Maxi took a slow, deep breath in through his nose, then let it out through his mouth.
He needed a moment to process what he had just witnessed.
The masterwork of ice, the flowing tapestry of memory and heartbreak that Colen had crafted — it was, in a word, perfect.
Maxi nodded thoughtfully to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Tengen could only dream of telling a story like this.
He thought back to Tengen's clumsy explanations how he had once tried to recount this same history, but had mangled it with bloated words and overdramatic flourishes.
Tengen's version had sounded like first-rate trash, like a drunken bard rambling in a tavern.
But this
This was true storytelling.
The bittersweet goodbye.
The rage of a revolution.
The feeling of betrayal.
The hunger for justice and revenge.
All woven together so seamlessly that Maxi felt like he had lived it.
Colen wasn't just a storyteller.
He was a philosopher of history.
A master of frozen emotion.
Maxi caught himself.
I'm doing too much praising, he thought, fighting a small, embarrassed laugh.
I'm not even listening anymore. I need to focus.
He shook his head slightly and glanced at Angelina.
She sat with the same serene, blissful smile she wore that morning eyes half-closed, lost in her own happy little world.
Maxi sighed.
She wasn't even listening.
He turned to Snow.
Snow was watching the ice sculptures intently... but it was clear from the way her wide eyes sparkled that she was more fascinated by the pretty show than the story itself.
Maxi sighed again, heavier this time.
I'm seriously the only one paying attention.
His gaze shifted back to Colen the cold storyteller who stood there, waiting with unreadable patience for Maxi's full attention so he could continue.
"Please..." Maxi said, trying to sound calm.
Then he couldn't help himself.
"...please continue!"
Colen narrowed his eyes slightly.
In his usual dry, frosty voice, he replied:
"Don't beg. It's pathetic."
Snow chuckled at that, repeating the word with a teasing grin:
"Pathetic~"
Then she chuckled again, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve.
Maxi scowled lightly but said nothing.
Colen took a breath.
A real one slow, sharp, the air around his lips freezing.
He blew softly toward the great snowcloud above.
Where his cold breath touched, the cloud split —
dividing into several smaller snowclouds, each pulsing faintly with light, ready to reveal new scenes.
Colen's voice carried on, low and sharp:
"After the boy's kingdom was built, it was not enough.
The people, moved by his spirit, wanted him as their king.
But wisdom demanded caution for he was still a teenager, and kingship is not a child's toy."
So a compromise was made.
The boy would rule, yes but he would have a Vice Leader, an older, wiser hand who would guide him.
Someone to teach him how to listen to his people.
How to see their needs, and act wisely.
The boy agreed.
And so the kingdom had two heads one crowned, one crowned only in spirit.
But the boy's heart remained heavy.
The need for justice no, revenge gnawed at him.
So he turned to the star.
Quietly, in the dead of night, he asked:
"What should I do first?"
The star answered
softly, whispering like a devil at the edge of sleep.
"Make it so that you have unwanted inventors within Lore and Oasis's kingdom.
Provoke them. Force their hand.
They wronged you now make them pay."
The boy's heart hardened.
Following the star's advice, he sent groups of his men soldiers and workers across the border into the rich mining grounds of Lore and Oasis's kingdom.
They stole quietly at first, digging, extracting valuable resources.
For a few weeks, the trips were a success.
But soon, blood stained the stones.
The boy's miners returned home injured, battered and bruised.
It was all the excuse he needed.
He seized a messenger bird a dark-feathered raven and penned a furious letter to Lore and Oasis.
Colen's voice dropped into a growling, bitter mimicry as he recited the boy's furious words:
"How dare you harm my miners, who peacefully gathered resources you have in abundance!
Because of your greed, you would not spare a few measly stones.
This insult is unacceptable.
Prepare yourselves for war, you greedy heavens."
He then spent most of the money he had earned from trading the mined resources to hire skilled warriors and teachers to train his people. When he noticed that some among them were blessed, he immediately organized the Blessing Awakening Ceremony for them. However, this brought a new problem: by accepting the gods' blessings, the laws of the Earthly Gods were now enforced upon them. And since the Earthly Gods favored Lore and Oasis above all others, they placed a harsh rule upon the boy's kingdom they were forbidden from harming Lore or Oasis in any way.
