Year 8990
#
Darkness wasn't his home, but it was where Barzo found comfort. He hid in the closet, shadows covering his mouth, light squeezing through the hinges as he watched his uncle at the battle table. The Lanion Room was his favorite. A chamber of war where Agents gathered for strategy and briefings. Freshgents had to earn their place here. But patience had abandoned Barzo.
Yet for Yosen, patience showed in the grays of his hair and beard. Forty-nine now, older than his dear brother had ever been. He kept his eyes fixed as the Cylinder projected his Agents' shifting Signals.
They leaned on the windows of the Lyriax Flight, the engines humming low as it glided through ash-colored clouds.
"Something isn't right," Bayla said.
"I agree," Fortune said. "Let's assume we're wrong and go home."
"What is with you tonight?"
"I'm tired, and my bed, Olaya, calls me."
"You named your bed Olaya?"
"I sense judgment. I will be ignoring you now."
Bayla rolled her eyes.
"It's here," Midian said. "Just keep looking."
Fortune turned to his right, eyes narrowing as he searched the clouds. "Guys… I found it."
There it was, flashes of thunder. The Lyriax tilted toward the storm, lightning kissed the hull, striking along its edges as if to warn them back. The hatch opened, and they stared into the heart of chaos, hovering in the blackened sky.
Midian strapped on her Reja Gear, brushing her fingers across the four red bars, bringing them to life.
Each bar glowed green when selected: Flight, Strength, Agility, Stealth. The test of abilities depended on the versatility of these modes.
Midian nodded once. The others returned it.
They leapt, pressing Flight Mode. Three shadows cut the sky. The hiss of their Gear filled their ears as air siphoned and converted into power, and they descended deeper into the storm's wrath.
Midian's arms ached as gravity pulled at her, yet it felt familiar, like swimming through an angry ocean. She had done this before. Only now the water was thunder. The clouds broke, vapour peeling away to reveal the ruins below. A ghost town. Her landing echoed off a rooftop, longer than it should have. The silence refused to let it go.
"Checkpoint reached," she said, tapping her ear.
Metal sliced through the air as the Agents readied their Waypnaries. They swept the ruins for energy traces, any sign of movement.
Fortune raised a hand, pointing left. "The storm is moving."
The Agents followed it, running.
Their footsteps whispered against the concrete.
#
Sweat trickled down Fadum Rone's jaw as he swallowed and buried his thoughts. Yet the child in him was still afraid. The feeling angered him. He'd worked too long to feel small. Worse, his apprentice, sixteen-year-old Jodium Powell, felt it too, eyes on the raging clouds. Rone gave a subtle shake of his head. He needed to be braver, or he would not be the mentor Jodium respected.
"The storm shall pass," he said, turning to Jodium.
They stood before a crumbled castle. Vines strangled the ancient stone. The grass was drowned in mud. And armed guards flanked them, protecting rows of boxes hidden beneath a large cover.
"But Master Rone…" Jodium said. "It could mean the Agents are here too."
Rone grunted at the sight of his shoes. He had just bought them. Once a shining black, now ruined by the dark brown liquid of nature.
"I know," Rone cracked his neck as if shrugging off the threat itself. "That is for me to worry about. Focus on what matters—this deal. It must go well. I've waited too long for it not to."
Jodium gave a stiff nod in response.
A rumble shook the ground beneath them. The soggy, overgrown field turned slick and unstable. Mud split as the ground churned, and from below a ship rose. It was a Getran, made of steel and darkness. Lightning intensified with its arrival, and the rain fell harder, wiping away the mask Rone wore to hide his fear.
"Be ready," he said, grabbing one of the boxes as the Getran's entrance hissed open.
Heavy footsteps echoed.
The Vexo Wielders.
Their helmets gleamed under the twin moons, flowing seamlessly into their armour. Rone and Jodium stepped forward, then halted as a single gloved hand rose in command. A new figure emerged from the Getran's shadows. Something else. Or someone else. Their armour was red over green. A cape, but no helmet, just a black visor tight around the eyes.
"Who is that?" Jodium whispered.
Rone gasped, falling to his knees and dragging Jodium down with him.
"On behalf of Londro," he said. "It is an honor to be in your presence."
He looked up. "Reilord Paxon."
"Be on your feet," Paxon said, scanning the row of armed guards. His gaze fell upon the box in Rone's hands. Paxon opened it with a single, swift motion, and a pink glow from within illuminated half of his visors.
These were Raxtens.
One of them sparkled as Paxon picked it up.
"There will be no extension to your contract."
Rone blinked. "My lord… but why?"
