A week had passed since the Ascendant Rising Tournament was brought to an abrupt, cataclysmic end.
Across every continent, from the glass domes of Oceaelis , people demanded answers. The streets echoed with voices. Protests flared. Speculations ran wild—was it sabotage? A failed weapon test? An invasion?
But when Emperor Malrik Vortan appeared—flanked by all seven Monarchs—projected in every language and broadcasted across every screen, the world held its breath.
"The Ascendant Rising Tournament was compromised by a foreign anomaly. The situation is under control. All affected participants are safe. Further details will be released when appropriate."
His words carried weight, calm, and authority.
The protests quieted soon after.
---
In the continent of Meridia, ruled by House Ignar, the newly built royal estate stood at the heart of Valeborne—their capital city and seat of power.
Vast gardens curled around pale-stone towers. The air smelled of sea breeze and lavender. Here, beyond the echoes of global unrest—he was healing.
Klaus Aetherion lay in a large, sun-drenched room on the second floor. The walls were lined with old weaponry, scrolls, and soft wind chimes whispering through open windows.
Bandages crisscrossed his torso and arms. Scars new and old traced his skin like maps of war. His breathing was slow. Controlled. But the fire behind those closed eyes hadn't dimmed.
He hadn't moved since the Ascendant Rising Tournament.
But Sofie hadn't moved from his side either.
She sat on a cushion beside the bed, her fingers laced tightly with his—her thumb brushing the back of his knuckles every few minutes.
Her eyes were half-closed, but not from sleep.
She was listening.
To the rhythm of his pulse.
To the faint warmth still in his palm.
He was alive.
She hadn't imagined it.
Then—
BANG.
The door flew open like a war horn had been sounded.
"YOOOOO—"
"How's the living corpse doing?!"
Kael Ignar, loud as ever, strolled in with the subtlety of a boulder crashing through glass. His greatsword wasn't even strapped—just dragged along like he'd forgotten what stealth meant.
Sofie didn't even look at him.
She just turned her head slightly—her glare cold enough to ignite forests.
Kael blinked. Took one step back.
"…I'll use my indoor voice."
Silence.
Then—
The door opened gently behind him.
Lady Sera walked in, as graceful as snowfall, carrying a polished silver tray with three cups of steaming tea.
"Honestly, Kael," she sighed, offering him a cup. "You're going to give Sofie a heart attack."
She handed the second cup to Sofie, who accepted it with a small bow of her head.
"Thank you," Sofie whispered.
"Dear," Lady Sera said, brushing a lock of hair from Sofie's temple, "you've done enough. You should rest too. He's here. He's not going anywhere."
For a second, Sofie's eyes trembled. Her grip on the cup tightened.
But then…
She let out a soft sigh.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Tch. He better not," she mumbled, nudging Klaus's hand lightly. "This idiot owes me. And a long, long explanation."
Kael, now seated upside down on a nearby couch like an actual gremlin, sipped his tea and whispered to himself:
"Pretty sure I saved the day too, but sure—let's all forget Kael."
Sofie's eyes flicked toward him again.
Kael instantly went quiet.
The room fell into peaceful silence.
Steam from the tea curled toward the ceiling.
Sofie sat cross-legged now, still holding Klaus's hand like it anchored her. Her other hand lifted her tea cup to her lips, but she didn't sip. She stared at Klaus's sleeping face, scrunching her nose.
Then—she muttered.
"When is this idiot going to wake up already…"
She puffed out her cheeks slightly in frustration, eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a mumbling grumble:
"Always unconscious after a fight… always pushing himself too hard… always making me—worried…"
She stopped herself.
Looked away.
Pouted.
Lady Sera, sitting beside her with perfect posture, smiled behind her cup.
Then she softly chuckled.
"You really care for him, don't you?" she said warmly.
Sofie instantly turned to her, waving her hands dramatically.
"W-What?! No! I mean—yes! I mean—ugh!"
Lady Sera leaned in slightly, a playful gleam in her eyes.
"You know… he can probably hear you. You're holding his hand so tight, his soul might be anchored to your ranting."
Wink.
Sofie turned beet red.
Her ears burned.
"MOOOOMMMM!!!!"
She screamed, covering her face with her hands, voice muffled by embarrassment.
Lady Sera giggled—graceful as ever.
Kael, sitting sprawled across the couch like a lounging hyena, absolutely lost it.
"HAAAAA!! Oh my gods—Sofie—I thought you only screamed like that when you stepped on a lizard!"
He slapped his knee, laughing so hard he almost dropped his tea.
"The tsundere's cracking, folks! The mighty flame's melting!"
Sofie whipped a cushion at his face. He caught it mid-air—barely.
"Keep laughing and I'll melt your eyebrows off," she snapped, face still burning red.
"Totally worth it," Kael wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.
---
Darkness didn't greet him.
Nor pain.
