The night was long and cold, but Nova welcomed the silence. The world beyond Silvercrest was different — untouched, ancient, and wild. Moonlight filtered through the trees, glinting off his blade as he walked. Every breath came out in soft clouds of frost.
He'd left the Academy without ceremony. No one saw him go, save for Sorra, whose eyes had lingered at the gate long after he disappeared into the mist.
Now, alone in the vastness of Terra's wild lands, Nova could feel the weight of what was coming. The corruption spreading through the royal crest… the forges linked to his family's downfall… it all pointed toward something larger. Something waiting for him.
And he wasn't going to face it unprepared.
He stopped by an old riverside clearing, one the map marked as a former trade camp. Only fragments of wagons and broken tools remained. Nova drew a circle in the dirt with the tip of his sword, sat cross-legged within it, and exhaled slowly.
"Creation begins with intent," he murmured. "And intent begins with purpose."
He extended his hand. The sigil of Total Creation burned faintly in his palm, silver threads spiraling outward like molten light.
First, he forged Silent Step — a skill to erase his movement, to blend into shadow and sound alike. The moment he finished shaping it, the air around him seemed to still. His heartbeat slowed, his body moving with the rhythm of the night itself.
"Good. One."
Then came Healing Magic — light, pure and warm, drawn from his own life force. He imagined his father's forge, the heat that mended broken steel, and wove that same essence into a spell of restoration. The air shimmered softly, and for the first time, he felt the faint glow of serenity within the storm of his mana.
"Two."
The last was Triple Strike, a technique of power and precision. He envisioned the hammer's rhythm — strike, recoil, strike again, faster each time — and the forge answered.
"Three."
When he opened his eyes, the sigil on his hand pulsed brighter than ever. Lightning flickered briefly between his fingers, responding to the energy he'd awakened earlier that day.
"Silent Step. Healing Magic. Triple Strike. Lightning."
His voice was low, resolute. "That should be enough."
But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be. Not for long.
At Silvercrest Academy
Far from the wilderness, the morning sun rose over Silvercrest, gilding the towers in soft amber light. Sorra stood at the center of the training arena, her breath steady as she prepared for her next test.
The Academy's midyear duels had begun — contests of skill and growth meant to test each student's progress. Her opponent was an upperclassman with mastery over earth magic and brute strength.
Nico Lunar stood at the edge of the field, watching silently. He'd seen Sorra train for months, seen the quiet fire in her that reminded him so much of Nova.
"Begin!"
The call echoed, and Sorra moved.
Wind exploded beneath her feet as she activated Wind Boost, closing the distance in a flash. Her blade clashed with her opponent's shield, sparks erupting with each strike. She pivoted, summoning Inferno Cage — flames spiraling outward in a deadly arc.
The crowd gasped, the arena shaking with heat and power.
But the earth mage countered, slamming his palm to the ground. Pillars of stone surged upward, blocking her attack and forcing her back. Sorra's boots skidded across the dirt, eyes narrowing.
Then she smiled.
"Let's finish this."
She raised her hand, crimson energy swirling around her wrist. Blood Spear formed, humming with power. She hurled it through the barrier — shattering the stone and striking her opponent's shoulder in an eruption of scarlet light.
The battle ended with stunned silence.
Then, cheers erupted across the arena.
Sorra stood breathing hard, sweat dripping from her brow, but her smile was fierce. For a moment, she looked toward the horizon — toward the wild lands where she knew Nova walked.
You'd better be proud, big brother.
The Road to the Forgotten Forge
Nova's path led him through storm-swept valleys and over ridges scarred by old wars. The deeper he went, the more the air thickened — heavy with the scent of iron and the faint echo of magic long dead.
By the second night, rain began to fall. Lightning flashed in the distance, casting ghostly shadows over the ruins ahead.
Nova stopped at the edge of a cliff, his cloak whipping in the wind. Far below, nestled in a ravine, he saw it — the Old Crown Forge, its massive gates cracked but still intact.
The rain hissed around him, thunder rolling in the distance.
"So this is where it began," he whispered.
He descended the rocky path, one silent step after another, until the gates loomed before him. He laid a hand on the cold metal, and for a moment, it pulsed — faintly responding to the blood of House Grey.
His eyes darkened.
"Let's see what secrets you buried, Father."
Lightning split the sky above him as the doors groaned open.
And the storm began.