The fierce, blinding flash of their physical return slowly faded into the leaden silence of their quarters in the Bastion. Silarias and Nyx stood motionless side by side on the ice cold, massive stone floor. Gravity pulled at their exhausted muscles with a ruthless, physical pressure. Although their material bodies showed no bleeding gashes in this world, their minds felt as if they had been dragged through a giant, grinding meat mincer. The grueling battle against Odr and Freya, combined with the overwhelming pressure of the opened Seals and the ticking, burning Curse of Lucifer, had drained every conceivable ounce of energy from their veins.
Nyx let her head rest heavily against Silarias' shoulder. Her breathing sounded rushed and irregular in the tight, echoing room.
"My head…" Nyx whispered with a hoarse, fragile voice that was barely audible. "It feels like the mathematical gears of the Time Keepers are still spinning at full speed inside my skull."
Silarias clenched his fist, felt the slight tremor in his knuckles, and looked up at the magical wall clock that pulsed with a dull, purple light against the dark marble wall.
Only nine hours left. Nine measly hours before the monumental gates of the University would open.
"No more fights for today," Silarias rasped. His voice was raw from the built up steam. "No gods, no lessons, no complicated plans. Bombs and grenades, Nyx… we are completely empty."
No more heavy debates were forced. No further analyses about the Spirit Realm, the Norse gods, or the mysterious role of their mothers. The mental elasticity was completely gone. Without a drop of hesitation, they collapsed together onto the broad, velvet covered lounge sofa. Silarias wrapped his muscular arm firmly around Nyx's shoulders, and she nestled her face deep against his warm chest. Within seconds, they both sank into a deep, dreamless sleep, propelled by pure, merciless physical and mental exhaustion.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The magical dawn struck like thunder from a clear sky. The bright golden morning light shot through the grates of the room, and the deafening, shrill sound of the central Bastion horn tore the peace into thousands of splinters.
The silence vanished instantly. In a single second, the quiet corridor of the Bastion turned into a frantic anthill.
"Get ready! Get ready! We only have half an hour left!" someone shrieked with a cracking voice further down the hall.
The heavy oak doors of the rooms flew open with loud bangs. Teenagers ran around chaotically everywhere, tripping over discarded combat boots, hastily pulling the buckles of their chest plates, and tightening their heavy weapon belts.
Silarias shot into the hallway while pulling the leather strap of his heavy metal gauntlets tight with his teeth. He bumped into Nicola and Beat, who rushed past with wild hair and half fastened cloaks.
"Everything ready, Nic?!" Silarias called out hurriedly over the noise.
Nicola pressed his glasses firmly onto the bridge of his nose with a trembling index finger and looked around in panic. "Ready?! Silarias, the statistical probability that we forgot our essential equipment is currently forty two percent! My ethereal crystals are still on the table! But we will survive this, we have to!"
Beat threw his baggy poncho over his shoulders with a wild swing and nodded sharply with a fiery look in his eyes. "If we can survive those Norse gods and their lightning storms, a hectic morning is absolutely nothing, brother! Just zero your mind and push through!"
"That is right," Silarias whispered to them quickly, while his eyes flashed briefly with a fierce amber glow. "Heads up. We are going to demolish that academy."
Before the chaos in the hallway could escalate any further, the heavy main door swung open with a dull, echoing thud.
In the wide opening stood Doppo. He leaned loosely against the wooden frame, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his baggy pants. The group immediately snapped into a tight, albeit slightly messy formation. But when they looked over Doppo's shoulder into the empty corridor behind him, the harsh reality hit them all at once.
Solomon was not there. King Solomon, their greatest pillar of support and the man who was supposed to give them the royal recommendation for admission, was glaringly absent.
Nicola let his shoulders slump and released a long, desperate sigh in the background. "Our admission chances just plummeted to an all time low… We have just been declared open season at that academy."
A deep, collective sigh from the entire group followed. Courage immediately sank into the boots of several teenagers.
