---
The Everfrost training arena stood vast and cold, ringed with ancient runestones that whispered echoes of battles long past. Snow danced through the air, but today it was not stillness that reigned — it was tension.
Kalen stood with his spear slung across his back. Now fourteen, his frame had lengthened with training, lean muscle built by hardship. A red cloth tied around his wrist — a reminder of his blood, and a promise to never forget where he came from.
Today, he was to meet his team. They were not novices. Each had earned the mark of Three-Stars — warriors or mages already considered deadly by most.
He had heard their names in passing.
He did not expect the clash that followed.
---
First was Daren Velstane, a tall boy with sandy-blond hair and storm-gray eyes. His posture screamed nobility, and his coat bore the crimson crest of House Velstane — a southern Aura-born house famous for its swordmasters.
A greatsword rested across his back, as broad as a door plank.
> "So… you're the Red King's spawn," Daren said, voice cool. "Or are we still pretending you're just a soldier like the rest of us?"
Kalen didn't respond. He simply met his gaze — quiet, unyielding.
---
Next came Kaelith Runeweaver, a young mage wrapped in sapphire robes stitched with flickering runes. His hair was white, not with age, but a side effect of mana overexposure — a mark of brilliance or recklessness. He moved with sharp precision, and his eyes were pale blue, almost colorless.
> "Blood magic, aura training, and still not dead? Impressive," Kaelith said with a smirk. "Let's hope you last longer than my last team."
He spun a crystal orb lazily in one hand, its surface occasionally flashing with arcane symbols.
---
Finally, she arrived: Vira Stonehart, a warrior from the mountains. She was shorter than the others, but compact and powerful, with raven-black braids and eyes the color of coal. Her left shoulder bore a tattoo of a howling wolf — the mark of the Ironclad tribes.
She said nothing at first. Simply studied Kalen with the same look one might give a predator — cautious, but not afraid.
> "You lead?" she asked bluntly. "Or do we fight for it?"
Kalen glanced between them.
> "We fight."
---
The Duel for Command
The arena cleared. A ring of older captains and instructors formed a loose boundary. The rules were set: No killing. First to yield or be disarmed loses. Last one standing leads the team.
Snow crunched underfoot.
Then the battle began.
---
Kaelith struck first, unleashing a burst of mana from his orb. Arcing tendrils of lightning forked toward Kalen, who rolled low and countered with a spear-thrust aimed at Kaelith's thigh. Kaelith blinked away just in time — teleportation magic.
Daren entered like a boulder crashing downhill. His greatsword came down in wide, punishing arcs, keeping both Kaelith and Kalen on edge. Every swing split the snow and rang like a bell of war.
Vira danced between them, fast and fierce. Her twin axes moved like extensions of her will. She carved a path toward Kaelith and knocked the mage flat with a shoulder slam, forcing him to shield up in desperation.
Then she turned on Kalen.
Their weapons clashed — axe to spear — the sound sharp, clean.
> "You're strong," she said between strikes. "But strength isn't command."
> "No," Kalen said, parrying, "but resolve is."
And he pushed forward, his spear blurring with red afterimages — hints of blood magic woven into his strikes. He didn't overwhelm her, but he matched her. And then—
Daren returned, roaring, charging through them both.
Kaelith struck again, flames blooming from the earth, forcing the trio apart.
They fought for what felt like an hour. Exhaustion set in. Cuts appeared. Sweat mixed with frost.
In the end—
Kaelith lay unconscious, drained.
Daren fell to one knee, weapon broken.
Vira stood, barely — until Kalen swept her leg and caught her axe mid-fall.
She blinked up at him.
> "Finish it."
Kalen stepped back instead and offered her a hand.
> "No. We fight together from now on."
Vira stared — then smirked.
> "Then lead us, spear-blood."
---
Later That Night
The team gathered around a fire inside the barracks. No words of resentment, only shared fatigue. A strange bond had begun to form — not friendship yet, but mutual weight carried.
Kalen excused himself for air.
That's when he saw her.
---
Alyen'tra.
She stood near the frozen fountain, snowflakes dancing through her moonlight hair. Tall for her age — fifteen — with elven grace in every motion. Her cloak was pale blue, trimmed in silver. Her eyes, however, held an ancient sadness.
> "You fought well," she said, not turning.
