The Still World shimmered at its boundary, a silken veil between realms. As Alter took his first step through the divine aperture, the fabric of reality bent gently around him. Time reasserted itself—daylight breaking like breath across the world he had left behind.
He exhaled slowly, letting the cool wind greet him.
But something was off.
There was no sound of birds. No system prompt. No delay.
Only a shadow falling over him.
The final boss he had slain before—the corpse—lunged forward, its body still animated, driven not by life but by residue. Some final command, likely triggered by the entity's interference. A death reflex. One last strike.
The Sovereign of Icebound Tyranny—Aelgrith's remaining body surged, eyes vacant, but claws sharp and charged with elemental rage.
Alter's eyes didn't widen. He simply moved.
[WEAPON EQUIPPED: VASTBANE]
— Artifact-Class Blade: Dimensional Extinction Protocol Engaged
— Status: Creator Authority Synchronized – 10.0%
With a flash, Vastbane appeared in his right hand—a blade darker than the void, its edges etched with collapsing galaxies and glowing runes that hummed with anti-law.
Alter didn't even speak.
He moved like inevitability.
One slash.
A wave of anti-reality erupted from the blade—a rip across the canvas of existence—and Aelgrith's body was cleaved in half once again.
[DIMENSIONAL RUPTURE DETECTED – TERMINATION CONFIRMED]
[FINAL BOSS SOUL-FRAGMENT ELIMINATED. NO RESURRECTION POSSIBLE.]
The world trembled for a heartbeat, then stabilized.
Ash scattered in the wake of Vastbane's trail. Alter stood at the edge of the scarred terrain, cloak of starlight fluttering behind him, the Veil of Origin ring pulsing gently at his finger, masking the raw power flowing through him.
Only then did the system speak.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Extreme Mode Dungeon Clearance – Complete (Final Confirmation)
Status: Exit Point Stabilized
Cooldown Timer Reset – Ready for Re-entry in 72 hours
Alter exhaled.
"I really need to stop making dramatic exits," he muttered.
Seraphina's voice floated into his mind, amused.
"You wield a sword designed to sever reality, wear a ring that defies all laws, and possess Creator Authority. Drama, I'm afraid, is now part of the package."
Alter couldn't help but chuckle faintly.
"Point taken."
He glanced skyward. The sun was climbing. No signs of the entity, no lingering presence.
And now... no lingering enemies either.
He sheathed Vastbane slowly, feeling its hum fade into quiet resonance. His journey here was finished. It was time to return.
Time to go home.
[Story Continuation – Estate Return: Reunion & Revelry]
With the dungeon finally cleared and the world silent once more, Alter closed his eyes and reached within.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: TELEPORTATION MARKER]
→ Destination: Estate Training Grounds – Celestia Outskirts
→ Spatial Lock Confirmed... Executing Jump...
Reality folded with a smooth ripple, and Alter vanished from the windswept battlefield.
The crack of arrival sounded like a thunderclap over the estate's training fields.
Dust scattered. Dozens of heads snapped toward the epicenter—where a figure stood cloaked in cosmic quiet, the air around him rippling faintly with suppressed power.
Astral Requiem was no longer at his hip.
In its place, the sleek, veined blade of Vastbane rested against his back—its very presence causing spatial distortion. The Veil of Origin ring on his hand shimmered briefly before dulling its glow.
For a long heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
"...Is that—?"
"Alter?!"
"HE'S BACK!"
A shout erupted, breaking the stillness like a dam bursting.
From the upper balcony overlooking the courtyard, Lira had already sensed him the moment he arrived. She dropped her teacup, stepped onto the railing—and leapt.
"Alter!!"
He barely had time to open his arms before she slammed into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as her weight crashed into his chest.
He caught her easily.
"Hey," he murmured, voice low, one hand cradling the back of her head.
"You idiot," she whispered into his chest, trembling slightly. "You took too long…"
"I know," he replied. "I missed you too."
Before anything more could be said—
"Alright, alright! Leave some for the rest of us!" Kaela's voice rang from behind them.
