The sun dipped low behind the fractured cliffs, casting a burnt-orange glow across the terrain. The battlefield lay still, scarred from hours of relentless combat. Smoke drifted from fallen trees. Cracks lined the stone ridges. Faint heat still radiated from where fire had clashed with magic.
The echoes of battle were fading—but the marks it left behind would remain.
High above, the final mana stone dimmed with a slow flicker.
As the last glowing mana stone dimmed, the broadcast echoed across the kingdom:
"The first round of the Royal Draft… is complete."
Team Crimson walked along the edge of the beach—quiet now, waves gently lapping at the shore where it had all begun.
Helion looked up at the sky and smiled. "Looks like we made it."
Yuri held the egg proudly in both hands, beaming. "Yes!"
Zezzy clapped and jumped in place, the tension finally washing from her limbs. "We did it!"
Liena giggled, twirling a small breeze around her wrist. "We made it through… together."
Suddenly, a soft hum rippled through the air. A projection shimmered above them—Arinelle's calm, regal voice carried through.
"Congratulations, teams. You have passed the first round."
The egg in Yuri's hands pulsed with golden light. With a soft crack, it opened—and from its heart, a golden key floated upward, glimmering in the fading light. It hovered briefly, then settled into Yuri's palm.
"This is your key," Arinelle continued. "Your access to the next stage."
The sky above split open in brilliant light as the Hyper Beam descended, wrapping around Team Crimson like a column of light.
They looked back one last time—at the terrain, the battlefield, and the memories they had forged as Team Crimson.
Then—
In a flash of light, they were gone.
And reappeared in the center of the grand stadium.
Horns blared.
Fireworks lit up the sky in arcs of gold and violet.
The crowd erupted:
"TEAM CRIMSON!!"
"TEAM PEARL!!"
"TEAM GOLD!!"
"TEAM SILVER!!"
"TEAM SAPPHIRE!!"
"TEAM AMETHYST!!"
Each of the six surviving teams now stood in front of the arena, surrounded by thunderous cheers and bursts of color. The pillars of magic above each group shined brightly—each containing a golden key.
Arinelle's voice returned, projected for all to hear.
"You six have prevailed—braving monsters, terrain, and time itself. Some of the creatures you fought were conjured by my glass magic, designed to test your instincts under pressure."
She turned slightly.
"Team Silver and Team Sapphire," she added, "have earned additional points for the elimination of Team Emerald and Team Topaz."
"You all showed remarkable growth. Discipline. Strength."
She gave a proud nod to the gathered rookies.
"These are the qualities we seek in the next Royal Guard."
She stepped aside as a new projection shimmered—Syrus, his arms crossed, a grin curling the side of his face.
"You've impressed us."
He paced as he spoke.
"We Arch Captains have been watching closely. And let me tell you—what we've seen?"
"Power. Control. And above all—teamwork."
"Tonight, rest."
"But at sunrise, prepare."
"The second round will be announced tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. sharp. Arion will be hosting the challenge."
The stadium shimmered with light once more.
And just like that, the announcement was over.
The first flame had ended.
But for the six surviving teams…
The fire was only just beginning.
The six remaining teams stood on the grand platform, facing one another under the roar of the crowd.
They didn't speak, but their gazes said enough.
Respect. Rivalry. And a silent vow to meet again.
Clipso locked eyes with Helion, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"We're not done, Helion."
Helion nodded calmly, returning the smile.
"All for it, Clipso."
Beside them, Liena glanced toward Renza and Draven. Not a scratch on them. Their uniforms looked untouched, their faces unreadable. Like they hadn't even broken a sweat.
A few paces away, Gena and Geno waved excitedly at the crowd, grinning as if they were on stage, not a battlefield. They basked in the applause.
Yuri stepped beside Helion, glancing across the platform. His eyes settled briefly on Team Sapphire and Team Silver.
"So… they're the ones who eliminated the others," he murmured.
The crowd roared even louder as a knight with shoulder-length blond hair stepped forward from Team Silver, golden armor catching the light. He offered a graceful bow, dazzling in presence and poise.
"Noah Million!!"
"HE TOOK DOWN AN ENTIRE TEAM BY HIMSELF!" someone shouted from the stands.
Applause echoed across the coliseum like thunder.
Zezzy, arms crossed, looked toward Team Sapphire.
That's when she saw her.
A girl with long, flowing red hair—elegant, straight, and draped across a white cape stitched with a familiar emblem.
The House of Valden.
Guilia Valden.
The crowd erupted again.
"She protected her team from Emerald's full assault!"
"Didn't let their egg leave her side the entire match!"
Across the stage, Draven glanced at Guilia.
His eyes narrowed.
He didn't seem surprised.
He simply closed his eyes… and looked away.
Renza stood still, scanning the platform—his gaze falling on the last remaining group: Team Amethyst.
His brows furrowed.
"…I didn't sense them at all during the first round."
He watched them closely.
"Where have they been this whole time…?"
Team Amethyst stood calmly as the final cheers echoed through the arena.
The girl at their center raised her hand and waved gracefully to the crowd. She held a long staff, tipped with a silver circle—simple, but elegant. The three boys beside her wore matching armor: deep ocean blue, sleek and subtle, almost reflective under the fading light.
They didn't say much. Just nodded once, acknowledging the cheers… and the other teams watching.
Every team took notice.
But the mystery of Team Amethyst remained.
