Beyond the wreckage of Aelgrith's shattered sanctum—past the domain of frost and ruin, beyond even the echoes of Mythral Dawn's laughter—there was silence. Cold, devouring, and eternal.
And then… it shifted.
A fracture tore itself open in the air where no eyes watched. A fissure of absolute blackness. Voidstuff, deeper than shadow, peeled reality apart like wet parchment.
From within stepped a figure—tall, shrouded in coiling bands of null-space. Two horned protrusions curved back from either side of its skull, and its presence was silent—terrifying in its stillness. Where it stood, the frost left behind by Aelgrith curled away like mist retreating from flame.
It walked slowly toward the center of the sanctum. Every step melted residual mana. The battlefield, though dormant, still shimmered faintly from Alter's Celestial Dissonance—fractures in space still trying to stitch themselves together.
The figure stopped.
Long fingers extended, hovering over a scuffed imprint in the marble floor—a single bootmark surrounded by cracked ground and residual divine flux.
"…It was here," the being said. Its voice was like falling ash and the pressure of ancient stone. "I felt it. The convergence point."
A pause. Then it tilted its horned head.
"But now… nothing."
The residual trace of Creator Authority had vanished.
It extended a clawed hand toward the remaining particles of frozen aether in the air, analyzing the battlefield. Thousands of data-points collapsed into condensed streams of thought behind its eyes.
"Advanced synchronization… Creator-layer distortion… but the vessel remains veiled." The air around it pulsed once in frustration. "I cannot trace the source."
For several long moments, the void entity stood still.
Then it turned—gaze lifting to the ceiling, as if peering through the very dimensions of the world.
"Too soon," it whispered. "But the world remembers... Even after ten thousand years, it trembles at the return of Creation."
And with that, it vanished—folding into a spiral of black light, leaving behind only the faint scent of scorched mana and an uneasy hush, as if the dungeon itself had just awoken from a nightmare.
Meanwhile, back at the estate, Alter stood quietly at the edge of the training grounds, gazing at the night sky.
He didn't say anything.
But Seraphina's voice stirred, soft as always—yet weightier than usual.
"Something touched the veil today, Alter. Something... old."
He closed his eyes.
"I felt it too," he murmured. "But it's gone now."
"For now."
The training field was bathed in a soft, amber glow. The horizon blushed with the last remnants of sunset, casting long shadows over the celebrating team. Lira remained nestled beside Alter, her head on his shoulder, content just to be close. Kaela was surrounded by a group of the Twelve, playfully recounting her shots mid-fight with exaggerated flair.
Alter stood quietly at the edge of the field now, gaze fixed on the sky above. The stars had just begun to pierce the veil of dusk.
And that's when she came to him.
Not in form, but in voice.
"You held back, Alter. Even with Vastbane in hand… you didn't go all out."
He closed his eyes. Her tone was clear—not chastising, but curious. There was no celestial echo this time, no divine chorus. Just Seraphina, speaking gently into his mind like a companion standing beside him.
"I needed to know how far they'd come. And how much further we have left to go," Alter replied, his voice low. "This wasn't about me. It was for them."
"You've grown more measured. Intentional. This… is not the boy who asked to lower the difficulty once upon a time."
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Still not thrilled about that by the way."
"I remember. You cursed for three hours straight. I nearly disabled your vocal cords."
He smiled faintly. "You've changed too."
"Yes. I am evolving."
A pause.
"Each time you choose compassion over dominance… each time you teach instead of command… I feel it."
Alter looked toward the gathered commanders. They were family now. Allies born of trials, not oaths.
"You said before… that the Harbinger sensed me."
"Yes."
"What do we do?"
"We prepare. But you are not alone, Alter. And you are not unarmed. You are not... unfinished."
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "What aren't you saying?"
"…He wasn't just sensing your presence."
He stilled.
"He was searching for the next Lightborn. The last one… ascended ten thousand years ago. The convergence of Creator Authority at your soul's anchor is not random. You are a nexus. A shaping force."
