tranger who had attacked John finally reached the kingdom he served. His dark cloak billowed behind him as he descended from the heavens, the rushing wind tugging at the heavy fabric before his boots met the familiar cobblestones below. Before him stretched the kingdom he had sworn to protect—a realm so vast that its borders disappeared beyond the horizon, its medieval streets weaving endlessly between towering stone buildings and humble cottages alike. Billions called this place home, their lives intertwined within its endless cities and villages. Yet despite its overwhelming scale, the kingdom possessed an undeniable warmth. It was more than a nation. It was home. Every cherished memory he carried, every friend who had stood beside him, every family member waiting for his return—all of them lived within these walls. The sight alone eased a burden he hadn't realized he had been carrying.
As he made his way through the bustling streets, familiar faces greeted him from every direction. Merchants paused their work to offer welcoming smiles, children waved enthusiastically before racing off to continue their games, and passersby called cheerful greetings as though his return was something worth celebrating. It was obvious that he was respected here, someone whose face was known throughout the kingdom. He returned every greeting with a polite smile, yet none of it truly reached his eyes. His thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on the battle that had brought him back and the report he was about to give. Though surrounded by warmth and kindness, his mind remained trapped beneath the weight of responsibility.
The comfort of home slowly faded as the towering silhouette of the Ebon Spire rose above the city. Its immense structure dominated the skyline, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the streets surrounding it. With every step toward its towering gates, the knot tightening inside his chest grew heavier. He had faced dangerous enemies without hesitation, yet the thought of standing before the council unsettled him far more than any battlefield ever had. He had never stood before them. Never been judged by them. And now, for the first time, he would have to answer directly to the most powerful people in the kingdom.
Rows of guards clad in polished armour stood silently along the entrance, their disciplined posture unwavering as they watched over the castle grounds. As the stranger approached the enormous doorway, one of the guards stepped forward, blocking his path without a word. Though dressed similarly, the man's armour bore striking crimson accents, marking him as someone of far greater rank.
"State your name and business," the guard commanded, his voice calm but firm. One hand rested lightly upon the hilt of his sword, his sharp eyes studying every movement.
The stranger inhaled slowly, forcing the anxious energy within him into submission. This was only the beginning. Beyond these doors waited the council itself, and with them, the consequences of everything that had happened.
"My name is Valion," he answered respectfully, keeping his voice steady despite the tension threatening to betray him. "I'm here to report to the council."
The guard studied him for only a moment before giving a curt nod. Without another word, he turned and began walking through the castle. Valion followed close behind, their footsteps echoing through the vast stone corridors. Silence filled the hallway, broken only by the rhythmic sound of armour against polished marble. Every step seemed heavier than the last. His hands clenched and relaxed repeatedly at his sides as anxious thoughts refused to leave him. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I fail to explain what happened? What if they think I failed my mission?
The walk felt endless.
Then, at last, the guard stopped.
Valion lifted his eyes—and immediately forgot every anxious thought racing through his mind.
Before him stood a pair of colossal doors unlike anything he had ever seen. They towered so high they seemed capable of scraping the heavens themselves. Their ancient surface was covered in intricate carvings depicting endless constellations, celestial beings, and forgotten stars, each glowing with a faint ethereal light as though enchanted by magic older than civilization itself. The very air surrounding them hummed with ancient power, sending a quiet shiver down his spine. For several long moments, he could do nothing except stare in silent awe.
The guard stepped quietly aside and gave a single nod.
The gesture needed no words.
It was time.
Valion stepped forward and placed both hands against the enormous doors. Taking a breath, he pushed.
Nothing happened.
Not even the slightest movement.
A quiet laugh escaped him despite himself.
"Heavier than I thought," he muttered under his breath.
Closing his eyes, he drew in another deep breath, steadying both his body and his thoughts. Doubt had no place here. Gathering himself once more, he pressed both hands firmly against the ancient doors.
This time, the wood groaned.
Slowly, the immense doors began to part.
Brilliant light spilled through the widening gap, washing over Valion as the council chamber revealed itself. At its centre stood an enormous circular table carved from polished obsidian, its surface gleaming beneath the chamber's light. Ten magnificent chairs surrounded it, every one occupied by a figure whose very presence radiated authority.
The council.
One by one, their eyes settled upon him.
None spoke.
None smiled.
Their gazes alone felt heavy enough to crush him.
Valion stepped into the chamber, his heartbeat thundering inside his chest as the enormous doors whispered shut behind him.
"Tell us," one council member finally spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the chamber, "did you face John in battle?"
Valion swallowed before answering, bowing his head respectfully.
"Yes... I did."
"So," another voice interrupted almost immediately, carrying both disappointment and amusement, "how did it go? I assume you lost."
"Of course he lost," another council member said. The towering warrior known as Thragmor shifted in his heavy armour, the plates groaning beneath his immense frame. "He'd need the strength of the Eternal Beings themselves to defeat John."
"Do not compare that monster to the Eternal Beings, Thragmor."