The entire Mythral Dawn squad was closing in fast. Selene smiled quietly, arms crossed, while Thorne bellowed from behind, "Looks like the boss got himself a glow-up! That blade looks like it eats stars!"
Revyn smirked from beneath his hood. "Was starting to think he became one with the void."
Garran raised a massive jug. "Time for a drink then! To the Shadow-Reaper—uh—I mean, Primordial Boss!"
Alter blinked. "...Shadow what?"
Kaela cleared her throat. "Don't ask. Inside joke."
The team roared with laughter.
Alter looked around, letting it all soak in. The commanders were stronger. Their presence more refined. Even the newer members stood tall, confident. The training had paid off.
He smiled faintly.
"Well," he said. "Training's cancelled."
Cheers erupted.
[Later That Night – Estate Courtyard Celebration]
Long tables were dragged out beneath the moonlight. Roasted boar, spiced wines, and frothy ales flowed freely. Someone (probably Thorne) had already started a contest to see who could drink the most without collapsing.
Alter sat near the firepit, Lira tucked beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Kaela plopped down on the other side, passing him a drink with a smug grin.
"We were just fine without you, y'know," she said teasingly. "The team even learned how to walk without tripping."
"Oh?" Alter raised a brow. "Then I should leave more often."
"Don't you dare," Lira muttered into his arm.
From across the courtyard, Garran was mid-song with Sorei and Darius, their attempt at harmony questionable at best.
Cidros and Mira were arguing over fire vs. frost for cooking meat.
Selene, ever observant, simply watched it all with a small, contented smile.
In that moment, surrounded by laughter, flickering firelight, and bonds forged in combat and sacrifice, Alter felt something rare:
Peace.
Even if only for a night.
"Welcome back, Alter," Seraphina's voice whispered, distant and gentle in his mind. "But remember—this calm… is earned only by the strength to face the storm."
"I know," he whispered back.
But for tonight, the storm could wait.
[Later That Night – Estate Courtyard, Post-Celebration Shenanigans]
The moon hung high over the estate, casting a silvery glow across the winding stone paths and trimmed hedges. The festivities had slowed into soft laughter and mellow conversation. The firepit crackled low, casting amber light over wine bottles and slumped, drowsy warriors.
Alter stood near the courtyard gate, Lira beside him—her fingers subtly curling around his sleeve.
"You sure you want to go now?" he asked, voice low.
Lira gave a soft nod. Her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight, but her cheeks had taken on a very distinct rose hue.
Before he could speak further—
"Going somewhere, Lady Lira~?" came Kaela's teasing tone from behind them.
The archer approached with a raised brow and a knowing grin, flanked by Mira, Arinelle, Ilyra, and even the normally silent Veyna, who—surprisingly—was smirking behind her crystalline goblet.
"Oh, she's going somewhere alright," Mira sang.
"Straight to the private realm," Arinelle added in a dramatic whisper, fanning herself with a conjured leaf. "Where time slows and the magic flows—if you know what I mean."
"I don't," Alter said genuinely, glancing at them with visible confusion. "Is this about training?"
The entire group burst into laughter.
Ilyra nearly spilled her cup. Veyna just sipped hers silently, but the faint crystal sparkle on her cheeks betrayed her amusement.
Lira, thoroughly red now, buried her face in Alter's arm and tugged insistently. "C-Can we go now? Please?"
Kaela leaned in dramatically. "Don't forget to hydrate, Lira~"
"Make sure he doesn't break anything," Mira added with a wicked smirk.
"Try not to scream too loud!" Arinelle chimed in.
Poof.
They vanished in a blink—Teleportation Marker: Still World.
The air crackled faintly from the residual trace of Alter's skill, but otherwise, he was gone.
Which only made the girls howl with laughter.
[Nearby – The Men's Table]
Thorne leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug twice the size of anyone else's. "I give it two hours before she can walk straight again."
"Pfft," Revyn said, lounging with one leg propped up. "That long? Nah. He's probably the kind who resets the cooldown before the first one's over."
Darius blinked over his shield-mug. "Wait, are we talking about sparring or—?"
