The sun over Sylvanyr rose clean.
No fracture in the sky, no tremor in the roots below—only morning light reflecting off crystal spires that had survived annihilation and been rebuilt in the same breath.
Across the city, mana-billboards flared back online.
Silver runes scrolled over translucent screens:
> [Royal Bulletin // Dimensional Stability: Restored]
Queen Seraphina & the World Tree confirm complete neutralization of external anomaly. Citizens may resume activity.]
Civic-tuned drones glided through the avenues, projecting gentle beams that swept away the lingering static from the void storm.
In cafés suspended on sky-bridges, people lifted their cups again; conversations restarted mid-sentence, laughter returned like an old friend.
A pair of scholars in pale cloaks debated on a holo-feed:
> "The energy coming from the dimensional breach was an unprecedented spike."
"Naturally. Only Her Majesty and the royals could bring down such a disaster."
Merchants hung white petals above their stalls—a gesture of thanks, not worship.
Children pointed to the sky, where streaks of residual frost still glimmered and said, "That's where the Queen punched the darkness."
Their parents smiled, proud and calm.
The realm moved on—not because it forgot, but because it trusted.
---
Inside the upper citadel, Seraphina leaned against a balcony rail, gaze fixed on the city below.
Sylvanyr stood beside her, translucent light weaving through her form like slow lightning through glass.
> Seraphina: "They act like nothing happened."
Sylvanyr: smiling faintly "That's how you know they're mine. Panic wastes progress."
A pause, then Seraphina's tone softened.
> "And the boy?"
"Training. Finally alone."
"Good."
---
Far beneath the palace, on the main-land where the larger population of Sylvanyr lived, Rin stood alone on a mountain ground far away from the city to train
The mountain rose like a divine pillar piercing through heaven and earth, a silent monument older than time itself. Mists coiled around its base like sleeping dragons, while the sunlight above split into a thousand shifting rays, scattering over stone, forest, and cloud alike.
Below, the valley stretched endlessly — a vast tapestry woven from emerald fields and rivers of liquid silver. Villages clung to the cliffsides, their red-tiled roofs gleaming faintly beneath drifting veils of mist, so small they seemed like memories left behind by gods. The river wound through them, carving through stone like fate itself — patient, unstoppable, eternal.
The air here was thin and sharp, filled with the quiet hum of the wind brushing against the mountain's edge. Every gust carried whispers of unseen worlds — echoes of ancient hymns, the faint toll of distant bells, and the promise of mysteries that could never be reached by mortal hands.
Above the clouds, the summit was a realm apart — serene, untouched, its fields kissed by light so pure it felt unreal. From that height, the horizon curved, and the world below seemed both infinite and small — a mere reflection dancing upon the lens of creation.
It was a place where heaven and earth met without boundary. A place that defied comprehension — sacred, vast, and eternal.
He exhaled, and frost spiraled out in perfect symmetry.
He drew no sword.
Winter's Touch pulsed inside his chest—the sound of a heartbeat made of steel.
For hours he moved without weapon: slashes of air, sharp twists, palm strikes that cracked the permafrost.
Each motion tried to call the sword's technique through flesh alone, and each time his body trembled, veins lighting with cold light.
He whispered the name of his art.
> "Chrono-Frost Severance."
The wind stilled.
His hand cut forward—and a translucent crescent of frost split the horizon cleanly, the air freezing along its path before time itself corrected the wound.
Blood ran from his knuckles, crystallizing instantly.
He smiled.
> "It's not the blade that cuts," he murmured, "it's the will that decides it's already done."
For the first time, Winter's Touch echoed back from within—acknowledgment between wielder and weapon, heart and steel.
A familiar chill moved through Rin's chest—not the cold of frost, but the cold of memory unlocking.
He wasn't seeing the present.
He was remembering.
Before him stood a woman draped in an empress's garb — robes of white and pale sapphire that shimmered like moonlight on still water. Silver threads wove across her sleeves in the pattern of ancient runes, each one pulsing faintly as if alive. Her long hair moved as though the wind obeyed her command, and when she spoke, her voice was soft yet absolute, carrying the gravity of a world long forgotten.
> "When you become one with your blade," she said, her tone serene, "you no longer need a physical blade. Your body becomes the blade."
Rin's eyes widened slightly — not in disbelief, but in understanding. The truth in her words resonated with the pulse of his sword intent.
She took a slow step closer, the hem of her robe gliding over the grass like mist. "To survive in battle," she continued, "you must trust your blade as you would trust your own heartbeat. Yet trust alone is not mastery. Sword techniques are chains — elegant, but binding. They demand stances, forms, and focus so absolute that the mind cannot divide its will."
Her gaze lifted toward the boundless horizon, where light met shadow in endless struggle. "That is why no mortal swordsman can perform two sword arts at once. To command one art requires everything the mind can give. To command two is to shatter that boundary."
The air seemed to hum — the space around her quivered faintly, as though reality itself respected her words.
> "But when one becomes the blade," she said, turning her eyes back to Rin, "the body itself performs one art — instinctive, formless, flowing. The physical blade performs the other, refined and deliberate. Two arts moving as one — body without stance, mind with precision. That is the path to the ultimate fighter."