Nor even the sensation of waking.
It was just—white.
Endless, untouched white. Like existence had been bleached of color, of time, of everything.
Klaus blinked, but there was no sun.
No sky.
Just light.
And silence.
He slowly sat up… and realized he wasn't lying on anything. The ground beneath him felt soft, but looked like glass, stretching infinitely.
His first instinct was survival. He checked his arms, his chest.
No pain.
No blood.
But when he lifted one hand—and passed it through the other like mist—he jolted back in horror.
"What the heck!?"
His voice echoed. Too loudly.
He scrambled to his feet, his muscles moving with eerie smoothness—almost too smooth. His feet didn't even touch the floor; they merely hovered.
"Where… am I?"
He looked around.
Nothing.
No shapes.
No shadows.
Just a faint mist curling at the edges of an invisible horizon.
His fists clenched instinctively—but the moment he tried calling on his wind—
Nothing.
Then lightning—
Again, nothing.
"No wind… no lightning… not even energy. Am I… dead?"
He took a few cautious steps forward—and then noticed it.
A path.
Thin, glittering gold, it shimmered faintly across the white expanse.
No beginning.
No end.
It simply was.
With no other direction to go, Klaus followed it. And walked.
And walked.
And walked.
Time didn't pass here—not that he could feel.
But eventually, frustration clawed its way into his chest.
"HELLO?!"
He shouted, voice ringing with fury and exhaustion.
"ANYONE HERE?!"
Silence.
And then—
A voice.
Soft.
Warm.
Timeless.
"Hello."
He spun.
He hadn't even heard the footsteps. But he felt the voice—right behind him, though it seemed to come from everywhere.
Then again.
"Oh my… it's a child."
The voice was gentle. Curious. Slightly amused.
Klaus's fists tightened again. His stance low, guarded. Cold eyes scanning.
"What's your name, child?"
He said nothing.
His eyes narrowed.
His stance unwavering.
Whoever this was—they weren't human.
He could feel it.
But his power remained unresponsive. He was vulnerable here.
Then—footsteps.
Slow. Soft. Graceful.
And from the mist… she appeared.
A figure of celestial elegance.
Draped in flowing light and robes of star-silk, her skin glowed with moonlight. Her eyes held galaxies. And upon her brow, a crown—not of gold—but of constellations, each star orbiting gently around her halo.
She stopped a short distance away.
Smiling.
Calm.
Ethereal.
Motherly.
"You needn't worry, child. I won't harm you."
Her voice soothed the air around them like lullabies woven into time itself.
But Klaus didn't lower his guard.
Not yet.
Not even as her eyes twinkled kindly.
Not even as her hands remained peacefully clasped in front of her.
Klaus stared, the glow of the being before him gently washing over his stunned expression.
"Who… who are you?"
"Where am I?"
"Did I… die?"
His voice cracked slightly on the last question.
The celestial woman giggled softly, raising one graceful hand to her lips like a
grandmother amused by her grandchild's flurry of questions.
"Hold on, dear," she said warmly, "One at a time."
She took a delicate step forward, her glowing robes brushing the nothingness below them. With a serene smile, she answered the first.
"I am Lunaria Aetherion."
Klaus's eyes widened.
The breath in his chest caught.
"…Aetherion?" he whispered.
The name struck something deep inside him—like a bell ringing in his soul. It wasn't just familiarity. It was recognition. A piece of a puzzle he hadn't even known he'd lost.
Lunaria simply smiled, watching his reaction with timeless patience.
"Yes, child," she continued gently. "You carry our name. Our blood. And now… our burden."
Before he could speak again, she lifted her hand.
A soft flick of her thumb—
And the world around them changed.
The endless white faded. The sterile, silent void was swept away like dust in sunlight.
In its place—
A breathtaking realm unfolded.
A rolling expanse of golden meadows kissed by sunlight. Mountains veiled in drifting mist towered in the distance. Horses grazed peacefully beneath a brilliant, arching rainbow. The clouds moved with slow, gentle grace. The air shimmered with tranquility, with history, with legacy.
Klaus stared.
Wide-eyed.
Motionless.
"This…" he muttered. "This place…"
Lunaria stepped beside him.
"This is the Ancestral Realm, Klaus."
"A place where the echoes of the Aetherions gather."
He turned to her again, still barely able to form words.
"Then I'm… dead?"
She smiled again.
This time, with something that felt almost like mischief—kind and knowing.
"Oh, no, love."
She chuckled.
"You're very much alive."
"Though… you've drifted a little close to the veil. Close enough that I could finally speak with you."
Klaus slowly looked back out toward the horizon. The calm. The peace. The surreal warmth of it all.
"So why am I here then?" he asked, his voice quieter now. Not afraid—just searching.
Lunaria turned her gaze to the rainbow overhead.
"Because it's time, Klaus."
"It's time you learn… who you really are."