"Nope," Garran cut in, pointing at him with his mug. "You missed the setup entirely."
Cidros raised a brow. "Can we not talk about our leader's private life like it's a sparring match?"
"Too late," Revyn said flatly.
"Too true," Sorei added, sipping calmly while casually aiming a pebble into a bucket thirty paces away. It bounced in with a satisfying plink.
They all went quiet for a moment, watching the stars.
"…Think we'll ever be that strong?" Thorne muttered after a while.
"We're getting there," Garran said. "We've got each other. We've got him."
"And we've got enough booze to drown a mountain," Mira called from the other side of the courtyard, apparently having overheard.
"My kind of strategy," Thorne grinned.
Laughter rose again under the stars.
And far away, within the eternal light of the Still World, Alter and Lira stepped into a silence only they would share.
Tonight, the world had no danger.
Only warmth. And teasing. Lots and lots of teasing.
Scene: That Night – A Flame That Wouldn't Fade
That night, behind the closed doors of their shared chamber, Lira let go.
Everything she had buried—every ache, fear, and longing from the long, uncertain nights during Alter's absence—poured out of her in waves of breathless, unrelenting desire. Her body moved with purpose, with hunger, with love that could no longer be caged.
For hours, their world shrank to each other.
The sheets clung to damp skin. The moonlight spilled through the tall windows in pale silver streaks, painting their figures as dancing silhouettes against the flickering glow of rune-lamps.
Her moans, wild and raw, echoed in the room—shaking the walls with more honesty than any spell could conjure.
And finally, after a final, trembled cry, Lira collapsed forward onto the bed, her body trembling, breath coming in slow, stuttering waves. Her golden hair spread like molten light across the pillow.
Alter, drenched in sweat and quiet thunder, laid beside her. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling like he had just walked through a war.
She turned toward him, eyes lidded, still flushed with the remnants of their frenzy.
"When you were gone..." she whispered, her voice still unsteady, "a cup shattered in my hand... for no reason. Just cracked in two. I couldn't stop crying. I didn't know why."
Alter's eyes flickered with sudden alertness.
"And then, one day... I was suddenly smiling. With tears again. Like my soul recognized something before my mind did."
Her voice quivered with a mix of vulnerability and warmth. "That's when I knew you were coming back."
She moved slowly now—deliberate and silent. She climbed on top of him, straddling him under the pale light. Her dark silhouette shimmered in the moonbeams, soft curves illuminated by the glow of their magic-marked bodies.
As she sank down onto him, her figure tensed.
"Ah—Alter…" she moaned out softly, her head tipping back.
Her golden hair draped over her back like a river of fire. Her hands rested on his chest, steadying herself as she opened her eyes again—looking down at him. Her voice came gently, with a softness that could shatter steel.
"I want your child."
For a moment, Alter froze—staring up at her, stunned by the weight of what she'd just said.
But Lira didn't wait. She began to move—slow, rhythmic, deliberate.
The bed creaked beneath her motions. Her breath hitched, rising in pitch. The shadows of her body rose and fell with each motion, each thrust a heartbeat, each sound a prayer.
Alter's hands eventually found her waist. His fingers gripped firmly. He didn't speak—but his body responded.
Her pace grew faster. Their movements aligned—wild, instinctual, sacred.
The room blurred.
Only her voice, her silhouette, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin meeting skin filled the space. A primal rhythm.
Then—Alter let out a deep, low grunt. His entire body arched. She felt him release inside her, and her own breath faltered with it.
Lira, still atop him, brought her hands slowly to her stomach. She closed her eyes, whispering silently to herself—
"Please… let it be now."
With her hands still cradling the space between her womb and her heart, she leaned forward and fell onto his chest. His arms came up, instinctively wrapping around her.
Within moments, her breathing slowed. She drifted into sleep, resting atop the one man she would never let go again.
Alter looked up at the ceiling, hand still around her bare back, heart pounding—not from exhaustion, but from the truth she had given him.
The truth he had accepted.
The future was no longer uncertain.
It had a shape now—formed in her embrace.