Her expression softened, a faint smile curving her lips like the first light of dawn. "So far," she murmured, "only those born with parallel minds — those who can divide their consciousness and yet remain whole — have achieved this. The rest can only dream."
She stepped back, her robes trailing light. "Good luck, Seo Rin. When the day comes that your sword no longer answers to your hand, but to your will, you will understand what it means to be a blade."
The wind rose again, scattering the petals that had gathered at their feet.
Rin woke up from his day dream. For a moment, Rin could not tell if she was still there — or if his memory had simply spoken through her.
However he started building himself to become the sharpest blade.
---
Elsewhere, under the suspended gardens of the palace, Rose stood in a sphere of halted raindrops.
Seraphina circled her, voice steady.
> "Don't force time to stop.
Seraphina stood still, his silver hair unmoving despite the faint wind, eyes like frozen stars locked on her student.
> "Stopping time… isn't speed," she began quietly. "That's the first mistake everyone makes."
She lifted his hand, palm open. The world around him seemed to hesitate — the drifting dust froze midair.
> "You're not moving faster than time. You're leaving it or freezing it."
She stepped forward; her motion left afterimages that didn't blur, just split reality.
> "The universe is always expanding. That's what lets time move forward. When you stop time, don't freeze everything with ice. Cool your particles. Freeze the expansion in your body. That's what it means to sever yourself from the universe. And if you can't do that, "you simply freeze the energy that lets time advance around you",Rose replied."
She looked up, faint light glowing behind her pupils like distant stars.
> "Once you cut that link, the world stops. Only you move."
She turned back, voice low but precise, as though explaining an equation.
> "But you can't stay there for long if you choose the second path until you master it. Every second time is frozen ,you are continuously stopping time, draining your mana.
Seraphina demonstrated it then let the air resume; the sound of wind and rustling leaves came crashing back.
> "The trick is control. Don't force it. Feel the flow of time in your veins, and when you exhale… cut it. A clean break. No hesitation."
Well it's not like you have any problem with control. It should be completed by the Conflux of Crowns but it would be useless against Rin because he already adapted to it without his knowledge
She walked past the student, her presence like the manifestation of invulnerable cold.
> "If you can stay calm when the world stands still, you'll understand. Time isn't something you escape — it's something you unhook from."
Seraphina paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.
> "Remember this: when time is frozen, you're not a god. You're a trespasser. The longer you linger, the faster the universe notices you don't belong."
Rose extended a hand.
A droplet quivered, froze mid-fall, refracting her reflection infinitely.
Sweat traced her temple.
The droplet shattered—and the air resumed.
She tried again.
Once, twice, fifty times—until finally after a day, everything paused at her will.
The world went utterly silent.
Seraphina nodded, approval hidden behind her calm expression.
> "Good. Now move inside it."
Rose stepped through the stillness, eyes glowing pale blue.
The first step of temporal mastery was hers.
---
Weeks Later…
Time folded softly in Sylvanyr; days became weeks.
The city thrummed with renewed energy—researchers analyzing fragments of the erased realm, warriors rebuilding defense sigils, artisans crafting new mana-tech from salvaged petals.
Rin practiced in the outer fields, his movements now effortless; his sword an extension of his heart, not his hand.
Rose could stop the fall of snow itself and walk through the frozen moment like a ghost of serenity.
Above them, the Queen and the World Tree observed quietly.
Peace held—but the Conflux of Crowns was at their doorstep.
---
One evening, the sky changed again—this time not with chaos, but with precision.
A spiral of light carved itself open above the capital.
Inside, stars moved in mechanical rhythm, and from that corridor descended a futuristic vessel—sleek, silver, inscribed with dimensional runes.
Its engines hummed with compressed galaxies.
Mana-billboards across the city displayed new text:
> [Notice // Conflux of Crowns Summons Issued]
Eligible Representatives: Rin Sylvanyr, Rose Sylvanyr, Caelum Frostveil, Coelion Sylvanyr and 16 others. Departure Approved.]
The vessel hovered above the palace, lowering crystalline bridges of light to the courtyard.
Sylvanyr's petals drifted across the scene like confetti of dawn.
---
Rin adjusted the strap of his travel coat; Rose stood beside him, hair braided back, calm but restless.
Seraphina handed them each a card with the crest of Sylvanyr on it, to be used as their VIP card while at the land of the dark elves and as their ticket for the Conflux of Crowns.
> "The Conflux is not a tournament," Seraphina said. "It's a test of nations. Remember what you carry."
"The name," Rin and Rose replied in unison.
"And the will," Seraphina finished.
Sylvanyr's voice echoed softly, both everywhere and inside them.
> "Then go, heirs of the Bloom and the Frost. Let the other realms see what perfection looks like."
They stepped onto the bridge; light enveloped them.
The vessel's engines flared, petals scattering into the wind as the ship ascended toward the open rift.
From the streets below, citizens paused to watch the glowing trail carve across the sky.
Some raised their glasses; others placed petals on their balconies.
No tears. No worship. Only pride.
---
As the portal sealed behind them, the sky returned to calm.
In the hush that followed, Sylvanyr's voice lingered like the promise of a new legend.
> "The crowns await."