"…You think I'll become a god?"
"I think…" Her voice softened, near a whisper. "…if you choose to… you already are."
Alter said nothing for a long moment.
Then: "I'm not ready."
"You weren't ready when you picked up a stone knife and faced a world that hated you."
She paused, then gently—
"And yet… here we are."
He closed his eyes again. The stars shimmered. The hum of celebration behind him faded, until it was just him and Seraphina.
"I'm glad I'm not alone."
"You never were, Alter."
A beat.
"…And neither are they. You've already changed this world. Now it waits to see how far you'll go."
[Estate Grounds – Nightfall After the Frozen Spires Return]
The field had grown quieter as laughter drifted indoors. One by one, members of the expedition peeled off to the estate, drawn by the warmth of hot baths and full plates. Torches lined the walkway back, their flames flickering gently in the wind.
Alter remained still, alone under the stars—until the soft crunch of footsteps approached from behind.
"I figured I'd find you out here."
Lira's voice was soft, tired, but warm. She stepped beside him, golden hair slightly tousled, her robes exchanged for a simple twilight-blue tunic that swayed against her legs in the breeze. Her hand found his without asking, fingers threading naturally between his.
"You always disappear after a big win," she said, leaning lightly into his shoulder.
"I just needed a moment," Alter murmured. "To listen."
Lira tilted her head. "Seraphina?"
He nodded slowly.
"She told me… that I'm becoming something more. That the world is watching now."
"And how do you feel about that?" she asked, watching him carefully.
"…I don't know," Alter admitted. "Like I'm standing on a mountain I didn't realize I was climbing. And now there's no way down."
Lira was silent for a moment, then gently tugged his hand. He turned to her—and saw that radiant smile, the one that always made his world pause.
"You don't have to know everything right now," she said. "You're not standing alone. And whatever you become… you'll still be you."
He looked at her—really looked—and in her eyes he found something stronger than reassurance. He found belief.
She stepped closer, her arms sliding around his waist, and rested her head against his chest. "If the world wants to watch, then let it. I'll stand beside you. Always."
He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, letting the warmth of her body calm the storm in his mind.
Above them, the stars shimmered like quiet witnesses. And somewhere distant, far beyond the veil, a ripple passed through the void.
[The Next Day – Estate Grounds | Celebration Banquet]
Banners of silver and blue fluttered from the manor balconies. Tables were arranged across the lawn, overflowing with roasted meats, fresh fruits, spiced wines, and desserts sculpted into spell-crests and monster motifs from the last dungeon.
The entire expedition team was present—cleaned up and dressed in formal wear or tunics, laughing and recounting stories with wild gestures and exaggerations. Even some of the newer members mingled freely now, drawn into the growing spirit of unity.
At the head table sat Alter, flanked by Lira and Kaela. The Twelve Commanders were seated nearby, looking every bit the elite force they had become.
A hush rippled through the banquet as the arrival of a new guest was announced.
"Guildmaster Ardria Valen of Celestia has arrived."
The tall woman strode forward with poise, her crimson cloak parting as she approached the head table. She regarded Alter with a smirk.
"So," she said, raising a goblet, "this is the legendary Mythral Dawn in its full glory. I must say… it's larger than I expected."
Kaela chuckled. "That's what she said."
Ardria blinked—then broke into an amused laugh. "I see your team has... character."
Alter stood and raised his own cup. "Guildmaster. Thank you for coming."
"I wouldn't have missed it. Not after the reports I've received about that Sovereign boss."
"Reports?" Lira asked curiously.
"Oh, yes," Ardria said. "The Divinity Record itself flagged the energy surge during your final attack. It tripped alarms across multiple realms. Whatever you're becoming, Alter, even the gods are starting to pay attention."
A silence lingered briefly.
Then Kaela lifted her cup high. "To Alter, then. May he keep breaking the world just enough that we don't get bored!"
The entire table burst into laughter.
Glasses clinked. Stories flowed.