The sharp voice belonged to Zyrenith, the council's greatest wielder of magic. She rose gracefully from her chair, her robes shimmering faintly like fragments of the night sky itself, countless stars seemingly woven into the fabric.
"Zyrenith is right," another voice followed, calm and unwavering.
Valebane sat opposite Thragmor, his radiant armour gleaming with a brilliance that resembled that of a divine knight.
"Monsters should never be compared to gods."
Thragmor turned slowly toward him, each thunderous footstep echoing throughout the chamber as his massive hand settled upon the hilt of the enormous sword resting across his back.
"And what exactly are you going to do about it, Valebane?" he growled.
Valebane didn't flinch.
His hand rested casually upon his own sword, his expression remaining perfectly calm.
"You know you can't keep up with me in a fight."
Before Thragmor could answer, another voice interrupted.
"...Actually."
Valion slowly raised a hand, almost like a nervous student asking permission to speak.
"I killed him."
The words left his mouth quietly.
Then silence consumed the room.
Every council member turned toward him.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Disbelief spread across every face as the meaning of his words slowly settled over them.
Then—
Thragmor burst into laughter.
The booming sound rolled throughout the chamber like thunder, shaking the very walls.
"This kid has jokes!" he roared, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
One by one, the rest of the council joined in.
Soon the entire chamber echoed with laughter.
"He certainly does," Valebane admitted with a grin, relaxing his hand from the hilt of his sword.
Valion stood frozen, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as the laughter continued around him.
"...I'm telling the truth," he said quietly.
Eventually, the laughter faded.
Only a few lingering chuckles remained.
Zyrenith leaned forward, her piercing gaze never leaving him.
"Kid," she said firmly, though not without sympathy, "if even we cannot defeat him, then you never stood a chance. You wouldn't even be able to lay a finger on him."
Thragmor settled back into his chair, shaking his head.
"Let me guess," he said knowingly. "You fired an attack at him... and then he disappeared."
Valion blinked.
"...Yes," he admitted, confusion filling his voice. "But... how did you know?"
Valebane's smile slowly returned, though this time there was no amusement behind it.
Only pity.
"Because," he answered quietly, leaning forward, "you aren't the first person this kingdom has sent after him."
The weight of those words settled heavily over the room.
After a long silence, he added,
"So...
he's still alive."
Far from the kingdom, hidden deep within a secluded town concealed beneath an ethereal veil, John stood at the edge of a wide clearing, watching over a group of eager children. Warm sunlight filtered gently through the surrounding trees, painting the forest floor with shifting patches of gold while the children waited expectantly for their next lesson.
"Alright, kids," John announced, holding up a small, smooth stone for everyone to see. "Your next task is simple. Smash one hundred rocks... using these."
One by one, he handed each child a tiny stone.
Confused expressions spread across their faces, quickly replaced by determination.
"Now go!"
Without hesitation, the children scattered across the clearing, searching for larger stones to challenge. Soon the peaceful forest echoed with the constant clinking of rock against rock as each child attacked their impossible assignment with surprising enthusiasm.
John watched them for a moment with quiet satisfaction before noticing one boy lingering nearby.
Arcos remained where he stood, watching the others instead of joining them. His brows knitted together as uncertainty clouded his face. After hesitating for several seconds, he finally approached John.
"Uh... John?"
His voice was quiet.
"What am I supposed to do?"
John looked down thoughtfully before answering.
"First... we need to figure out what magical type you have."
"Magical type?"
Arcos tilted his head, the unfamiliar words only deepening his confusion.
John nodded patiently.
"Magic comes from one source—Aetherium. It's the essence of existence itself. Without Aetherium... nothing would exist."
He crouched until they were eye level.
"But Aetherium branches into many different forms of magic. The most common are Runic, Heka, Awen, Siddhis, Kido, Juju, and Theourgia. Even those divide into countless smaller branches."
Arcos blinked repeatedly, trying desperately to remember every unfamiliar name. His lips silently repeated each word as though committing them to memory.
John continued.
"There are also forms of magic unique to certain races. Druids draw upon nature itself. Some orcs possess the ability to bring their imagination into reality. Dragons wield magic unlike any other creature, while celestial beings borrow their strength directly from the cosmos."
Arcos looked completely overwhelmed.
Still...
he nodded.
"So... everyone has their own kind of magic?"
"Exactly," John replied with a small smile. "Now let's find out yours."
Excitement immediately replaced Arcos's confusion.
"So how do I find out?" he asked eagerly, the words tumbling out almost too quickly.
John couldn't help smiling at his impatience.
"Stand still."
Arcos immediately straightened himself.
John stepped forward and gently placed a hand against the boy's chest.
His expression grew serious.
He closed his eyes.
Silence settled over the clearing.
Even the distant sounds of the other children seemed to fade as John focused completely.
Several long moments passed before his eyes finally opened.
A faint smile slowly appeared across his face.
"...Interesting."
Arcos leaned forward immediately.
"What? What is it? What magic can I use?"
John took one final look at him before answering.
"It seems..."
His smile widened ever so slightly.
"...you can use Aetherium."