Then, slowly, the excitement began to settle. The crowd started to thin, footsteps echoing through the grand stadium as nobles and citizens alike filed out—still murmuring names, victories, and predictions for what was to come.
Team Crimson regrouped near the arena exit.
Helion stood tall, hands on his hips, breathing in the cooling air.
"Alright, guys… we did it," he said, his voice steady but proud.
Zezzy, Yuri, and Liena stood beside him, each of them grinning with bright, determined eyes.
"We all did it," Liena said, pumping a fist into the air. "We held the line, protected our egg—and showed them who we are."
"Tomorrow at 7 a.m.," Zezzy added, stretching her shoulders with a slight smirk. "Round two. Whatever it is, it's gonna be even tougher."
"Get a good rest," Helion nodded.
Yuri raised a hand in agreement, still clutching the golden key he'd earned.
"We're going all the way."
His glasses caught the last bit of light as he smiled.
"No matter what."
With that, Team Crimson split off in four directions—each stepping toward their own quarters, their own thoughts… but with the same fire in their hearts.
They had survived round one.
Tomorrow, the true test would begin.
Through the echoing marble halls of the stadium, after the fanfare had faded and the crowd dispersed, the tension of quiet steps replaced the roaring cheers.
Vlad Valden—regal, cold, and imposing—walked with purpose. His cloak trailed behind him like a shadow of authority.
He approached two figures standing near one of the corridor archways—Draven and Clipso.
Vlad's sharp eyes scanned them both.
"You did well, Draven."
His voice was short, clean, calculated.
Then his gaze shifted.
"Clipso…"
The word was ice.
"How dare you… let a mere peasant—that boy—challenge the name of Valden in front of the kingdom?"
His words stung sharper than a blade.
"You wield our name. Show greater control. Greater discipline."
Clipso stood frozen.
Fists clenched tight. His head lowered. Eyes locked on the floor.
No congratulations. No mention of survival. No recognition.
Only shame.
Draven looked toward his younger brother, jaw tight.
"Clipso…" he said quietly.
But Vlad turned with a sharp pivot, already walking away.
"Leave him," he ordered without looking back.
"Weakness must be faced alone."
Clipso didn't speak.
He turned in the opposite direction, walking away in silence, the weight of his father's disappointment burning behind his eyes.
As Draven watched him disappear, a new presence emerged from the corridor—
Zeyr Chrono.
Cloaked in black, with Loken, the white wolf at his side, Zeyr strolled casually through the hall like a man with no destination… yet all the time in the world.
Vlad's eyes narrowed, startled.
"Chrono…?"
Zeyr didn't stop.
He simply grinned.
"Where'd I come from?"
He let the question hang, amused.
His boots echoed as he walked past Vlad without pause, glancing briefly toward Draven and Clipso in the distance.
"Be easy on your boys, Vlad…"
He didn't raise his voice.
"They're already great warriors."
Vlad turned, his tone seething.
"You insolent fool. Mind your tongue—and your place."
"We are the nobles who built the wealth of this empire.
I don't care if you're the former Arch Head Captain, or 'Chrono the Hero.'"
He stepped forward.
"Stay out of my family's affairs."
Zeyr kept walking.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Vlad's voice echoed off stone.
Zeyr's silence was heavier than any retort.
The moment passed.
Vlad scoffed, whipped his cape with disdain, and walked the opposite way.
The hall fell silent again.
Zeyr never once turned back.
Loken padded beside him—quiet, loyal, and watchful.
They didn't need to say a word.
Some truths echo louder in silence.
As the night sky dimmed and stars quietly claimed the heavens, the air cooled across the training grounds. The once-roaring stadium was now silent, resting under the soft hush of twilight.
Helion sat on a stone ledge near the garden edge of the stadium, finally alone—exhausted but at peace. The light from earlier still faintly flickered in his memory, and the words of the crowd echoed like a distant hum.
Then—soft paws.
A quiet presence.
Loken, the white wolf, padded toward him under the moonlight, eyes glowing gold.
And just behind him, stepping from the shadows—
Zeyr Chrono.
He approached slowly, stopping beside Helion without a word. Then, gently, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You did great."
His voice was calm, proud—anchored in something deeper than praise.
"I'm proud of you. And the old man—Loken—he would be too."
Helion looked up, eyes heavy.
Zeyr's gaze softened. He rested his hand over Helion's chest—right over his heart.
"That power inside you…"
"It was never meant to conquer. It was meant to protect."
Zeyr gave a slight smile, more honest than anything the world had seen him wear in years.
"That's what your grandfather taught you."
"And you're living it, Helion."
He stepped back, Loken brushing gently against Helion's side like a quiet goodbye.
"Keep following your heart."
"That's where his light still lives."
With that, Zeyr turned—his black cloak vanishing into the night breeze.
And for a long moment, Helion just sat there in the moonlight, a quiet fire in his chest, and a smile on his lips.
Helion nodded, eyes meeting Zeyr's. For the first time, not as a boy to a legend. But as warriors who understood what sacrifice truly meant.
Zeyr turned and started down the path toward the capital gates.
"Alright," he called over his shoulder, voice rising slightly, casual but confident.
"Let's go home. Get some rest."
"Tomorrow's challenge…" he glanced back with a grin,
"…is going to be a tough one."
Helion followed, his steps slow but strong. Loken padded beside him, and Linx soared ahead into the stars—lighting the path forward.
Together, the four disappeared into the heart of the night.
And somewhere in the darkness ahead…
The next trial waited.