The great hall of the Ashton Imperial Gathering gleamed beneath chandeliers of white crystal.

Banners of gold and obsidian hung along the marble walls — the Imperial Falcon, the Spire Emblem, the Silver Guard’s crossed swords.

A long crescent table stretched through the center, surrounded by knights, professors, and commanders of the realm.

And standing at its head was Iris Valeheart.

Black hair fell past her shoulders, catching the chandelier light in sharp threads. Violet eyes swept the table.

A Vanguard, one of the rare few who had pushed past what human limits were supposed to allow. She raised one gloved hand slightly.

The chatter died instantly.

"Well then." Her voice carried without needing volume behind it. "If everyone’s present, shall we begin?"

A knight near the far end rose. Golden armor caught the light as he bowed his head respectfully.

"Lady Iris. The Dranox surge has grown far worse than projected." His voice tightened with each sentence. "They’re no longer confined to the dungeons. Sightings near villages. Along merchant routes. Civilians injured and, in some regions, entire caravans simply gone."

The word Dranox rippled down the table like a current.

"The worst outbreak is centered on Molgrith." He kept going. "Their borders are unstable, spawning faster than the Spire can contain. If this continues, the infestation crosses into neighboring lands. Including ours."

Iris’s tone stayed level. "Everyone here is already aware of the attacks. What are you proposing?"

Before he could answer, another voice cut in smoothly.

"Lady Iris." Alaric Fenlor rose, pale green hair falling neatly against polished armor, golden eyes meeting hers without hesitation. "What he means is this — reports come in from the border towns, but no response teams follow them. Villages burn for days before reinforcements arrive. We cannot keep depending solely on Spire mages. We need a dedicated strike unit stationed permanently near the hot zones."

Cedric, seated near the middle of the table, allowed himself a small private smile.

’Still the same Alaric. Sharp as ever. Always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room.’

They’d come up together — same mentors, same battlefields, the same exhausted years of training that either broke people or made them.

Back then, Alaric had been the one who’d talked Cedric down more than once. That same steady sense of duty was still sitting right behind his eyes now, completely unchanged.

"I agree with Knight Alaric." Professor Ardyn Merel stood next, violet hair flowing behind a long black coat marked with the Spire’s crest, pearl eyes sharp with academic precision.

"The Mage Department is already tracking the corrupted mana source fueling the Dranox. Isolate that source, and we suppress the breeding directly. Containment buys the knight regiments time to prepare properly."

Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly. "With respect, Professor — your mages are capable. But these Dranox aren’t behaving the way they used to. They’ve adapted, I’ve seen the field reports myself — some are absorbing residual mana from fallen Spires and just getting stronger. If we rely only on containment, we lose entire provinces before a single kingdom is stabilized."

The tension at the table thickened. It was almost something you could taste.

Ardyn folded her arms. "Then what exactly are you proposing, Knight Fenlor?"

"A new unit." Alaric didn’t waver. "Formed under the Imperial Order. Combining Knights and mages, a division built solely for Dranox elimination and investigation. No bureaucracy slowing it down."

Murmurs of agreement moved through the room.

Caden Varrin rose next, blue hair falling to his shoulders, black eyes hard as forged steel. "I agree with Alaric. This was never about whether we can act. It’s about how fast. Every hour we spend debating is another village burning while we talk."

"For tha—" Iris began.

"What would be the meaning of this?"

A deep voice cut across the hall from the far end. Every head turned.

"Are you saying," a fellow mage continued, "the Dravetians are doing this deliberately. Do they intend a war?"

A chill moved through the room.

Dravetian.

A name carrying centuries of dread behind it.

Long before the First Empire, before anything most people in this room would call history, there had been a war that nearly split the world apart. The Ancient War. Humans against the Dravetians. Kingdoms scorched to dust. Continents drowned in fire and blood.

Ten million lives lost in a war so total that entire cities became mana graves where, even now, the land was said to still whisper.

The Dravetians had once been kin to humanity — until they turned their hatred toward mankind into something absolute and permanent.

Every person at the table felt that memory pressing somewhere at the back of their mind.

"Those days should have stayed buried," he said, voice gone cold. "If the Dranox surge is a sign of their return—"

Iris moved before he finished.

Tap.

Her gloved finger struck the table once.

"That," she said, "is not what’s happening here."

Her violet eyes moved across the council.

"Even the Dreveanth remember how that war ended. They know the outcome as well as we do. And unlike then, we are no longer the fragile species they once preyed on."

She leaned forward slightly.

"Humanity stands under the protection of the Celestials now. Even if the Dreveanth were reckless enough to try again, they would not survive the attempt."

The mention of the Celestials — divine guardians, beings said to exist beyond what mortal minds. It moved through the room differently than anything before it. Several knights bowed their heads slightly.

Iris’s gaze shifted to the far corner of the hall.

"Director Thorne." A small pause. "You look like you have something to say."

An elderly man at the table’s edge lifted his head, adjusting a pair of round spectacles with a faint, unhurried smile. White hair, soft yellow eyes that held the dim, steady glow of embers.

Darius Thorne, Director of the Astern Empire’s top institution: Nexus Academy. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Ahem." He rose slowly. "Forgive my silence. I didn’t wish to interrupt such passionate discussion."

His tone shifted, gaining a quiet certainty.

"However, Lady Iris — while urgency is certainly warranted here, I believe we’re overlooking a significant advantage."

Several brows pulled together around the table.

"Advantage?" Caden asked.

Thorne’s eyes gleamed faintly behind his spectacles. "Yes. The next generation."

Caden’s frown deepened. "With respect, Director — they’re students. Children."

Thorne only chuckled. "Children. You might be surprised."

His gaze moved slowly across the table, taking in every knight and professor seated there in turn.

"Nexus Academy’s upcoming class is unlike anything we’ve seen in generations. Their mana resonance reads exponentially higher than expected for their age. Their precision with arcane manipulation is frankly unsettling to witness in someone so young." A brief pause. "And I don’t believe this is coincidence."

He let the silence stretch.

The kind of silence that makes hearts beat a little faster waiting for what comes after it.

"I believe something or someone is coming. Someone who will become the one to finally bring peace to all of this." His eyes swept the table once more. "Perhaps the world’s balance is preparing to shift again."

A faint unease moved through the council like a draft finding its way under a door.

Thorne’s voice rose just slightly, carrying the quiet conviction of a man who had spent decades being right about things nobody wanted to hear yet. "Within two years — perhaps three — the academies will be overflowing with prodigies. Heirs of the Royal Houses. Descendants of the old houses. And some," his gaze flickered, distant for half a second, "with lineages none of us can properly identify yet. I can already sense their mana from here."

He set one hand flat against the table, and the smile that followed was small and entirely unreadable.

"And when that day comes... the world may no longer need old knights and scholars like us."

The hall went completely silent.