Paxon stared, twirling the Raxten slowly in his hand. A cold silence.
"Please," Rone continued. "I beg of you to reconsider."
In an instant, Paxon drew his sword, inches from Rone's face. "You're challenging my decision?"
"It's fine!" Rone shouted at his guards, who thought to move. "I'm only trying to do what I promised you."
Paxon waved the sword slowly across Rone's face, measuring the fear in his eyes like a ritual.
Rone's heart punched against his chest, but he breathed slowly, forcing the panic down, just calm enough to remember why he was truly here.
The Agents arrived on the distant rooftops. Bayla raised her eye-zoomer, scanning the scene. She froze at the sight of Paxon, then, with a gasp, handed it to Midian.
Midian lowered the device and swallowed. Her voice failed her. She glanced at Fortune, whose eyes were wide with uncertainty. Then she tapped her ear.
"Leader Sift," she said. "He's here. Should we engage?"
A quiet echoed.
"No, hold your positions," Yosen said through comms.
Barzo squinted at the Signal's projection of the Relion Lord, fists clenched. He turned to the statue of Ureya Vieldem, his great-grandmother and founder of the Marble Association, seeking her silent counsel on how to face the man who had taken his father. They said Paxon was powerful, and Barzo hoped he'd be ready to stand against him soon.
"My lord, we need this," Rone said. "To sacrifice this power is to let the Agents win. After everything we've achieved?"
Paxon scoffed, lowering his sword. "I once lost a cousin with a bright mind. Since his death, I've searched for another like him. And when the one I found betrayed me, I knew the rest would too."
"But I never betrayed—"
"For many years, I wondered how I could control that outcome." Paxon leaned in."But with loyalty, you don't need to. It declares itself even when betrayal sits in their eyes. Which means who they choose to betray matters more than the act itself."
The armed guards were executed by Vexons wearing invisibility cloaks.
Rone gasped as something plunged into his chest. He stared down, and his body felt the storm's cold. A small knife was buried there, and when he searched for the hand that held it, he looked to his side.
"Jodium?" he said.
Jodium moved away, smirking as he watched Rone fall to the ground.
Rone breathed harshly. "How… how could you? I brought you around my family."
Paxon walked toward him and knelt beside his pale-skinned body. "I know you hear me, Sift."
Yosen's jaw tightened, his head rising.
"You'll only get so far turning my men," Paxon drew his sword, raising it to strike. "We will win this war, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."
As Paxon swung, thunder crashed. Rone closed his eyes. His shadow vanished in the flash, and he fell into a dream with his wife, wishing for one more minute with her.
Barzo winced, covering his mouth to stifle a sound. Even through the Signals, the loss of life was too much to bear. His heart hammered, blood boiling. This had to stop. The urge to become an Agent had never been stronger.
Wiping Rone's blood from his sword, Paxon sighed and lifted his gaze to the clouds, sensing a shift. A volley of arrows fell from the sky. He flicked his wrist, and electrical shields flared to life around him and the Vexons. He scoffed and stepped back into the Getran with Jodium. The doors sealed, and the craft sank into the ground, leaving the Vexons to fight.
The Agents landed and charged.
Fortune swung his spear, Golon, without missing a beat. It hungered under his command, finding space between the thunder and rain to strike their hearts.
Bayla surrendered to the havoc within, channeling her fury through the hammer, Actora. It called the winds to her will. After a lethal slam, the ground shook as a quake sank the Vexons into the mud, into a grave they belonged.
As for Midian, her dual blades, Tizen, sliced through their helmets, harvesting souls like a goddess feasting. She moved at a speed the Vexons couldn't grasp. Worse for them, she tossed her Secondary, three large metal spheres, and raised her hand. Arrows erupted from them, piercing the last wave until the storm cleared.
Victory was sealed.
The rain ceased. Twin moons shimmered through the night clouds, painting the battlefield silver. In plain sight, Rone's fallen body glimmered as the Agents approached.
Midian knelt. "What do we know about Jodium?"
"Nothing," Bayla said. "Rone never told me. Possibly a relative?"
"Or his replacement," Fortune said. "Paxon can't operate alone. He'll need a new craftsman."
The Agents reached the stack of crates, pulling the cover away. Pink light surged.
What is that? Barzo thought, wincing, the brightness burned into his vision.
Yosen stared, his jaw clenched. "Burn it…. burn it all."
And so the Agents did.
Flames consumed the corrupted remains, smoke rising like a dark omen. Never to be seen again. For now.
#
The mission was over, yet Yosen remained. Barzo knew his uncle was dwelling on mistakes more than successes, and the thought made him swallow and stay hidden.