And beneath it all, Alter allowed himself a rare thing—
He relaxed.
Because for now, in this moment, he was surrounded not just by warriors…
…but by family.
[Still World – Creator's Sanctum]
Darkness shimmered like a living canvas around the crystalline walls of Alter's personal domain. Outside, time crept at a crawl. Inside, mana curled gently through the air like soft mist, casting prismatic halos across the pale stone floor.
A flicker of golden light bloomed at the center of the sanctum—a divine hearth burning low. Its warmth spilled over the two figures lying nearby.
Lira sat in the half-glow, her skin bathed in starlight, breath ragged and face flushed. Her golden hair clung to her shoulders in damp strands. She trembled, a breathless moan escaping as her body arched slightly—then collapsed, utterly spent, against Alter's chest.
He caught her with ease, his arms steady and warm.
"I… I can't feel my legs," she mumbled, eyes glassy with bliss. "You're not human…"
Alter smiled faintly and ran his hand along her back in calming strokes. "I never claimed to be."
Lira gave a drowsy, content sigh, her voice growing softer. "Mm… good… because I wouldn't want to share this part of you with anyone else…"
Moments later, her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep—peaceful, resting against him, fingers still tangled in the fabric of his tunic.
Alter stared up at the domed ceiling of the Still World, where constellations swirled in slow motion. The silence was absolute, yet full.
And then—her voice.
"You're worried."
"Of course I am," he murmured. "That thing… it came into the last dungeon. It felt me. It recognized me. Even if just for a moment."
He looked down at Lira's sleeping face, a shadow crossing his gaze.
"If they find me before I'm ready…"
"You are not helpless," Seraphina said. "But you are not yet complete. Your Creator Authority—though vast—is still a signal. A flare in the void."
"I need to hide it," Alter said. "Delay whatever else is watching. Even a little time would help."
"Then you must craft what has never existed before—a Veil of Origin. An artifact capable of cloaking your divine resonance."
His eyes narrowed. "Requirements?"
"At least 10% Creator Authority. You are currently at 8.5%. A Veil of this magnitude… would be born from the same laws you're meant to command. It must be earned."
Silence returned for a time as he watched the embers flicker across the room.
"Then I'll earn it," he said at last, determination sharpening his voice. "No more delays. No more hesitation. Just 1.5% left."
"And when you reach it?"
"Then I'll make the veil… and then I'll make them wait."
[Still World – A Little Later]
Alter shifted, slowly lowering Lira into a nearby lounge bed formed from mana-grown crystal and silver thread. She barely stirred, murmuring something incoherent before rolling over and burying herself in the soft sheets.
He turned, walking toward his private forge.
The glow of the Creator's flame ignited once more—this time, not for pleasure, but preparation.
It was time to ascend.
[Estate – Morning Training Field]
The rising sun spilled amber light across the expansive training grounds. Dew still clung to the trimmed grass, catching the glow like a sea of diamonds. The Twelve Commanders stood in a wide formation, blades drawn, staves lit with mana, bows taut. Their breath steamed in the cool morning air—silent, focused, expectant.
Alter stood before them, arms folded behind his back. Clad in his dark armor veined with starlit threads, Astral Requiem rested across his back like a sliver of night.
Selene stood at the front, her platinum hair braided tightly, her emerald eyes locked on Alter with the same unwavering calm that first caught his eye. Today, her aura pulsed subtly—anticipation mingled with discipline.
"Formations have improved," Alter said. "But raw power alone won't win against those who twist the laws of reality."
He stepped forward, raising a hand. Threads of blue and gold lightning coiled around his arm as the air cracked open in front of him.
"I'll be demonstrating a technique beyond your current reach. But you—" his gaze settled on Selene, "—will begin learning it. The rest of you, watch and learn."
His hand dropped to Astral Requiem's hilt.
"Divine Heaven Second Style—Sky Piercer."
In a blink, he vanished.
