As the sun peeked over the forest's mountainous range, Helion stretched, sore muscles flaring with protest. "Ahh, that was tough," he muttered, glancing at the rubble he'd spent the night rebuilding. "Took me all night to do this."
He turned to the wolf beside him. "Thanks for staying with me, Loken."
The wolf looked up, calm eyes offering a silent nod.
Helion exhaled. "Time to meet gramps loken friend… I hope he has answers. Maybe about Luminox. About the visions."
He gave one last look at the cabin, then took his first step toward whatever came next.
As they made their way down the mountain, Helion broke into a sprint, laughing under his breath. "I feel faster." Wind rushed past him. Loken dashed ahead, tail flicking playfully as the two raced downhill, cutting through trees and leaping over roots. For a brief moment, Helion felt weightless—free from the grief, the fire, the loss. Just forward.
At the base, the forest gave way to a lively village. Children ran between carts and stalls. Nobles and farmers mingled. A small celebration danced in the air.
"Everyone here seems… happy," Helion thought as he passed through the crowd.
A woman bumped into him mid-chase. "Sorry!" she called, laughing.
Helion patted Loken gently—he seemed uneasy. "We're almost there."
He checked the note again. "Emerald statue… but where—"
Loken stopped, gaze fixed. Helion followed it.
There, behind the trees, stood a towering emerald sculpture—weathered, but still noble. And behind it, a large, elegant home.
"Thanks, Loken," Helion breathed, adjusting his course.
As he approached, the front door slammed open. A chest of books clattered to the porch. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out, muttering, "I'm tired of this crap!"
He had wild, medium-length purple hair and a matching beard, age lining his features, though he moved with quiet strength.
The man locked eyes with Helion and scowled. "Who the hell are you? If you're here for charity, keep walking. I'm out of that."
Helion blinked. "Uh—no, wait! I'm not here for charity. I was sent by my Gramps—Loken."
The man paused mid-step. "Who?"
"Loken the Sage. From the mountain. He… he told me to find you."
Helion held up the note. "The statue out front—he said you'd have it. I figured maybe this was the place but… maybe I'm wrong."
The man grumbled. "That old statue? Just a memory of what it used to be."
Then his tone shifted, softer but tinged with history. "Loken, huh? That hermit. Spent years scribbling spirit theories and avoiding politics. Yeah… I remember Loken."
He scratched his jaw. "How's he doing? Still holed up on that mountain preaching spirit balance? Finally figure out how to come down without breaking a hip?"
Helion looked down. His voice was barely above a whisper. "He's gone."
The man's face didn't change—at first. Then his hand dropped to his side.
"He died protecting me," Helion continued. "A spirit killed him."
The man stared out beyond Helion, toward the horizon, the mountains. His voice came low and quiet. "That stubborn flame finally went out."
Without another word, he turned and walked into the house.
Helion followed, eyes adjusting to the strange interior—cluttered shelves, old weapons, faded banners, living plants entwined with relics. History in every corner.
The man rifled through a cabinet and pulled out a dusty bottle. "Guess I owe him another drink I'll never get to share."
So what happened ? The man asked curiously..
Helion explained the entire situation. Including Zelpho and Luminox appearing, Loken dying and Syrus coming to the rescue.
"Syrus saved you? Hah! That royal kiss up? Still as stiff as ever. Walks like he's got a silver rod jammed right up his rear. The kid has talent, sure—but no bend. That's what'll break him, someday."
I'm surprised he intervened with such a low rank altercation.
Helion stood silently, unsure if he should speak.
The man poured himself a small cup and stared into it.
Then, with a huff, he looked back, sharp again. "So. What'd the old fool think I was gonna do? Train you into some kind of prodigy?"
Helion squared his shoulders. "He said if anyone could help me understand what's happening to me—it'd be you."
The man snorted. "Typical. Drops the mystery on me from beyond the grave."
