An unnatural darkness gripped the Stellaris Empire. The sky, which should have been adorned with stars, now displayed only a thick, heavy gray, as if the universe itself mourned the tragedy that had befallen this sacred land. Smoke billowed from every corner, rising high like spirits released from their mortal shells, carrying with them a sorrow so profound it could make even the hardest heart feel constricted.
In the midst of the chaos blanketing the sixth district—the last refuge for the survivors—Alex Addison stood, his body trembling. It wasn't from the bone-chilling night air, but from the weight of the decision he had to make. A decision that would change his destiny forever.
His steps felt heavy, as if the earth itself were trying to hold him back. Every inch he covered toward his parents' tent felt like a journey of a thousand miles. Around him, the cries of orphaned children mingled with the moans of the severely wounded. The sounds merged into a heart-wrenching symphony of sorrow, a requiem for a dying empire.
The makeshift tents had been erected in haste, the once-clean white fabric now stained with blood and dust. Inside each tent, fragile lives fought against a cruel fate. Healers ran back and forth, their faces pale, their holy power nearly depleted from treating the countless wounds. But even the miracle of healing had its limits—some wounds were too deep, some souls too tired to hold on.
Alex stopped in front of a tent smaller than the others. His burly hand—a hand accustomed to gripping a sword and crushing enemies—now trembled as he reached to pull back the tent flap. He took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that had nearly vanished from his soul.
"Mother, Father," he called, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from holding back the tears that threatened to fall at any moment.
Inside the dimly lit tent, illuminated only by a single, softly glowing mana lamp, Alex saw a sight that tore his heart to pieces. His mother—the woman who was once so full of energy, who smiled brightly every time she welcomed him home from the academy—now lay weakly on a thin mat. Both of her legs were gone, leaving only bandages soaked in fresh blood. Her once-radiant face was now as pale as a corpse, her lips, which used to sing him lullabies, were dry and cracked.
Beside her, Alex's father sat with a hunched back—a back that was once as straight as an old oak tree, now bent like a bow stretched too long. His graying hair was matted, his deep eyes showing an unspeakable exhaustion. Yet, when he saw his son, a small light of warmth still shone there.
"Shhh. Don't be noisy, your mother is resting," his father whispered, in a tone that tried to be firm but instead betrayed the weakness he felt.
Alex stepped inside carefully, as if afraid his heavy footfalls would shatter the fragile quiet. He knelt beside the mat, his brown eyes—now red from deep emotion—staring at his parents with full-blown regret.
"I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice, usually loud and confident, now barely audible.
His father looked at him with a soul-piercing gaze, the look of a father who had lived long enough to understand that his son had not come just to visit. Something bigger was happening, something that would separate them.
"What is it? Is it safe outside yet?" his father asked, though from his tone, Alex knew he already suspected the answer.
Alex shook his head slowly, his throat tightening. "No... In fact, I came here to tell you that it's getting more dangerous." The words came out with difficulty, like thorns tearing his own throat.
His father nodded slowly, his wrinkled face showing a calm acceptance of this bitter reality. "I see," he replied, his voice steady, too steady for this situation. It was a calm born not of indifference, but of the wisdom of one who has accepted his fate.
"Father, run with me. I'll carry Mother," Alex pleaded, his tone growing more desperate. His hands were clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. The physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish tearing at his soul.
Alex's father gave a faint smile—a smile full of tenderness and understanding that only a true father could possess. "What is it? Something must have happened before this." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew his son better than anyone in the world.
Since childhood, Alex had not been a demanding child. When his peers whined for new toys or expensive clothes, Alex always shook his head with a sincere smile. He grew up understanding that happiness wasn't measured in possessions, but in the simple, loving warmth of his family. When their family's finances were tight, Alex never complained. Instead, he worked harder at the academy, determined to one day raise his family's status.
And now, for the first time in his life, Alex was asking for something. Something big. Something impossible.
Alex brought his face close to his father's ear, whispering in a voice thick with roiling emotion. "Actually... the Emperor has a child, and he gave Althair a mission to take that child as far away as possible..." His words halted, caught in his constricted throat. "And... I... I want to go with them."
