Tribesman spat. "Weak and desperate. They'll drag us down."
But any further muttering was quickly silenced by Siranna, whose glare silenced them.
"Enough," Siranna said. "The past is the past. Whatever grievances you hold, keep them to yourselves. These people are here because they have no choice. If they die, their blood will be on our hands."
Rienne, her fiery golden eyes softer than her mother's, stepped forward.
"We're better than this," she said, her voice carrying an air of sincerity that quieted even the angriest among the tribes. "If we can't show compassion, what does that make us? The same as those who wronged us? Lord Vastarael saved out lives and he didn't even know us without anything in return? Shouldn't we do the same?"
Taryenne, ever the pragmatist, crossed her arms and added;
"Besides, they'll owe us. Let them remember who saved them when they settle. Volxane will be destroyed anyways."
The tribes fell silent, though resentment still lingered in their glances. Slowly, they began to offer half-hearted assistance, distributing food and blankets to the humans who wouldn't meet their eyes.
Meanwhile, in one of the vast sapphire-lit plazas on the Tenth Floor, survivors from Volxane gathered. The humans were overwhelmed by the scale and grandeur of the Spire. They had always thought of themselves as powerful, the dominant force in the Erna Isles and yet here, they were small, insignificant.
One man whispered to his wife, "This place could fit our entire kingdom. Maybe two."
Another child tugged at her mother's sleeve, pointing at a soaring crystal pillar. "Mom, is this...magic?"
The humans' awe was noticed by a nearby Phoenixborn woman, who scoffed. "Magic? No. It's power. The kind you'll never have."
Her words were cut short as Rienne teleported instantly together with her sister to check on the floor, her expression cool but firm.
"Enough," she said sharply. "If you have time to insult, you have time to help. Move. I can't believe I have to deal with this shit today..."
Even Taryenne smirked at her sister's bluntness. The Phoenixborn grumbled but complied, leaving the humans to their stunned silence.
°°°°°°
As Phaenora oversaw the evacuation logistics, she scoffed. She activated new teleportation circles on various floors. As temporary Towermaster, she had access to give anyone the chance to summon teleportation circles an she did it to Siranna and her daughters.
"Siranna," Phaenora said, turning to her. "Make sure the tribes are ready to handle incoming groups. These floors can hold them but the people need to cooperate."
Siranna nodded, though her gaze lingered on the humans below. "We'll manage. But um... can I take a break? I do have a three year old son you know."
"Yeah, sure. Rienne, Taryenne, please keep inspecting the other floors. Use the tribal leaders on each floor to give a detailed report every three hours. Alright?"
Rienne and Taryenne exchanged a glance before nodding.
"I'll be heading to do more work. The evacuation is being handled by others from Volxane so just focus on the arrivals every few minutes. I won't be available for the next few hours so Siranna, I leave this to you after your one hour break."
"One... hour?"
"What? Is it too little?"
"No, it's too much!"
Phaenora sighed as a teleportation circle appeared below her.
"No need to worry, Siranna. As long as you're in the Spire, nothing can harm us. This is the safest place on Erna Isles. You're under the protection of a Phantasm after all."
She vanished.
°°°°°°
Phaenora reappeared in a pulse of light, stepping out of the teleportation circle onto the plush, obsidian-carpeted floor of the Spire's topmost chamber, the 47th and final floor.
Unlike the bustling lower levels, this place was eerily quiet. The bedroom was massive, its vaulted ceiling inlaid with runes that glowed faintly, casting a soft blue light over the polished obsidian walls.
At the center of the room stood an enormous bed. And on that bed sat a woman, her legs crossed, her delicate hands resting atop them.
She was wearing a familiar black hoodie, one far too large for her slender frame, It was Vastarael's hoodie. It hung loose on her shoulders, the hem brushing just above her knees, though it did little to conceal the smooth line of her thighs when she shifted slightly.
Phaenora froze in place, her gaze unwillingly drawn to the sight.
'Why is she wearing that?'
The woman's head turned, her eyes locking onto Phaenora. It was Erna. The mother of the Erna Isles and a being so powerful that her presence alone made Phaenora feel like she was standing on unsteady ground.
A Phantasm. A Krepsuna Nexus.
"Ah, Phaenora,. You've been quite busy, haven't you? I suppose you're here to tell me about Vastarael's plan?"
Phaenora blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a futile attempt to banish the sudden warmth crawling up her neck. Her brain felt like it was slipping through her fingers.
'Stop it. Focus. Don't melt. You're not some blushing child.'
"Y-Yes, very busy," she managed, her voice cracking slightly as she shifted uncomfortably. "I—uh—how are you, Lady Erna?"
Erna tilted her head slightly, her long shadow hair cascading over one shoulder like a silken waterfall. She gave a slow, knowing smile that only made Phaenora's mind stumble harder.
"Oh, I'm well. Though I must admit, Vastarael's hoodie is quite cozy. Did you know it smells like crystals and frost? It's... comforting."
Comforting?
Phaenora's gaze darted away from Erna's exposed legs, her mind desperately clinging to professionalism.
"Y-Yes, uh, that's... great."
She cleared her throat and took a step forward, determined to salvage her dignity.
"I came to tell you about Vastarael's plan. Well, if he survives that is."
"Huh... are you suggesting that Vastarael is going to lose? I can assure you Phaenora, your companion is not that weak. He had three years to train in the Fallen Bridge. He is on par with anyone if given time to prepare."
Erna leaned back slightly, resting her hands behind her on the bed, her posture as casual as her words were devastating.
Phaenora's jaw tightened. She hated that Erna was right and that her voice made even an innocuous question feel like a lullaby. Erna's smile widened, and her eyes sparkled with something that made Phaenora's stomach flip.
"Lady Erna I... can we stop talking about that please?"
"How diligent of you. Vastarael is lucky to have someone so reliable by his side. But yes, let's drop it. We need to focus on the battle. Your companion is about to attack my husband and I'm intrigued to learn about his plan."
The mention of Vastarael snapped Phaenora's focus back, though her cheeks burned brighter than before.
"Th-Thank you. I—I try my best to elaborate. Now listen carefully..."