"Alright, and now we are done with that miserable whining," Doppo neatly interrupted the complaining as he took a calm, lazy step forward. "You know damn well what time it is. You did not get that status, that legacy, and that bizarrely raw power for nothing. So this school should, in principle, be an absolute piece of cake for you all. Headlights on, chest out, and eat it alive."
Doppo started walking calmly along the assembled line to conduct the clothing inspection. With a sharp, alert gaze, he observed the unique, baggy teen armor style that everyone had dressed themselves in for this historic day.
Silarias, now seventeen years old, stood there with a watchful, feline posture. His broad shoulders were hidden beneath a loose fitting, pitch black combat shirt with a heavy, matte black chest plate that flexed smoothly with his movements. Over his forearms he wore robust, copper colored metal gauntlets with sharp, integrated claw edges. The lion traits in his eyes and his tense predatory stance were unmistakable, amplified by the subtle gold orange energy that still glowed very faintly beneath the edges of his clothes.
Right next to him stood Nyx. Her liquid silver hair was tied neatly and tightly into an elegant, high bun, with a few loose strands falling alongside her cold face. Around her neck she wore Silarias' shiny, heavy chain, with their silver covenant ring hanging prominently and glistening over it. Her attire consisted of a layered, compressed night blue combat robe with silver edges that emphasized her light, deadly frame.
Jane stood strictly at attention with her electric lynx look. Her form fitting, dark gray outfit was studded with lightning conduction strips that crackled softly with every breath. Mounted on her wrists and ankle bands were finely cut storm crystals that emitted silver sparks at the slightest movement.
Aurelius, the sword apprentice, wore both his cursed sword and his soulbound sword on his back. The pitch black hilt of his cursed sword exhaled a light, dark mist, while his soulbound sword was engraved with glowing, blue soul characters that actually looked just as dangerous and cursed. His combat clothing was a combination of baggy army pants and a reinforced leather chest piece.
Nicola gleamed from the aether oriented magical weaves on his long, floating coat. The fabric was drenched in minuscule, floating aether trails that continuously changed color. Around his waist he wore several magical cartridge belts full of crystal vials.
Lyn stood beside him like a pureblood combat smith. She wore a heavy, dark brown leather belt bulging with shiny war hammers, cold chisels, and blacksmithing tools. Her arms were protected by heat resistant, thick leather cuffs that gleamed with iron dust.
Beat wore his iconic, baggy poncho full of colorful, magical patterns, with his broad sombrero pressed at an angle on his head. Underneath the poncho, he wore a sturdy, lightweight plate armor.
Apollo walked around looking similar, but with a more robust, Norse mythical accent. His poncho was woven from thick, dark blue wool with silver rune embroideries, combined with heavy, fur lined shoulder pieces that gave him the appearance of a young valkyrie warrior.
Lila glowed in her breathtaking flora armor. It was a flexible, living armor of woven, deep green wood grains and hardened leaves that bent smoothly with every breath. Tiny, gold colored light flowers bloomed between the seams of her chest plate and shoulder guards, spreading a subtle, fresh scent with every step she took. Her undergarments consisted of baggy, olive green combat pants paired with sturdy boots.
And then there were Miki and Ren. Miki, although only thirteen years old, wore a fire resistant, red and black combat suit that still remained very girly due to the cute bows at her boots and the homemade, shining tiara of polished fire glass on her head.
Ren wore a striking poncho of braided iron straw over a light, gray chest plate. A heavy, eye catching bead necklace hung around his neck, from which a small, bleached animal skull dangled and tapped softly against his chest plate.
Doppo stopped right in front of the duo. He slowly bent his knees and crouched down to get exactly at eye level with the two youngest members of the group. A small, amused smirk played on his lips.
"Are you two absolutely sure you are going to wear this, hehe?" Doppo asked with a raised eyebrow, pointing his finger at Miki's homemade tiara and Ren's iron straw poncho.
