White.
Endless, pulsing white.
Then—sound.
Muffled at first. Like the world was underwater.
A distant scream fractured the stillness.
Then another—closer, higher, hoarse with panic.
Metal rang like gongs, sharp and ugly, followed by the sickening thump of something heavy striking flesh. A building rumble rose beneath it all, like thunder grinding through stone.
Noah blinked.
His lungs burned as breath returned to him, shallow and staggered.
The light peeled away like a curtain.
And the world rushed back in.
He dropped to one knee, hand braced on cool stone. His fingers trembled against a floor slick with condensation—no, not just condensation. Blood. Smoke. Ash.
He was back in the Altar of the Rising Moon, the ancient underground temple carved into the cliffside, beneath the forest that once whispered and shimmered with silver.
Now it groaned.
Now it screamed.
The glow that had lit the casket behind him—gentle, lunar—had dulled to a soft, ghostlike hue. No trace of Lada remained. Only stillness, and the scent of something old dying quietly in the dark.
But the world above was anything but quiet.
Smoke curled down the stone staircase in long, greasy tendrils. The ceiling trembled with every distant detonation. Plaster cracked. Fine dust rained down in sheets, catching the flickering torchlight like snow.
The carved sigils along the altar walls—once glowing faintly with pale magic—had fractured. Lines splintered like broken veins. A place of peace, ruptured.
Noah stood on unsteady feet.
He looked up. The great doors to the altar chamber—massive stone slabs that were sealed tight—were now open again.
The temple was bleeding.
The forest beyond, once bathed in serenity, now howled with pain.
Another scream rang out—closer this time. A voice he thought he recognized. Someone was shouting orders. Then the telltale crackle of magic—a flare, a flash—and a body thudding down stone steps, lifeless.
Noah's heart punched against his ribs.
He ran.
Up the stairs, two at a time, boots echoing like war drums on stone. Every step was faster than the last, adrenaline overtaking fear. Kinetic cards flickered into existence between his fingers—ready, sharp, burning for purpose.
The battle hadn't paused for his absence.
It had only gotten worse.
The upper temple had become a slaughterhouse.
Once a sacred ruin, it now crackled with fire and lightning. Trees around the clearing were ablaze—white flames dancing unnaturally without smoke, fed by some foreign, holy fuel. Ash rained like gray snow. The stone plaza in front of the temple was smeared with blood, fractured by impact craters, and littered with twisted limbs and broken weapons.
Noah burst out through the stone archway and into the chaos.
He barely had time to think—his body moved on instinct. One of the Helios soldiers had broken formation, charging toward a wounded Menari, clutching a knife too heavy for their arms.
Whip—
A Fate Line lashed from Noah's left hand, snaring the soldier mid-stride, jerking him backward with a crack of displaced air. In the same moment, Noah's right hand flung a sharp-edged kinetic card, glowing pale blue. It sliced into the man's neck before exploding in a blast of compressed air and light.
The Menari scrambled back, trembling.
Noah didn't wait to reassure them.
His eyes swept across the battlefield.
The Legion of Helios had encircled the clearing in coordinated lines—draped in white and gold armor, their tabards scorched but still shining. Helmets glowed from within like furnace masks, and their swords gleamed unnaturally, as if drinking the sunlight itself. The ambush of the Menari turned into their own trap within minutes.
The Menari warriors, cloaked in forest hues and body paint, fought with desperation. Their blades were bone and bronze, their magic ancient and raw. But they were losing—outmatched in steel, in numbers, in precision.
And at the center of it all—
A burning figure of radiant doom.
A Pillar of Helios.
The girl Noah saw before running into the temple.
She floated inches above the cracked stone tiles, her feet trailing sunfire, her eyes white-gold like molten stars. Her skin shimmered, bronzed and perfect, and her hair billowed like a banner of flame, lighting the battlefield wherever she turned her gaze.
She was battling the Menari priestess, who stood defiant despite her exhaustion, her robes in tatters and face streaked with soot. She gripped a long crescent staff and chanted in a broken tongue, summoning gusts of wind and shards of moonlight from the fractured sky.
Each time their magic collided, the world shook.
The air crackled, splintered, and then reformed in spirals of light and ash. One moment: silence. The next: an eruption that shattered stone and knocked Menari warriors to the ground with sheer force.
Noah's gaze snapped to the right.