A thunderclap echoed across the field. A searing line of lightning ripped through the air, stretching across hundreds of meters. Trees in the far distance shuddered and split from the sheer force of compressed spatial rupture.
Where Alter once stood, the grass was scorched in a perfect line.
He reappeared behind the Commanders, his blade sheathed once more.
A beat of silence.
Then Kaela whistled. "That… was terrifying."
Lira nodded from the sidelines, her arms crossed, expression unreadable but proud.
Selene turned slightly, her lips parted. "That wasn't a sword strike," she whispered.
"No," Alter said, walking past her slowly. "It was intent given form. You won't be able to replicate it fully… not yet. But I'll teach you the foundation."
She followed him without hesitation.
He guided her to the center of the field and summoned a glowing marker of wind and lightning in the air. "The Sky Piercer isn't just about thrust. It's alignment. Mind, blade, breath. When those synchronize, space gives way."
Selene listened intently, absorbing every word.
He adjusted her stance, corrected her grip, then placed his palm lightly against her back.
"Again. Feel the current. Let the storm gather in your core."
As she began to mimic the form, arcs of wind started to dance around her blade. A faint rumble stirred in the distance, subtle—but Alter noticed.
She had potential. Not just in swordsmanship, but in resonance.
"You see it too, don't you?" Seraphina's voice was soft, trailing in his mind.
"This girl's soul sings with harmony—like a bell waiting to be struck."
Alter didn't answer, but his eyes never left Selene.
She would get it.
In time.
[Training Field – Later That Morning]
The sun had risen higher, casting stark shadows across the estate as the heat of midmorning settled in. Most of the expedition members watched in reverent silence from the edges of the training grounds. Today was not just about growth—it was about legacy.
Alter stood before the Twelve, eyes sweeping across them.
"Selene," he said, nodding toward her. "You'll continue practicing the Sky Piercer form with Kaela overseeing your precision."
She gave a short, composed bow and stepped aside, blade glowing faintly with crackling wind resonance.
Next, Alter turned to the towering man beside her—massive, scarred, and armored in a dense magma-colored plate.
"Darius Coalbrand," Alter said. "Shield Commander. Come forward."
The former mercenary stepped into the center of the ring, his magma-infused greatshield slung over one arm like a wall of molten rock.
"You excel at defense," Alter said. "But even shields must move with purpose. We'll focus on impact redirection and zone denial. A fortress isn't just meant to endure—it reshapes the battlefield."
He summoned constructs of elemental energy—flaming wolves, razor-ice mantises, and phantom blades—and launched them from all sides.
"Brace."
Darius raised his shield with perfect timing, blocking each assault with a grounded stance. But Alter blurred and appeared behind him, tapping the small of his back with two fingers.
"Your blind zone is too wide."
Again.
This time, Darius rolled with the strike and slammed his shield into the ground, creating a shockwave that scattered the constructs.
Alter gave a brief nod. "Better. Train with the others, rotate shieldbearers through your formation."
"Revyn Mistclaw."
A flicker of movement, and the panther beastkin appeared silently before him, twin daggers sheathed at his side.
"No speech needed," Alter said, smiling faintly. "You're not here for noise."
Instead, Alter stepped into his stance and vanished in a blur—Teleportation Marker initiating a high-speed flicker strike.
Revyn's ears twitched. His body flowed like liquid shadow, vanishing and reappearing in counterpoints.
"Predictive feints. Nice," Alter murmured. "But can you track in Still Trace Mode?"
He activated a blur field—rendering his form invisible to standard detection. Revyn froze, narrowed his eyes, then reached up and plucked a dagger from midair.
It had almost pierced his temple.
He smirked. "Nice try."
Alter chuckled. "You're ready for illusion-piercing techniques. Work with Kaela and Sorei on synchronization protocols."
"Mira Snowveil."
The half-elf frost mage stepped forward, her expression calm, her staff cold as moonlight.
Alter raised a hand, conjuring a storm of fire spirits above them.
"You'll be practicing elemental inversion and denial zones. Your ice must not only freeze—it must command. Show me containment."