Miki and Ren looked at each other for a single millisecond. Then they simultaneously planted their feet wide apart, puffed out their chests with full force, and stood almost exaggeratedly broad and proud.
"Yes, we really are!!" they roared loudly in unison.
Doppo let out a short, dry laugh, stood up from the stone floor, and nodded approvingly. "Alright then. Follow me, heroes."
Doppo turned around and walked ahead of them with calm, slow steps. The heavy wooden double doors of the Bastion slammed wide open, after which the bright morning light and a storm of sounds, smells, and movement hit the group head on.
They crossed the threshold and immediately found themselves at the edge of the swirling Yellowstone Marketplace. The market buzzed like an overheated beehive with thousands of different creatures from all corners of the universe: giant beast humans with magnificent fur, graceful elves with floating magical rubies, and heavily armored warriors conducting noisy trades.
But high above the racket of the vendors and the grating of cartwheels, one raw, hysterical teenage voice cut across the square.
"If you guys think for even one second that I am going to walk across a damn hole in the sky, you have completely lost your minds!!"
In the distance stood Vulkan, his imposing, broad frame clad in his repaired combat armor. He stood with his boots pinned rock solid to the stone quay, waving his arms wildly at a seemingly empty void above the abyss next to the Bastion. Where the stone market ended, the world simply seemed to stop. Only a dull, trembling refraction in the air gave away that an entirely invisible bridge floated there over a bottomless depth.
When Vulkan saw the group approaching, he spotted Silarias at the head of the line. He immediately cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, and tried to wipe away his panic in a single millisecond with a broad, arrogant grin.
"Uhh… haha! Look who we have here!" Vulkan called out, folding his muscular arms nonchalantly. "What took you so long, Sil? What is the matter… fear?!"
Valeria, who was leaning on the quay right behind him with her arms tightly crossed over her chest, looked at him from the corner of her eyes with a bone dry, ice cold gaze. "Yes Vulkan, you of all people should start talking about fear… the boy who was just glued to the paving stones crying."
Vulkan immediately burst into a nervous, weak laugh, while his cheeks turned slightly red. "Haha! I swear to god I do not know what you are talking about, Valeria! I was simply checking the quality of the pavement!"
Before the discussion could escalate further, hurried, heavy footsteps echoed on the granite. Zax, Nico, and Bonk came walking up quickly. Zax and Nico looked at Silarias with guilty, slightly hunched shoulders.
"Sil… heh… we are truly sorry, you know that?" Zax brought out hesitantly, nervously pulling at the strap of his chest piece. "After everything that happened…"
Silarias looked at the trio with a dry, unmoved facial expression. He let his hands slide deep into the pockets of his baggy combat pants and shrugged nonchalantly. "Mmm… you are sorry? Mmm, whatever… Who said we were mad? Come on, line up."
Bonk let out a short, satisfied smirk, stepped forward without pardon, and roughly shoved his two doubting brothers aside with his broad shoulders to merge directly behind Silarias.
But before the group could continue their steps, the sky above the market was brutally sliced by a deafening, whistling sound. The air pressure slammed across the quay and two figures shot down from the clouds like meteorites with a raw Mayan aesthetic.
The first figure struck down like a lead heavy dropping rock. With a dull bang he landed on the stones, sending pebbles flying through the air and splashing the magical mists. It was Balamore. His robust, off white tunic of thick woven fabric with red and turquoise edges fell open at his chest, revealing the intricate patterns on his skin. Around his waist he wore a heavy, layered loin belt of thick leather and woven textiles, studded with metal rings and wooden ornaments. Over his shoulder hung a heavy, detailed shoulder bag with fringes, and on his hip sat a broad leather pouch. His face was partially covered by a green, jade like mosaic mask with ritual engraving lines, and on his head he wore a complex headpiece featuring a textured turban, gold fittings, dark feathers, and a striking sculpted golden beard and mustache structure. His heavy loincloth in warm yellow, orange, and red tones fell over his knees, and his lower legs were tightly bandaged with woven straps above robust, thick leather sandals.
