After the training started two months passed in a blur of ceaseless, brutal effort. Under the unwavering and unforgiving guidance of King Winston Fleming, the secret sanctuary became a crucible of fire and ice, hammering the young heroes into better versions of themselves.
James and Zayn endured grueling drills designed by the Tier 5 King to force them past the physical and spiritual limitations of both of them. Winston exposed them to controlled, high-Tier energy fields, forcing their elemental cores to expand or perish.
James's Advancement: James successfully consolidated his Air Magic, reaching a stable Tier 9. His Space Magic, the far more difficult discipline, was rapidly catching up, standing at nearly ninety percent completion towards Tier 9—a monumental feat for two months.
Zayn's Advancement: Zayn, fueled by the complex agony of his brother's return, channeled his trauma into cultivation. He achieved a remarkable breakthrough, stabilizing all three of his primary elements—Ice, Earth, and Storm Magic—at a solid Tier 8. His control over the Tier 8 Fire Breaker artifact also became fluid and instantaneous.
Jai followed a different, intensely personal path of acceleration, one dictated by divine inheritance and pain. He implemented the strategy of weaponizing the Emperor's scorn. He deliberately pushed his limits in sparring sessions with James and Zayn, forcing them to defeat him.
Each time the sheer power of his friends overwhelmed him, the residual will of the Emperor Dominatrix within the Golden Sword—refusing to be wielded by a weak failure—reacted violently. It channeled pure Imperial Sword Energy back into Jai's Spirit Core. This repeated, self-inflicted defeat caused his core to purify and condense at an incredible rate. Though the yield was small—a five percent gain in his core's total development—it was per use, resulting in a steady, profound increase. His overall core consolidation reached seventy-nine percent toward his next Tier advancement.
Even as the youngsters trained, King Winston was dedicating every spare moment to his primary mission: finding a cure for the Obsidian Artifact's mind control. Over the course of his exile and the past two months, he had been meticulously gathering the necessary components to create a counter-artifact.
He had journeyed far and wide, exploring ancient texts and obscure locations to secure the ingredients that possessed properties antithetical to the mind-controlling dark magic. Finally, he succeeded, crafting a crystalline marvel he named the Silver Lyre.
The Silver Lyre was a Tier 5 Sound and Light Elemental Artifact, appearing as a beautiful, miniature crystalline lyre.
This artifact is created with the components-
The Stellar Silver Ingot:
Not a common metal, but an alloy derived from meteorites—it glows with an internal, cool light. This material is completely non-conductive to electrical or magnetic fields, but an unparalleled conductor of psychic energy.
The Gland of the Phrenic Owl (The Cognitive Fuse):
The primary gland from a legendary, nocturnal creature known as the Phrenic Owl. This owl is said to be the one of the living thing completely immune to psychic influence, existing in a state of mental isolation. The gland itself looks like a tiny, frozen coil of shimmering nerve tissue. we can only find this owl in the dwarf kingdom.
Sand from the Still-Sea Shore (The Void Core)
Grains of sand collected from the shoreline of the mythological "Still-Sea," a body of water in the oldest legends said to have been untouched by tides, wind, or living things since the dawn of time. The sand feels warm, yet contains an absolute lack of kinetic or thermal energy. It is existed at between the elf and human kingdom and the minister personally goes to this place and collect the sand.
A Single Tear of Intent (The Catalyst)
A tear shed by a sentient being who understands the Lyre's devastating cost—the loss of their own intellect—and yet chooses to create the artifact anyway for the greater good. This tear must be shed at the exact moment the Lyre is forged, solidifying the sacrifice.
King Winston himself had undertaken the arduous journeys to secure the Stellar Silver, the Phrenic Owl Gland, and, most recently, journeyed to the distant shore between kingdoms to gather the Sand from the Still-Sea. The final, devastating act was shedding the Single Tear of Intent during the forging, embedding his own sacrifice into the crystalline structure.
The Silver Lyre is a crystalline Lyre : when touched, vibrates with a sonic wave of absolute psychic nothingness—the "Silence"—that instantly shatters the Obsidian Heart's connection. However, the cost of this cure is paid directly by the user's mind. Because the Dark Artifact operated not just through suggestion.
