A week had passed since the survivors of the Forbidden Island expedition returned to Atlantis.
One week of forced rest, quiet days, and restless nights — the kind where sleep came only through exhaustion, never peace.
This morning, Adlet and Polo walked side by side up the main road toward the palace. The city was unusually silent for such a bright hour. Shops were open, but merchants barely called out. Workers paused to watch the procession of Protectors ahead of them. Heads bowed, whispers trailing behind:
"Survivors…"
"Bless them…"
"Only twenty-eight…"
Even the sea breeze favored restraint, pulling softly at uniforms freshly issued by the guild. No weapons. No armor. Nothing to remind them of the nightmares they had crawled away from.
This was not a gathering for celebration.
It was a judgment of reality.
The palace plaza opened before them. Sturdy marble pillars framed an elevated dais where the Lord of Atlantis awaited them — Varyn Neraid, cloak heavy, expression heavier. Guards in ceremonial armor flanked him like statues.
Behind the throne, a great object stood tall, hidden beneath navy cloth.
Its silhouette alone seemed to weigh upon the crowd.
Adlet took his place among the twenty-eight. The exact count didn't need to be announced — it was carved into their bones. The absence of their companions echoed louder than any number spoken aloud.
The atmosphere tightened as Lord Varyn finally stepped forward.
"Protectors of Atlantis…" His strong voice bore a tremor beneath. "You survived an ordeal no citizen of this kingdom will ever forget."
Adlet swallowed. His mind flashed —
Splintered wood.
Black water.
Tentacles thicker than towers.
The crushing weight of a Rank 6 presence lurking beneath the waves.
They had endured what others couldn't imagine — or hadn't survived to tell.
"We sent eighty-one brave souls to face a threat no Protector should ever have to confront," Lord Varyn declared. "Eighty-one who answered the call without hesitation."
He paused. He didn't need to say the rest.
Fifty-three.
Fifty-three lives swallowed by the sea.
"This is the greatest loss Atlantis has suffered in centuries."
A shiver ran across the crowd. Shoulders straightened. Eyes hardened. Breath held.
"But you…"
His voice rose and sharpened.
"You are the proof that even the deepest abyss cannot drown our resolve."
He nodded to the guards.
The cloth fell.
Gasps broke the silence.
A stone monument stood revealed — polished obsidian carved into a single towering slab. Fifty-three names gleamed upon it, highlighted by a soft azure glow.
Adlet felt something tighten in his chest.
He didn't know their names or their stories…
but each one of them had dreamed the same dream he did.
And now they would never see it fulfilled.
Lord Varyn pressed his hand flat against the stone.
"They sacrificed their lives so ours could continue. Their bravery must be remembered — their courage, never wasted."
He turned back toward the survivors — toward the future.
"Apexes rise. Threats evolve. Yet Atlantis stands. We have endured countless dangers across generations — from the mountains, from the forests, from the very sea that sustains us."
He raised his fist.
"And we will endure again. We will honor the fallen not in grief — but in strength."
He drew a deep breath, voice filling the air like a rallying war-cry.
"For Atlantis!"
The plaza erupted:
"For Atlantis!"
Adlet shouted as well, but for him, the roar came not from his throat — but from his heart.
He would grow stronger. For the dead. For the living. For the dream that had burned inside him since he was old enough to understand those Stars carved in stone.
The ceremony dissolved into tense quietude. Survivors slunk into small groups — voices hushed, emotions raw.
Adlet and Polo approached Linoa and Lucien near the base of the monument.
Linoa's gaze lingered on the carved names, her voice barely above a whisper.
"They all had a path ahead of them… and it ended here."
Polo nodded. "Doesn't it make you want to push harder? To make their sacrifice mean something?"
She glanced at him — a spark of resolve flickering beneath the grief.
"It does. More than ever."
Her fingers curled slightly at her side, as if gripping something unseen — something powerful she wasn't yet able to call forth.
"I've finally awakened my Guardian… but I'm nowhere near ready to wield its full strength."
She drew a slow breath, steadying herself.
"I'll be leaving soon. Training somewhere new — wherever I must go. If I want even a chance at joining Aegis next year… I have no time to waste."
There was no bravado in her tone — only resolve.
Adlet nodded, a spark of admiration igniting in his chest. "You'll get there."
