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Chapter 151 - CRYSTALS OF WAR

The sun hung low over the spires of Lumisgrave Castle, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors of the inner sanctum. Stained-glass windows caught the golden light and refracted it in fractured rainbows that danced over King Farhan's ceremonial cloak. The room was silent, save for the rustle of fabric and the low hum of distant energy—the pulsing of the newly recovered crystals locked beneath the Research Halls.

Seated at the head of the roundstone table, King Farhan's eyes swept over the gathered Mythics. Each one, cloaked in their own aura of mystique and power, sat in quiet attention. Arslan, stoic and sharp-eyed, sat across from him. Beside him were Vaelith, Seris, Elyra, and the rest of the Mythic elite. An air of importance weighed over the moment.

"Our researchers," King Farhan began, his voice steady and deep, "are working tirelessly to uncover the full potential of these crystals."

He gestured, and two guards rolled out a hovering silver platform carrying several of the glowing shards, each encased in protective glass. The vibrant hues of blue, crimson, emerald, and violet pulsed gently, alive with unknown energies.

"They are not just beautiful," the King continued. "These crystals—unearthed from the demon sites—possess abilities unlike anything we've encountered. Already, initial tests show they can be harnessed for forging weapons and shields stronger than any forged in mortal hands."

The Mythics leaned in, intrigued.

"We're also developing something more practical," the King said, eyes glinting. "Communication devices."

Tarric Vohl raised a brow. "Communication devices?"

The King nodded. "Yes. Crystals, when attuned, can carry waves—sound, thought, even glimpses of vision—across long distances. Imagine being able to speak with someone leagues away during battle or a reconnaissance mission."

Tarric's voice lit with wonder. "So we'll be able to talk to people far off? In real-time?"

"Exactly," Farhan confirmed with a faint smile. "Each of you will be given one of these devices soon. They will become your lifeline on missions, your command relay, your shield when alone in the field."

A flicker of awe passed through the group. Even the usually impassive Tharion leaned forward. Seris tapped her fingers on the table with excitement.

"These will be ready in a few days," King Farhan said. "But remember—our enemies are also preparing. We must be ready for the threats to come."

The Mythics all nodded in solemn unison.

Moments later, the meeting drew to a close. The Mythics rose, gathering cloaks and gear, readying themselves for their return to the Mythic Base. As they filed out into the torch-lit corridor, King Farhan raised a hand.

"Arslan," he said.

Arslan turned. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Stay for a moment. I wish to speak with you."

The others glanced briefly back, curiosity flickering in their eyes, but they obeyed and exited the grand hall in respectful silence. Only King Farhan and Arslan remained.

King Farhan stood and approached, his steps deliberate. The marble echoed beneath his boots. "Tell me, Arslan... have you discovered anything about these crystals? Anything beyond what we've seen?"

Arslan met his gaze. There was a pause, as if he weighed his words. Then, slowly, he reached into the folds of his cloak.

"I have," Arslan said. "I've already forged a weapon using two of these crystals... with the help of Kar'Thæl."

From beneath the cloak, he drew forth Volthren.

The weapon pulsed with dark elegance—sleek, obsidian black with molten red veins running along its blade. A low vibration emitted from it, like a heartbeat made of fire. The very air near it shimmered faintly.

King Farhan's eyes widened slightly, drawn to the weapon. "That... is unlike any blade I've seen."

"It's sharper, faster, and more attuned to energy than any sword I've wielded," Arslan said. "It resonates with power that isn't entirely mine… or human."

"This was forged by you—and Kar'Thæl?"

Arslan nodded once. "Together."

The King let out a low, appreciative breath. "Then our researchers have much to learn from you. These crystals may be more than just tools—they may be the key to winning what's coming."

Arslan sheathed Volthren.

"Will be," he replied quietly.

King Farhan turned and paced briefly, hands behind his back. Then he stopped. "Is there any other information—anything you've learned from Kar'Thæl or through your connection to these crystals—that I should tell the researchers?"

It was then the air changed.

A surge of energy erupted in the room, like a breath from another world.

And from Arslan's shadow stepped Kar'Thæl.

The demonic entity appeared with slow, deliberate movement, eyes glowing ember-red, horns curling high, his aura licking around him like tendrils of flame. The temperature dipped and rose at once, and King Farhan stood his ground, unwavering.

"All crystals," Kar'Thæl said in a voice like the grinding of mountains, "are not the same. Each has its own rhythm, its own purpose. Some feed strength. Others, memory. Some burn. Others heal."

King Farhan's voice was calm, but edged with steel. "Then why did the demons embed them in their sites? Why leave such power for us to claim?"

Kar'Thæl's eyes narrowed. "To gain something, one must first sacrifice. The demons knew this. Perhaps they hoped by offering these fragments, they could unseal something far more valuable. Or… perhaps they underestimated the ones who would rise to claim them."

A silence stretched between them.

Then Kar'Thæl tilted his head. "Or… maybe they intended to test who among you was worthy of such power."

The King nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Kar'Thæl faded back into the shadows, and the room's tension fell like a breaking wave.

Arslan bowed slightly. "Majesty. No need for thanks. It's my responsibility."

King Farhan stepped forward, resting a hand on Arslan's shoulder. "Responsibility… or fate?"

Arslan gave no reply, only a quiet nod.

And then he turned and walked away.

---

Outside, twilight had begun to sweep across Lumisgrave.

The city buzzed with the quiet hum of activity—merchants closing stalls, the scent of spiced meats drifting through alleys, and far off, the distant clang of hammer against steel as the forges of the Research Quarter burned through the night. Mythics were returning to their base, unaware of the quiet conversation that had just unfolded between their King and one of their own.

Arslan walked alone now through the stone corridors, Volthren on his back, its pulse steady.

Yet within him, Kar'Thæl's voice stirred.

"These crystals will shape the battlefield… but not all weapons are forged of metal."

Arslan said nothing.

The future was unwritten.

But the fires had been lit.

And soon, all of Aerith would burn—or be reborn.

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