Yosen heard a thud from the closet and turned. His fingers brushed his bracelets, energy hummed, the metal responded, and the door swung open. Nothing waited inside. To his left, a draft from the balcony window sent the curtains billowing. He grunted, trying to remember if he'd left it open. He peered out, saw only the twin moons, and shut it.
Barzo crouched in the bushes of the balcony and let out a breath, then climbed the stone wall to his room. At the window, he grunted and hauled himself inside. Moonlight danced across his bedroom, a place of innocence since childhood. Now, at fifteen, he felt that innocence slipping away. He took a notebook from under his shirt and flipped to the rough sketch he'd made of Paxon during the mission. Even in hurried lines, the Relion Lord's presence loomed off the page, and Barzo swallowed hard.
"That was slow," a voice cut in.
Startled, Barzo shoved the notebook back under his shirt. He turned to find Lovena Renix standing there, his fellow Freshgent, watching him closely. Her dark hair was braided, the wind teasing loose strands. They had trained side by side since they were ten, close as siblings, almost twins in height.
"Lovena… how did you get in here?" he asked.
"You're in no position to question me, " Lovena scoffed. "Not after what you just did."
"I did nothing."
"Oh yeah? So you weren't just disobeying rules and secretly observing the mission—"
"Shhh." Barzo leaned in. "He'll hear you. Okay, I did. So what?"
"It's cheating."
"We ascend in a few days. What difference does it make?"
"Everything. The time we wait to earn it matters."
"No," Barzo snapped. "I couldn't wait for this… I saw him."
He swallowed. "I finally saw Reilord Paxon."
Lovena's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yes… and he was far worse than I imagined."
"Not if we get stronger."
"I'm not sure about that." Barzo looked away. "If I don't learn his Kayza Finale in time, who knows what dangers lie ahead. Especially if it's true about his Shadow Instincts."
He sighed. "I still haven't awakened mine. That brings shame to my name… the first Vieldem to be weak."
Barzo clenched his fists. No silence could seal the doubt growing in him without a Kayza Finale. Despite his training, the strength to draw from the deepest corners of mind and soul, until it manifested as an elemental force, remained beyond his grasp. His eyes fell to his hands, the same ones that took Stoned Journals he was forbidden to read, pouring over the legends of Tophora in search of the Kayza's origins, diving deeper into its secrets. Yet all the stories agreed on one thing. Every Kayza reached into a spiritual rift divided between Shadow and Light Instincts. The truth that troubled him most was that Shadow-born Kayzas were the most unstable… and the most powerful.
"Stop," Lovena said. "You're putting too much pressure on yourself. We're Freshgents, Barzo. We only need to worry about becoming Agents."
She sighed. "The answer will come to us after."
"And if it's too late then?" Barzo asked.
A silence plagued them.
She stared into his fearful eyes.
War had left a scar on him.
Barzo realised it at eleven, the first time he held a blade. He'd thought it was happiness then, but it was something close. A sense that life could be more, more than duty, more than being an Agent. Since seeing his father's name on the Black Micr, understanding what the Vexo Wielders had taken, those thoughts had turned dangerous. The will to become an Agent was necessary now, especially to avenge his father.
"Look… just be on time tomorrow," Lovena said, leaving his room.
Barzo laid on his bed, letting his mind travel to places safe enough to keep worry at bay.
#
The alarm blared, and Barzo groaned, slapping it silent. Twin suns blazed through the window, searing his eyes. He squinted at the time.
"Oh no!" He yelled.
In a flash, he jumped up, grabbing his uniform, Reja Gear, and practice blade. Then he sprinted into the woods. Branches whipped past as he wove between them, wind roaring in his ears. At last the tree line broke, and the Agents were there.
Midian stood still, facing him.
"Vieldem, you are late," she said.
"I'm sorry," Barzo said.
Her eyes narrowed on his Reja Gear. "Have you figured it out?"
Barzo clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He looked up to find Lovena standing at the edge of the Innosaint, a Technax-made cliff rising against the sky, the most advanced training system in Tophora. Its rocky terrain didn't quite mirror a natural cliff, yet plants still found a way to grow. A touch of life against the manufactured face. But the cliff itself wasn't his concern, it was what was happening atop it.
"The Kizen won't wait for you, Vieldem," Midian continued. "To not have mastered the Reja Gear by now is to accept death."
"Hey!" Bayla said, sipping her tea. "Stop being so harsh. It won't help him."
"Then be my guest, tell me what will. He knows what it takes to be ready for Ascension."
"She's right," Fortune said. "I say give it all up. Throw away the Reja Gear and never look back."
Bayla slapped his shoulder. "This is important."