She smiled — tired but genuine. "And you two? Where do you go from here?"
Adlet's confidence returned like a tide.
"We're aiming for the Master Protector tournament. Four months from now."
He squared his shoulders as he said it — not a boast, but a declared trajectory.
Polo nodded in support, quietly proud.
Lucien stepped in. The knight's voice was low — yet carried more weight than any shout.
"It's time we part ways," he announced. "On the Island, protecting her was my duty. But a Protector must learn to stand alone, and Linoa… has all she needs now."
Linoa's composure wavered — not in fear, but in tenderness.
Goodbye had become a too-familiar word lately.
Adlet offered a faint smirk — the kind that masked ache with confidence.
"When we meet again… let's all be stronger."
The four exchanged a final look — survivors bound by a battle no one else could ever understand.
Then they parted ways.
There was one last farewell to make.
Inside Niccolo's trading office, papers and crates sprawled everywhere — chaos that somehow represented comfort.
Niccolo looked up, eyes widening with recognition… then softening with emotion.
"You're already leaving," he said quietly.
Adlet nodded.
"I wanted to thank you properly. You gave me work, a path forward… a chance I never would've had without you."
Niccolo huffed, trying to hide the way his jaw tightened.
"All I did was offer you a place on the crew. You're the one who turned it into something remarkable."
He paused, then glanced at Polo with a mix of pride and mock annoyance.
"And you—don't think I'm letting you run wild forever. You will be back once that tournament nonsense is over."
Polo smirked. "Of course. Someone has to keep your books balanced."
Niccolo stepped closer, expression wavering between a smile and worry.
"You two better come back in one piece. My company needs heroes to brag about… and I'm not losing either of you."
Polo laughed, clapping his father on the shoulder.
Adlet, more reserved, bowed his head respectfully.
"You'll see us again," Polo promised.
Adlet added, softer but certain: "And stronger than ever."
Niccolo choked a laugh. "That's what I'm afraid of."
They stepped out together — two paths side by side, for now.
Dawn broke over the port the next day — pale gold reflecting over the hulls of merchant ships.
Seagulls circled high, as if escorting the survivors away from their nightmares.
The boys stood at the bow of a small cargo vessel — belonging to Niccolo, of course.
With a final push from the dockworkers, the ship drifted out toward open waters.
"After we win the tournament," Adlet said, crossing his arms confidently, "I'll head to the Horus Desert. The last dangerous frontier."
Polo shook his head, amused.
"You always aim for what's harshest. As for me…"
He spread his hands toward the sea.
"I'm a man of trade. I flourish where business flows and ports thrive. The desert offers none of that — no ships, no markets, no city lights."
Adlet chuckled. "So… nothing to trade with but heat and emptiness?"
Polo gave a wise shrug. "No profit."
Adlet's grin widened. "We've said far too many goodbyes lately. After the tournament… let's make sure we can say 'see you soon' instead."
Polo's answering smile held unshakable brotherhood.
"Agreed."
Metal clanked. Chains rattled. A great structure loomed ahead — a colossal barrier spanning the river's mouth. Layered nets forged from thick steel links.
Polo gestured proudly.
"Protective measure. Stops Apex sea beasts from entering inland waterways."
Adlet hummed, impressed.
"Our ingenuity might be humanity's greatest Guardian."
Polo beamed. "Exactly why I love inventions."
The gates sank beneath the waves, granting passage.
The ship glided into the Silk River — a new world stretching before them.
Weeks passed — training filling each spare moment.
Adlet tested the Black Scarab's explosive force.
Control. Precision. Power.
Each passed day forged him closer to who he vowed to become.
Until one day…
"Look!"
Polo's shout jolted Adlet awake.
He stumbled to the deck — blinked — and his breath vanished.
At the end of the Silk River, under the glow of the Stars embedded in the vault…
the colossal skyline of Tray rose against the stone sky.
Bridges wide enough for armies. Towers crowned with banners. Walls carved with ancient symbols — proud, unyielding.
Tray.
The beating heart of civilization.
Adlet's pulse thundered.
"This…" He whispered, voice trembling with anticipation.
"…is where we rise."
The wind pushed the ship forward — toward ambition, toward destiny.
Toward the next chapter of their ascent.