Aetherion sat silently upon a flat stone near a crystalline lake.
The silver glow of the moon stretched across the rippling surface, accompanied by the watchful twinkle of distant stars.
For three days, he had not moved—his breathing steady, his thoughts deep.
He was meditating, seeking what had eluded him for weeks now: his Divine Form. His Moon form.
He reflected on the nature of the moon. It wasn't just a celestial body.
It was rhythm.
It was silence.
It governed the tides and moved the hearts of beasts and men alike.
It watched over the world in its quiet orbit, bearing witness to every night, every secret, every transformation.
The moon, he realized, was both a mirror and a veil.
It did not shine on its own—it reflected.
It did not speak—it revealed.
And in the future, it would bring solace to countless souls.
The moon had always been a quiet comfort to humankind— and Aetherion knew, with a certainty beyond time, that it would remain so.
To master the moon was to embrace change, mystery, reflection, and serenity.
As that understanding settled in his soul, something shifted.
His breath hitched, and a soft hum vibrated through the lake, through the stone beneath him, through the sky itself.
Light enveloped him.
When it faded, he stood not as he had before—but transformed.
His hair, now long and silver, shimmered like moonlight on water.
A crescent moon glowed faintly upon his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with intensified depth—twin galaxies reflecting the night sky.
His skin glowed pale, soft, and divine.
He stared into the lake's reflection, breath caught.
"Damn, I look so… good,"
he whispered.
"I feel so much more powerful. What an amazing feeling!"
Without hesitation, he turned and made his way back to the heart of Gaia's realm.
His presence pulsed with lunar divinity, and the earth seemed to react, petals opening to greet his steps.
Gaia felt it.
She appeared before him, stepping through an arch of light and leaves, eyes wide with rare surprise.
"You did it," she said softly. "You've achieved your Divine Form."
She circled him slowly, her gaze thoughtful.
"You were already among the most beautiful of divine men, but now…" She smiled. "Even more so in this form. You've become as enchanted as the moon itself."
Aetherion gave a small smirk.
"What do you think of it?"
Gaia's expression turned serious, and understood what Aetherion asked into.
"I'm impressed. I didn't expect you to reach it so fast. But you must understand where this places you now."
He raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
She folded her arms.
"Right now, in your Divine Form, you are capable of wiping out multiple continents. That puts you at the level of the Twelve Great Titans of Mount Oyhrys—at least their base forms. But only Cronus among them stands above that. In their Divine Forms, each of the Twelve can destroy small planets. You still have a long path ahead."
Gaia then glanced at Aetherion's eyes and had a thoughtful look.
"Of course, if you manage to use those eyes correctly, then you may stand a tiny chance against one of them."
Gaia mumbled as quiet as a whisper, but Aetherion heard her clearly thanks to his enhanced hearing.
And he has to admit she was right.
When he was younger and started to receive physical and combat training from Gaia, To give him experience, Gaia created a clone of herself from earth and trees—one that matched Aetherion's level.
When the battle began, he noticed something strange happening with his eyes.
Every time Gaia's clone attacked, he saw a streak of light tracing the path of the incoming strike.
It was golden, as if warning him: This is what's about to happen.
Trusting the instinct, he blocked the attacks—and it worked.
Again and again, the golden light appeared, and again and again, he defended with surprising precision.
Gaia took notice.
It was his first real fight, yet he was keeping up impressively. More than that, he was adapting.
Then something even stranger happened.
Aetherion began to mimic the clone's movements—its technique, its flow, the rhythm of its fighting style.
He wasn't just observing; he was absorbing and replicating it, almost naturally, as if his body and mind were learning in real time.
Gaia didn't understand how it was possible.
It was unlike anything she'd seen before.
And Aetherion? He didn't understand it either. But he knew it was tied to his eyes.
So he asked Gaia to make more clones, wanting to explore this strange gift further.
That's when it happened.
During the sparring session, one of Gaia's clones attempted a feint.
But this time, the light Aetherion saw was different.
Instead of gold, the streak turned purple—a deeper, more ominous hue.
It pulsed with danger.
His instincts screamed at him, and he reacted, blocking the feint just in time.
After the session, he and Gaia sat down to talk.
She, too, had sensed something different in the flow of battle, something beyond normal training.
And Aetherion knew then—his eye didn't just predict attacks.
It sensed intent. Deception. Threat.
He felt there was more to this power—more to uncover.
He had only begun to explore two aspects of his eyes abilities, and yet he felt… There were at least two more waiting to be discovered. Maybe more.
But no matter how hard he tried, Aetherion couldn't fully grasp the deeper potential of his eyes.
So instead, he turned his focus toward refining the techniques he had carved—moves he had either learned from Gaia's clone or forged from those lessons into something of his own.
He poured himself into physical training, sharpening his strength and endurance. Still, a part of him knew: it wouldn't be enough. Not until he mastered the power within his eyes.
Even of the two abilities he had discovered, only one made complete sense to him—his attack prediction.
That, he understood.
The golden streaks of light he saw were exact, unwavering indicators of where an attack would land.
Perfect accuracy.
But the purple ones… those were different.
They warned of danger—of deception, unpredictability.
A feint, perhaps, or something worse.
The direction was never clear.
Only the sense of imminent threat pulsed through him, like a shiver up his spine.
That part, he hadn't yet unraveled.
The second ability—copying the techniques of others—remained a mystery in its own right.
He could replicate moves, yes, but to what extent? He wasn't sure.
Could he mimic entire fighting styles? Could he learn someone's essence in battle? He didn't believe he could copy domains like Kronos time manipulation, or elemental mastery.
That felt impossible… or at least, far beyond his current reach.
Still, he didn't know where the line was drawn.
That uncertainty bothered him.
He needed more experience.
More fights.
More opponents to learn from.
But he was stuck—trapped within the realm Gaia had created.
A beautiful, living prison of soil and sky, where peaceful creatures lived, where nothing new entered, and nothing old changed.
So, instead of dwelling on it, he did the only thing he could.
"Then I have to keep training."
Aetherion clenched his fist.
He released the form, his light fading back into his body.
The moon above shimmered with approval, as if acknowledging what had just occurred.
He looked toward the horizon.
"There's something I want to do,"
he said.
"Can you contact my mother, and arrange a meeting with her."
Gaia's expression softened.
"Of course. I have been waiting for you to ask"
she said.
"You can go ahead and train. I will be back with good news."
Then she disappeared only leaving leaves where she stood.
Leaving Aetherion alone.
He simply shrugged and started to walk, in the opposite direction he came from.
" Alright, let's improve my physical strength and refine my weapons handling."