> "You watched?"
> "I see many things."
Kalen approached. He felt something from her — not just magic, but presence. A whisper on the edge of silence.
> "You're not just a student here," he said.
She finally turned. Her pupils glowed faintly in the dark.
> "No. I am Alyen'tra of the Starlit Vale."
A pause.
> "And daughter… of the Sleeping Saint."
Kalen's breath caught.
The Sleeping Saint — the living myth. A warrior-mage who saved the realm a century ago, and now rested in eternal stasis beneath the Skycrypt Temple, kept alive by Divine Will.
> "But he's…" Kalen began.
> "Sleeping. Yes. And if he wakes… the world tree will hum in Harmonie."
She stepped closer, voice low and clear.
> "I joined this Academy to find strength. Because soon, something will try to wake him. Something ancient. I need allies before that day comes."
She met Kalen's eyes.
> "You carry a storm in your blood, Kalen. I see it. And I don't think you were born just to fight monsters."
> "No," Kalen said. "I was born to change them."
Their eyes held — not trust yet, but recognition.
Two heirs of different legacies, destined to collide with the sleeping past.
---
And in the deep, where forgotten stars burn… a dream stirs.
And it remembers the name Red King.
---
-The next day
Deep beneath the Silver Cathedral, where no sunlight reached, a silent gathering took place. The walls of the sanctum were lined with golden runes and relics forged before history had names.
At the head of the long obsidian table sat High Cardinal Salvoran, his face like a statue carved from ivory. Around him were twelve robed figures—each a master of Divine Power, each sworn not to gods, but to the Balance.
"The Silent Knight has returned," Salvoran said.
A parchment sealed in bone lay on the table, its contents burned into the minds of the gathered few.
"The child is real," murmured one. "The prophecy breathes."
"His powers are growing," said another. "Blood and blade both."
Salvoran's hand tightened on his staff.
"We have lived through ages of kings, tyrants, and saints. But this… this Red King is none of those. He is freedom, and freedom is the enemy of order."
A pause.
"Can he be turned?"
"No one controls blood," a priestess whispered. "It answers only to itself."
"Then we shape the world around him," Salvoran decided, "until either the boy kneels… or is buried."
The candles flickered unnaturally.
And the Divine Order began to move.
---
Far to the north, in the crystalline halls of Everfrost's Grand Library, Kalen sat with his tutor, Annabell.
Books floated through the air, glowing slightly. A thin sheet of red shimmer pulsed around Kalen's fingertips — a result of his earlier blood manipulation training.
"You must learn more than magic," Annabell said, brushing silver hair behind her ear. "You must learn context. Power without understanding is a curse."
She gestured to a massive map, unfurled across the icy wall.
"There are places even empires dare not tread."
She tapped four blood-red marks etched onto the continents.
1. The Time-Frozen Continent (West)
"No ships sail west anymore," she said. "The Time-Frozen Continent lies beyond the Shattered Sea. Time there is broken — some say it moves backward, others forward. No one returns."
"Not even memories," she added softly.
2. The Cursed Lands of Dawn and Twilight (South)
"These lands once belonged to a great kingdom, now only bones and silence remain."
"The dead do not sleep. They walk, bound by forgotten rituals and hatred. Even mana flows wrong there—tainted, twisted."
Kalen shivered. Not from cold.
"That land remembers betrayal," Annabell whispered. "And it does not forgive."
3. The Abyss (Central South)
"A crater that stretches deeper than any ocean," she said. "Sunlight never reaches it. No trees grow. No birds fly."
"Only monsters live there… and worse. Creatures that defy names."
Kalen's blood pulsed strangely at the mention of it. Something deep inside stirred.
4. The Dragon Kingdom (East)
"The only 'natural' danger zone," Annabell said. "The dragons made a pact centuries ago. No kingdoms, no roads, no settlements."
"It is a kingdom only in the way storms are kingdoms—untouched, but watching."
Kalen tilted his head.
"Do they speak?"
"Yes. And when they do… the world listens."
Annabell folded the map away, her expression unusually serious.
"You will grow strong, Kalen. But there are things in this world older and deeper than strength."
She met his gaze.
"One day, you may need to step into these places. When that day comes, you must know who you are—or you'll be swallowed whole."
Kalen nodded, slowly.
"I won't forget."