"Ouch… it's not me that has an issue. It's him. I'm providing a solution."
"I got it," Barzo snapped. "Just… give me a moment. And after Lovena is done, I'll show you."
Midian nodded. "Very well."
Barzo swallowed. Ascension was everything. It was the only way he would be appointed as an Agent. But to stand there, he needed a defined combat style. That was why the Innosaint mattered. It forged mastery of the Reja Gear until movement became instinct, and from that discipline a style emerged, inevitable as ink on skin. Without it, his desire to face Paxon would fade, along with his chances of awakening a Kayza Finale.
At the Innosaint's edge, Lovena's Reja Gear shifted into Stealth Mode. She exhaled and jumped. Instead of falling, she propelled herself along the cliff walls, the world turning vertical. Metallic targets lined the route, mounted into the stone, obstacles to overcome. Years of training surged back. Her grip tightened on the practice blade.
She ran.
Targets fell to her strikes. She switched to Agility, slipping past an attack at the last instant with lightning-fast footwork, then flowed into Strength as thrusters drove her next blow with explosive force. Her practice blade sang, splitting the air with a sharp whistle.
Targets cleared. Mastery achieved.
"I—I did it!" she cheered, finally reaching the surface. She raced toward the Agents, gave Fortune a high-five, then pulled Bayla into a tight hug.
"What will you call this style?" Bayla asked.
"I'm thinking… The Music Move."
Lovena turned and waved at Barzo. It was his turn.
He gulped, breath unsteady, and stepped to the edge of the Innosaint, Reja Gear pulsing, practice blade in hand. He rocked, eyes closed, trying to summon the minds of his ancestors, of his father, reaching for a courage not yet his. But flashes of Paxon fractured his focus, darkness travelled through memory to claim the bravery Barzo had spent years building. His blade slipped from his hand, and he dropped onto his backside, the twin suns blazing shame across his face.
Bayla watched, sorrow heavy in her eyes. She met Midian's gaze and nodded.
Midian exhaled, her usual strictness softened. Just this once, she chose gentleness. Without a word, she joined him at the edge and sat beside him.
"I made a mistake," Barzo said. "I saw the mission."
"And why is that a mistake?" Midian asked.
"Because now I think this training isn't enough against them."
"You're right… It isn't. You have to make it enough. All of this—" Midian pointed around, "these are only tools. Tools to build the one thing we've spent our lives protecting the people of Tophora with."
She turned. "Hope. And it begins by taking the first step to courage. That's what your father taught me."
Barzo smirked. She had never spoken of him before.
"He was the best," she smiled. "Wouldn't be where I am without him. Don't tell Leader Sift that."
They chuckled.
"You're not used to being like this, are you?" Barzo said.
Midian scoffed. "I pray the Gods punish me for it. But I'm glad I tried. You must learn to try too. Now get up. Be a Vieldem."
She smirked and retreated with the others.
Twin suns burned overhead, but Barzo's mind stayed overcast. Her words echoed in him. The breeze tugged at his uniform as he stepped once more to the Innosaint's edge. He gulped as a warmth returned, not from the suns, but from within. His fingers brushed the locket Yosen had given him as a child. Inside, his father's face remained, still and eternal.
Barzo closed his eyes and jumped. Wind howled past as he plunged toward the metal targets, their blades gleaming, ready to strike. Before he could act, the vision of Paxon returned, stronger than ever, a shadow seeping through. Barzo drew a slow breath, letting hope rise, and the vision began to fade.
Then his eyes snapped open.
With Flight Mode engaged, he soared, skimming past the targets without a misstep. His feet never touched the wall, gravity bent to his will. Power surged through the Reja thrusters as he swung, clashing the targets. Blades came at him in a breaking wave, and Barzo cut through them with movements born of storm. The final metal target waited, poised. As he closed, it recoiled so far it seemed to defy its own programming, trying to end him before he could strike. He smirked, flipped past the attack, and shattered it with a single kick, landing clean.
The Agents burst into applause.
Barzo bumped fists with Lovena, then turned to Midian.
"You did it," she said, giving him a light shove. "You found your style. What are you calling it?"
Barzo rubbed his chin, then smirked. "The Ronan Star."
A single clap echoed. They turned. In the distance, Yosen approached.
"Line up," Midian said. She raised the Gold Ocean sign, and they bowed in silent respect.
Yosen fixed his gaze on Barzo. "Ronan Star? I like the sound of that." He turned to Lovena, pride flickering in his eyes. "It's time for your next lesson. Dress warm, we head to the mountains."
Barzo and Lovena exchanged a glance.
A smile passed between them.