A heavy silence enveloped the small tent. Time itself seemed to stop. Alex could hear his own heart pounding, so loud he feared his chest would explode.
Then, in a voice so gentle it brought tears to Alex's eyes, his father said, "Then go. Leave us. We would only be a burden if we came."
The words hit Alex like a thunderbolt. He shook his head violently, tears finally spilling over, wetting his rough cheeks. "But I can't! If you and Mother stay here, then I'll stay here too!" he protested, his voice rising, full of rebellion against this cruel fate.
Alex's father grasped his son's burly hand with both of his own wrinkled, calloused ones—the hands of a hardworking man who had spent his entire life for his family. The grip was physically weak, but full of limitless, powerful love.
"Alex, listen to me closely," he said, his voice trembling but steady. "Don't waste your life on something futile. Your mother and I have lived long lives. We have seen the sunrise and sunset thousands of times. We have felt the joy of watching you grow into a strong and honorable man. Many of our wishes have already come true."
He paused, gathering his ragged breath. "Alex... live, and achieve your dreams. Live for us. Don't let the sacrifices of everyone who has died be in vain. That prince... he is the future. He is hope. And you... you must protect that hope."
Tears streamed down Alex's cheeks, soaking the ground beneath him. His large, muscular body—a body trained for battle—now trembled violently like a leaf in a storm. He wanted to rebel, to refuse, to scream that this was unfair. But deep in his heart, he knew his father was right.
"Alex..." His mother's soft voice flowed into his ears like a long-missed celestial melody. "Come here. Where is my good boy."
Alex turned quickly, his wet eyes looking at his mother, who had now opened her own. Her eyes, once sparkling with life, were now dim, but they still held an irreplaceable warmth. Without hesitation, Alex crawled closer, grasping his mother's cold, trembling hand in both of his.
That hand—the hand that once stroked his head when he was afraid of monsters under the bed, the hand that bandaged his wounds after hard sword practice, the hand that fed him when he was sick—now felt so fragile, as if it would break if held too tightly.
"Go with your friends. Protect the prince," his mother said, her voice barely a whisper, each word requiring immense effort. "He is our hope, no... the hope of all our people for justice."
Her breath hitched, her bandaged chest rising and falling erratically. But she continued to speak, as if this were her last chance to say everything she wanted to.
"Don't forget to eat, don't stay up late, and don't train your muscles too hard." Those simple words—a mother's advice he had heard since childhood—now felt so precious, so agonizing. "Eat healthy food, drink water, don't let your throat get dry."
Every sentence was a blow that shattered Alex's defenses. His whole body shook violently, no strength left to hold back his sobs. He wept—wept with his entire soul, wept for all he was leaving behind, wept for the future he would never have with his parents.
"Be a good boy, Alex," his mother continued, her voice growing fainter like a dying candle. "Even if your good deeds are not repaid with kindness. Even if this world is cruel and unfair... still be a good person. Because this world needs people like you."
"Even though we will die..." Her voice choked, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye, which no longer had the strength to hold it back. "Always remember, Alex... We will not leave you alone. We will become energy, spirits, or whatever. We will watch over your life's journey. Every step you take, every decision you make, we will be there. You may not be able to see us, but we will always be with you."
His mother smiled—a smile so beautiful despite her pale, pain-filled face. "Want to know a secret, Alex?" she asked, her playful tone trying to cover the deep sorrow. "Your father loves you more than you know, he's just too shy to say it. You know, every night before he sleeps, your father always prays for your success and happiness. He's a stubborn man who isn't good at expressing his feelings, but his love for you... oh, his love for you is so deep it could overcome the deepest ocean."
Alex let out a small laugh through his tears, a strange sound—a mix of profound joy and sorrow. Suddenly, he felt a touch on his shoulder. A warm hand—his father's hand, full of quiet strength.
"Know that we have always been proud of you," his father said, his voice finally trembling, showing the emotion he had hidden for so long. "From the day you were born until this very second, there hasn't been a single day we didn't feel proud to be your parents. You are the greatest blessing in our simple lives."