Abel moved like a machine—sword heavy, strikes clean, face tight with fury. His left arm bled through torn armor, but he didn't falter.
Cassian, agile and reckless, darted between attackers like a flame himself, staff whirling. Blood spattered his face. His expression was grim.
They were being pushed back.
Even together, they were barely holding the line.
And Noah—
Noah felt something in his chest twist.
He was here.
He was back.
And it was worse than he feared.
He reached into his soul, searching for calm.
The heat around him throbbed with divine presence. The Pillar's aura was overpowering—not just hot, but righteous. It invaded every breath, every muscle, every nerve. Even being near her felt like suffocation.
But he had no choice.
He summoned more cards, two per hand. The familiar glow steadied him.
And ran back into the storm.
The priestess staggered backward, her bare feet slipping on cracked stone slick with blood and rain. Her crescent staff shook in her grip, splintered along the haft. Still, she held her ground.
Before her hovered the Pillar of Helios—unmoving, radiant, cruel.
"You don't belong in this age," the Pillar said, her voice like sunlight on steel. "Kneel. You've already lost."
The priestess spat into the dust. "The moon endures."
The Pillar smiled. "Not tonight."
She raised one hand—and the air burned.
A sudden pulse of solar magic burst outward from her chest, blindingly white, so bright the world went mute for a heartbeat.
Noah, halfway to the battle line, dropped to one knee and shielded his eyes.
Then came the impact.
The blast hit like a divine hammer.
The priestess screamed as her shield shattered. Her staff cracked apart, and her robes caught fire. Moonlight cracked and fizzled around her like breaking glass. She crumpled into the stone, her hands clutching at her eyes—raw, bleeding, blind.
A gasp tore through the Menari ranks.
The lines began to break.
Noah's breath hitched.
His legs moved before his mind caught up.
Then—
A voice in his head.
Teasing. Familiar.
"You're really useless without me, huh?"
Noah blinked.
"Fine. Last time I help. But only because you're kind of cute when you panic."
A cold wind surged across his shoulders.
And then came the light—not searing, not painful. Silver. Gentle. Lunar.
It sank into his skin. Wrapped around his bones. He felt his senses sharpen, his fatigue burn away, his thoughts align like stars in a night sky.
His cards glowed pale blue. The Fate Lines in his hands shimmered like silk.
He rose to his feet.
"Go on then," Lada whispered.
Noah moved.
Not ran—moved.
The world slowed, or maybe he sped up. Trees blurred past. Arrows hung mid-flight in the corners of his eyes. He weaved through the battlefield like a thought cutting through fog.
A Helios soldier turned, blade halfway raised.
Too slow.
Noah flicked his wrist, and a glowing card buried itself in the soldier's chest. It detonated in a pulse of moonlit force, sending the man flying into his comrades.
Another came at him from the left—young, face painted with war-pride. Noah didn't hesitate. The Fate Lines lashed out from his fingers, twin whips of radiant thread. One curled around the soldier's leg, yanked hard—down he went. The second wrapped his spear and flung it skyward.
Noah didn't even stop to watch him fall.
Every breath burned silver in his lungs.
Every step struck true.
Around him, the Menari forces found space to breathe. Gasping warriors saw the strange pale figure darting between enemies, cards slicing, threads binding. Hope—raw and reckless—bloomed in their throats.
Cassian caught a glimpse of Noah dashing past. "What the hell—"
Abel, blood running down his temple, didn't waste time. He shouted, "Protect the wounded! Pull back!"
They obeyed. Orders didn't come often in this chaos. When they did, they were followed.
Noah didn't look back.
Ahead: the crumbled altar where the priestess lay, blind and shivering in the glow of dying magic.
Above her: the Pillar, descending like judgment itself.
Noah flung a card.
It exploded at the Pillar's feet, light colliding with light. Dust kicked up. She staggered, one eye narrowing in irritation.
She turned slowly.
Her skin gleamed with golden radiance. Her white armor shimmered, unscathed. Her hair floated behind her, glowing threads of solar fire.
"You?" she said.
Noah stood alone, leashes flickering, breath steaming in the air. His heart hammered, but he met her gaze.
She tilted her head. "Did they send a rat to fight the sun?"
He raised his voice. "Everyone fall back! I'll handle her!"
Abel's voice: "Noah, don't—!"
Cassian: "We stay together, idiot!"
Noah spun, voice sharp like a crack of thunder. "If you stay, I lose focus. And we all die. GO!"
