The room was silent but polished—walls of dark stone laced with glowing silver runes, an imperial banner hanging behind a crystalline window that overlooked the sky-piercing towers of the Imperial Capital. Kuro and Kaen sat in patient silence, one lounging with legs up on a table, the other nursing a faint bruise on his cheek with a cold pack he'd stolen from the hall's med bay.
"I told you not to taunt the lava serpent," Kuro muttered.
"It blinked at me wrong," Kaen replied casually, grinning.
Moments later, the doors parted without a sound. A well-dressed attendant entered, bowing with mechanical precision.
"Gentlemen, would you prefer tea or coffee while you wait?"
"Coffee," Kaen said instantly.
"Tea," Kuro said at the same time.
They turned and squinted at each other.
The attendant blinked. "I shall return with both."
Minutes passed. The door opened again—this time with subtle gravity. Emperor Malrik Vortan stepped in, draped in imperial robes that carried the weight of history itself. His silver-streaked hair was tied loosely, his eyes sharp with thought—but when he saw Kaen, a faint smile curved his lips.
"Back from another brush with death, I hear."
Kaen saluted lazily. "If near-death counts as successful diplomacy, then yes—mission accomplished."
Kuro sipped his tea and muttered, "He got headbutted by a diplomat the size of a siege tank."
Malrik actually laughed—a deep, resonant sound that echoed off the chamber walls. "I always said your charm was a weapon."
"Works better than a blade sometimes," Kaen said proudly, then winced from a sore shoulder.
Malrik's gaze drifted to Kuro. "And the others?"
"Still in the field," Kuro said, voice calm.
"Scattered across the Sable Zone. We're
expecting reports soon."
The mood shifted as Kuro reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed scroll etched in black-gold glyphs. He laid it flat on the table.
Malrik's face darkened with seriousness. "That's the contract?"
Kuro nodded. "The Titan race has agreed to a provisional alliance. Mutual defense. Shared technologies. But the terms are strict. They want territory access and full acknowledgment."
Emperor Malrik folded his hands behind his back, staring out toward the holographic map of contested sectors. His voice was deep, steady, edged with purpose."We need allies, Kuro. And we need them fast. Earth won't survive the coming battles alone—not with the fractures in our own systems and the outer colonies watching like vultures. If the Gorr'Rath are willing to stand beside us, even under harsh terms… we consider."
He turned, eyes sharp."But I won't trade away sovereignty for safety. Send a counter-proposal. Limited access, joint oversight, and a probationary period. If they want acknowledgment, they earn it on our battlefield—not just our parchment."
Finally, after nearly an hour of back-and-forth, Malrik picked up a stylus, signed with a flourish, and handed the contract back to Kuro.
"It's done."
The tension broke. Kuro leaned back. Kaen finished his coffee with a slurp.
Malrik folded his arms and gave Kuro a sideways glance. "And the boy? Klaus. How is he?"
Kuro's expression softened slightly, a flicker of something personal in his tone."He's training hard. Got potential... more than even I expected.
Malrik's gaze narrowed, his voice low but pointed."Has he told you yet—who he truly is? Or what he is?"
"no—he hasn't told me who he really is yet."
Malrik gave a slow nod. "He will. In time."
Then his gaze warmed. "Thank you, Kuro. For accepting my request."
Kuro smirked, the edge of it teasing.
"Careful, old man. You're sounding emotional. You'll make me call you Grandpa again."
Malrik narrowed his eyes. "You dare—?"
Kaen broke in, laughing. "Oh, don't act like you don't enjoy it."
Malrik turned to Kaen with a smirk. "And you—don't think I've forgotten how Kuro used to blush like a maiden every time Zephyra walked into the room."
Kuro, mid-sip of tea, choked. "Seriously?"
Kaen roared with laughter. "It's true! I thought he was gonna pass out that one time she fixed his collar."
Kuro buried his face in his hand. "I came here to form political alliances… not die of embarrassment."
Malrik chuckled. "Ah, it's good to see you both again."
Kuro groaned. "I'm regretting this already."
Kaen grinned. "No, you're not."