His father took a deep breath, gathering strength for the last, most important sentence. "Now go, my son. Remember, we will always be by your side, even in a form you cannot see. In every gust of wind, in every ray of sunshine, in every drop of rain—that is where we will be. Protecting you. Guiding you. Loving you."
Alex could no longer hold back. He hugged his parents tightly—a farewell embrace so heartbreaking that even the angels in heaven must have wept watching it. He felt their warmth for the last time, memorizing every detail—their scent, their weak heartbeats, the soft touch of their hands.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I will make you proud. I promise. I swear on my life."
With superhuman effort, Alex released the hug. Every inch that separated his body from his parents felt like a knife tearing his soul. He stood up, unsteadily, his legs barely able to support his own weight.
One step. Two steps. Three steps toward the tent's exit.
He paused at the threshold, turning back for one final look. The sight—his father and mother holding hands, smiling even as tears streamed down their faces—would be forever etched in his memory.
Then, with the last of his strength, Alex stepped out into the cold night.
In the dark forest on the outskirts of the sixth district, Althair von Kaelvros stood tall, though exhaustion shadowed his every move. His dusty face couldn't hide the charm he possessed, a charm that had ensnared many women, including high-class nobles—he looked serious and focused. Around him, intricate patterns glowing with a bluish light formed on the ground, creating a complex and beautiful summoning circle.
Ancient runes pulsed with a soft but powerful light, each line and symbol holding deep meaning—meaning learned over many years at the Ostrivien Grand Academy. This was familiar summoning magic, a sacred bond between a mage and a spiritual creature that would become their companion in battle.
And from within those ancient runes, an adult eagle emerged. Althair's familiar, named Alrathi.
Beside him, Rio did the same. His hands moved with a precision born from countless hours of practice, chanting ancient spells that echoed in the night air. His voice—now changed to be more explosive—mixed with Althair's, creating a beautiful magical harmony.
And before him, a mystical beast appeared—its dark blue eyes like a hunter's, its ears perfectly triangular, not to mention its sharp teeth—its black fur thick. And from every side, the mystical beast emitted small sparks of electricity. Rio's familiar was a wolf—its name was Reo.
Alicia stood a few meters to the right, her light brown irises fully concentrated on the ritual she was performing. A red light blazed around her, reflecting her strong fire affinity. Her dark brown hair fluttered, though there was no wind.
In the rune she created, a large Tiger emerged. Its paws left scorched marks on the grass, its body had a flaming effect that blazed on, even in the rain.
Alex stood a few meters across from them, his brown eyes closed in concentration. A light the color of the earth glowed around him—the ground trembled beneath his feet, and grains of sand floated upwards.
And before Alex, the silhouette of a large lion appeared—a sign that Alex's familiar was answering his call. Alex's lion didn't have a flaming effect; its body was larger than Alicia's tiger, its muscles incredibly dense, and the ground trembled slightly at its presence. The lion reflected Alex's earth affinity.
And slightly separate from the others, Clara von Remelton stood with a face full of doubt. Her brown hair fell, covering part of her face, her hazel eyes staring blankly at the summoning pattern before her.
The familiar she was about to summon was a giant frog. Not a flashy or terrifying familiar like a lion, tiger, or wolf. But in her heart, Clara was always proud of her familiar. The creature might not be as fast as the others, perhaps not as strong, but it possessed a unique ability that had saved Clara's life many times.
But before Clara could complete her ritual, Althair's voice stopped her.
"Clara, wait." His voice was firm but not loud. "Just ride with me."
Clara turned in surprise. "But... I can—"
"This isn't about your ability," Althair cut in quickly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. His voice was like a gavel striking down Clara's ego, forcing her into silence, yet it was also a protective hum meant only for her. Althair's gray eyes looked directly into Clara's hazel ones. The gaze was sharp, like a blade honed under the moonlight.
"Alright, if that's the best decision," Clara answered quietly, letting out a long sigh.
<----Althair's Point of View---->
We mounted our respective familiars. Clara sat in front of me, holding Carsel in her arms, and I sat behind her.
"Alrathi!" I commanded, my voice echoing off the trees.
The adult eagle roared—a cry that ripped through the night's silence like old silk—and then flapped its wings. The powerful gust it created was like a giant hand sweeping away dust.
