Hoshigawa was quiet.
Too quiet.
The lanterns swayed gently, the kids had gone to sleep, and even the night insects outside seemed hesitant—as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Arata Kurogane sat by the window, tea finished, fingers resting lightly on the porcelain cup.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"…Let's get to the finale, shall we?"
The words were soft.
But the weight behind them rippled outward, unseen and unfelt by most—yet heard clearly by those who mattered.
Zerathis —
Alzwalt Light stood amid scorched earth and fractured land, his six golden wings slowly folding back into nothingness as his wounds sealed in real time. Burn marks vanished. Cracks in his skin closed like they had never existed.
He exhaled.
Then laughed.
"Heh… so that's how it went."
Kaelven stood nearby, arms crossed, staring at the horizon where hellish residue still lingered.
"You felt it too?" Kaelven asked.
Alzwalt nodded, rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah. Big guy got curious. Paid the price."
He grinned, eyes sharp with anticipation.
"Ifrit, huh?"
He tilted his head slightly, light flickering faintly in his pupils.
"I'll be visiting Hell soon for my get-back."
Kaelven blinked. "You're… serious?"
Alzwalt chuckled. "Dead serious."
Then his tone softened, casual again.
"But first—" he glanced at Kaelven, "—you said your lands were this way?"
Kaelven nodded. "Yeah. Zerathis still needs stabilizing."
"Then lead the way," Alzwalt said, stretching his arms. "Wouldn't want demons getting any funny ideas."
As they vanished into the horizon—
Far, far away—
A young hero prepared to take his first step into legend.
Kael'Ar — Morning Light
Kaelen stood still as Tessandra adjusted the coat around his shoulders.
The fabric was deep blue, heavy yet flexible, with white fur lining the collar—warm, dignified, and unmistakably heroic. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt rested against his frame, paired with black pants that allowed free movement. Black wooden sandals completed the look—simple, grounded.
Perfect.
Tessandra stepped back, arms folded, eyes scanning him critically.
"…It suits you," she said finally.
Kaelen glanced down at himself, then laughed quietly. "Feels weird."
"You'll grow into it," she replied. "You already are."
Kaelen nodded.
At his side rested Axiomfall.
The sword John had given him.
Its sheath was dark and unassuming, but Kaelen could feel it—constant, steady, like a second heartbeat. The blade resonated faintly with his circuits, as if acknowledging him with quiet approval.
White hair brushed his shoulders as he turned toward the horizon.
Fifteen years old.
Five foot six.
Slim, athletic.
But his presence—
Was no longer that of a boy.
"You remember what I told you," Tessandra said, her voice calm but firm. "Canyan isn't like the others."
Kaelen nodded. "I know."
She stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder.
"Trust your instincts. Adapt. Don't force victory—earn it."
Kaelen met her eyes.
"I'll come back," he said simply.
She smiled. "I know."
And with that—
He turned.
The journey was silent.
Wind whispered through ancient trees. The ground rose steadily, terrain growing harsher, sharper, more unforgiving. Mana in the air thickened with every step, pressing against Kaelen's senses like invisible hands.
His chrono circuit ticked softly.
His gravity circuit hummed beneath his skin.
He climbed.
Higher.
Higher.
Until—
Kaelen reached the summit.
He stopped.
The breeze snapped his coat outward, blue fabric fluttering violently against the sky. White fur danced at his collar as his hair whipped behind him.
From atop the mountain—
He saw it.
Canyan.
At the center of a massive basin lay the dungeon portal—an abysmal rift carved into reality itself. Darkness churned within, deep and slow, like something thinking.
But it wasn't alone.
Monsters stood guard.
Not wandering.
Not roaming.
Stationed.
Grotesque silhouettes moved through the forest surrounding the portal—some crouched in the shadows, others perched atop broken stone and twisted roots. Their eyes glowed faintly, locked onto the dungeon like loyal sentinels.
This wasn't normal.
An abysmal rank dungeon shouldn't behave like this.
Kaelen's grip tightened on Axiomfall's hilt.
"…So that's how it is," he murmured.
The dungeon pulsed once.
As if acknowledging him.
As if welcoming him.
Kaelen stepped forward, coat snapping behind him, eyes sharp and unwavering.
And for the first time—
The Hero of this era stood at the edge of something that did not follow the rules.
The finale had begun.