A single flame flickered in the darkness.
Purple, glowing softly.
It swayed gently with no wind, dancing atop a narrow, obsidian pedestal. The room around it was silent, as if even time had paused to admire its stillness.
And then—
It was devoured.
A crimson flame erupted from the side, swallowing the purple fire whole. It roared like a beast, alive with fury, casting long, angry shadows across stone walls.
------------
Noir shot awake.
His body jerked upright with a gasp, his eyes scanning wildly.
Stone ceilings.
Thick marble columns.
Hanging chandeliers crafted from glowing orbs of mana.
He was lying on the cold floor of a massive hall—a castle.
His head spun from the sheer weight of the mana in the air. It felt like every breath carried a hundred voices whispering beneath it.
Standing above him were three figures.
Two of them wore heavy silver armor, faces concealed beneath ornate helms. They stood perfectly still, their eyes like daggers behind their visors. Guards, clearly.
But the third...
The green-robed figure.
The same one from the crowd.
Their hood was still up, but now the light touched more of their face. Noir still couldn't make out any features. It was as if reality itself was bending to keep their appearance hidden.
Noir scrambled to his feet.
"Please don't kill me!" he shouted, holding his hands in the air.
The robed figure didn't speak.
Instead, they extended their hand.
Noir hesitated. His eyes flicked between the unmoving guards and the green-robed stranger.
Slowly, he reached forward.
Their hands touched.
And suddenly—
A voice filled his mind.
"My name is Eptor. I am the King of Jupiter."
The voice was gentle, yet powerful. Like the steady rumble of a mountain.
"I speak to you through telepathy. It is one of my oldest abilities—one I refined over centuries."
Noir's eyes widened.
"You are Noir Zelion. Once Daniel Vermillion. I know of your exile. I know why you're here. I know of your false charge, and of your mission to scout."
The voice grew heavier.
"You were chosen not by chance, but by force. But that doesn't mean your presence here must be meaningless."
Noir felt his throat dry.
"Help me. Help me bring peace to this planet. To the people above and below. Help me end this war."
The telepathic connection ended as soon as Eptor let go of Noir's hand.
Then he turned to the hall—rows of nobles and warriors lined the sides of the chamber. Many stood in silence, their eyes wary. Others wore expressions of hope.
Eptor's voice rang through the castle.
"Let us bring this civil war to an end!"
His words echoed like thunder.
The nobles stirred. The guards stood tall. A breath of unity trembled in the air.
And then—
CRASH!
The ceiling exploded.
A deafening blast of blue fire ripped through the upper chamber, stone and magic barrier alike crumbling in its wake.
Noir instinctively dove aside.
Eptor's body staggered.
A gaping hole had been blasted clean through his torso—burnt flesh and bone exposed beneath his robes. Blue flames flickered at the edges of the wound, devouring the cloth in silence.
The king's legs buckled. He fell to his knees.
Gasps filled the hall. Screams followed. The guards leapt into formation.
Noir turned, heart pounding.
Hovering in the air was a lone figure.
His body was massive, cloaked in spiked black armor laced with glowing red veins. But what stood out the most was his skin—
A rare, glimmering cobalt blue.
The symbol of the ancient elite.
The Dragon Kin.
He hovered in the air like a deity descending from the heavens, his wings folded inward, his eyes gleaming with cruel intelligence.
Whispers raced through the hall, each name more uncertain than the last.
But one rose above all others.
"Cloud Solslade…" the crowd whispered, stunned.
A noble gasped. "It's him…!"
Another dropped their weapon in terror. "The Azure Death…!"
Cloud raised one arm, palm glowing with more fire. And then he spoke—his voice deep, mocking, layered with contempt.
"Your dream ends here, old king."
The chance for hope ended with the hall descending into chaos.
The king, fallen.
The people, panicking.
And the boy who didn't belong—Noir Zelion—trapped in a war he didn't start, staring into the flames of a future he couldn't escape.