The room glowed a little warmer—not just from the high sun filtering in through enchanted glass, but from the rarest thing in the Empire: peace shared between old friends.
---
The breeze was soft over the Virellion estate's training gardens, the air rich with the scent of morning dew and faint ozone. In the center of a quiet clearing, Sofie sat cross-legged on a large obsidian training stone, her breathing slow, steady, deep. Her hands rested on her knees, palms upward, as tiny currents of wind swirled gently around her shoulders. Her aura shimmered faintly—pure light and flickers of focused kinetic energy.
The world was silent in her mind. No servants. No Kael. No memories. Just—
Fwip.
A pamphlet smacked her in the face.
"—Ow," she muttered.
"Three months from now," Kael said, holding out a second pamphlet. "The Ascendant Rising Tournament. No rules. No limits. Just fighters with something to prove."
She snatched it so fast from his hands, he blinked. "Woah."
Sofie's eyes darted across the ornate print.
ASCENDANT RISING
Where legends are born, and the Empire watches.
—Three months from today. Qualifier Prelims are open to join.—
"Where do I register?" she asked immediately, voice sharp.
Kael grinned. "There's a center set up in the capital. You'll need to pass the preliminaries first—crowds are wild this year."
Her fingers trembled around the paper.
"He might be there… Klaus…"
She stared off, a flicker of longing in her expression. Kael noticed but said nothing.
What Sofie didn't know—what no one knew—was that while Five months had passed in their world… in the pocket domain of Kuro's storm-swept realm, Klaus had only experienced three days.
(Of course, Kuro wouldn't tell Klaus that.)
Sofie's training had been relentless. From sunrise to exhaustion, guided by both instinct and hard-earned discipline, she'd honed her command over Fire—fierce and precise, a dance of heat and control. Her style burned with relentless energy, combining explosive offense with rapid, unpredictable movement. Kael had sparred with her weekly and even admitted she'd nearly knocked him out during their last match.
"Alright," Kael said, taking the pamphlet from her hand and spinning it on his finger. "Let's spar."
Sofie stood, her hair brushing her back as the air stirred around her. "Try not to whine when I win."
—Later that evening—
The dinner table glowed with laughter and silverware. Kael leaned toward Sofie, whispering, "Tell them. Now's the time."
She coughed lightly.
"Ahem."
Everyone turned. The table quieted.
Sofie stood up, her voice poised but direct. "Father. Mother. I wish to enter the Ascendant Rising Tournament."
There was a loud clink of silver against plate.
"No," said Varion immediately, not even looking up. "Absolutely not."
"But—" Sofie started.
"It's not up for discussion," Varion said, voice firm, commanding. "You don't know the risks."
Sofie glanced to her mother.
Lady Sera met her eyes, then slowly nodded. "She's grown, Varion. Let her speak."
Varion sighed, lowering his utensils slowly, then raised his head.
"Meet me at the training facility after dinner."
—An hour later—
The estate's grand indoor training chamber was packed. Maids, butlers,even a few guards stood near the glass balconies above. Kael leaned against a pillar. Lady Sera stood with arms crossed.
At the center, Varion faced his daughter with a solemn expression.
"That tournament is no exhibition."
"The rules are simple, but the cost isn't. Once you enter, there's no withdrawal.You fight and win and if you lose you're out. But in this tournament, 'out' can mean crippled… or death. No external help. No second chances. And only one victor claims the right to ascend."
Sofie nodded.
"Even after what I've said, you're still willing to enter?"
She raised her head, eyes burning bright
"Yes."
There was something in that voice—something fierce, familiar. Varion narrowed his gaze, a memory flashing across his mind of himself at her age… ready to take on the world with nothing but grit.
He exhaled. "Very well. But on one condition."
She held her breath.
Varion stepped forward, aura simmering with restrained flame. "Land a single hit on me. Full strength. No holding back."
Gasps rippled across the gallery.
"Prove to me you're worthy of this tournament," he said. "Only then will I allow you to go."
Sofie's stance tightened. Her atmosphere shifted.
She cracked her knuckles. "I knew this was coming."