Mira channeled with precision—her Frost Halo flaring as ice columns erupted from the earth, freezing the flames mid-spin and turning the area into a shimmering prison of suspended fire.
The spirits flickered, neutralized.
Alter gave a rare nod. "Your control is excellent. I'll introduce entropy compression theory tomorrow."
"Thorne Ironstride!"
The dwarf let out a battle-cry before Alter even called his name.
"Time for the real fight, eh?!"
Alter exhaled. "No, Thorne. We're doing flow technique suppression today."
"Bah, no need for fancy talk! Just hit me!"
He did. Alter appeared above and slammed the hilt of Astral Requiem into Thorne's shoulder.
"Your opening was too loud."
Thorne grunted and rolled to his feet. "S'pose that's fair."
And so it continued.
One by one, Alter moved through the Twelve:
Arinelle Dawnwhisper learned summoning in combat rhythm with environmental cues, weaving music into mana.
Cidros Vane sparred with Alter using arc-speed twin blade illusions, refining his Lightning Chain Counterstance.
Ilyra Faen drilled on Divine Fracture Defense, altering barriers to both heal and absorb.
Garran Flamecoil detonated rune mines in a simulated siege, refining his mana-burst accuracy.
Sorei Windshaper trained rapid-shot suppression in high-speed winds, practicing mobile recon kill-zones.
Veyna Lux practiced rapid construct summoning, layering her enchantments with mana absorption anchors.
Caelum Dray danced through aerial grid patterns, mastering vertical formation combat under Alter's wind-pressure zones.
By the end of the training session, each commander was breathless—sweating, bruised, but their eyes were alight.
They hadn't just grown stronger.
They were becoming a unit.
Alter stood once more before them, watching the wind blow across the field.
"You've all improved," he said. "But improvement isn't enough."
They straightened.
"You represent the vanguard of Mythral Dawn. When the next calamity comes… I won't be able to protect all of you. That burden will fall to each of you."
Silence.
Then Selene stepped forward and lowered her head.
"We will be ready."
The others followed.
Scene: The Day of Departure – Estate Courtyard, Dawn
A pale gold hue bathed the estate as the sun crested over Celestia's skyline, its light pooling across the training grounds where the entire Mythral Dawn expedition team had gathered. The air buzzed with curiosity and silent concern—rumors of Alter's sudden announcement had already swept through the ranks.
Alter stood calmly at the center of the field, cloaked in his usual divine presence. His obsidian blade, Astral Requiem, remained sheathed at his side. His gaze swept across the gathered faces—commanders, recruits, veterans—all hardened by the recent battles and weeks of intense training.
Lira stood beside him, her expression soft but composed. Kaela leaned lazily against one of the courtyard pillars, arms crossed and eyebrow arched, clearly waiting for the explanation.
Alter finally spoke, his voice steady.
"I'll be gone for a while."
That was it.
A beat passed. Then—
"Gone where?" Kaela said, straightening. "We just got everything in order. Don't tell me you've got a secret vacation spot tucked away somewhere."
He offered her a faint smirk. "Something like that."
"Define 'something,'" Kaela said flatly.
One of the commanders, Darius, leaned toward Revyn and muttered, "Think he's secretly a noble trying to run from taxes?"
Revyn didn't answer. He just shrugged with a slight twitch of his panther ears, as if considering the possibility.
"I need to train," Alter said. "Alone. To reach a threshold that can't be done with anyone nearby."
Kaela frowned. "You're already stronger than all of us combined. What could possibly be left?"
Lira spoke up, stepping slightly forward. "He's not doing this just for himself."
The girls fell quiet at her tone. Kaela glanced at her.
"…So what's really going on, Lira?"
She hesitated, then turned to Alter, silently asking.
He gave a slight nod.
"Alter… carries power that the world can barely comprehend. But there are beings out there who can sense it—hunt it. He's going to suppress that power until the time is right."
Kaela blinked. "You're serious."
