Kellen's journey ended miles outside the Hall of Heroes, the immense citadel that served as the heart of military command for the Kyros Divine Empire. It was not the glittering, bustling capital, but a fortress built for endless war.
The sight of the city walls was an overwhelming display of raw, martial power. They were impossibly tall and thick, built from blocks of dark, seamless stone that seemed to drink the light and silence all sound. Every meter of the surface was covered in complex, deeply etched the runes of Fortification and Impenetrability that glowed with a faint, contained violet light.
These things are called formations, magical constructs either naturally created by the world or man-made, this formation though, rumored to be the masterpiece of the marshal's right-hand, a divine mage. The walls were less a barrier and more a contained mountain of defensive might, radiating an eternal vigilance that chilled the air.
Kellen descended from his Silver Crown Eagle and approached the central gate. He was immediately met by the Captain of the City Wall Guards. The Captain was a massive man sheathed head-to-toe in polished obsidian black armor, whose face was a study in aggressive discipline. Kellen, who is knowledgeable about artifacts, immediately knows that the armor is made for a Sky Knight. Yes, the requirement to become a captain in the Hall of Heroes is at least at the peak of the Sky Knight realm.
"Halt!" the Captain roared, his voice resonating from his helm. "No aerial beasts are permitted within five kilometers of the outer wall with or without a direct Imperial Seal, Immortal Seed, or even Successor. State your business and your authorization code, or retreat now." To become a captain for the marshal's forces, one must be quite knowledgeable about general knowledge, especially about faction symbols. From Kellen's academy brooch on his robe, the captain immediately knows about Kellen's status and background.
Kellen, calm and unruffled by the aggression, offered a slight bow. "My apologies, Captain. I am Kellen, Immortal Successor of the Academy. My purpose is a direct delivery to Marshal Lex Ragnar. I was granted a low-altitude pass." He presented a small, ancient token bearing the stylized oak leaf seal of the Immortal Academy's Principal.
The Captain took the token, his eyes trained to spot weakness and forgery, narrowing as he examined the authenticity of the relic. His demeanor shifted instantly, the aggression replaced by the cold, deep respect given only to figures of supreme authority.
"The Principal's mark," the Captain muttered, returning the token with a precise, stiff gesture. "The beast remains outside the perimeter. Follow me. You will be searched, then ushered directly into the War Sanctum."
Kellen was led through the massive bronze doors into the Hall of Heroes. The interior was lined with colossal marble statues. Every figure depicted a warrior, their poses radiating absolute, unquestionable authority and martial glory. The centerpiece was a magnificent sculpture of Kyros the Saint, sword raised to the heavens, the founder of the Empire and the living symbol of power.
Minutes later, Kellen was ushered into the War Sanctum, the command center of the Empire's armies.
The marshal was old, even older than the active military and political figure in the Empire, as he was already serving long before the current emperor of the Divine Empire, but his age only added a formidable edge to his presence.
He was lean, with sinewy, hardened muscle. His face was thin and sharp, a mask of stoic, ruthless discipline. His eyes were a pale, arctic blue that seemed to look right through a person, and his jaw was set in a firm, permanent line.
He stood over a massive, holographic map of the realm, his gaze never leaving the shimmering projection.
A soldier was escorting Kellen into the principal room. As they entered the room, the soldier said "Lord Marshal, the Immortal Academy sends an envoy."
"Hm, you may leave." The marshal replied flatly. The soldier then left the room.
"State your business," Lex Ragnar commanded, his voice dry, flat, and devoid of any unnecessary warmth. He didn't turn around.
Kellen approached the imposing figure. "Honored marshal, I am Kellen. I carry a sealed letter from Principal Mythralis, containing sensitive intelligence." He placed the letter on the command table.
"About?"
"Ehm… I do not know." Kellen replied embarassedly.
"You don't know?" The marshal stopped looking at the map and stared at Kellen.
Kellen felt as if he was being stared at by a primordial beast. The piercing eyes of the marshal felt like a sword slicing and cutting on his skin. Despite his sturdy mental fortitude, he felt the pressure. He shook his head at the marshal question.
"The seal cannot be opened." Kellen replied.
The marshal only nods and crushes the tube that containing the letter. He then unfold the letter and start reading. Silence
Marshal Lex finally turned, his eyes briefly sweeping over Kellen before fixing on the scroll. He didn't use a knife; he snapped the seal with a practiced, sharp motion of his thumb and forefinger. He scanned the contents without a single change in expression.
"The Principal's words are clear," Lex Ragnar stated, folding the parchment into a precise square. He looked Kellen in the eye, his gaze like freezing water.
"The Empire has its own intelligence network. The Saint's Will Legion has been prepared for this contingency for a millennium." He paused, the silence heavy and tense. "You may leave."
The dismissal was absolute, cold, and final. Kellen understood the message: the Empire takes the threat seriously but will not be seen to panic or take orders from outside forces, even the Immortal Academy. He simply bowed, accepting the Marshal's ruthless pride.
The scene snapped back to the bloody, snow-dusted Aldoras Mountain camp, now shrouded in the deep silence of night.
Cassandra was cross-legged, bathed in the sickly green light of the Wind Beast Core. The entire company was camped, allowing her the silence and security needed for the breakthrough. She had been sitting for hours, her breathing slow and controlled.
She was no longer fighting the raw energy; she was coaxing it. As per Luceran's command, she didn't try to force a complex spell Rune. She focused on the most fundamental principle of wind: Speed. The energy of the Peak Bone Tempering core flowed into her, condensing around her Peak Mana Core. It was a tight, agonizing squeeze, like trying to compress a rushing river into a flawless pearl.
With a final, quiet exhalation, the volatile green energy successfully coalesced, not into a shape of power, but into a flawless, rotating, geometric pattern that settled deep within her Mana Core. This was the Rune of Speed, a symbol of pure, unhindered movement.
The moment the Mana Engraving completed, a gentle, invisible wave of pure wind element washed over the camp, calming the rustling leaves and smoothing the snow. It was a success. Cassandra collapsed forward, panting, exhausted, but alive.
Luceran immediately walked to her side, his gaze sharp and assessing. He smiled and said to her "Congratulations!"
Cassandra lifted her head, a faint, constant green light now shimmering in the depths of her eyes. "Your Highness… I succeeded! The Rune of Speed is stable." She replied while panting.
A rare, relieved smile touched Luceran's lips. It was a smile of a commander who had just won a political gamble.
"Rest now, Cassandra. Absorb the last of the core's residual energy, then sleep deeply." Luceran's voice dropped, firm and cold. "Tomorrow, we break camp at first light, an hour before dawn. We move faster than planned, without unnecessary stops."