The Celestial Arena did not wait.
The moment Aiden stepped onto the obsidian platform, the entire space reacted—rings of pale starlight spread outward from his footstep like ripples on water, scanning him, measuring him, judging him.
Above, the Astral Gate rotated in slow, heavy arcs, each rotation humming like the engine of a dying star. The floating runic plates glowed, rearranging themselves into new formations with every breath he took.
Aiden swallowed.
"This… feels hostile."
Yunaria folded her arms behind him, her tone deceptively calm.
"It isn't hostile. It's curious. The Arena remembers every Archivist who has stood here… and every one who failed."
"Failed how?"
She smiled in a way that was not comforting.
"By dying."
He exhaled sharply. "Great. Wonderful. No pressure."
But even she wasn't relaxed. Her eyes kept drifting upward—toward the ceiling, toward the Gate, toward something beyond it. A deep unease sat behind those golden irises, an unease that made Aiden feel like there was more at stake than a simple "trial."
When the last ring of starlight faded, the Arena spoke with a voice that was not a voice:
≛ INITIALIZING ARCHIVE TRIAL: STARFALL GRADE ≛
≛ SUBJECT: AIDEN CROSS ≛
≛ BLOODLINE: SEALED ≛
≛ ACCESS: RESTRICTED ≛
≛ STATUS: ERROR—UNRECOGNIZED EXILE SIGNATURE ≛
Aiden blinked.
"Exile? Why does it call me that?"
Yunaria's jaw tightened—but she said nothing.
A new ring of runes rotated, faster, as if irritated.
≛ OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. TRIAL WILL PROCEED. ≛
Then the floor vanished.
Aiden dropped—
—only to be caught by a burst of force like compressed stardust. The Arena had "expanded" itself into a vast cosmic plain, a battlefield stretching endlessly under a sky of shattered constellations.
Fragments of broken worlds drifted overhead.
Some were mountains.
Some were forests.
Some… looked like cities.
Aiden shivered.
"These are real places?"
"Were," Yunaria corrected softly. "Worlds erased by Oblivion."
His heart clenched.
Before he could ask more, the Arena changed again.
The starlit ground cracked open, glowing veins of cosmic light spreading outward, forming a massive circle beneath him:
A sigil of wings.
A crown.
A shattered infinity.
A symbol he had never seen—but somehow recognized.
Suddenly, a pulse of cold air erupted in front of him—
—condensing into a shape.
A figure.
Humanoid.
Tall.
Armored in something that looked like broken mirrors and frozen voidlight.
Yunaria inhaled sharply.
"A Starwraith…"
The figure lifted its head. There was no face—only a mask resembling a cracked eclipse.
Its voice scraped like metal against bone:
"You are late, Lost King."
Aiden's blood iced.
"I'm… what?"
But the Starwraith did not answer. Instead, it raised its hand, and a blade of pure emptiness forged itself from thin air—its edge devouring light, stars, even the shape of the space around it.
Aiden stepped back.
"Yunaria—what the hell is that thing?!"
"A memory of what hunts you," she said. "What once killed you."
"Killed me?!"
Before she could respond—
The Starwraith moved.
One blink it was meters away.
The next—it was directly in front of him, blade descending with impossible speed.
Aiden didn't think.
Didn't plan.
Didn't breathe.
He reacted.
His mark flared—
Starlight exploded from his palm—
A barrier shot up—instinct, power, desperation—
The blow struck—
CRACK—!!
The barrier shattered in a burst of white sparks.
Aiden was thrown back, rolling across the starlit floor before skidding to a stop. His lungs screamed. His arms trembled.
"Okay—okay—okay—" he gasped. "So that's definitely not level one difficulty—"
Yunaria shouted from the rim of the Arena:
"Aiden! Listen to me! You cannot block a Starwraith with raw force! You must shape it—guide it—anchor it!"
"How?!"
"The way the mark teaches you!"
"That doesn't help!!"
But the Starwraith was already advancing again—
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each step dimmed the stars.
