The morning sun unfurled golden rays across the Mythic Base, casting soft warmth over the stone-paved courtyard. Dew clung to the edge of the polished stones, shimmering like diamonds as a gentle breeze stirred through the tall, arched columns surrounding the open space. The air was crisp, filled with the mingling aromas of freshly baked bread, steaming herbal tea, and sizzling spice-glazed meats from the open breakfast tables arranged under the shade of the crystalline archways.
One by one, the Mythic-ranked warriors emerged from their rooms. Arslan was among the first, his dark hoodie gently rippling with each step. His eyes were tired but focused, still carrying the weight of last night's thoughts.
Vaelith stood near the main fountain, sipping tea with serene poise. Nirela arrived, her moonlit-white scarf flowing behind her as she moved toward the tables with her usual grace. Caelis, already halfway through a plate of frost-laced fruit, waved lazily from a bench under a silver-laced tree, frost subtly blooming beneath his boots. Seris sat quietly sharpening a set of daggers, her eyes flicking up to observe everyone, calculating and calm.
The courtyard buzzed lightly with chatter—laughter, quiet greetings, even a few training bets being exchanged over bread and jam. A rare moment of peace hung in the air like soft morning mist.
Suddenly, the metallic sound of boots striking the ground in perfect rhythm pierced the calm. The courtyard fell silent.
The tall double gates of the courtyard swung open as Julius, the leader of the Guardian Council, entered flanked by four Royal Guards. His long robe flowed behind him like a whisper of authority. The gold emblem of Lumisgrave shimmered over his chest, catching the sunlight.
Everyone stood in silent respect. Arslan turned fully, his brows narrowing slightly. Julius never came without reason.
Julius stopped at the center of the courtyard. His gaze swept over the Mythics — powerful individuals, each carrying immense potential. He spoke, his voice firm yet resonant:
> "From tomorrow, a new phase begins. Collaboration Training for all Echelon Knights will commence."
Murmurs stirred in the air. Yuna exchanged a look with Maelis. Tension lifted slightly as curiosity replaced surprise.
Julius continued:
> "This training will run for ten days. All ranks — Alpha, Omega, Apex, Zenith, and you Mythics — will train together. It is designed to push you, unite you, and prepare you for what lies beyond."
A faint whistle came from Caelis, who stood with a glint in his eye.
> "That will surely boost our skills. With so many together, we might actually push past our limits for once," he said with a half-smile.
Nirela nodded beside him, adding softly,
> "Limits are just old shadows. It's time we burn through them."
Julius gave a small nod of approval.
> "Exactly. This training is not just physical. You will confront illusions, internal battles, unknown elements, and inter-rank strategies. The result — will be power beyond your current understanding."
The crowd grew still, as the magnitude of the event settled over them. There was excitement. Even hope.
But then Julius's tone shifted. A quiet weight entered his voice.
> "But…"
That one word echoed, creating a ripple of silence.
Tharion, standing tall with his arms crossed, cocked a brow.
> "What's next? Is there a problem?"
Julius's gaze shifted — directly toward Arslan.
The moment thickened. Arslan blinked, sensing what was coming before it was spoken.
> "Arslan," Julius said, pausing, "You will not be joining this collaboration training."
A sharp silence fell. Heads turned. Caelis straightened. Seris froze mid-whetstone stroke. Even Yuna frowned.
Arslan, quiet for a heartbeat, responded slowly.
> "Why?"
His voice was not loud, but it cut through the space like a quiet blade — not of anger, but of confusion and disbelief.
Julius stepped forward, retrieving a neatly folded piece of parchment from within his robe. He held it toward Arslan.
> "You are summoned to Alberto by the King himself. A new task awaits you — one that cannot wait."
Arslan stepped forward and took the letter. The seal of King Farhan glowed faintly with royal energy — unbroken. He didn't open it immediately. Instead, he just stared at the royal insignia, a complex whirlpool of emotion brewing behind his eyes.
The courtyard was silent, the kind of silence that carried questions no one dared ask out loud.
Arslan gave a slow nod.
> "I will go," he said.
No complaint. No question. Just calm acceptance.
But deep inside, something shifted.
Julius looked at him for a moment, eyes lingering as if he wanted to say something more. Then he turned sharply and, with a motion of his hand, began walking out of the courtyard. The Royal Guards followed.
As the gate closed behind them with a faint thud, the silence lingered for a breath longer — and then the dam broke.
> "Wait — you're not coming?" Yuna asked, approaching Arslan, her brow furrowed in concern.
> "That's not fair," Maelis added, brushing a few strands of leaf-green hair behind her ear. "Why would they pull you out now, just when we'll all be together?"
> "The King must have his reasons," Caelis said with a shrug, though his voice was clearly annoyed. "Still feels off."
Tharion stepped forward, clapping Arslan on the back.
> "We'll miss you, brother. Try not to get into trouble without us."
Arslan gave a faint, brief smile. Something between gratitude and apology.
> "I didn't expect this either."
Nirela, quiet as always, stepped beside him.
> "You're not just another Mythic, Arslan. You're… central. It won't feel the same without you."
The group slowly returned to the breakfast tables, though the mood had shifted. Food sat untouched on many plates.
A few brave souls tried to bring back the spirit. Zhalya joked half-heartedly about who would fail in training first. Elyra and Orien speculated on the kind of illusions they'd face. But between every laugh and bite, there were glances at Arslan.
He sat at the edge of the courtyard quietly, holding the letter in one hand, his eyes focused on nothing and everything.