Alrathi flew high above, while Alex, Rio, and Alicia were below. I was positioned further ahead as the guide. After passing through the forest, we arrived in an open clearing—no trees or rocks, just grass. The rain hadn't stopped at all; in fact, it had gotten worse, as if the sky itself was weeping for the innocent people who had died.
I immediately cast a protection spell to shield Carsel from the cold and the rain.
I thought the journey here would be safe, but Alex shouted from below.
"Altha!" Alex yelled, his body soaked to the bone. "Even if we can't see the enemy, they'll show up! After all, our empire is being attacked from all sides!"
I looked down at him and nodded slowly. But I didn't answer Alex. I began casting a spell immediately, one I would unleash the moment an enemy appeared.
But from behind, I sensed mana far denser than normal. I turned and saw thick smoke rising from the evacuation point. Despite the rain, the smoke column held firm. I glanced at Alex from a distance. I saw the veins bulging on his hands, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. His jaw was clenched.
But I also saw Rio and Alicia offering him words of support, so I remained silent. Suddenly, I thought of my family in the north. The capital, Stella, was under attack, and no aid came from the nobles—which meant their own territories were also under siege.
I could only pray that my homeland was safe.
A heavy rush of sound. A rumble.
Everything was quiet and smooth. But none of us lowered our guard. And then, suddenly—my back shivered, and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I felt it: killing intent.
I turned my head, looking back at the place we'd just left. I uttered a magic spell to focus my vision on the distant location.
"Eye Mirror."
My vision sharpened like a camera lens zooming in. From behind the trees of District 6, dozens of silhouettes emerged. A fully armed armada of Knights. Their armor gleamed, reflecting the crescent moon emblem. They didn't shout; they moved with a lethal silence. Their arrival was a stillness more terrifying than the screams of a thousand men.
Seventy-one Knights from the Moonstone Empire.
I closed my eyes for a moment. In my blood, the Terribilis Wind Affinity began to react. A cold, dark blue energy seeped from my pores, enveloping my body and Alrathi.
"As the only mage here, it's my responsibility to guard our rear."
"Clara," I called. She immediately turned to me. "What is it?"
"Take good care of yourself." I immediately leaped off, diving sharply backward.
"H-huh... ALTHAIR!" Clara cried out, shocked by my action. But she reacted quickly—instantly granting me a shield and a buff: increased area-of-effect damage.
Thud!
I landed perfectly on the wet grass and looked up at the knights.
"AIM!" one of them shouted, likely the commander. "FIRE!"
Dozens of arrows flew toward me and the others. No, not dozens—hundreds, or even thousands. Each arrow they fired split into multiple copies.
But before the first arrow could touch us, I inhaled, then exhaled in a powerful shockwave. The air hissed, and a vortex shield formed, spinning with the speed of a category-five hurricane, deflecting all the arrows and sending them tumbling off course.
The moment I completed the spell, a sudden chill seized me. I staggered back a step, my left hand clutching my ribs. My face went pale, as if all the blood had been violently drained into my Mana Circles. It took two quick, heavy breaths just to keep myself standing.
<----Third-Person Point of View---->
"Huff..."
Two of his four mana circles felt silent and cold. Althair stretched his hand into the cold air—damp leaves on the ground swirled erratically, drawn wildly toward him. He forced the external Magical Essence inward, trying to refill the void too quickly. A dull, cold pain lanced through his chest. He knew it would take at least twenty minutes to recharge those Circles safely without damaging his nerves.
On the other side—the Moonstone knights' situation.
Pitch-black creatures emerged from the ground beneath their feet. Creatures wearing full black robes.
"What? EVERYONE, BE ON GUARD—" the commander shouted, the first to realize. But his words were cut off by an attack piercing his heart.
One, ten, thirty-five, fifty.
The creatures emerged one after another. They stabbed, tore, and slashed the knights with sharp, 18 cm-long claws.
One of the knights tried to stab a black creature from behind, striking its back. But his blade passed right through its body.
"W-what? Impossible," the knight stammered. His heart hammered wildly. His hands and feet trembled. The sword fell from his grasp.