With that crushing rule in place, the boy had to adapt. He made the most of what he had.
He spent two or more months training his soldiers, drilling discipline into them. When he felt they were ready, he gathered his forces, rallying them with a voice full of passion. Then, leading the charge himself, the boy stormed toward the gates of the Lore and Oasis kingdom.
The boy went in first clearing a path not with blood, but with mercy. He refused to kill anyone, only knocking guards out cold. This vow was something his people loved and trusted him for:
"No killing. Killing only makes us as bad as the people we fight. We are not worse. We are better."
Thus, all of his soldiers' weapons were crafted specifically for neutralizing and disarming opponents blunt swords, heavy clubs, long staffs, and giant blunt weapons.
As the boy approached the corner where the castle loomed, a figure floated before him Lore, suspended in the air. And then...
Darkness.
Above them, the snowclouds began to rain soft snowflakes down onto the stage. Wherever the snowflakes touched the table, they formed sculptures of ice the boy and his men, frozen in mid-march.
The ice sculpture of the boy walked to the gates, only to pause. He turned around and pointed at a group of his men. As if understanding an unspoken command, they nodded, grabbed ice pickaxes, and loaded an ice-carved carriage. They exited the gates, moving carefully, before melting seamlessly into the thin ice laid across the long table a fluid, almost ghostly transition.
The boy, left behind, entered his castle and sat at his throne. Time passed — the boy suddenly leapt up, storming out once again. From the melted ice, the miners and the carriage were reborn, but this time the miners appeared battered and bruised, showing the hardships they had endured.
The boy stretched out his hand.
Colen, sitting calmly, flicked his finger.
From one of the snowclouds above, a snowflake gently drifted down, freezing the air and forming the sculpture of a bird.
The bird landed on the boy's outstretched hand.
The boy produced a tiny letter, which the bird clutched in its claws before flying back up into the snowcloud, dissolving into snow once more.
The scene shifted.
The boy's castle melted, then refroze into a massive training area. Hundreds of ice-sculpted soldiers drilled fiercely, their faces locked in serious expressions. The boy walked among them, nodding approvingly.
Then, once again, the scene changed —
The boy now stood in full armor, his soldiers mounted on horseback, holding long blunt weapons. Before them stood a grand ice sculpture of Lore and Oasis's kingdom gates.
With a battle cry, the army charged.
Inside the gates, many guards stood to block their path, but the boy fought his way forward, never killing, only disabling.
Just when the boy was about to reach the castle itself, Lore appeared again floating just below the snowclouds. A symbol of unreachable power.
Colen flicked his finger once more.
CRACK.
All of the ice sculptures the soldiers, the horses, the guards shattered into thousands of snowflakes, swirling through the air. Only the ice sculpture of the boy remained, standing alone, staring upward.
Colen then continued, voice colder than ever:
"The boy awakened in his own kingdom... defeated."
He had failed.
And so, lost and battered, he once again consulted the Star.
The Star told him: "You must make more relatable allies."
And the boy agreed.
After speaking with the Star, the boy gathered his people and stood before them.
He told them plainly that he would be taking a leave of absence for a few weeks — promising them with unwavering confidence,
"When I return, I will be stronger than ever before."
His people, trusting and full of hope, waved him farewell as he departed, their faith in him shining like a beacon behind him.
The boy's journey took him to a faraway kingdom, a place known for its endless fields of stunning, vibrant flowers. And it was there among the blooms that he met someone who would change not just his fate, but the fate of the entire world.
A strange, nerdy-looking demi-human boy. A boy who, unknown to all at that time, would someday become the most infamous figure in the multiverse hated by gods and feared across dimensions.
This boy's name was Tom Blossom.
But history would remember him by many names:
The Godfather of Magic
The Founder of Forbidden Knowledge
Techxin's Ancestor
The Strongest Wizard, Mage, Artificer, Warlock
The Dimension Warper
The Dimension Crasher
The Human Cockroach (a title even the Earthly Gods grudgingly agreed upon)
The corruption wthin Time
The Reality Virus
The Contradictor
The Menace to Reality itself
And most famously Mr. Pink.