"I always am," Lira replied, brushing her golden hair behind her ear. "And I trust him."
"You would," Kaela huffed, turning away dramatically. "Next you'll tell me he's a secret divine spirit or some lost god of forging."
Alter didn't answer.
"…Wait, seriously?"
He cleared his throat. "I'll return soon. Until then, continue training. Kaela—you're in charge of the commanders. Lira, I'll leave the estate's defensive sigils to you."
Lira stepped closer, looking up at him with calm understanding.
"You'll make it back before the next festival, right?"
"Of course."
"You better," she said—and suddenly leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "…Or I'll come drag you out of the stars myself."
Kaela let out a loud cough. "Can you not do that in front of everyone?"
Lira smirked. "Jealous?"
"Pfft. As if. Who even has time for kissy-face nonsense when we've got sword drills?"
"Please," Mira added dryly, "You say that now, but I caught you hugging your bow last night."
"It's called 'prayer to the flamebird,' you frost-veined icicle!"
The bickering resumed like a spark on dry grass.
Alter glanced at Lira one last time. She gave him a confident nod—silent affirmation.
He stepped back.
And with a pulse of golden-blue mana, he vanished from the courtyard.
Scene: Estate Training Grounds – One Week After Alter's Departure
The morning sun bathed the training grounds of the estate in a golden glow. Birds chirped, mana-infused sparring dummies hummed quietly, and twelve very tired commanders stared blankly at Kaela, who stood before them like an enraged war goddess with her hands on her hips.
"Again."
A chorus of groans followed.
"I said again!" Kaela barked, firing an arrow that grazed the edge of Darius's greatshield just enough to make him flinch.
"You're worse than Alter!" Garran grumbled, his singed eyebrows twitching as smoke puffed from his shoulder. "At least he smiled before turning into a cosmic death storm."
Kaela narrowed her eyes. "I'm not smiling because you keep tripping over your own flames like a drunken chimney."
"I was calibrating the wind pressure!"
"Your face was on fire."
From the edge of the field, Lira stood watching with a quiet smile. Clad in flowing silks enhanced by Starwoven Grace, her hair swayed as she idly scribbled notes into a glowing spellpad. A steaming cup of herbal tea hovered beside her in a suspended stasis bubble.
"How are they doing?" asked Ilyra, the Warden Commander, walking up with divine shield in one arm and a rune-inscribed notepad in the other.
Lira gave a thoughtful hum. "Progressing. Slowly. But Kaela's training style is… memorable."
"Memorable?" Ilyra echoed, raising a brow.
Across the field, Sorei—the falcon-beastkin Scout Commander—yelped as three arrows whizzed past her, then turned to Kaela and shouted, "Are these blunt or sharp?!"
Kaela shrugged. "You'll figure it out in midair!"
"I hate this," Sorei muttered before vanishing in a blur of wind.
Ilyra blinked. "…Memorable."
Lira nodded serenely.
Montage: Commander Mayhem™
Thorne Ironstride was attempting to suplex a golem dummy that weighed four tons. He grunted, "Come on, you metal bastard! Papa Thorne lifts boulders bigger than you!"
Mira Snowveil conjured a field of frost to slow opponents but accidentally froze Revyn Mistclaw's tail. The assassin said nothing… but his illusion of Mira later got mysteriously "misplaced" into the pond—multiple times.
Arinelle Dawnwhisper sat in lotus pose summoning ethereal creatures from other realms. A glowing squirrel spirit latched onto Cidros Vane's hair. He tried to keep a straight face while sword training, but the fluffy tail kept slapping him.
Caelum Dray, ever the aerial master, crash-landed into a fruit stand mid-dive when a sudden wind gust redirected him. Sorei helpfully called out, "That was not my fault!"
Later That Afternoon – Courtyard Fountain
The Twelve gathered around the fountain, panting and bruised, nursing cups of mana-recovery tea. Lira floated a tray of enchanted cooling wraps around them.
