The room was quiet again after Lyra left. Her faint fragrance lingered in the air, soft but grounding, like a reminder of the chaos he had somehow survived.
Stephen sat cross-legged on the bed, the soft hum of the Federation's energy stabilizers thrumming faintly through the floor. The silence was almost alien after everything that had happened. He exhaled, letting his mind sink inward.
The books Lyra had left behind were neatly stacked on the table beside him. Their worn covers bore the sigil of the Ironveil Federation's Apprentice Academy—a pair of wings encircling a burning sphere. He had already spent hours poring over them, absorbing every word.
According to those texts, an Apprentice Realm cultivator was no longer merely refining their soul sea—they were shaping its foundation, aligning it with the world's Transcendent Flow. The process demanded balance between body, soul, and will.
It was only now, with calm surrounding him, that Stephen noticed something new within himself. His thoughts were sharper. His focus, clearer. When he turned his perception inward, his soul sea shone with a tranquil brilliance—vast and calm, like a blue ocean at dawn.
At its center floated his two Aspect Souls.
The small blue sprout had grown taller, now resembling a fragile sapling, its leaves translucent and glowing faintly. Yet something about it had changed—it wasn't purely blue anymore. Pitch-black vein-like patterns coursed through its stem, pulsing slowly with a reddish hue, as if something ancient and primal stirred within.
Stephen frowned slightly. This wasn't just evolution… it was mutation.
Then his gaze shifted toward the other—The Azure Sparrow.
The tiny bird perched atop a ripple of spiritual light, its feathers gleaming with an ethereal radiance. But before it, something new floated—a tiny scale, blue as frost, glimmering like crystal.
The moment Stephen reached out with his will, his soul sea trembled.
Countless runes erupted from the scale—intricate, interlocking patterns of azure and gold that spun around the sparrow like stars in motion. His breath caught as an ancient name echoed in his consciousness:
"Breath of the Azure Phoenix."
The runes rearranged themselves, forming flowing lines of light across his soul sea. As they did, a surge of understanding—no, memory—flooded into his mind. His vision blurred, replaced by a torrent of flaming feathers, divine chants, and a figure cloaked in blue fire soaring beyond the clouds.
Then came the pain.
It wasn't physical. It was deeper—soul-deep. Each rune carved itself into his consciousness like molten metal branding his very essence.
He clenched his fists, sweat rolling down his temples. Don't pass out. Don't let go.
He couldn't explain how he knew, but something inside him whispered that missing even a single mark of this inheritance would mean losing it forever.
Outside, the air within Ironveil Federation's quarters stirred.
Subtle energy fluctuations rippled through the rune array that hung invisibly above the building—a vast geometric network designed to stabilize Transcendent energy flow. But as Stephen's body unconsciously drew in more and more energy, those runes began to shimmer faintly.
Within the corridors, several Federation experts lifted their heads, sensing the disturbance.
Inside his room, Stephen's aura flared. The surrounding energy thickened to a near-visible mist. The Breath of the Azure Phoenix was devouring ambient Transcendent energy like a black hole.
Within his soul sea, the azure runes continued etching themselves into him. Time lost all meaning. An hour—or perhaps a lifetime—passed before the light finally faded.
When it was over, his soul sea was almost empty. The two Aspect Souls glowed weakly, but their light carried depth, as if some new law had settled into them.
Stephen collapsed backward, his chest rising and falling heavily. His body was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to him. The mattress beneath him was soaked through.
He forced himself up, muttering a shaky laugh. "If this is what enlightenment feels like… I'd rather stay ignorant next time."
After a long shower and a change of sheets, he sat again, calmer now. He replayed what he had seen—the runes, the flow of energy, the structure of the technique. The Breath of the Azure Phoenix wasn't just a cultivation art. It was a bloodline inheritance—a legacy of his mother's clan. The texts described it as the heart technique of the Azure Phoenix bloodline, a method that guided its users to merge runic comprehension with spiritual evolution.
He read deeper into the runes engraved within his mind. The first stage alone contained a hundred lines, each one resonating with the pattern of his breath and heartbeat.
He began to circulate the energy accordingly.
Immediately, the Transcendent energy around him responded. The runic sigils carved into the Federation building's foundation began to glow faintly, channeling power inward. The ambient aura swirled like a funnel, spiraling toward his room.
Outside, in the hall, a young attendant's eyes widened. "Sir, the gathering stones—they're being drained!"
Within moments, the sky above the Ironveil quarters rippled as a faint azure vortex formed, visible even to the naked eye. The entire compound trembled with restrained power.
Within the monitoring chamber, several Rune Technicians activated diagnostic arrays. Glowing glyphs floated above a crystal interface, showing energy values climbing rapidly.
"Someone's overloading the internal conduits!" a technician exclaimed. "At this rate, the stabilizing array will collapse—"
Before he could finish, a man in silver robes entered, his presence instantly silencing the room. His insignia—an iron crescent encircling a flame—marked him as a high-ranking officer of the Federation Rune Department.
"Find the source," he ordered. "Immediately."
As they traced the energy flow, the readings converged on one point—Stephen's quarters.
By then, the runes in Stephen's soul sea had reached a resonance peak. His soul sea, which should've taken days to recover, was already full again—richer, denser. The energy felt smoother, purer, flowing through every fiber of his being.
It was intoxicating.
