The Great Hall of Zinaria glimmered under the light of suspended crystals that floated like tamed fireflies. The walls were covered in ancient symbols of the royal lineage, carved into black stone, and in the center, a long crimson carpet stretched from the double doors to the golden throne where the king presided. The tall columns, adorned with glowing inscriptions, spoke of ancient victories and pacts of peace. On either side stood the high-ranking Guardians, dressed in formal robes and ceremonial armor—alert and solemn, though inside they were boiling with anticipation. The faint scent of royal incense hung in the air, and every step echoed over the polished marble floor.
Blez faked happiness. His face, though calm, radiated a joy he did not feel. While receiving his recognition, the king looked at him intently, with a certain intrigue in his gaze.
—"Young man… your face looks familiar," said the king, smiling.
Just as Blez was about to respond, an explosion shook the hall. The deafening blast shattered the calm, and the Great Hall's ceiling gave way. Chunks of stone rained down upon the gathered crowd. What had been a solemn atmosphere, adorned with marble pillars and floating lamps, became a hell of dust and screams. Heat from the flames began to warp the air, and the stench of scorched stone and blood filled everyone's nostrils.
Through the smoke, ten figures emerged. Their presence sent an immediate wave of panic. Thin bodies, twisted faces—nightmares given form. The Guardians stepped back, their hearts clenched by a terrible certainty.
—"They're Arkanos!" shouted the viceroy. "Protect the king with your lives!"
Chaos erupted. The Guardians threw themselves into battle, but their strikes were useless against the creatures. These were no ordinary assassins—they were entities of destruction. Among them stood one of the most feared Arkano generals: Bachikoro, a Class S whose coldness was as lethal as his blade.
Zaara and Nael, Blez's childhood friends, drew their weapons with determination. Unlike many others, they were ready to face such a threat. Fallen columns and the deafening roar didn't faze them—they were warriors built for moments like this.
Two of the kingdom's most powerful Supreme Guardians advanced through the rubble alongside them. One shielded the king's retreat, unleashing shockwaves that shattered the tiles beneath his feet; the other, wielding a double-edged spear, kept the Arkanos at bay with movements so fast they blurred.
Zahara noticed something unsettling—Blez was nowhere to be seen.
The ten Arkanos fell with disturbing ease. Too easily. Even with a Class S among them, the battle was brief. Something didn't add up.
—"This is strange," murmured Baru, one of the Supremes and the king's personal bodyguard.
He approached the body of the supposed Bachikoro, and upon turning it over, discovered the truth: it was a wooden dummy coated in dark energy.
—"But… how?" he muttered, horror dawning on his face. "This is just a distraction… Protect the king!"
—"It's a trap!" he roared, his voice shaking the shattered hall.
The king was rushed into an underground refuge, an ancient crypt beneath the old church of the castle. He was accompanied by the viceroy, two ministers, and a handful of guards. There, surrounded by damp stone walls and the smell of old rock, they believed themselves safe.
But from the wreckage of the hall, Zaara caught sight of a fleeting figure slipping across the rooftops through the haze of ashes.
—"Blez!" she shouted, without thinking.
The silhouette didn't stop. It leapt with impossible agility, as if the air itself carried him. Zaara, without hesitation, gave chase. The wind cut against her skin, and each leap over broken tiles was a risk, but she couldn't lose him.
She caught up to him at a ledge, where the boy stood gazing at the smoking ruins of the hall. The night was thick, broken only by the trembling light of fire.
—"You planned all this, didn't you?" her voice cracked like a dry branch.
Blez didn't answer. His figure remained still, his back to her.
—"You'd never understand," he muttered hoarsely.
—"Then explain it to me. Even if I don't understand… I want to know why."
Blez turned. In his hand, he held a small shining object—a detonator.
—"This will end, once and for all, the falsehood that consumes this nation," he said without taking his eyes from the horizon.
Zaara swallowed. She recognized that model—one of the most powerful explosives ever created by the Division of Arcane Weapons. If he triggered it, the entire underground would collapse.
—"You know if you detonate that, hundreds of innocents will die?"
Blez lowered his gaze, as if for a moment he doubted… but then raised it again, cold as before.
—"Don't make me laugh, Zaara. No one here is innocent. Not even us. We all play our part in this lie. We all serve a king rotting in gold while condemning his own."
Zaara stepped forward, trembling.
—"You can't do this…"
—"I knew I'd have to fight… but I didn't think it would be you," he murmured.
The fight was immediate. They moved like cutting gusts of wind, blades clashing and air vibrating with each strike. Zaara activated her core, and fire and steel danced like wild beasts.
—"Drop the detonator!"
—"You know I won't."
—"All this time you pretended to be someone…"
—"Weak," Blez answered. Zaara fell silent.
—"Maybe you don't know, but I belong to the Tenchi clan. A clan wiped out by this king."
—"That's not true…"
—"You believe Hayira Tenchi killed the Tenchi clan, too."
They stopped inside a ruined building. Firelight cast trembling shadows on the broken walls.
—"I'm not sure what drives you to do this, but I won't let you. Too many lives are at risk."
—"Hayira Tenchi was my father."
Zaara stayed silent for a moment.
—"I didn't know… but Blez, this isn't the way."
—"Nothing they told you about my clan is true," he shouted. "And by the way, my name isn't Blez."
Zaara felt betrayed, her breathing heavier than before.
—"Are you a spy? What is it you want?"
The boy moved indifferently, refusing to answer. Zaara flashed forward, blocking his path with her speed.
—"I won't let you do it."
—"Stop me if you can," the boy said, tightening his grip on the detonator.
Zaara attacked with all her strength. Her swordsmanship was flawless—but he, even more skilled, dodged with ease. The ground groaned under their feet, and the air whistled with each arc of energy.
—"First core opening: Air Dragon!" she cried, swinging her blade. A dragon-shaped torrent of wind tore toward the boy she now saw as an impostor.
He dodged the attack with ease, and in a flash, struck her with an open palm. Zaara was hurled back by the impact, though she could feel he hadn't truly meant to hurt her.
Still, she had a duty to stop him, no matter what they'd shared in the past. She got back up, raising her sword.
—"Second core opening: Fire Dance!"
A blazing wave in the shape of hundreds of butterflies filled the air, shattering the atmosphere. Heat became suffocating, the sky turned crimson, and sparks danced like burning fireflies.
Blez felt the heat-heavy air press against him, smiling—it was nothing he couldn't counter. Realizing Zaara was attacking with all her strength, he released a current of air from his body that extinguished the flames and dispersed the heat. Moving fast, he closed the distance, and Zaara suddenly found him right in front of her.
—"So fast…" she thought. She had no way to escape if he chose to strike.
—"Forgive me," the boy whispered, clenching his fist. He meant to hit her.
Suddenly, a band of energy snapped taut in the air, catching Blez's arm.
—"From the moment you walked in, I had a bad feeling," said a firm voice.
Blez turned, startled. Standing before him was one of the royal bodyguards. His face tightened—he knew what that meant. He was facing Guler… the Fifth Guardian of the Supreme Royal Court.
And yet, he showed no fear. Even knowing this battle would be far more difficult.