Several months ago, in the city of Aurelia, the current capital of Valoryn, a majestic throne room stood as a testament to decades of power and authority. Its high ceilings were etched with silver inlays that reflected the faint glimmer of enchanted torches, while the floor was a flawless obsidian, cold and unyielding beneath the weight of anyone who dared tread upon it.
On a high black throne adorned with intricate silver engravings sat a figure shrouded in illusory black smoke. An onyx crown hovered ominously above his head, and his obsidian royal robe fell elegantly to his knees, paired with tailored midnight-black pants and polished boots that absorbed the faint light of the hall.
The figure rested his head on his fist, surveying the throne room below with a leisurely, terrifying calm. His aura was suffocating—so potent that a normal human would collapse instantly, lifeless, even under the strictest control. This was no ordinary ruler; he was a Sovereign-rank legend—the unchallenged monarch of Valoryn.
Several steps below the throne knelt a man, head bowed, dressed in a simple black suit that contrasted sharply with the grandeur of the chamber. His presence was utterly submissive, every movement calculated to show unwavering loyalty.
"Something interesting happened in Coeron," the king intoned, his deep voice resonating through the vast, empty hall like the tolling of a massive bell.
He paused, letting the kneeling man absorb the weight of his words.
"There's an abnormal seed in Coeron… one that has just awakened." His dark pupils locked onto the figure, and a flicker of cold amusement passed through his gaze. "For me to sense this means the awakened seed may stir the balance in Coeron—and possibly the kingdom itself. Find an opportunity to investigate this seed… thoroughly."
The kneeling man stilled even his breathing, demonstrating absolute submission to the ruler's will.
"By your command," he murmured, lowering his head even further. Then, with precise elegance, he rose and walked out of the throne room, leaving only the king's chilling presence behind.
---
Current Time: In Coeron Arbora – Saturday Evening
Alex sat cross-legged on the ground, his palms resting gently atop each knee, eyes closed in quiet focus. He had been meditating for a while now, attempting to merge with the world around him—a critical step for advancing to the elusive Bloom rank.
Opposite him, a figure stood leaning casually against the alloy-reinforced walls of the training room. The man appeared like a grown version of Alex himself, arms crossed and his black hair neatly combed, observing silently. This was Sir Anderson, the principal of Coeron Arbora, watching over Alex with a blend of curiosity and professional caution.
Alex could feel his consciousness expanding, merging with the air, the walls, and even the faint currents of energy that hummed invisibly throughout the training chamber and the world itself!, but he still maintained his true self. Every seed in the world of Integrators advanced by such a delicate process; any lapse in focus could shatter control, scattering the integrator himself into harmless light particles.
Suddenly, the room's temperature plummeted. The air became so frigid that it pierced through the protective wind dome surrounding Alex, chilling even Sir Anderson. Goosebumps formed on the principal's skin as the icy energy settled, evidence of the incredible power Alex had begun to wield. The wind dome had been conjured by Sir Anderson himself, a precaution following the incident during Alex's awakening.
Alex slowly opened his eyes, his normally round blue iris were now orange, and his dark pupils were vertically slit. As his abnormal vision returned to normal, he exhaled deeply, directing his gaze at his father.
"Unsuccessful," he muttered, uncrossing his legs and rising with visible effort. "The world flows I stored earlier have been exhausted."
Sir Anderson gave a small nod. "Stay alert. There'll probably be another flow. You'll likely succeed tomorrow when the flow arrives."
Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Alex to process the lessons of the day.
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Inside Another Training Room – Same Time
Elsewhere in Coeron Arbora, Ellie was slumped on the floor, her red scepter lying nearby. She panted heavily, sweat matting strands of crimson hair to her forehead, while scorch marks and deep craters marred the walls around her. The walls had already started restoring itself in a rapid pace but smoke still spiraled from the burns, a testament to the intensity of her training session.
A woman stood a few steps away, composed and commanding. She shared Ellie's features but looked older, stronger, and more refined—the matured form of the Emberclaw lineage. This was an initial-stage evolved Integrator and a Coeron Arbora instructor, tasked with teaching Ellie the nuances of close-range combat for mages.
"You have talent, young Ms. Emberclaw," the instructor began, her voice calm but edged with authority, "but you are far from realizing the full potential of an Emberclaw child... maybe when you transcend as bloomer."
Ellie lifted her head slightly, struggling to catch her breath.
The instructor approached and extended a hand to help her up. "Earlier, you canceled your 'Blazing Holy Armour' spell when you noticed an opportunity. That was… expected," she said with a faint chuckle. "In close combat, you can't lower your defenses, even when an opening presents itself. A melee fighter will exploit it instantly. You rely too much on range and power."
She placed a hand gently on Ellie's shoulder. "Your spell chants are too long. They carry destructive power, yes—but in close quarters, speed is just as crucial. A longer chant gives your opponent time to close the gap, and your advantage vanishes."
The instructor paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I'll write down some shorter chants that retain offensive strength but allow you to react swiftly."
Stepping back, she commanded, "Again!"
Ellie's exhaustion faded in an instant, her training instincts taking over. She raised her scepter and intoned clearly, voice ringing with purpose:
"Source of the sun, grant me your light—Blazing Holy Armour!"
The air shimmered around her, light and heat coiling together into a radiant aura that enveloped her like living fire. Scorched lines traced the floor where her aura met the remnants of her previous attacks, leaving the room bathed in the residual glow of her spell.
Ellie's eyes gleamed with renewed determination. She was beginning to understand the balance between power and speed, defense and offense—the subtle art of merging her talent with her environment and her instinct.
The instructor nodded approvingly. "Better. Keep this pace. Remember, true mastery comes from the ability to adapt—never let power alone define your combat style."
With her words still hanging in the air, an elegant armor of blazing light wrapped around her, defying the need for any chant.