He waved to a worn rug near the fire. "Sit down, lightning boy. I'm retired—not dead."
Helion sat.
The man took another sip, then asked, "What's your name?"
"Helion."
The name sat in the air a moment. The man chuckled.
He eyed him again. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
Helion shook his head.
The man smirked. "Figures. Name's Zeyr. Zeyr Chrono."
Helion's heart skipped. His mouth opened before he could stop it.
"…Chrono? As in—Chrono the Hero?"
Zeyr groaned. "Ugh. Don't call me that."
"But you led the First Arch during the Northern Collapse! You stopped the Rift Plague—you—"
"—got old, got tired, and got really good at ignoring kids who won't shut up." Zeyr dropped into his chair.
"I thought you vanished," Helion said. "Everyone thought you were gone."
"Disappearing's easier than disappointing people," Zeyr muttered. "Especially when the kingdom you bled for turns into a damn fashion show for nobles with shiny hair."
Zeyr met Helion's gaze, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Now that you know who I am—do me a favor. Don't treat me like a legend. I'm just the idiot your mentor trusted with part of your journey."
He glanced Helion up and down.
"You took a hell of a beating, from the looks of it. Mana's sharp—I can feel it humming around you. But your body? Still soft. Spirit's pushing ahead of the flesh."
He chuckled under his breath, not unkindly. "So… what exactly did you come here to learn?"
Helion straightened a little. "At first, Loken told me to come learn about elemental spirits. About bonding."
Zeyr nodded. "Yeah. Loken knew his spirits, no doubt. Could name 'em by scent and song. But bonding?" He rubbed his chin. "That part was always slippery, even for him."
Helion shifted his weight. "The truth is… I think I made a connection. With something. But I don't know how to tell if it's real."
Zeyr raised a brow. "Only one way to find out."
He stood and motioned for Helion to follow. They stepped back outside, the sunlight warmer now as the village stirred with life behind them.
Loken—the wolf—was trotting in circles, nose twitching as he chased a butterfly, only to freeze when the two men emerged. He padded back toward Helion, alert and watchful.
Zeyr turned to face him fully, cracking his neck. "Alright then. Show me what you're capable of."
He grabbed two worn wooden swords leaning against the porch, then tossed one to Helion without warning.
Helion caught it, fumbled slightly, then tightened his grip. He stared at the blade, unsure.
"Truth is… I don't really know how to use a sword," he admitted.
Zeyr's voice came firm, sharper now. "Doesn't matter. I don't want form—I want fire."
Helion blinked.
"Show me how you would've protected Loken," Zeyr said, stepping back, planting his feet.
Helion's fingers curled around the wooden hilt. A flicker of heat stirred behind his ribs—familiar, pulsing, alive.
He exhaled once, steady, then launched forward.
Zeyr stood there, calm and still—like a boulder rooted to the earth—waiting for Helion to make the first move.
And then, with just one step forward… Helion lunged.
Zeyr didn't move much—just adjusted the angle of his stance and shifted his grip slightly on the wooden blade.
Then it hit.
A wave of pressure—pure mana—rolled off him like heat from a forge.
Helion stumbled back half a step, teeth clenching as it pressed against his chest, heavy and invisible.
"Ugh…" he muttered, bracing himself. "This pressure—it's unreal. It's even stronger than Zelphos"
His heart pounded. His legs felt like they were standing in knee-deep water. "How is he just… standing there like it's nothing?"
Zeyr raised an eyebrow, calm as ever. "If you can't breathe through this, you're not ready for bonding—let alone Soulform."
Helion dug his feet in, shoulders tightening. "Easy for you to say," he growled under his breath. "You're built like a mountain."
The pressure intensified slightly—Zeyr's mana flaring just a touch more, enough to force Helion to his limit.
But he didn't fall.
Instead, something inside him stirred. A warmth—not just heat, but something deeper. Familiar.
Luminox.
The pressure around him didn't disappear, but it thinned—just enough. Just enough for Helion to lift his head, eyes narrowing.