The black-robed and hooded creature turned to face him. And beneath that hood, there was only total darkness.
A thrust. No hesitation. It stabbed the knight straight through the heart, mercilessly.
"Y-you... W-what are you?..." Blood spilled from the knight's mouth. But his question went unanswered.
One by one, the knights died. And now, all of them were annihilated, without exception. Dead at the hands of the Obbsurian race. The race tasked with protecting the Imperial family.
---
The front-line battle was a canvas painted with chaos and speed. Three shadows raced across the waterlogged terrain, cutting through the rain that felt like a curtain of fabric.
In the center, Alex was the axis of this madness, his lion the heart of the moving storm. On his right and left, Rio's Lightning Wolf and Alicia's Fire Tiger formed two deadly wings.
Alicia's tiger, Silis, was a miracle that defied the laws of nature. Its large, graceful paws left scorched marks that crept across the muddy grass. Its body was a walking furnace; the fire blazing on its fur not only lived, but it laughed mockingly at every raindrop that tried to extinguish it. Silis was the embodiment of Alicia's Fire Affinity: a burning beauty and an unquenchable will.
On the other side, Alex's lion, Leon, moved with a far more primal power. He didn't have a flashy fire effect, but the muscles beneath his skin vibrated and pulsed like the earth waking from a long slumber. His body was a battering ram propelled by an Earth Affinity. Every step was a promise of a tremor, every swing an avatar of destruction.
The final familiar, Rio's wolf, Reo, was the necessary contrast. His body was slender, not as broad or muscular as the other two familiars, but he was the personification of pure speed. Lightning was his clothing; pure electricity danced on every strand of fur and at the tip of his claws. Strangely, Rio, who rode him, seemed protected by an invisible magnetic field, immune to the storm he rode. He flew more than he ran, streaking past the limits of vision like an arrow loosed from its bow.
In the midst of the dizzying speed, Rio glanced back, his instincts catching a more distant threat. Hundreds or thousands of magic-cloaked arrows were streaming from the clouds—a magical nail rain targeting their formation. But there was no panic. Rio's trust in Althair was a sturdy anchor in this storm.
Althair would handle it.
Their focus returned to the front. Twelve Knights of the Sunstone Empire stood firm, forming a wall of steel that reflected the resolve of the Sun. With swords in their right hands and sun-crested shields in their left, they were statues of false courage that had to be shattered.
No time for negotiation. Alex, Rio, and Alicia immediately dismounted their respective familiars, allowing the beasts to fight freely.
Silis was the first to react. The Fire Tiger spat a Fireball the size of an adult human head from its open maw. The fireball shot forward like a god's fist made of magma.
BOOM!
The impact produced a deafening explosion, thick smoke billowing up like a black, grieving fog. That smoke, though temporary, was the opening for Leon.
The Earth Lion did not wait for the smoke to clear. Alex screamed the command in his mind, and Leon charged forward. His body was a war hammer, smashing into the Knights at the vanguard.
The thick smoke and the stench of magical sulfur became a close-quarters battlefield. Leon, with pure power, ripped through the Sunstone shield formation. While the Tiger and Lion held the front line, Rio's Lightning Wolf danced between the formation gaps. The wolf was a shadow adorned with electricity, slashing at legs and arms left exposed by the shields.
Rio immediately drew a katana-style sword and used a flash step toward one knight, slashing.
"Chain Lightning Strike!"
A horizontal slash. It didn't stop there; the lightning from the technique immediately arced to other knights, stunning four of them. Reo then executed the soldiers with claws empowered by lightning.
SCRATCH
But for some reason, it had no effect. Rio realized the armor they were wearing was dwarven-made.
"Alex! Alicia!" Rio shouted through the rain. "They won't be easy to defeat! Their armor was made by dwarves!"
The dwarves are famous for making great combat gear. That means the dwarves are also part of the alliance, Alicia monologued.
This will be difficult, but not impossible, Silis's voice appeared in her head; it was telepathy.
A few moments later.
The Sunstone Knights, though tough, began to be pushed back. They were symbols of power, but the trio of Alex, Rio, and Alicia was a combination of unexpected strength and survival skills. Several Knights who tried to flee Leon's rampage were immediately stopped by a flash of Reo's lightning.