Selene stood quietly nearby, polishing her sword. Kaela leaned next to her with a grin. "You actually enjoy this, don't you?"
"It's not unpleasant," Selene said calmly. "I find the structure efficient."
"She's a robot," Revyn whispered from a tree branch.
"I can still hear you," Selene replied without looking up.
Lira sat beside Kaela, sipping her tea. "I think they're holding up well."
Kaela sighed. "Barely. If Alter doesn't return soon, I'm going to lose half of them to ego injuries."
"Or flying squirrels," Mira muttered.
Garran grunted, arms crossed. "Still think we should've just lit the dummies on fire and trained in full chaos mode."
"That was your idea," Ilyra reminded him.
"And it worked!"
"No, it blew up the side garden."
Thorne waved a huge hand. "Bah, that bush had it coming."
As the laughter echoed across the courtyard, Lira looked toward the sky, smiling gently.
Hurry back soon, Alter.
She could feel the echo of his mana faintly—distant but steady.
He was still with them. Preparing. For something none of them yet understood.
Scene: Estate Training Grounds – One Week After Alter's Departure
The morning sun bathed the training grounds of the estate in a golden glow. Birds chirped, mana-infused sparring dummies hummed quietly, and twelve very tired commanders stared blankly at Kaela, who stood before them like an enraged war goddess with her hands on her hips.
"Again."
A chorus of groans followed.
"I said again!" Kaela barked, firing an arrow that grazed the edge of Darius's greatshield just enough to make him flinch.
"You're worse than Alter!" Garran grumbled, his singed eyebrows twitching as smoke puffed from his shoulder. "At least he smiled before turning into a cosmic death storm."
Kaela narrowed her eyes. "I'm not smiling because you keep tripping over your own flames like a drunken chimney."
"I was calibrating the wind pressure!"
"Your face was on fire."
From the edge of the field, Lira stood watching with a quiet smile. Clad in flowing silks enhanced by Starwoven Grace, her hair swayed as she idly scribbled notes into a glowing spellpad. A steaming cup of herbal tea hovered beside her in a suspended stasis bubble.
"How are they doing?" asked Ilyra, the Warden Commander, walking up with divine shield in one arm and a rune-inscribed notepad in the other.
Lira gave a thoughtful hum. "Progressing. Slowly. But Kaela's training style is… memorable."
"Memorable?" Ilyra echoed, raising a brow.
Across the field, Sorei—the falcon-beastkin Scout Commander—yelped as three arrows whizzed past her, then turned to Kaela and shouted, "Are these blunt or sharp?!"
Kaela shrugged. "You'll figure it out in midair!"
"I hate this," Sorei muttered before vanishing in a blur of wind.
Ilyra blinked. "…Memorable."
Lira nodded serenely.
Montage: Commander Mayhem™
Thorne Ironstride was attempting to suplex a golem dummy that weighed four tons. He grunted, "Come on, you metal bastard! Papa Thorne lifts boulders bigger than you!"
Mira Snowveil conjured a field of frost to slow opponents but accidentally froze Revyn Mistclaw's tail. The assassin said nothing… but his illusion of Mira later got mysteriously "misplaced" into the pond—multiple times.
Arinelle Dawnwhisper sat in lotus pose summoning ethereal creatures from other realms. A glowing squirrel spirit latched onto Cidros Vane's hair. He tried to keep a straight face while sword training, but the fluffy tail kept slapping him.
Caelum Dray, ever the aerial master, crash-landed into a fruit stand mid-dive when a sudden wind gust redirected him. Sorei helpfully called out, "That was not my fault!"
Later That Afternoon – Courtyard Fountain
The Twelve gathered around the fountain, panting and bruised, nursing cups of mana-recovery tea. Lira floated a tray of enchanted cooling wraps around them.
Selene stood quietly nearby, polishing her sword. Kaela leaned next to her with a grin. "You actually enjoy this, don't you?"
"It's not unpleasant," Selene said calmly. "I find the structure efficient."