He nearly let out a moan as warmth flooded him from within. Every cell in his body seemed to hum in harmony with the world.
But the next instant, he realized how visible the energy vortex had become.
"Shit."
Stephen snapped his focus back and forcibly halted the circulation. The runes dimmed. The azure funnel dispersed. Calm returned in a rush.
Outside, confusion reigned. Several experts rushed toward his room—only for a familiar figure to step into their path.
Lyra Blaze, her flaming hair unbound and eyes glowing faintly, stood before the door.
"I was cultivating," she said coolly. "I may have lost control for a moment."
The leading officer frowned, ready to reprimand her—until another attendant hurriedly whispered something into his ear. The man's expression drained of color.
"Young Miss… forgive us," he stammered, bowing deeply. "We did not realize it was you. Please, cultivate freely. No one will disturb you again."
Within minutes, the hall emptied. Only whispers lingered—one filled with greed, quickly silenced by fear.
"Are you mad? That's the Blaze Clan's young miss. Touching her technique is a death sentence."
When peace finally settled again, Stephen leaned against the wall, heart pounding. He'd barely avoided disaster.
By the time he stepped outside the next morning, dawn had already brushed the sky with a faint reddish hue. The Ironveil Federation quarters were awake with quiet purpose.
From the upper terrace, he could see rune arrays flickering in the air—delicate symbols etched across invisible layers of space, maintaining weather control and energy balance. The Federation's infrastructure ran like a living organism; even the faint hum of mana conduits beneath the floors felt rhythmic, like a heartbeat.
He wandered through the corridors until he reached the inner courtyard.
The sight took his breath away.
It was a sprawling garden, radiant with colors. Flowers of all shades bloomed in perfect symmetry, nourished by a floating rune that released a gentle drizzle from above. Federation caretakers in gray uniforms moved gracefully, their movements subtly synchronized with minor rune scripts carved into their gloves and tools.
For a moment, Stephen simply stood there, absorbing it all—the contrast between technology and nature, runes and rain, the quiet rhythm of a world balanced between power and precision.
Then he saw her.
Lyra sat beneath a parasol by the reflecting pool, her fiery hair loose and shimmering under the sunlight. She wore casual clothes—a plain shirt and shorts—but somehow, the simplicity made her even more breathtaking.
Stephen hesitated for a moment, then approached.
He hadn't taken more than two steps before a spark of flame zipped through the air, brushing past his head.
"Hey," Lyra said with mock seriousness, lowering her hand. "It's rude to stare."
Stephen chuckled and took the seat beside her. "Guess I got caught. Hard not to, though."
She raised an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. "You flatter easily."
He leaned back, exhaling softly. "I didn't get a chance to thank you—for saving me, and for covering up yesterday."
The smile faded from her face. Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else—hurt.
"So… you want to thank me," she said quietly, her voice trembling just slightly. "That's all?"
Stephen blinked, caught off guard. "I—"
Lyra looked away. "After all that happened, I thought… maybe we were closer than that." Her voice broke near the end. "But I guess I was mistaken."
He saw her eyes glisten before she turned her face aside, forcing a brittle smile. "If you really want to repay me, then wait. I'll tell you when I need your help."
She rose to leave, but Stephen reached out instinctively and caught her wrist.
She stumbled slightly, and he pulled her gently onto his lap, holding her still as she resisted weakly.
"Let me go, Stephen—"
"No." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Not until you listen."
She hit his chest a few times, her strikes losing strength with each word. "You heartless idiot… do you think I help people just for fun? I just wanted to see you back to normal…"
Her voice cracked, and the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she buried her face against his shoulder.
Stephen froze, then slowly wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her back. He didn't know what to say—only that her pain struck something deep in him, something that felt dangerously close to warmth.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured.
She sniffed, her voice muffled. "But you did. So now you have to make it up to me."
He blinked. "How?"
"Breakfast," she said, pulling back with a faint blush. "In my room. Half an hour."
Before he could reply, she slipped free and hurried off, muttering something under her breath about changing clothes.
Stephen sat there, staring after her, a mix of confusion and amusement twisting inside him.
Then a shadow fell over the table.
Kael Blaze—her Fourth Uncle—sat down opposite him, crimson armor faintly glowing with runic fire. The insignia of a blazing crimson spear gleamed on his shoulder.
His eyes were sharp but calm. "I've served as Lady Lyra's guard since she was born. Fourteen years."
Stephen met his gaze evenly. "And?"
Kael's tone didn't waver. "I've never seen her open up to anyone like this before. If you hurt her… I will not let you walk away unscathed."
Stephen's brows drew together. "Why would I hurt her? And what do you mean—'something happening to her'?"
Kael leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Our clan's cultivation technique… it amplifies emotion. The stronger the feeling, the more volatile the flame it fuels. If she loses control, the result can be… catastrophic."
Stephen's heart sank. "So if she gets too attached—"
"Exactly." Kael nodded. "So if you care at all, make sure you're strong enough to protect her from both others—and herself."
Then he rose, his armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. "The Ancestor may approve of you one day, but the elders won't. Grow strong, boy. Or you'll lose her before you even realize it."
He left without another word.
Stephen sat in silence for a long while, watching the sunlight glint off the rippling water. The scent of damp earth lingered in the air, grounding him in the moment.
Then, quietly, he whispered to himself—"I'll grow strong, then. Strong enough that no one can take anything from me again."