The golden hues of dawn filtered through the ethereal canopy that hovered above the Mythic Base — a land carved from magic, stone, and will. Birds that shimmered with soft pulses of mana flitted from spire to spire, and faint hums of raw energy rose from the very ground, as if the base itself were alive and listening.
Inside the grand dining chamber of the Mythic Base, clinking cutlery, soft laughter, and the smell of warm bread filled the air. The long stone table, wrapped with veins of blue lumiscrystal, seated the sixteen Mythics, plates half-filled, mugs steaming.
Tharion Vale, still half-chewing his eggs, mumbled, "I swear, Maelis, if your flowers bloom in my tea again today—"
"—then maybe you'll finally grow some patience," Maelis Kyrn said, smirking as a tiny vine uncurled into his cup. The table laughed.
Yuna Solthrae leaned over to Elyra Thorne. "He's gonna storm off again."
"Good," Elyra said, sipping her tea. "Maybe the vines will learn silence."
Arslan, calm and observant at the head of the table, didn't speak much. He simply watched. Eyes half-lidded, dark hair unkempt as always, he was lost in thought until Caelis Morvayn clapped a hand on the table.
"Training, people. Let's not waste the morning. Heard someone summoned a rock golem yesterday just by sneezing," Caelis grinned.
"I didn't sneeze. It was a volcanic hiccup," Kyren Daxe shot back with mock pride.
Chuckles followed, but soon, they stood, each one radiating a unique signature of power as they filed out toward the open training grounds behind the main halls of the base.
---
Scene: Training Grounds – Morning to Midday
The grounds were vast — polished earth with embedded sigils glowing faintly beneath the surface. Arcane totems floated around the perimeter, stabilizing energy fluxes during combat training. The sky above was open, blue and endless.
Vaelith Ren clasped his hands. A pulse of green aura shimmered around him, quiet and serene.
"We try combinations today," he said. "Pair your strengths. Our goal is to sync. No solo brilliance."
"Speak for yourself, Healer-Boy," grunted Ravik Durn as he rolled his stone-armored shoulders. "Some of us are brilliance."
"Then prove it without flattening your allies," Seris Vahla quipped, conjuring a swirl of toxic green mist between her fingers.
Ismere Daeva smirked. "Let's go. Blood Echo's tingling."
The training commenced.
Tarric Vohl and Zhalya Neris stepped forward.
"Thunderstep and Blood Sight. You ready?" he asked, crackling lightning across his knuckles.
Zhalya's eyes gleamed crimson. "Always."
Tarric dashed forward, lightning trailing like a whip behind him. Zhalya focused on a blind spot in the arcane totems, and her blood-based energy pulsed in that direction. She shouted, "NOW!"
A burst of electric blood exploded in the air, searing into a training dummy. It cracked open and crumbled.
"Boom," Tarric grinned.
Another round. This time, Seris and Elyra.
"Toxins and emotions," Elyra said, cool and firm. "I'll freeze the anger."
"And I'll inject it with pain."
A wave of emotional silence pulsed from Elyra. The air felt eerily calm. Then Seris shot a mist through it, her toxin binding to the frozen aura. The mist turned solid like glass — shattering upon contact with a shield dummy.
"Creative," Orien Dravell commented, summoning his Soulflash halo around his back. "But let's see how it fares in motion."
"I'll test you," said Malrik Envor, activating his Rune Surge. Runes carved themselves mid-air as he clashed with Orien, one blow after another shaking the platform beneath them.
They all kept pushing, pairing new people, blending new styles. Frostbind, Earthshock, Flora Rejuvenation, Heat Pulse — every gift found a harmony. But in every group, one person always watched from the edge: Arslan.
His dark hoodie flapped lightly in the wind as he sat on a carved stone bench, watching, saying nothing.
---
Midday Approaches – The Turning Point
Hours passed.
Sweat trickled down brows. Clothing was scorched, misted, and frayed. But the Mythics kept going, driven by something more than skill — a hunger for growth.