The moon hung high above the estate, veiled in wisps of cloud like a shy witness. The room was quiet now, the aftermath of passion still thick in the air. The candles had burned low, casting soft golden hues across the walls and sheets. The rhythmic sound of breathing—slowed and heavy—was the only thing that remained.
Lira lay draped over Alter, her skin glistening faintly with a sheen of warmth, her golden hair cascading down his chest like liquid sunlight. Her fingers traced slow circles over the scar near his collarbone, a mark from a battle long past.
Alter, still catching his breath, brushed a strand of her hair from her face. His blue-galaxy eyes looked up at her—tired, stunned, overwhelmed.
She had ridden him through waves of release, like a woman possessed by love and years of waiting. She had not held back. She didn't want to.
"I meant it, you know..." Lira whispered, her voice barely a breath.
Alter blinked. "What part?"
She smiled, cheeks flushed. Then leaned down again, her body pressed gently over his.
"When I said I want your child."
His breath caught again, not from exhaustion—but from the weight of those words.
"Lira—" he began, but she kissed his chest and continued, voice firmer.
"I waited. Through your silence. Through the nights I stared at the sky, feeling like something was wrong. I still smiled for the others. But when I saw you again, when I felt you again—I knew. I never want to be apart from you again."
Her hips shifted slightly, a slow roll that reignited the embers between them. Her body still surrounded him—warm, tight, trembling. She hadn't let him go.
"I want something no one else can take. A part of you... that stays with me. Even if you vanish again."
Alter's hands slid up her back instinctively, pulling her down to him as he locked eyes with her. He could see the resolve there. The emotion. The need. It wasn't just lust. It was purpose.
He nodded slowly, then flipped them over with a smooth movement. Lira gasped lightly as she found herself beneath him, her thighs welcoming, her arms circling his neck.
"Then let's make sure," he murmured, voice low and reverent. "No regrets. No hesitation."
She smiled, teary-eyed, and opened herself fully to him.
And so, they moved again—slower this time. Not a firestorm, but something deeper. Like weaving fate through flesh. Her fingers dug into his back. His lips pressed to her neck, then her shoulder, then her lips again.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
In the hours that followed, they did not speak. But everything between them was said.
And as dawn crept across the sky, casting the first rays of light over the estate rooftops, Alter held Lira close beneath the sheets. Her head rested over his heart, her breath calm. His fingers threaded through her hair as he whispered:
"You're already a part of me. No matter what comes next."
And from the soft smile she gave in her half-sleep, he knew she had heard.
Scene: Still World – Morning in the Quiet Haven
The Still World stirred beneath a soft amber sky.
Somewhere beyond the veil of real time, where a single day outside granted them a full month within, Alter and Lira lay entwined in a world untouched by war or duty.
Their private sanctuary—a garden-temple carved into starlit marble—glowed with gentle sunrise hues, the walls alive with vines of blue flameflowers and floating motes of crystallized mana. The only sound was the occasional rustle of wind through open arches and the slow, steady rhythm of two lovers at peace.
Lira stirred gently, her bare skin warm against Alter's chest, the bedsheets tangled around their limbs. She breathed in, then out, her cheek still pressed to him.
"Still here…" she whispered, smiling to herself.
Alter's voice was quiet, calm. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her golden lashes lifted. She looked up at him, eyes still soft from sleep.
"Good," she murmured, trailing her fingers over his chest. "Because I've claimed at least a few decades of your time now."
He chuckled quietly. "Then it's a good thing time moves in our favor."
Lira sat up slowly, the blanket falling to her waist. The morning light hit her back, casting a soft golden glow across her bare shoulders. She stretched with a quiet yawn and a visible wince.
"Mmh—okay. Maybe I shouldn't have ridden you like a battle horse for three hours…"
Alter smirked without shame. "That was mutual."
She grinned and leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips—slow, meaningful. Next she sat back up, looked down and put her hands over her stomach.
"Do you think… it can happen here?" she asked. "In a place like this, made from your will? Where time is strange, but real?"
Alter rose to her, his arm sliding around her waist as he pressed a kiss to her temple.
"If there's anywhere a miracle would answer your call—it's here."
