The sky over Viremont burned crimson the night Kael Ardent turned twenty-one.
It was not a sunset. It was an omen.
The clouds spiraled unnaturally above the obsidian towers of the Citadel, twisting as though an unseen hand stirred the heavens with a cosmic rod. Lightning flickered without thunder. The air smelled of iron and rain though the ground remained dry.
Kael stood alone on the balcony of his father's abandoned observatory, staring at the phenomenon with a calm he did not feel.
He had been waiting for this.
For centuries, the legend of The Century Treasure had haunted the kingdoms of Elyndor. It was said that once every hundred years, when the Blood Star aligned with the Ashen Moon, a hidden relic would reveal itself to one worthy bearer. That relic was no mere object. It was power condensed — ancient magic crystallized into a core said to amplify any spell beyond mortal limitations.
Men had slaughtered nations seeking it.
Kings had fallen for it.
Entire bloodlines had vanished chasing its whisper.
Kael's father had been one of them.
And tonight marked exactly one hundred years since the last awakening.
Inside the observatory, ancient brass instruments gleamed under candlelight. Star charts lined the circular walls. In the center of the chamber, carved into black stone, was a sigil no one in the kingdom could decipher.
Except Kael.
He traced its grooves with his fingers and murmured quietly:
"Formula One: Ignis Aeternum."
The sigil glowed faintly.
Magic in Elyndor was not chaos. It was mathematics. A structure. A formula. Every spell required three components ,Essence – the elemental source ,Catalyst – the emotional or physical trigger and Equation – the precise incantation that binds them
Without balance, magic devoured the caster.
Kael had learned that the hard way.
Years ago, when bandits attacked his village, he had instinctively triggered a dormant spark within him. Fire erupted from his hands — uncontrolled, monstrous — and half the forest burned before he collapsed. His father had covered the truth, claiming it was lightning.
But his father knew.
The Ardent bloodline carried something ancient. Something tied to the Century Treasure itself.
Kael inhaled slowly and adjusted the stone plates around the sigil. He placed three objects at equidistant points:
A vial of his own blood.
A shard of meteorite crystal.
A feather from a night gryphon.
He whispered the second equation.
"Essentia ignis + sanguis vitae + caelum fragmentum = Porta Revelare."
The air vibrated.
Symbols ignited across the chamber floor. The star charts began rotating on their own, gears clanking in impossible synchronization. Outside, the crimson sky brightened.
Then a voice echoed through the chamber.
"Foolish heir."
Kael froze.
From the shadows near the stairwell emerged a tall figure cloaked in silver armor etched with runic veins. His eyes shimmered like liquid mercury.
Kael recognized him instantly.
The Silver Dominion.
Specifically — one of their elite enforcers.
"Lord Valerius," Kael said evenly.
Lord Valerius stepped forward, boots silent against stone.
"You think you can awaken it alone?" Valerius asked. "The Dominion has guarded the prophecy for generations. The Treasure belongs to order — not reckless bloodlines."
Kael's jaw tightened. "My father died protecting knowledge from your 'order.'"
Valerius smirked faintly. "Your father died because he miscalculated the Formula of Ascension."
That struck deeper than a blade.
The Formula of Ascension — an advanced equation rumored to amplify a mage's lifespan beyond a century. It required astronomical alignment and perfect elemental balance. If disrupted, it shattered the caster's life force.
Kael had always suspected.
He had never known.
Valerius extended his hand. Silver threads of magic coiled around his fingers.
"Formula: Argentum Vinculum."
Chains of shimmering energy erupted from the floor, racing toward Kael.
Kael reacted instantly.
"Formula Three: Pyroclast Barrier!"
He slammed his palm into the central sigil. Fire surged outward in a spiraling wall, vaporizing two of the chains. The remaining silver threads pierced through, grazing his shoulder.
Pain exploded.
Silver magic was anti-elemental — it suppressed natural forces. Kael staggered but forced his mind into calculation.
Essence- Fire.
Catalyst- Pain.
Equation- Compression.
He gritted his teeth.
"Ignis compressum!"
The flames condensed into a spear of molten light and shot toward Valerius. The enforcer raised a palm and whispered another equation.
The spear shattered mid-air.
Valerius tilted his head. "You are talented. But raw talent without control is self-destruction."
Kael's gaze flickered to the meteorite shard on the floor.
Celestial fragments amplified alignment-based magic.
If he could complete the awakening sequence before Valerius suppressed him—
He rolled sideways as silver blades formed in the air where he had stood.
Valerius stepped closer. "The Treasure awakens only to a balanced soul. You burn with vengeance. That disqualifies you."
Kael wiped blood from his lip.
"Then let's test the equation."
He slammed his bleeding hand onto the meteorite shard.
"Formula Four: Sanguis Stellaris."
The shard absorbed his blood and erupted with cosmic light. The ceiling split open, revealing the crimson sky swirling violently above. The Blood Star aligned directly overhead.
The sigil beneath them roared alive.
Wind howled through the observatory. Valerius's silver aura flickered for the first time.
"No," the enforcer whispered.
A column of red and gold light descended from the heavens and enveloped Kael.
In that instant, he saw visions.
Ancient wars.
A colossal dragon made of void and flame.
A sealed vault beneath the ocean.
And at its center — a crystalline heart pulsing like a star.
The Century Treasure.
A voice echoed within his mind.
"Heir of Ardent. To claim the Treasure, solve the Final Formula."
Kael gasped as knowledge flooded him — fragments of an incomplete equation. Symbols burned behind his eyelids.
Valerius lunged, desperate now.
But the light repelled him.
The sigil cracked. The chamber trembled. Stone began collapsing.
Kael fell to one knee, overwhelmed by raw celestial magic surging through his veins. He understood now — the Treasure was not a physical object waiting to be found.
It was scattered.
Split into fragments across Elyndor.
Each fragment encoded with a piece of the Final Formula.
Whoever assembled and solved it would command power beyond empires.
The light vanished.
Silence followed.
The observatory lay in ruins.
Valerius stood several meters away, armor cracked, breathing hard.
Kael rose slowly.
His eyes now glowed faintly crimson.
A new sigil pulsed on the back of his hand — a star within a circle.
Valerius stared at it in disbelief.
"You've been marked."
Kael flexed his fingers. He felt different — stronger, but unstable. The magic within him felt like a storm barely chained.
"The fragments," Kael said quietly. "Where are they?"
Valerius said nothing.
Outside, horns echoed through the city. Dominion soldiers were approaching.
Valerius straightened. "The hunt has begun, Ardent. The other factions will sense your awakening. The Obsidian Covenant. The Sea Wraiths. The Ember Throne."
He turned toward the shattered stairwell.
"You will not survive them."
Kael's voice cut through the dust-filled air.
"I don't need to survive them."
Flames danced faintly around his fingertips.
"I just need to outcalculate them."
Valerius vanished in a shimmer of silver light.
Kael stepped to the broken edge of the observatory and looked at the kingdom below.
Somewhere beyond the mountains, oceans, and forbidden ruins lay the scattered fragments of the Century Treasure.
And now the world knew he was chosen.
He clenched his glowing hand and whispered to himself:
"Final Formula… what are you hiding?"
Above him, the Blood Star dimmed.
But far beneath the ocean's abyss, something ancient stirred — awakened by the same alignment.
The game of centuries had begun again.
And Kael Ardent was no longer merely a mage.
He was a variable in an equation older than civilization.