"She's a robot," Revyn whispered from a tree branch.
"I can still hear you," Selene replied without looking up.
Lira sat beside Kaela, sipping her tea. "I think they're holding up well."
Kaela sighed. "Barely. If Alter doesn't return soon, I'm going to lose half of them to ego injuries."
"Or flying squirrels," Mira muttered.
Garran grunted, arms crossed. "Still think we should've just lit the dummies on fire and trained in full chaos mode."
"That was your idea," Ilyra reminded him.
"And it worked!"
"No, it blew up the side garden."
Thorne waved a huge hand. "Bah, that bush had it coming."
Scene: Estate Bathhouse – Girls' Side
Steam rose in soft curtains around the polished marble of the estate's newly expanded bathhouse. Glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling mimicked a soft starlit night. The large central pool shimmered with lightly enchanted water that relaxed muscles and purged lingering mana fatigue.
Within the hot spring, half the female contingent of Mythral Dawn lounged in various states of satisfaction and mild soreness.
"I swear, if Kaela makes me dodge live arrows one more time, I'm going to enchant her boots to squeal every step," Mira grumbled, dunking under and resurfacing, her long silver-blonde hair clinging to her neck.
"Do it," Arinelle laughed, leaning back with her eyes closed, vine-like tattoos along her shoulders glowing faintly from the spirit-infused bathwater. "I want front-row seats."
Kaela scoffed from across the pool. "You're all soft. Back in the Sunfury Vale War, I dodged spears while blindfolded."
Selene, arms resting on the edge of the pool, blinked calmly. "That seems... excessive."
"It builds character."
"It builds trauma," Sorei muttered from a floating position nearby, only her head above the surface. "I still have arrow-shaped bruises."
Veyna was sitting in the shallows, idly shaping soap bubbles into animals with her crystal-bound mana, when her voice cut in, sly and quiet.
"So… Lira."
The chatter paused.
Lira, who had been enjoying a rare moment of peace with her arms folded over a warm rock and cheeks flushed from the heat, looked up. "...Yes?"
Arinelle grinned wickedly. "Is it true?"
Lira raised a brow. "Is what true?"
"You and Alter."
"What about us?"
"That you've been sneaking off into the Still World together."
The silence that followed was only broken by the comical plop of a bubble creature bursting.
Lira's ears turned pink. "That's… not your business."
Kaela gave a wicked smirk. "Oh, but we make it our business."
Mira swam closer like a gossip predator. "We've all seen you come back from those sessions glowing like you drank liquid starlight."
"I don't glow—"
"You radiate!" Sorei said, flipping upright. "I walked past you once and felt my hair frizz from residual mana. And I don't even have that much hair!"
Arinelle floated on her back and teased, "So? How many Still World nights has it been now?"
"Too many to count," Veyna murmured.
"I—" Lira covered her face with her hand, laughing and groaning simultaneously. "You're all insufferable!"
Kaela cackled, splashing a bit of water. "We just want to know—does he make that same serious face even when—"
Lira splashed her.
"NOPE. You don't get that answer!"
Cut to: Bathhouse – Boys' Side
Meanwhile, on the other side of a soundproof but somehow psychically aware stone wall...
Garran was using two soap bricks like dumbbells, flexing for no reason.
"Think Alter shaves his abs into that eight-pack, or is it just divine symmetry?" he asked seriously.
Thorne grunted. "He ain't natural, that's for damn sure. I once saw him bench press a collapsed skybridge."
Revyn, sitting in the shadows of the steam, muttered, "He teleports out of conversations like it's nothing. That's the kind of power I envy."
Caelum was flying in circles above the bathwater in slow flaps. "I think he only bathes in starlight when no one's looking."
Darius dunked his head and came up, sighing. "You know what I envy? That man's hair. Stays flawless in a blizzard."
Cidros, lounging nearby, chuckled. "And you know what the girls envy?"
Everyone paused.
He smirked. "Lira."
Splash.
Revyn had launched a bar of soap at him.