Aiden's heart pounded.
Come on.
Come on.
Think.
Feel.
He forced his breathing steady.
Remembered the sensation from the dream.
How the power wasn't something he pushed—
—it was something he aligned with.
Like leaning into a current.
He raised his hand again—
But this time, instead of forcing the energy into a wall, he invited it.
The mark responded—
Light gathered—
Not a barrier.
A thread.
A single string of starlight weaving from his fingers into the air, linking to the broken sky above.
The Starwraith slashed—
Aiden dodged, barely—
The blade grazed his shoulder, burning like absolute zero.
Pain exploded through him—
—but the thread remained.
Yunaria's voice rose:
"Good! Now anchor the second point!"
"What second point?!"
The Starwraith attacked again—
Aiden rolled, stumbling to his feet, gripping the thread—
Another thread formed—
Connecting from his mark to the ground—
Then another—
To a drifting shard of a dead world—
Another—
To the fractured constellation overhead—
A web.
No—
A constellation.
Aiden's constellation.
The mark flared brilliantly—
The web ignited—
And the Starwraith froze—
just for a breath—
but a breath was enough.
Aiden pulled the threads tight—
The constellation collapsed inward—
Becoming a single point of brilliant, concentrated starlight—
Then he released it.
BOOOOOM—!!
A star detonated between them.
The blast hurled Aiden backward—
The Starwraith staggered, armor fracturing where the blast struck, black mist leaking from the cracks.
Yunaria exhaled in shock.
"You formed a Constellation Bind… on your first attempt…"
But the Starwraith wasn't done.
It straightened, its cracked mask reforming, its blade glowing brighter.
"You grow quickly… Lost King," it whispered. "But not quickly enough."
It vanished.
Reappeared behind him.
Aiden spun too slow.
The blade plunged toward his heart—
—but something roared overhead, shaking the entire Arena.
A dragon's roar.
Ancient.
Primeval.
World-ending.
The Arena's sky ripped open like torn cloth—
Revealing an enormous silhouette descending from beyond the cosmos.
Four wings of burning starlight.
Scales like molten constellations.
Eyes like collapsing galaxies.
Astraxion.
The Astral Dragon.
Every fragment of the Arena trembled.
Every rune dimmed.
Every erased-world shard stopped drifting.
Even the Starwraith froze, its blade inches from Aiden's chest.
Astraxion's voice thundered across the Realm:
"Touch him… and you break the Pact."
The dragon's wings spread wider, blotting out half the sky.
"Stand down, Memory Spawn."
The Starwraith lowered its blade—
But instead of retreating, it lifted its cracked mask, staring at Aiden with a cold, unreadable expression.
"You are protected… for now," it said.
Then its body dissolved into black shards, scattering like ashes on celestial wind.
Astraxion descended fully now, the sheer force of its presence making Aiden collapse to one knee.
Not from fear—
But from the weight of its power.
Yunaria bowed deeply, trembling.
"Great Astraxion… you should not be here…"
The dragon lowered its massive head toward Aiden—
Close enough that Aiden saw entire star systems drifting behind its eyes.
"I was summoned."
Aiden's heartbeat thudded painfully.
"W–Who summoned you?"
A low, echoing breath rumbled from the dragon's chest.
"You did."
Aiden froze.
"What—? I didn't—"
"You called for deliverance," Astraxion said. "Not with your voice. With your past."
"My past…?"
The dragon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"My King…
…your memories are waking."
Aiden's breath hitched.
"My… what?"
Astraxion didn't answer—
Instead, it extended one titanic claw toward Aiden, a single glowing scale on its palm shimmering like a falling star.
"Take it.
And the next piece of yourself will return."
Yunaria's eyes widened in horror.
"Aiden—DON'T—!! Do you have any idea what accepting a dragon-scale means?!"
But Astraxion didn't break gaze with him.
"Choose, Lost King."
The scale pulsed once.
Bright, inviting.
Terrifying.
Aiden reached out—