As the battle reached its peak—when the last three Knights, their shields cracked, tried to launch a coordinated counter-attack on Leon—suddenly, the shadows around them grew blacker, deeper.
From the thick darkness, as fast as frost touching skin, armed shadows emerged. They made no sound, cast no spells, simply moved with horrifying efficiency.
This was the promised help, the arrival of the Obbsurian race.
One Knight fell with a shadow blade through his helmet. The second collapsed when his own sword seemed to be bent by the shadow in his hand. The last Knight, who tried to raise his shield, only found his body enveloped and paralyzed by a shroud of darkness, before his neck was snapped with a single, clean jerk.
The three remaining Knights, who should have been Alex and his friends' opponents, had now been annihilated with lethal silence. The enemy front line had fallen silent.
"What are those creatures?" Rio asked. Sweat soaked his temples, which were already wet from the rain. His grip on his katana tightened.
"HEY!! IT'S OKAY, DON'T WORRY. THEY ARE OUR ALLIES. THEY'RE TASKED WITH PROTECTING CARSEL!" shouted the man from above.
All of them on the ground looked up, staring at the man on the back of the adult eagle.
"Damn. Lucky for us. I don't know what would have happened if those black creatures were our enemies," Alex said, exhaling.
"Alright, let's continue this journey," Alicia urged.
"EVERYONE! FOLLOW ME!" Althair shouted.
---
<----Clara's Point of View---->
...Our journey, which had felt quiet but safe, was suddenly pierced by an approaching shadow. A small black dot in the northern sky, speeding toward us, breaking through the cloud layer. It was a crow—not just any bird, but a black messenger carrying news of sorrow.
I turned back, intending to ask Althair about this unexpected messenger. But the words caught in my throat, freezing before they could be spoken.
Althair's face.
The expression he usually wore was calm and serious, sometimes veiled in arrogant indifference. But now, that face was a rigid statue carved from cold ash. His gray irises no longer held intelligence or emotion; they were empty, like broken windows to a void. It was an absence—as if his entire soul had been forcibly torn from his body.
Althair already knew. Long before the crow landed, the Mana around him must have whispered the sound of that destruction.
The crow descended. It landed on Althair's shoulder, its small grip feeling like the grasp of death. The bird spoke, its voice dry and sharp like shards of glass scraping together:
"The northern territory has been destroyed."
Thump.
My heart hammered, striking my ribs like a sledgehammer. The words were an arrow that struck true. Hearing the destruction spoken aloud was far more terrifying than predicting it. I just realized, the emptiness I saw in Althair's eyes was his subconscious preparation to receive unimaginable pain.
Althair's shoulders, usually straight like the impenetrable northern fortress, now slumped slightly.
"Who... was the opponent?" Althair's voice was hoarse, not from fatigue, but because he had to scrape his vocal cords just to make a sound.
"Archduke Silverlake, Duke Huxley, and the Vampire Queen with their armies. But the fight was not entirely in vain. Your father managed to sever the heads of Archduke Silverlake and Duke Huxley. They paid a heavy price for their victory."
The information offered no comfort. It only transformed grief into rage.
"So my father... no, my family and my people in the north... were annihilated by Lilith?"
"Yes. If not for Lilith and her army, the northern territory might still be standing."
"'If. If. If.'" Althair gritted his teeth, the grinding sound deafening in our silence. His gray eyes were no longer ash, but burning embers.
"I hate hearing that word!" he roared, his voice breaking, full of pure bitterness. "A useless word. Empty hope. It's a poison for the living."
Althair's face was filled with hatred. It was a deep hatred, no longer a fleeting emotion, but a new foundation born from tragedy. His gray irises shone, emitting a light that felt both cold and burning.
"In this world, what matters is action," Althair hissed.
"Why?" he asked, not to the crow, not to me, but to the sky that had witnessed his fall.
"Why did I have to experience this tragedy? Why must my destiny be carved upon ruins?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered, leaving the two of us with the unspoken burden of annihilation. The black messenger was gone, but its news remained, binding us in a new vow of sorrow.