But by forging a parasitic, high-frequency connection to the neural pathways, the Lyre's absolute void rips away that attachment, leading to two devastating consequences: the user instantly loses all short-term memory of the minutes surrounding the Lyre's use, and the severance leaves them permanently diminished. Their quickness of wit, ability to recall complex knowledge, and overall mental acuity are subtly, yet irreversibly, dulled with every use, forcing the protagonist to weigh the freedom of others against the sacrifice of their own intelligence.
Using the newly forged Lyre, King Winston immediately focused on his first and most important target: Minister Brokk. The gentle sound wave ripped the dark influence away, and Minister Brokk returned to his true, lucid state, albeit slightly diminished. Brokk, horrified by the time he had lost, immediately joined the training camp, assisting the King in drilling the three youths.
Over the next few weeks, the King and Brokk used reconnaissance and stealth to sneak individuals out of Linston, curing them with the Lyre and steadily building a small, loyal resistance force in their hidden sanctuary. They knew Lenard would be hunting them, so their actions were measured, waiting for the optimal moment to strike.
At the very moment the heroes' training and infiltration efforts were reaching a critical point in the magical world of Aetheleon, an entirely new thread snapped into existence on Earth.
A person lay asleep, suddenly consumed by a vivid, horrific nightmare. He felt the phantom pain of severe injuries across his body. He couldn't distinguish the faces around him, seeing only blurred figures. He felt the terrifying, empty space where his left hand should have been—a chilling resonance of King Winston's loss.
His body was soaked in crimson blood, staining his white hair as it flew wildly in an intense, unnatural wind. He looked at the surrounding people—their blood was gold—but his own blood, flowing freely from his wounds, was a distinct, terrible crimson red. He struggled to understand: What strange hierarchy of blood color did this mean? Crimson for me, gold for them?
The landscape was one of devastating ruin: mountains were crushed, the ground smashed and broken, as if gods had battled here.
Suddenly, his throat forced out words he didn't recognize, roaring a furious challenge to the figures surrounding him:
"I, YAOWANG MING..." (He coughed blood) "...never deserved to kneel before you mere weak people! You all dare to betray me!"
The dream's reality intensified. The sky turned dark, roiling with thunder. Leaves and fruit rained down from invisible trees, swept by a heavy, bizarre energy that filled the entire environment.
"I am going to take revenge, and I won't leave any of you! I am going to massacre you and your entire families! When that day comes, all you will see is your family's dead bodies!" he roared, his voice so loud the figures in his vision covered their ears.
Then, a woman, shrouded entirely in black, materialized. She raised a golden sword and, in a flash, swung it, appearing to sever the head of a young child in the dream.
The man shot upright in bed, eyes wide, cold sweat plastering his clothes to his skin. He instantly reached up and touched his neck, checking to make sure his head was still attached, feeling a strange mix of terror and relief.
What was that? he wondered, shaking off the lingering dread. Some kind of fictional nightmare? He mentally scolded himself: "I have to reduce myself for watching the anime and reading the web novels."
He rose from his bed and stepped out of his room.
He was instantly greeted by a friend wearing a white sweat shirt and matching pants.
"Hey, Rayn! Why are you so gloomy?" the friend asked. "What happened?"
"Nothing! Just a bad dream," Rayn replied, dismissing the visceral horror he had just experienced.
Rayn sat down in his apartment. The room was the epitome of modern Earth luxury: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a glittering city skyline, sleek lines, minimalist furniture, and embedded smart technology controlling the ambient lighting. This was Shanghai, china, a world away from magical kingdoms and dwarf architecture.
He opened his phone, and his friend, Ken, immediately pulled up an article about Rayn himself.
The article detailed how Rayn had founded and elevated his company to become one of the top enterprises in the modern age, a hallmark of youthful genius and corporate success on Earth.
"The articles always tell the same story," Rayn said dismissively. "What's new? They build me up as a hero, but if I slip up even slightly, it becomes the highlight of the story."
The two friends drank coffee, settled their nerves, and headed back to their respective rooms to prepare for the workday. As Rayn faced the mirror, he studied his reflection: his magnificent black hair and piercing red eyes. He looked perfectly normal for a successful young tycoon—yet the image of crimson blood and a vengeful spirit clung to his mind.