Kürdiala, Black Peaks Region – Day, Year 7002
Kürdiala's inner arena shimmered like a celestial forge, a vast circle of crystalline flooring woven from raw, refined Mana Crystals—each hexagonal tile pulsing softly beneath the morning sun. At rest, the floor reflected the sky, prismatic and pure; in motion, it transformed with will, morphing into any terrain with silent grace. Towers of translucent crystal flanked its edges, their tips humming with stored mana, while curved stands sat empty save for a few Kaplan guards—stoic sentinels with spotted fur and silver spears crossed at their backs.
The air shimmered with quiet pressure.
Ozone. Stone. Crystal breath. As if the city itself were holding its breath.
At the arena's center stood five Lords of Narn.
Darius, broad and silent, gripped his hammer-axe Baltacek, golden milk fur gleaming under the rising sun, lemon-green aura flickering faintly at his hooves.
Trevor, ever casual, spun his banded staff Gozkiran across his shoulders, his brown-furred arms loose and limber, amber lightning aura dancing at his fingertips.
Adam, stood still as a statue, his Crescent Moon pendant catching the light like a second eye. His cerulean mana shimmered gently, veiled beneath his calm.
Kon, single-eyed and sharp, cracked his neck once, both paws resting on his double swords Yırtıcı, yellow aura already bleeding from his fur.
Jeth, tattered hat low, chewed his usual stalk, the only outward movement in a body coiled like a spring. He looked like he didn't care. That usually meant something was about to break or he actually didn't care.
On the sidelines stood Kopa, silent and watchful, his antlers catching fractured light. Beside him, Johan Fare kept quiet, paw near his blade, raccoon tail flicking.
From the arena's far gate came King Azubuike Toran, draped in a flowing robe of midnight blue, fur a perfect contradiction of black and white. He walked with deliberate weight, each step a declaration. His violet eyes, patient and piercing, scanned them one by one.
"I called you here to assess Narn's true strength," he said, voice rolling like thunder wrapped in silk. "And by that strength—I mean yours."
The Lords tensed.
Toran gestured slowly to each, naming them with quiet gravity.
"Darius Boga… Hazël #1."
"Trevor Maymum… Hazël #2."
"Adam Kurt… Hazël #3."
"Kon Kaplan… Hazël #4."
"Jeth Fare… Hazël #5."
A faint pulse stirred in the crystal beneath their feet.
Toran nodded once, then turned to his Hand.
"First match: Ekene Çelik versus Lord Jeth."
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Jeth stepped forward, his dusty coat barely rustling. Ekene, the cheetah Hand, awaited him at the opposite end—tall, silent, golden eyes calm.
Jeth tilted his hat back with one claw. "Ain't gonna lie… you're hard to read, cat. No aura, no sweat. Either you're bluffin', or I'm 'bout to get schooled. What's your Rank?"
Ekene didn't blink. "I have no Rank, my Lord."
That silenced even Trevor, who blinked. "No Rank?"
Kon's tail bristled. "Impossible. That's either deception… or ..."
Toran spoke before more questions could rise. "The trial is simple: form a Mana Sphere and maintain structural integrity. No holds barred. Terrain: Standard Grassland."
The arena shifted. The crystal cracked and blossomed with color, sprouting tall, swaying grass, humming with artificial wind. Overhead, faint clouds formed from vapor threads released by the arena's walls.
Ekene raised one paw. A sphere of pink mana appeared—perfectly smooth, no fluctuation, steady in heat and color.
Jeth followed, his own green-yellow sphere flickering into existence, denser and heavier, surrounded by a faint gravitational pull that pulled at the blades of grass.
Trevor blinked. "Are they… generating gravity?"
Kopa nodded slowly. "They're warping local density. These aren't just mana spheres—they're atmospheric anchors."
Kon frowned. "Jeth learned that trick from Lord Thrax and even perfected it beyond him. He's containing near black hole level pressure within a sphere. No one else alive should be able to match it."
But Ekene did.
His pink orb didn't distort—it adapted. Matching Jeth's fluctuations with almost… elegance. No strain. No sweat.