Simultaneously, the second figure flashed in like a lightning fast speedster. Izamaro swooped in with a sharp, right angle turn. To maintain maximum speed, his tattooed upper body was largely bare, save for a light, bright red and turquoise fabric stole draped over his shoulders. Around his neck shone a large chest plate of polished jade and turquoise discs with a central golden sun disc, while his wrists were adorned with light bracelets of gold, leather cords, and beads. His athletic, streamlined loincloth in red, yellow, and deep blue was held in place by a tight golden ornamental belt with turquoise inlay. On his head he wore an acrobatic, lightweight headdress with a golden headband and a large, dynamic fan of bright green and blue quetzal feathers that bent with his relentless speed. His lower legs were wrapped in tight bindings, paired with flexible leather sandals for maximum grip.
"SILLLL!!" Izamaro roared with a booming voice the moment he slid to a halt, his eyes shining with excitement. "We missed you guys so much, man! Bizarre!"
"BIG BRO BALAMORE!! BIG BRO IZAMAROO!!" Miki and Ren shrieked at the exact same moment, out of their minds with joy.
The two youngest bounded through the air like coiled springs. Balamore let out a deep, rumbling laugh, stepped forward, and scooped thirteen year old Miki off the ground in a single fluid motion. Without any effort, he lifted her high into the air and sat her firmly onto his broad, gold rimmed shoulder plate, where Miki laughingly straightened her homemade tiara.
Izamaro flashed straight over to Ren, grabbed the 13 year old by his shoulders, and looked him over with a broad, challenging grin. "Wait a minute… did you grow?! Let me see those muscles then, Ren!"
Ren grinned broadly, planted his feet wide, and flexed his arm under his iron straw poncho. With an exaggerated gesture, Izamaro poked his index finger squarely into Ren's bicep, immediately pulled a grimace, and shook his finger while rubbing it as if he had struck solid steel. "Ouch! Fucking hell, you turned into a rock, man!"
A wave of roaring laughter rolled through the group. The raw tension for what was to come melted away within seconds. Old friends, new allies, and former rivals stood laughing among one another. Doppo, who was standing at the head of the invisible bridge, watched the chaotic scene before him with an amused, light smile.
"What a reunion…" Doppo spoke with a clear, carrying voice that effortlessly rose above the racket. "Friends, family, rivals… who deep down might just be friends after all."
Vulkan cleared his throat and immediately wanted to throw a weak, tough excuse back at him. "Well you know, friends… I would rather call it a tactical collaborat—"
"BUT ARE YOU READY FOR IT?!" Doppo interrupted him with a blaring, cutting shout that completely pulverized Vulkan's weak excuse.
Doppo did not even wait for the answer. He spun on his heel and stepped into the void with a rock solid stride. His boot landed on the invisible, crystal clear magical bridge that stretched high above the abyss. Without hesitating, the group followed his trail, their steps echoing on the transparent energy floor as they walked into a meter thick, blanket like cloud of mist.
The cold, damp mist enveloped them completely, but as soon as they stepped out on the other side, the entire atmosphere shifted. The heavy smell of exhaust fumes and market dust gave way to a breathtaking, warm ambiance. The sweet, delicious scent of freshly baked cookies, melted caramel, and warm candy stores filled the air. Floating stalls and colorful shops could be seen everywhere along the broad, marble promenade. The sound of hundreds of laughing, running, and playing students echoed across the squares; everywhere, young warriors were playfully shooting brightly colored magical sparks and small elemental fireballs at each other across the terraces.
But the playful mood was completely overshadowed in the background by a structure of an absolutely sick, monumental scale. There rose the front of the giant fortress academy. Gigantic, mirror smooth towers gleamed fiercely under the sun, while massive, rotating floating stairs connected the different districts. Floating platforms gently brushed past each other in the sky beneath impressive magical domes that glistened with protective runes.