You see, Tom was a demi-human and demi-humans possessed a strange quirk in their blood: they were born with an innate, supernatural talent for one thing.
Tom's blessing, however, was unique even among demi-humans.
He was a prodigy among prodigies among even greater prodigies
but only in things he found interesting or liked.
At the moment when the boy met him, Tom's passion was magic.
Colen, seated above the snow table, snapped his fingers.
A thick snowcloud dropped onto the table, freezing the air instantly, forming a magnificent sculpture of Tom Blossom.
He stood tall, dressed in royal cloths, his long hair falling over his shoulders, a heavy book in one hand.
He was a little taller than the boy, and there was a mischievous glint in his ice-sculpted eyes.
The boy and Tom began to speak.
Colen narrated softly:
"The boy explained everything. His struggles. His hopes. His defeat. His dream to protect his people."
Tom listened, surprisingly serious, his heart moved with sympathy.
When the boy asked how Tom could help, Tom simply smiled and said:
"I'm good at everything... so long as I'm interested."
And right now, Tom was deeply fascinated by magic.
The boy's eyes lit up with hope. He asked if Tom could teach his soldiers how to use magic but without relying on the blessings of the gods.
Tom grinned wider.
"No blessings? That's even better. I'll show them real magic."
And so, with that unlikely pact forged among the flowers,
the boy and Tom Blossom soon to be called Mr. Pink
returned together to the boy's kingdom,
ready to spark a revolution the Earthly Gods could never have foreseen.
When the boy returned to his kingdom with Tom Blossom at his side, the people cheered louder than a thunderstorm.
Not only had their leader returned stronger, but he brought with him a legend in the making a teacher of miracles.
Tom, seeing the raw spirit and hope in the soldiers' eyes, found something strange awakening within himself:
he genuinely liked teaching them.
Normally, learning magic took months sometimes years.
But because Tom grew fond of the soldiers and because his gift allowed him to be a prodigy among prodigies
he invented an entirely new method of teaching magic.
One so effective... the soldiers learned in just one week.
When the week ended, the boy's army marched upon the kingdom of Lore and Oasis.
They attacked not with rage, but with purpose.
The soldiers newly armed with magic shattered the mighty kingdom's walls like they were made of brittle glass.
As chaos erupted, the boy and Tom teleported into the heart of the battlefield, right behind their soldiers.
The blessed soldiers stormed through the breaches, their orders clear:
Do not kill. Only subdue.
One by one, they placed civilians and guards into careful chokeholds weak enough to prevent harm, but strong enough to prevent escape.
This tactic forced Lore and Oasis themselves to act.
The gods descended from their castle to personally rescue their people, dealing with the soldiers one by one.
Yet even as they fought bravely, they realized something was wrong.
The leader the boy was nowhere to be found.
Frustrated and desperate, they rushed back to their castle...
Only to find the boy and Tom Blossom waiting for them, like kings already seated on their thrones.
Colen, still narrating, leaned forward and gently tapped Snow's nose with a finger.
Snow giggled, swatting him away and as she did, rainbow-colored stars flickered into existence, swirling around Colen's fingertip like tiny comets.
He twirled his finger through the air, orchestrating them like the conductor of a symphony.
And as the stars danced, they wove the next part of the story.
Inside the castle, the boy and Tom faced Lore and Oasis.
No words were exchanged.
Only a silent, shared understanding: this was a battle for everything.
Tom, laughing madly, summoned vibrant spells of colors unseen by mortal eyes.
The boy, steadfast and silent, fought with precise, masterful moves blending strength, skill, and heart.
For a time, they held their ground.
For a time, it seemed they might even win.
But in the end against the true might of Lore and Oasis
even miracles had limits.
Lore and Oasis, who were not just warriors but gods in the truest sense, eventually overwhelmed them.
Tom was slammed into the marble walls, leaving cracks shaped like blooming flowers.