Then Arslan stood.
His voice was calm, deep, but sharp enough to silence everyone:
"Now… try it on me."
The grounds froze.
Vaelith frowned. "That's not safe."
"I'll defend. All of you. Come at once. Use everything you've learned."
Tharion stepped forward. "You sure?"
"I said everything."
They looked at each other. Reluctant. Hesitant. But Arslan's dark eyes didn't flinch. One by one, they gave in.
The air began to buzz.
Zhalya and Elyra focused together, while Malrik carved a circle of attack runes in the air. Toxin clouds swirled from Seris, lightning charged around Tarric's boots, and blood surged in Ismere's palms. All at once, a chorus of powers rose.
"NOW!" shouted Kyren.
The storm hit.
Arslan stood centered. With a single lift of his hand, Dark Shield unfurled like a dome — pitch-black, humming with unnatural density. A second layer flared behind it — Soulflare Dominance, a defense enhancement burning violet flames across the outer shield.
The attacks clashed. Mist slammed. Lightning tore. Runes detonated. Blood and toxin shimmered.
BOOM!
The earth cracked beneath Arslan's feet. Dust swallowed the entire arena.
Silence.
When it cleared — Arslan still stood. Unscathed.
His shield flickered, but still held. The violet flame danced around him like protective wraiths.
"Your turn," he whispered.
The Mythics blinked. Then cheered.
"Okay... okay DAMN," laughed Caelis, wiping soot off his shoulder.
"I'm not even mad," said Orien. "That was... damn elegant."
"That defense," whispered Nirela. "That felt like ancient magic."
"It's not," Arslan said, walking past them. "It's what happens when pain sharpens into focus."
But then—Zhalya called out. "One more round!"
And they did. They gave it everything, combining attacks again, stronger this time.
Cracks formed on Arslan's dark shield. It groaned under the pressure.
"Push!" yelled Malrik, runes flaring again.
With a final burst — the shield shattered like glass struck by thunder.
BOOM.
Dust rose. Arslan staggered — barely — then smirked.
"That's more like it."
They stared, shocked.
"That was... amazing," whispered Maelis.
---
Scene: Afternoon – Mythic Base Courtyard
By afternoon, they had returned to the courtyard.
The air was warm. Sunlight passed through the shimmering energy barrier that enclosed the base. Trees glowed faintly from recent mana surges, and flowers bloomed with the energy of pride.
The Mythics lounged on stone benches and grassy patches. A table nearby held cups of tea, warm and fragrant.
Ravik gulped his mug. "So. Anyone else feel like they've been stomped by an arcane elephant?"
"I feel like I was the elephant," said Tharion, flexing a bruised arm.
Maelis giggled. "I didn't know Arslan had Soulflare Dominance. That wasn't even listed in our briefings."
"He probably has three more hidden spells," said Yuna, sitting beside him. "All locked behind that moody hoodie."
"Defend us, oh Dark One," joked Tarric, raising his mug toward Arslan.
Arslan, sitting against a tree, didn't reply. But his lips curled, faintly.
Seris leaned in. "You were holding back, right?"
He sipped his tea without answering.
That made them laugh even harder.
Orien watched the others — then turned to Arslan. "You know, you're the reason we're pushing ourselves."
"I'm not a leader," Arslan said flatly.
"No. But you are a mirror. When we see you stand… we want to rise."
Silence.
Soft breeze. Rustling leaves.
Then Ismere clapped. "Okay! No more moody. Who wants another round of tea?"
"Make mine floral," Maelis said, summoning petals.
"You and your flower obsession," grumbled Ravik.
"I'm bringing vines into your bed next time."
"Try it," he grinned. "Stone beds don't grow roots."
Laughter again.
The sun began to dip slightly. A warm golden glow settled on their faces. It wasn't just a courtyard anymore — it was home.
And for a moment, even Arslan allowed himself to feel it.