Thirty minutes earlier.
The chamber of the Pyro Archons was steeped in a living warmth.
Braziers carved from obsidian burned with steady, disciplined flames, their light reflecting off relics that lined the walls—ceremonial weapons, cracked helms, scorched banners, and sun-marked totems left behind by former Pyro Archons and legendary heroes of Natlan. Each artifact carried scars of battle, echoing victories and sacrifices long past. The air smelled faintly of ash, iron, and incense—an unmistakable scent of history and fire.
At the center of the room stood Mavuika.
She had been reviewing an ancient sun-engraved tablet when hurried footsteps approached the door.
The heavy stone door opened.
A Natlan guard entered, breath uneven, armor still warm from running.
"Archon," he said, bowing deeply despite his haste, "the territory of the Onasa of Spring was attacked by Abyss forces."
Mavuika lifted her gaze calmly.
"The Abyss presence was strong," the guard continued, voice tight, "but the creatures have been eliminated. According to reports from the tribe, casualties are minimal—only a few injured."
He paused, then added with clear emphasis:
"There was… a strange young man. He appeared suddenly and defeated all the powerful Abyss creatures himself. Despite being wounded—his shoulder fractured—it did not slow him down. The Abyss wave was vast in number, but only twelve were high-tier entities. He handled them alone and left the weaker ones to the warriors."
Silence settled.
Mavuika's lips curved—just slightly.
A strange young man…
Her red eyes softened with recognition as a thought crossed her mind.
Could it be… the Son of the Moon?
We were close to the lands of the Spring tribe when we spoke.
She looked back at the guard, her posture straightening as she rose to her feet.
Her voice was warm—but carried the authority of the Sun of Natlan.
"Ensure all the wounded are treated immediately," she said.
"And see to the injured shoulder of that young man as well."
Her gaze sharpened, unwavering.
"He helped protect one of Natlan's tribes. Provide him with everything he needs."
She paused.
"Is that understood?"
The guard dropped to one knee.
"Understood, Archon."
Mavuika lifted her hand in dismissal.
"Go. Make sure everything is handled properly. Inform me if anything changes."
"Yes, Archon."
The guard stood, bowed once more, and left swiftly, the door closing behind him with a low, respectful thud.
The room returned to quiet.
Mavuika was alone again.
She walked toward the tall window carved directly into the volcanic stone, its edges etched with sun motifs. Outside stretched the vast night sky of Natlan—a land of fire and heroes beneath a sea of stars.
She placed a hand against her chest and exhaled softly.
A faint, amused smile touched her lips.
Her appearance reflected the living flame of her nation:
long hair cascading like fire itself—deep crimson fading into golden strands, glowing subtly as if lit from within. Her dark combat suit, sleek and form-fitting, was reinforced with sun-marked plates and traced with glowing red and amber lines that pulsed faintly like embers. Large sun-shaped earrings swayed gently as she moved, catching the firelight.
Her eyes—dark red, intense—held pupils shaped like a radiant sun.
Mavuika lifted her gaze to the heavens.
The moon hung high above Natlan, pale and serene, surrounded by scattered stars.
She laughed quietly.
"…Haha. The moon looks beautiful tonight."
She opened her palm.
A flame bloomed effortlessly above her hand—pure Pyro, bright and alive. Its warmth spread instantly, illuminating her face in shades of gold and red.
Her eyes shifted between the flame and the moon beyond the window.
"The sun," she murmured thoughtfully, "gives light and warmth. It nurtures life, illuminates everything… and bears the weight of being seen."
The flame flickered gently.
"The moon gives light too—but no warmth. It guides without burning, shines without demanding attention. Its stars surround it… yet it remains alone."
She raised her hand slightly higher.
"The sun is surrounded by planets that depend on its warmth. The moon rules the tides—its existence alone prevents catastrophe."
Her voice softened, almost reflective.
"If either were to disappear… the world would fall apart."
The flame dimmed, then steadied.
"They work together," she concluded, "in different ways… at different times. Each carries its own burden."
Mavuika closed her fingers, extinguishing the flame.
Outside, the moon continued to shine over Natlan—silent, distant, watching.
And somewhere beneath that same sky, a man of darkness walked among heroes.
Mavuika laughed
" A villain of a special kind, isn't he, Jin "
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Heat: Thank you very much for reading.