The boy, bloodied but defiant, collapsed to one knee before the throne room steps.
Yet despite their defeat...
they had proved something important.
They could make the gods bleed.
They could challenge them.
And the war was far, far from over.
When the boy and Tom Blossom awoke from their defeat,
there was no time for pity.
Only action.
Tom, finally understanding the stakes, decided he could no longer treat offensive magic like a game.
He went to work immediately.
Within days, he invented two new tiers of magic:
Continental-level magic: able to reshape entire countries.
World-level magic: a power great enough to wound the very planet itself.
At the same time, Tom grew more serious as a teacher.
In just one day, he pushed the soldiers beyond their limits, teaching them city-level magic magic strong enough to raze entire cities if left unchecked.
Meanwhile, the boy made silent moves of his own.
He forged secret alliances with neighboring kingdoms.
He convinced them charming, persuasive beyond reason to cut all trade and communication with Lore and Oasis for the next six months.
Maxi, hearing this part of the story, couldn't help but think:
"Charming and convincing… those might just be the most broken powers in this world. How do you even do that? A father and son..."
Colen, smiling gently, continued the tale.
The Silent Invasion
After one month, the second assault began — but this time, it was done in silence.
Lore and Oasis's kingdom, isolated and confused from the economic blockade, was slowly bleeding citizens.
People were leaving in trickles small, but constant.
And that was all the boy and Tom needed.
Using powerful city-wide teleportation spells, they disguised themselves and their soldiers, infiltrating the kingdom without a sound.
At the boy's signal, they struck:
they burned empty houses (ensuring no innocents were harmed),
started riots in marketplaces,
toppled statues that once stood as symbols of divine authority.
Lore and Oasis, sensing the chaos, descended from their thrones to find the culprits.
But the soldiers were already gone, slipping away like ghosts.
Then came the real attack.
Lore and Oasis, frustrated, split up to cover more ground.
That was when Tom and the boy struck separately.
Tom vs Lore.
The boy vs Oasis.
This time, the battles were even fierce exchanges of spells, raw physical power, and willpower.
But as the boy began to falter against Oasis's divine might, he did something desperate.
He called out to the Star the mysterious being he had once made a pact with.
The Star spoke back:
"If you seek greater power, you must sacrifice something dear."
Without hesitation, the boy sacrificed his right to be blessed by the Earthly Gods cutting himself off from divine favor forever for all he knew.
In return, the Star gifted him strength the strength to beat a god.
The boy roared as red stars rained down from the heavens, surrounding him in a swirling inferno of celestial fire.
His ice sculpture, animated by Colen's story magic, mirrored the scene:
the frozen boy absorbed the red stars, rose into the air, and punched Oasis with the force of a meteor, knocking the god unconscious.
The boy had won.
The boy, still burning with newfound power, rushed to aid Tom but to his surprise, Tom was doing shockingly well.
Tom danced around Lore like a cat toying with a lioness.
He fought with casual curiosity, every spell he cast more bizarre and devastating than the last.
Then Tom, smiling with a strange madness, said something that made even Maxi, hearing the story, shudder:
"Is this the power of a god? It interests me.
I wonder what it would be like if I became one."
The ice around the campfire seemed to grow colder at those words.
Maxi whispered under his breath:
"Someone like Tom… shouldn't become a god. No matter what. Not even in dreams."
Even Colen, for a moment, wore a serious expression before he resumed the tale.
With the boy and Tom teaming up, Lore one of the mightiest gods began to falter under their assault.
But just as victory seemed within reach...
Oasis awoke.
In a terrifying display of divine rage, Oasis beat both the boy and Tom single-handedly.
Lore and Oasis, panting and bloodied, stood over their defeated enemies.
The Earthly Gods, watching from afar, had seen enough.
They issued an absolute order:
"Chain the boy. He must not be allowed to continue."
Lore and Oasis, though reluctant and burdened by guilt, obeyed.
When the boy awoke, he found himself back in his own castle.
Beside his bed, there was a note written in a careful, elegant hand:
"We must speak.
About the war.
About your father.
If you are willing to listen, come alone.