She exhaled slowly, laying her hand over his again.
"Then maybe, somewhere inside me, a new story has already started."
Alter didn't respond right away—he simply held her tighter, his lips brushing her shoulder.
They sat there for a long while, the sun continuing its slow ascent across the Still World sky, light glimmering off the horizon's crystal spires.
There were no calls to battle.
No system notifications.
No past. No outside world.
Only the quiet hum of magic, the shared warmth of two lives bound by more than fate, and the whispered promise of what might come next.
[Celestia – Estate Grounds, Early Morning]
The courtyard hummed with energy.
Training dummies shattered under controlled strikes. Elemental bursts arced through the air. Even the sky itself seemed to shimmer faintly under the focused will of the expedition team.
Weeks had passed since Alter's return from the Still World—since he had forged the Veil of Origin, secured his concealment, and returned victorious with the scent of battle still clinging to his coat.
Now, his presence felt different. Not just stronger—but quieter. The divine resonance that once radiated subtly from his very breath was… silenced. Perfectly muted. Even Lira, who once could feel his power like the warmth of the sun, now sensed only a calm veil—one that both comforted and confused her.
But Alter himself was unchanged in purpose. And the Twelve Commanders? They had grown dramatically.
[Training Field – Class Evolution Updates]
Selene stood at the center of the field, her eyes closed, blade drawn. Her aura had shifted subtly—her spiritual resonance denser, clearer. Though she had yet to reach her final form as a Holy Arc Knight, the traces of divine harmony in her swordplay had begun to show.
Across from her, Darius Coalbrand anchored the shield wall unit. His new class, Magma Sentinel, flared with each stomp, his obsidian-plated greatshield anchoring a gravitational pull that slowed enemies.
Revyn Mistclaw now moved like a shadow given shape. With the evolution into a Phantom Fang, his illusions now echoed damage and left afterimages with devastating delay.
Mira Snowveil's frosted magic was colder, sharper—her new tier, Crystal Gale Enchantress, allowed her to weave winds and ice into mirrored traps and defensive lattices mid-combat.
Thorne Ironstride laughed while tossing a boulder the size of a carriage, now a Seismic Vanguard, his strength transcended that of a siege beast.
Arinelle Dawnwhisper, now a Spirit Orchestrator, danced between her summoned entities, commanding ethereal beasts like instruments in a battlefield symphony.
Cidros Vane, the Stormblade Duelist, crackled with lightning from every footfall—his twin blades surged with charged rhythm, making his strikes almost musical in nature.
Ilyra Faen, now a Sanctified Warden, spread divine shields that rebounded spells and amplified healing pulses.
Garran Flamecoil, the Pyreforged Warmage, cast spells with such explosive flair that his fellow mages often took cover.
Sorei Windshaper had become a Tempest Scout, her shortbows launching wind-piercing bolts that curved around allies with perfect trajectory.
Veyna Lux, the Crystalweaver Sage, hummed softly as she inscribed rapid enhancement glyphs mid-battle—her magic a constant undercurrent of support.
Caelum Dray, as a Skyborn Tempest King, now lifted others into flight for coordinated aerial strikes—a full-fledged airborne division leader.
At the center of all this movement, Alter walked slowly through their drills, Lira by his side—her golden hair tied loosely, staff resting on her back, her gaze analytical and proud.
"Each one of them is shaping up faster than I predicted," Lira noted, crossing her arms. "You left as their mentor. Now they train like a legion of divine knights."
"They'll need to," Alter replied quietly. "The world doesn't slow down for anyone… and neither will the void."
She nodded, her hand slipping into his.
Selene, from the far end of the courtyard, stole a glance at Alter—but when his gaze met hers, she quickly turned and resumed her sword practice with even greater focus.
Kaela, watching this exchange from the balcony, smirked. "Well, well. The elf's gotten serious again. Wonder why~"
"I swear, Kaela," Lira groaned.
Kaela grinned wider. "What? It's cute! All this firepower, and the most dangerous weapon here might just be teenage feelings."