For a second, the battlefield held its breath.
Then Abel turned, face twisted in fury. "Cassian—move."
Cassian bit his lip. Then nodded once.
Together, they dragged the priestess away, limping toward the forest with the surviving Menari.
Noah turned back.
The Pillar floated a few feet above the ground now, the soles of her feet radiant.
"Brave," she said. "But still just a shadow."
Noah narrowed his eyes.
"Stop talking shit and start fighting, and don't think I will not slap you just because you're ten!" he shouted provocatively, making the left eye of the girl twitch in annoyance.
And then he charged.
The Pillar didn't flinch.
She raised one hand, palm out, and a spear of concentrated solar flame burst into existence—pure white at the core, golden at the edge. It hummed with unbearable heat.
Noah ran straight at her.
The first throw came fast. He ducked, rolled sideways, and flung two kinetic cards in return. They arced like blades, one high, one low.
The Pillar snapped her fingers. A radiant barrier flared up around her—silver and gold intertwining—and both cards disintegrated on contact.
She smiled. "Your tricks are cute."
"Thanks," Noah muttered, sweat beading under his collar. "Wait till you see the encore."
She moved—fast. Not just fast, divine. Her spear thrust forward, a blur of burning light.
Noah barely dodged, the heat singing his skin. The spear grazed the ground behind him, and the earth cracked open, molten rock hissing through the fractures.
He cursed and lashed out with a Fate Line, snaring a chunk of debris and flinging it at her face. She batted it aside like a leaf.
Another card—a wide-range blaster—he triggered mid-air. It exploded with a concussive pulse of blue light, forcing her to shield her eyes.
That gave him one precious second.
He dove left, tucked into a slide, then crouched behind the broken column, his breath shallow, his hands slick with sweat and blood. His muscles screamed, but he forced them still. The battlefield around him roared — distant shouts, the crackle of fire, the hiss of scorched air — but here, just for a heartbeat, he found silence.
She was coming.
He could hear the footfalls — deliberate, sharp. The Pillar's presence burned through the noise, cutting like sunlight through fog.
Noah conjured two kinetic cards — sharp, humming with energy — and flexed his fingers around the coiled Fate Lines in his palms. He didn't breathe. He waited.
As soon as her figure slipped into view, radiant and golden, Noah lunged.
He struck fast — one card thrown toward her shoulder, the other toward her thigh — and followed it up with a crack of both Fate Lines, snapping forward like twin whips, aiming to bind and stagger her before she could react.
But she was faster.
Before the first card even hit, her body twisted with unnatural grace. She raised one arm, and golden light burst outward like a shield. The card dissolved in mid-air, the second skimming off her armor with a flash of sparks.
She turned — not startled, not impressed — just focused.
Her blade came down in an arc of searing light.
Noah barely rolled to the side as the Fate Lines lashed out — too late. The strike missed his chest but clipped his leg, and pain flared through him like fire in his veins.
He hit the ground hard, vision dancing.
The Pillar stepped forward, her blade humming, eyes fixed on him now like prey.
"Nice try," she said calmly. "But you're not fast enough."
The moon's blessing flickered. Dimmed.
Noah coughed, dust in his lungs. "Lada," he whispered. "If you've got any more tricks... now would be great."
Nothing.
Only his own ragged breath.
The Pillar advanced slowly, eyes glowing, spear reformed in her hand.
"You're not bad," she said. "But you're still a child playing priest."
Noah pushed himself up. "I'm the child!? Seriously!"
He spotted it then—the tree. A big, massive tree, half-burned, roots loosened in the quake. Teetering.
If he could time it—
He fired a barrage. Five cards. All aimed at the base.
The Pillar, irritated, rushed forward to block him.
He dove backward as the cards detonated.
The ground shook. Roots snapped. The tree groaned.
The Pillar turned—too late.
The trunk came down like a divine hammer.
She screamed, golden light surging up to blast the trunk in two mid-fall, splinters and fire erupting in all directions.
Noah vanished in the blast, rolling down the embankment into the shadows of the trees.
Smoke. Ash. Silence.
He didn't wait.
He crawled, ran, bled his way through root and stone until the sounds of battle were distant and the world smelled like forest again.
Behind him, the Legion of Dawn reformed ranks.
The temple burned.
And the Pillar stood alone among the cinders, eyes blazing, mouth curled in a snarl.