And right in front of them stood the gate: a grotesque, towering passageway of gold and black alloy metal, engraved with ancient combat symbols.
But before the group could take even a single step onto the inner grounds, four heavily armored academy guards tore forward from the shadows of the gate. Crossing their massive, energy crackling halberds inward, they forcefully blocked the passage.
"HALT!" the frontline guard roared with a mechanical, heavy voice through his helmet. "Unauthorized group! No one enters the academy grounds without the official handover!"
The group came to an abrupt halt before the closed lines of the monumental gate. The four heavily armored guards held their crackling halberds crossed rock solid in front of the stunning, gold and black gate. The tension in front of the entrance rose quickly, and several youths already automatically placed their hands on the hilts of their weapons.
But before the conflict at the gate could ignite, a calm, crystal clear clicking of boots sounded on the marble floor behind the lines of the guard. The heavy guards stiffened instantly. As if on command, they made a neat, synchronous ninety degree turn and snapped their halberds to their chests with a loud crack in a crisp, military salute.
From the shadow of the massive gate emerged King Solomon. He strolled up completely relaxed, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, dressed in a dull shining, dark gold cloak. Right beside him walked the seventeen year old beastmaster, clad in his baggy shaman outfit of rough fabrics, with his poncho of braided iron straw over his shoulders and the heavy bead necklace with the animal skull dangling on his chest.
"Children… ready for it?" Solomon spoke with a warm, deep voice that rolled bone dry across the square.
Nyx's icy, royal composure completely melted away within a single microsecond. Her eyes no longer spewed silver void energy, but shined with pure, childlike joy. Without thinking for even a second, she started running. With her silver hair bun tight on her head and Silarias' chain slapping against her chest piece, she flew at the king and launched herself straight into his arms for a firm hug.
Solomon caught her, but absorbed the impact with a short, controlled swing. With a playful yet firm motion, he placed his daughter neatly back onto her own boots on the ground and pushed her slightly away.
"Nyx, please… you really cannot just do this here," Solomon spoke, straightening his golden cloak with a sharp wave of his hand and giving his voice a businesslike tone. "I have been assigned a very specific, official role at this school."
Nyx put her hands on her hips, raised her eyebrows, and gave her father an utterly dumbfounded, crooked look. "Wait… what?! What then, are you a sponsor or something?!"
Solomon tightened his jaw muscles and his lips began to tremble violently. He wanted to burst out laughing at his daughter's absurd remark, but before the royal laugh could break through his throat, the atmosphere at the gate was roughly disrupted by a chaotic outburst of pure teenage emotion.
"RENNN!!"
Silarias and Aurelius charged past the guards like two unleashed bulls, with thick tears of absolute relief in the corners of their eyes, straight toward the 17 year old beastmaster. Silarias grabbed Renuardo by the thick collar of his iron straw poncho and Aurelius threw a muscular arm around his neck, causing the trio to nearly smash into a tangled heap on the marble floor.
"Ouch! Easy, easy, guys!" Renuardo burst into loud laughter, grinning as he wrestled out of their grip, shook out his baggy shaman clothes, and straightened the bead necklace with the animal skull around his neck. He looked at the entire, curious group, rubbed his neck, and let out a short, doubtful smirk.
"Haha, uhh… well, just to start off," the seventeen year old beastmaster began with a broad, sharp look in his eyes, "my name is actually Renuardo. I originally flew out here simply to bring you the message that things are going incredibly well with the ones left behind and that the Ward is growing bizarrely fast… In fact, it is going well beyond all expectations. I was supposed to purely deliver that message to Sil and immediately sneak back…"
He fell silent for a fraction of a second and glanced sideways at King Solomon and Doppo, who were watching him with amused looks. Renuardo's grin grew wider and more dangerous.
"But well… the plans have just completely changed…"