Beneath the vast starry night sky, energy fluctuations pulsed, casting multicolored hues upon a small, fortified settlement. With protective barriers of various pigments, embroidered with intricate runic patterns, it shimmered like an aurora painted into the night sky. Their beauty was a stark contrast to the compound it guarded beneath, as several figures clad in assassin-like robes moved with lethal precision and stealth within the boundaries of the clan. Yet at the heart of the uncanny ethereal backdrop, stood an imposing cyclopean structure adorned with celestial stellated patterns and runic inscriptions, exuding an ancient primordial aura.
The dust on the doors to the Training Tower floated into the air, disturbed from their slumber as the doors creaked open. An elderly, war-hardened man had strolled in; his formidable aura, leaking out with every step. The guards stationed at the doors immediately straightened their already rigid spines, while bowing in respect.
"Patriarch!," the guards anxiously said in unison, as they dared not to move a single inch, only making eye contact with the floor.
"At ease," the old man replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He strolled further into the Tower; despite its outwardly appearance, it was massive on the inside, equipped with gravity chambers, and formation runes to activate them. Amidst his stroll, his cold gaze shifted towards a fluctuating formation in the distance. His eyes shimmering faintly from the reflection of the ethereal light.
"Is that boy still in the gravity field?" He asked into the room, addressing no one in particular, yet expecting an immediate answer.
"Yes sir! He has been training since dawn! It appears he still struggles with those strange dreams!" Was the response from a guard with the courage to answer.
The patriarch stood there silently contemplating for a long second before letting out a low hmph- a mixture of concern and a bit of amusement.
"That boy still believes the Great One's calling is a mere nightmare." He revealed shaking his head at the ridiculous thought of it. "Perhaps... I should tell him the truth..." He contemplated before pausing to shake his head, swiftly changing his mind.
"No, this is the path the Great One has chosen for him; who am I to intervene?" he muttered to himself, before stepping into the crushing gravitational formation effortlessly, a testament to his strength.
Within the center of the gravitational field, a young man sat crossed legged in a white guzhuang with golden light trimmings, gold wrist braces, black shoes and a faint gold claw marking on the right side of his cheekbone- The Celestial Tiger's blessing. His silver hair- pulled back by a black headband, bearing a paw insignia, cascaded down to his shoulders, while beads of sweat trailing down his strained, pale face.
In the middle of strengthing his mental fortitude, he sensed the Patriarch's approach, slowly opening his eyes, his voice now strained, was still respectful.
"Shin Ryu greets the patriarch." He gritted through his teeth, causing the old man to let out a hearty laugh.
"You- the pride of our Ancient Clan, blessed by the almighty Celestial Tiger, ruler of the Heavenly Bodies- was named after his dearest companion, that petulant dragon. Truly!... what a loss for us all." He sighed inwardly, lamenting the burden and destiny placed upon this youth. Shin Ryu lowered his head, clearly embarrassed by his Patriarch words.
"Patriarch, I've heard the tales of Raikai's fierce nature. Are you certain we will find harmony like the legends told?" Shin Ryu asked with slight uncertainty.
The patriarch smiled, pleased by the boy's growing understanding.
"So, you're beginning to comprehend your dreams. Good. As for your question—dragons respect only the strong. That is their pride. You possess a superior law of nature; it is your duty to surpass him. Earn his respect the way all warriors do—through battle." The Patriarch paused, allowing the boy to feel the weight of his words. " From your fateful encounter, the ancient clash of Dragon and Tiger shall roar once more. Prove to him why your Era will rise together amidst the Universe's great collapse."
He placed a reassuring hand on Shin Ryu's shoulder, instantly releasing the crushing force of the gravity field. The boy sighed in relief and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Patriarch." He solemnly said while bowing.
"Enough with that, child. Let us leave this place and..." he paused, looking over his shoulder while leaning in closer to the boy,whispering, "perhaps play a few tricks on those Guard Captains ," the old man grinned mischievously.
"Patriarch, I am no longer a child!" Shin Ryu childishly protested, his voice cracking as he was dragged along playfully by the elder—both vanishing into the night with laughters trailing behind them.
---
Later that night, beneath the stars, a lone silhouette soared over the Ancient Clan, making its way to a desolate mountain on its outskirts. Upon landing, the old patriarch stood proud, his white robes glistening under the celestial glow. His long, white hair, streaked with hints of gold, that fell past his waist, swayed gently in the wind. He took a deep breath, while admiring the night sky one last time.
A low rumble disturbed the silence as another figure descended. Upon landing, lightning crackled beneath his feet, causing the ground to tremble slightly. The man was muscular, his skin bearing faint scale patterns and covered in tribal tattoos that pulsed with latent power.
"Have you said your goodbyes to your son, Tors?" The lightning-clad elder—Shin Rai—spoke with concern etched across his weathered wrinkled face.
Tors chuckled, the sound both weary and nostalgic. "I see the sorrow in your eyes... old friend. But come, I brought my finest wine with me, let us share one final drink before we fade away from this era." He jeered, straining to sound unperturbed by fate, raising his flask.
Shin Rai was momentarily taken aback, seeing his brother-in-arms, now the embodiment of discipline, embracing the reckless laughter they once often shared in their youths. Without hesitation, he produced his own flask.
"Then tonight, I drink to you, Tors. For grounding this dragon and tempering my bloodlust with your wisdom." He raised the flask towards the night sky while saying," No other tiger was ever worthy to be call brother. When I take my final breath, I will do so with pride, knowing I will wait for you in the Farshore—ready to ignite our rivalry anew."
The two warriors poured their drinks, their cups brimming with liquor and their mouths overflowing with memories.
Tors roared with laughter, "At least you accept you'll die first, old dragon." Tors slyly remarked.
" Not my fault you all have nine lives to cling to" Rai chaffly countered.
That night, atop the mountain, the echoes of their banter rang through the valley—the sound of a bond forged through lifetimes of battle and brotherhood.