[SYSTEM UPDATE – TEAM STATUS SYNCHRONIZED]
Mythral Dawn Command Division: Advanced Tier Progression Complete
Next Milestone: Final Class Evolution – Pending Unique Trials
They were ready for their next great step.
Alter knew it.
Soon, the divine threats would return. And this time… they wouldn't come for fragments or whispers.
They would come for him.
But for now, his army was no longer a dream. It was a dawn approaching. A storm gathering.
And he… was the calm at its center.
The sun filtered softly through the high windows of the Mythral Dawn estate, spilling golden light over polished floors and reinforced glasswork barriers that shimmered faintly with enchantments. The morning after Alter's return from the Still World was unusually quiet—almost reverent.
Alter stood at the edge of the training grounds, his back to the estate, gazing over the sparring fields where his commanders had begun early drills. Their auras were no longer mere flickers—they flared like controlled tempests, honed through years of temporal compression under his teachings.
Selene's blade cleaved through the air in a blur of divine edge and wind, her every thrust echoing the signature compression of Sky Piercer. Darius stood unmoved like a mountain beside her, absorbing her attacks with a greatshield forged from magma-forged obsidian, grunting only when a strike nearly shattered the field's spatial boundary.
Across the field, Lira floated midair, silver-crystal staves orbiting her in tandem with her real one. She was calm, focused—her magic forming stable constellations of light and gravity that detonated harmlessly above the others' heads in a dazzling rain of stardust.
Kaela lounged on a balcony rail, observing the session while fletching mana into a new arrow, her phoenix bow perched against her thigh. Her gaze often drifted to Alter—but she didn't interrupt. She knew something was coming.
Seraphina's voice stirred quietly in Alter's mind, a soft ripple like breath across cosmic waters.
"The Veil holds. No signatures of Creator Authority remain. You are hidden... for now."
Alter nodded silently. The Veil of Origin pulsed faintly beneath the glove on his left hand. No one could see it—not even gods.
He turned from the training ground and moved toward the estate's command hall. It was time.
Inside the command chamber, the Twelve Commanders had already gathered—each dressed in advanced combat gear reflecting their evolved classes. Maps hovered above the central table, enchanted with illusions of regions beyond Celestia: darkened zones, red flares of cursed mana, unmarked ruins.
Alter swept his gaze across them, then spoke.
"We're not expanding anymore. Not yet. The next step isn't about quantity—it's about depth. Mastery. We've built a spear. Now we sharpen the tip."
Thorne grunted, arms crossed. "And that tip's gonna punch through what, exactly?"
Alter touched the projection—highlighting a mountain range half-consumed in mist and frost.
"Here. The Eidolon Cradle. An uncharted zone that wasn't in any dungeon rotation until recently. A new phenomenon… possibly divine interference. The Order has sent scouts. None returned."
Selene stepped forward, her expression calm but her tone edged with curiosity. "Are we facing another aberrant like Aelgrith?"
"No." Alter shook his head. "This one isn't born of corruption. It's… ancestral. Dormant, perhaps waiting for something—or someone—to unlock it."
Lira narrowed her eyes. "A trial?"
Kaela smirked. "Or a trap."
Alter turned to them, solemn.
"Either way, we go together."
Later That Night
The estate had grown quiet again. After preparations were made, the team dispersed to rest.
Alter stood alone in the courtyard, stars twinkling above. A soft wind brushed past—followed by a familiar warmth as Lira approached, barefoot, wrapped in a thin cloak that fluttered gently behind her.
She didn't say anything at first, simply stood beside him, then reached up and laced her fingers into his.
"You're going again… aren't you?"
"Not without you," he replied softly. "This time, we all face it."
Lira leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder.
"Then let me be the first to step through it by your side."
They stood there like that for a while, stars and silence all around.
Next Morning – Departure
The entire elite squadron of Mythral Dawn—Alter, Lira, Kaela, Selene, and the Twelve—gathered at the teleportation circle.
Alter looked over them, his voice steady.
"We leave for the Eidolon Cradle. Expect the unknown. Expect gods. And remember—our strength isn't in power alone. It's in unity."
The gate shimmered open.
They stepped through.