"…Alright," he said quietly. "Bring it."
Zeyr smirked.
Helion swung the wooden sword in a clean arc, aiming for Zeyr's side—but Zeyr barely moved. With the smallest tilt of his wrist, he parried the strike, sending Helion stumbling past him.
"Too wide. Too obvious," Zeyr muttered. "Try again."
Helion turned, tightening his grip. His hands were shaking, not from fear—but from pressure. The need to prove something. He charged again, this time feinting left before slashing right.
Zeyr deflected it again—effortless. "Better. But you're swinging like you're asking permission."
Helion gritted his teeth, frustrated. The air around him started to hum faintly—like the crackle before a storm. Zeyr's eyes flicked to it, but he said nothing.
Helion tried again. And again.
Each strike, a little faster. A little more heat in his blood. With each clash, the tension in his body began to burn away, replaced by something deeper—some rhythm that wasn't his own… but wanted to be.
Zeyr blocked another strike, but this time, he didn't counter. He just watched.
Helion exhaled hard, his chest rising and falling. Sweat dripped down his brow.
And then—
A flicker.
Light.
It shimmered along the blade—brief, faint, like a pulse of golden flame, then vanished just as quickly.
Zeyr's brows lifted.
"…There it is," he said, low.
Helion blinked, breathing hard. "Did you see that?"
Zeyr stepped forward slowly. "I did. And I felt it."
He pointed to Helion's chest. "That wasn't your mana. That was resonance."
Helion stared at the wooden blade in his hand, stunned.
Zeyr gave a crooked smile. "Looks like your spark's real after all."
Then, a beat.
"Still need some polishing."
Zeyr took a step closer, the grin gone now, replaced by a calculating look.
"Alright, time to give you a little lesson."
He tapped the wooden blade against his shoulder. "You ever heard about Form Ascension? Of the spirit Soul form system?"
Helion shook his head, still catching his breath.
Zeyr nodded. "Didn't think so. They don't teach the real stuff to outsiders. Not unless they think you're worth breaking."
He raised a finger.
"Form I to III — those are the base Soul Techniques. Simple to say, hard as hell to master. They come from your spirit's essence, woven with your mana. Not borrowed. Not cast. Formed."
Another finger.
"Everyone's Forms look different. Yours might burn. Someone else's might freeze. It all depends on your elemental sprits magical essence. — what matters is the bond."
He held up three fingers, then curled them into a fist.
"Now, the Gate. That's what we call a Mana Burst. You ever seen a warrior scream in a battlefield and light explode out of their back? That's not fury — that's the Gate cracking open. That surge is what lets you break past Form III."
Zeyr's tone darkened just a little.
"Unlocking it? Needs more than power. It takes clarity. Pain. Will. And it usually costs you something. Sometimes your energy. Sometimes your sanity."
Helion swallowed.
Zeyr eyed him. "But if you can pull it off… that's when Soulform begins to awaken."
He turned back toward the field and pointed the wooden sword toward Helion again.
"You've barely sparked a Form. You're still chasing your own shadow."
He planted his feet. "So — let's see if we're able to unlock that first form "
Helion cracked a tired grin.
"Again," Zeyr said, stepping back. "This time don't hold back. Let the spirit lead."
Zeyr lowered his stance, watching Helion catch his breath.
"After this," he said, voice low and steady, "maybe I'll fill you in. About the "True Soul Bound"
He pointed the wooden sword at Helion's chest.
"But first—show me you're worth it."
Helion gripped the wooden sword tighter. The wind shifted again.
He locked eyes with Zeyr—who still hadn't blinked.
"I'm ready," he said, voice low.
Zeyr gave a crooked smile—this time, with a flicker of respect.
"Good," he said. "Because now, I'm kicking it up a level."
They stood there, sun breaking through the trees. Two sparks, waiting to clash.
And somewhere deep inside, Helion's soul kindled.