Meet us atop the mountain of Bastriea."
The boy stared at the note for a long, long time.
A storm brewed in his heart.
He had beaten a god.
He had lost the blessing of the heavens.
And now...
they wanted to talk.
Colen continued his story, and as his voice echoed through the center of the library, the ice sculptures on the table waiting for Colen to finsh before acting on his words.
The boy, heart still heavy with betrayal, told Tom,
"You're in charge of the kingdom while I'm gone."
Without delay, the boy departed toward the summit of Bastriea Mountain, where Lore and Oasis awaited him. When he arrived, they greeted him warmly — but he did not return the kindness. His expression was cold, determined.
Lore and Oasis spoke first, offering him a deal.
"Let's sign a peace treaty," they said.
But the boy firmly refused. They begged lowering themselves, pleading for him to agree but the boy stood unmoving like a mountain against the storm.
He said,
"The only way there will ever be peace... is if you can bring my father back."
A deep silence fell over the mountaintop. Then, with sadness weighing down their voices, Lore and Oasis replied,
"We cannot bring him back."
The boy's gaze hardened.
"Then you will never have my peace."
Oasis, lowering his head, whispered with sorrow,
"I am sorry... then you must suffer without peace."
Without hesitation, Lore stabbed the boy through the heart. The cold metal pierced his body as Oasis began chanting — ancient words that summoned golden chains from the snowclouds above. The chains wrapped around the boy's body, pinning him helplessly to the mountaintop.
As Lore and Oasis turned away, leaving him bleeding and bound, the boy screamed after them:
"You bastards!"
In our family maxi, the word bastard can carry a heavier meaning under the right context of course like for this scene it was the gravest insult because he called them: traitor.
Maxi, listening closely to Colen's story, nodded solemnly.
Colen continued, his voice growing heavier with grief.
The boy, using the last fragments of his strength, gripped the sword still buried in him and pulled it out. Blood spilled freely from the wound. With a shaking voice, he called to the star in the sky:
"Star... one last favor."
The star answered.
"I wish... to create a new race of humankind from my blood... and bring back the old ones too."
The star, moved by his sacrifice, agreed.
The boy, nearly unconscious, cut open his own arm and pulled forth his veins, stretching them to the sky. His blood dripped onto the frozen mountain, staining the white ice red.
And from that blood from his sacrifice both the old race of humankind and a new race were born into the world.
As his final act of consciousness, the boy froze like a statue — his fist raised high, veins stretched out, blood dripping down like a crimson river. His body slowly hardened into a sculpture of ice, standing defiantly against the mountain winds.
Then, the semi final ice act unfolded before Maxi's eyes:
The ice sculptures then started moving coming to life again to act out this beautiful play
The boy received a message.
He read it clearly, then pointed at Tom.
Tom, understanding without a word, nodded.
The castle surrounding them melted away into mist, refreezing into a vast mountaintop once again.
The boy climbed toward Lore and Oasis at the summit. They discussed.
Then they argued.
Tempers flared emotions, regret, anger all colliding like storms.
Suddenly, Oasis looked down and spoke something in a somber tone. Lore stabbed the boy.
Oasis raised his hands high the snowclouds churned and descended, forming heavy chains that wrapped the boy in cold frost.
Red blood leaked from the boy's chest real blood, staining the snow.
The ice sculptures of Lore and Oasis looked back one last time, their faces filled with complex emotions regret, guilt, fear before they dissolved into snowflakes carried away by the wind.
The boy, chained but unbroken, turned to a single snowflake dancing before him.
He pulled out his ice sword.
Colen clapped once and the scene transformed again.
The ice sculpture of the boy grew massive, now showing only his upper body, bound by massive chains shaped from snowclouds. Slowly, the boy raised his bleeding arm again cutting it open anew, pulling out his veins.
Red liquid dripped down from the sculpture.
As each drop of red blood touched the ice on the table, it transformed forming the shapes of people.
The old race and the new reborn through sacrifice, born and reborn through suffering.
Colen then stabbed his fingers as the ice sculpture of the boy melts away forming another layer of ice on the long tables thin ice as it freeze