Jeth's eye twitched. The blades of grass bent toward the center of the ring. Heat shimmered off both spheres.
Then, they released.
Not a clash, but a merging. The spheres met like dancers mid-spin, spiral light and gravity flowing around a single point. Where they touched, the floor sank—crystals warping, grass vaporizing.
The impact forced a crater ten meters wide.
Ekene lowered his paw. Jeth wiped his brow.
Then, with a single breath, the sphere evaporated. No blast. Just silence and sparkles.
Toran's voice broke the quiet. "You are closer to mana's true nature than the others."
Jeth tipped his hat again, hiding a smirk. "Well… damn."
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Toran's gaze swept to the remaining Lords.
"Next. All four of you—against me."
Trevor grinned. "Finally."
Kon cracked his neck. "Don't hold back."
Toran only raised a single finger. "I won't use more than this."
Adam's brow furrowed. "He's serious."
Darius nodded to the others. "Go Grand."
All four flared into their Grand Forms:
Darius blazed lemon-green, his Boga heritage burning like a furnace.
Trevor's lightning turned molten gold, aura spiraling around him.
Adam's cerulean glow sharpened, yellow specks dancing in his eyes.
Kon's crimson aura bled outward, his swords singing as he drew them.
They struck as one.
Kon first, slashing from behind in a blur of twin blades. Toran didn't flinch. He pivoted slightly, footwork elegant.
Trevor struck from above—Gozkiran swinging, lightning coiling. Darius followed, Baltacek aimed straight at Toran's spine.
Adam's chain-staff Canvari wrapped from the front, three links spinning around Toran's limbs.
A perfect quadrant strike. Coordination. Power. Precision.
Toran vanished.
No sound. No blur.
Just... gone.
The Lords froze. Their attacks sliced nothing.
A voice purred from behind Kon. "Nice teamwork."
Kon spun—Yırtıcı raised—too late. His blades clattered across the grass.
Trevor's staff sat at Toran's feet. Darius's hammer floated gently to rest near his own hooves. Adam's staff dangled, unwrapped, its segments inert.
None had seen Toran move.
Even Johan stepped back, hand on sword.
Jeth muttered, "That… ain't physical."
Toran stood with hands behind his back. "You wield mana like it's a sword, a storm, a wall. All wrong. Mana is not your tool. It is you. You command it because you are apart from it. That is your failure."
He raised a hand.
"With the most minimal movement, with the most minimal amplification, achieve the most maximum effect."
A small sphere flickered into existence—silent, colorless, unanchored.
No heat. No hum. No pressure.
Just... emptiness.
Kopa whispered, "Is that…?"
"Perfect Sphere," Toran said. "Ten percent output."
Silence fell.
Jeth's face went pale. "That ain't real. It's a physics theory. Mana folded into itself so tightly it erases its own signature."
Toran raised the sphere. "Mana is existence. Not energy. Not weapon. To shape it purely, you must surrender your form."
He released the sphere.
Time stopped.
The explosion wasn't fire—it was gravity. Space twisted, color shattered. A shockwave tore through the arena, collapsing the artificial sky. The Lords were flung backward.
Trevor reacted first—Kargaşa igniting in a roar of destabilizing mana. Mana stormed around him, trying to diffuse the sphere's pressure.
Adam's Doğuş blazed cerulean, yellow streaks bursting from his eyes. His mana didn't resist the sphere—it changed it. Transmuted its essence in real time.
Their blood hit the ground, dripping from noses and ears.
Still they stood.
The sphere collapsed into a single crystal.
It clattered to the floor.
Toran froze, eyes wide.
"They… stopped it."
Jeth stumbled forward. "How…?"
Kon remained on one knee, panting. Darius stared in disbelief.
Trevor laughed breathlessly, tail twitching. "Hey, Adam…"
Adam turned, face pale.
"I'm… glad you're… okay…"
Then he collapsed.
Adam swayed—then fell beside him.
Silence.
Mana Crystals above resumed their pulse, soft and slow. The wind, restored, blew gently across the grass.
Toran stared at the fallen Lords, his expression unreadable.
A whisper escaped him.
"They're not ready yet… but they're capable."