The dawn broke over Aspher with a silence that felt deliberate, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Mist rolled off the white walls of the royal citadel, coiling around the towers that reached higher than any cathedral in the five realms.
Inside the capital, bells rang softly, their sound not one of celebration but of summons.
For the first time in centuries, all five kingdoms had agreed to gather under one roof. Five kings. Five champions. And a world slowly falling apart beneath their feet.
The Hall of Dawn stretched wide enough to hold an army. Golden banners hung from the ceiling, each bearing the crest of a kingdom. Blue for Majinwa, red for Vandor, silver for Norveil, white for Zephyra, and gold for Aspher itself. Each banner shimmered faintly, the air charged with tension and the faint hum of mana.
At the far end sat King Arviel Aspher, ruler of Aspher, his silver crown reflecting the morning sun. He looked older than he had at last year's summit, his once-dark beard now threaded with white.
The courtiers whispered that she had changed since the last war council, more composed, yet colder. Those who knew her better said the same thing in simpler words: she had seen death and returned wiser.
Servants scurried through the marble aisles, lighting incense and placing seals upon the pillars. Soon, horns echoed from the courtyard, signaling the arrival of the first champion.
The doors opened with a hiss of wind, and a young man stepped in, wrapped in a dark cloak. The air shifted with him; even his silence felt heavy.
Kinz Izen.The champion of Majinwa.The younger brother of Rinz Izen, who had fallen in the Grand Tournament.
Those who watched him enter said he carried the ghost of his brother in his eyes. The scar along his cheek caught the light as he bowed to the king, his voice calm but cold.
"Kinz Izen of Majinwa, answering the call of alliance."
He looked nothing like the boy who once laughed beside Rinz. His presence was still and sharp, like a sword sheathed too long. Amelia glanced at him briefly and then away, sensing a quiet rage that refused to fade.
Ardyn Vandor — The Iron Prince of Vandor
The next to arrive was a man in gleaming armor who bore the mark of the Vandor crest, a phoenix rising from ashes. He removed his helmet, revealing the face of Ardyn Vandor, eldest son of the late Lord Vandor and older brother of Lucen.
His eyes were calm but distant, shadowed by guilt. Lucen's name had become a song in Vandor, a story of courage and sorrow. And every time someone spoke of Lucen's sacrifice, Ardyn's jaw would tighten, just as it did now.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing to King Arviel. "On behalf of Vandor, I come to honor the pact of the five kingdoms."
He met Amelia's gaze briefly; there was something unspoken between them—a mix of familiarity and mourning.
Kairo Norveil — The Lone Wolf of Norveil
The next arrival drew murmurs through the hall. Kairo of Norveil, champion of the cold north, known as the man who refused to die.
His simple dark armor contrasted with the others' grandeur. No jewels, no silk. Only leather, steel, and the faint glow of silver runes along his wrist guard. He bowed politely but said nothing. The servants whispered his name like legend, the warrior who stood against the storms of Norveil and survived the impossible.
He moved with quiet discipline, every motion deliberate. When he raised his eyes, even the king noticed their depth, calm but full of things unsaid.
Amelia watched him curiously. For a brief second, she thought: He looks like someone who's already accepted his fate.
Raven Zephyra — The Shadow of the Skies
Then, a cold breeze swept through the hall as a cloaked figure entered, her steps silent, her presence unnerving. Raven, the champion of Zephyra. No one knew her full name. Some said she was once part of the royal guard; others whispered that she wasn't human at all.
Her cloak shimmered faintly, edges glinting with black feathers. When she lifted her hood, her eyes caught the torchlight, pale violet, inhumanly calm.
"Raven of Zephyra," she said softly. "By the call of the covenant."
The courtiers avoided her gaze. She carried with her the air of someone who had seen too much, someone who did not fear gods, men, or death.
The hall stood silent. Five champions, each from a different world of pain and pride.Five lives, none alike, bound by the same fate.
The kings exchanged glances as they took their seats at the great round table. The scent of incense thickened. The air trembled faintly as the chamber doors closed.
King Arviel's voice broke the silence first.
"We are gathered here not for peace," he said, his tone deep and heavy. "But for survival."
The statement sent ripples through the hall.
King Arziel of Majinwa leaned forward, his old warrior hands resting on the table.
"We've all seen the signs. Crops are dying in the sun. Rivers turning to dust. Mana storms are growing wild. The gods are silent, and the world is bleeding dry."
King Raedor of Vandor nodded grimly.
"Our scholars call it an imbalance. Our priests call it punishment. I call it war."
Finally, King Arviel spoke again, his voice sharper.
"It is not punishment. It is a curse. But not one sent by heaven, one cast from it."
The room stirred.
"For centuries, we have spoken of five kingdoms. But there exists a sixth. A kingdom unseen by mortal eyes, high above the clouds. The Kingdom of Heaven, ruled by a man named Anor."
A murmur spread across the court. Kinz looked up sharply, Ardyn's expression hardened, and Kairo's brows furrowed slightly.
"This Anor," continued the king, "has taken from us the light of the gods. He drains the lifeblood of our world for his own kingdom. Every death, every drought, every plague, feeds his realm."
He looked at the champions, one by one.
"This is not a war between empires. It is a war against one man."
Silence followed. Even the candles seemed to flicker more slowly.
Kinz broke it first.
"You mean to tell us we fight a man who stole divinity itself?"
"A man," said King Raedor quietly, "who became divinity."
Kinz's lips twitched into a thin smile. "Then we'll see if gods bleed."
Ardyn placed his gauntlet on the table.
"If he truly is what you say, then Lucen's death will not be in vain. I will stand in this war, not for glory, but for balance."
Kairo said nothing for a long time. Then his calm voice filled the quiet:
"If a man like Anor exists, he will not fall to swords or mana alone. The world will need more than strength; it will need conviction."
Arviel's gaze softened. "And conviction, Kairo Norveil, may be your greatest weapon."
Raven tilted her head. "A man who took heaven for himself? How poetic. Tell me, Your Majesty, what happens when a god dies?"
Her words sent a chill through the hall. Arviel did not answer.
The kings rose together, each taking a crystal shard from the altar in the center of the room. The shards glowed faintly with divine essence, remnants of the world's last balance.
"From this moment," declared King Arviel, "the champions of the five kingdoms shall form one body, the Divine Unit. The hand of mortals against the tyranny of heaven."
The five shards floated toward the champions, each one binding to their mana. The moment it touched them, a faint pulse ran through their chests, warm, heavy, ancient.
"Train together. Learn from one another. Trust only those who stand by your side," the king said. "For you are the last wall between man and oblivion."
That night, the five champions stood on the palace balcony overlooking Aspher. The city stretched endlessly below them, rivers glowing with lanterns, rooftops crowned with mist.
No words were exchanged at first. The moon hung low and full, painting them in silver.
Kairo leaned on the railing, staring into the night. "Strange," he murmured. "I've fought men, beasts, and storms. But never the sky itself."
Kinz, arms crossed, gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "Then maybe it's time."
Ardyn looked down at his gauntlet, Lucen's crest carved into it. "For me… It's long overdue."
Raven turned her eyes skyward. "The heavens won't forgive us for this."
Amelia finally spoke, her tone quiet but firm.
"Then let's give them a reason not to."
The wind rose gently, carrying her words into the night.
Five warriors, five kingdoms, and one war waiting above the clouds. None of them yet knew that before they faced Anor… they would first have to face themselves.