As the festival reached its crescendo, the crowd erupted into applause. The announcer's voice carried over the enchanted speakers, echoing through the luminous streets of Mythos Academy:
"Arthur Nightingale is hereby crowned the official Sovereign of Mythos Academy!"
The declaration was met with cheers, a thunderous wave of approval that swelled and rolled through the assembled students and spectators. I stood at the center of the stage, the light from the glowing banners casting a warm glow around me, as if the very world acknowledged this moment.
And yet, while the crowd's enthusiasm was infectious, my own feelings were tempered. This wasn't just a title—it was a culmination of years of struggle, missteps, and growth. I had stood on this stage as Rank 1 before, but never as the Sovereign. My path here had been far from straightforward. In the first year, I lost to Lucifer. The second year, I hadn't participated since I was in isolation training. The third year's tournament was canceled altogether due to the war in the East.
This victory felt both earned and overdue.
The faces of my parents caught my eye in the sea of spectators. My mother, her expression alight with pride, waved energetically, while my father maintained his composed demeanor, though his small smile betrayed his own satisfaction. After the ceremony, they found me amidst the milling crowd, my mother pulling me into a tight embrace.
"You fought so well, Arthur," she said, her voice tinged with the kind of warmth only a mother could muster.
I hugged her back, allowing myself a rare moment of relaxation in her arms. "Thank you, Mom. Dad."
My father nodded approvingly, clapping me on the shoulder. "It was a fine performance. You've earned this."
For a fleeting moment, I let myself bask in their approval. These moments were rare, scattered across the years like distant stars. Yet, even as I stood there, surrounded by their love, my mind wandered to the responsibilities ahead. This wasn't the end of a journey—it was merely a milestone on a far larger path.
"So," my mother began, her tone shifting to one of hope, "are you going to come home? Even if just for a little while?"
Her question hung in the air, soft yet weighty. I scratched the back of my head, searching for the right words.
"I've got a lot of work to do, Mom," I said finally. It was the truth, and I knew she'd hear it in my voice. "With Noctalis growing so quickly, there's too much to handle right now."
Aetherite is the key to everything I'm building, and getting the spatial pathway and supply chain operational is going to take all summer.
Her expression faltered slightly, but she nodded in understanding. "You work too hard, Arthur."
She wasn't wrong. Between managing Noctalis, training, and pushing myself toward high Ascendant-rank, my days were grueling and relentless. But there was no room for rest. Not yet. Not with the responsibilities I had taken on—or the ambitions that drove me.
My father, ever the pragmatist, stepped in. "You should come home, Arthur," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Even if only for a short time. There's value in grounding yourself, in stepping away from the battlefield and the guild for a while."
I met his gaze, seeing the wisdom behind his words. There was a pause as I weighed my priorities, my responsibilities. Finally, I nodded. "Alright," I said. "I'll come home for a few days."
The relief on my mother's face was immediate, her smile widening as she squeezed my hand. "We'll make it special. Just like old times."
I smiled back, though the weight of my duties pressed against the edges of my thoughts. Aetherite, the Guild, my strength—all of it loomed in the background. The summer would be a crucible, one that would shape both my future and that of Noctalis.
But for now, I could afford a brief moment of peace. For them. For myself.
After bidding my parents farewell, I returned to my dorm room. The halls of Mythos Academy were quiet now, the echoes of the festival fading into the background. The air carried that strange stillness that comes after a storm, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the next upheaval. My room was unchanged—simple, impersonal, and functional. It was a space where the weight of my ambitions felt heavier than the walls themselves.
I slumped into the chair by my desk, the faint glow of the holographic display illuminating the darkened room. The crest of Noctalis shimmered in the air before shifting into the names that had occupied my thoughts relentlessly for the past few weeks. Each one represented an obstacle, a barrier I had to surpass.
The Twelve Great Guilds.
They were the titans of the Slatemark Empire, their influence woven into the very fabric of its society. Their names carried weight, not just in the industries they dominated but in the sheer power they held over the empire's destiny. Each guild was a pillar, its master a force of nature—9-star adventurers who had all achieved at least mid Immortal-rank. They weren't just leaders; they were legends.
Surpassing them in industry was possible. Aetherite, the trump card I had brought from the moon, would disrupt their strongholds. But strength? Pure, unyielding strength? That was a different challenge entirely.
The hologram shifted again, showing the timeline of events that led to the inevitable engagement between Elara Astoria and Prince Valerian Slatemark. The engagement that would fracture the empire and lead to a civil war that no one could afford. Two years. That was all the time I had. Two years to do the impossible: ascend from mid Ascendant-rank to Immortal-rank, establish Noctalis as the dominant guild, and dismantle the grip of the Twelve Great Guilds.
It felt like trying to climb an unscalable wall while carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the desk as my mind raced. Achieving low Immortal-rank was already a near-impossible feat within that timeframe, but mid Immortal-rank? It bordered on absurdity. Even if I poured every ounce of my time and energy into advancing my mana core, the sheer effort required to break through the Wall and undergo the body metamorphosis was staggering.
And then there was the status of a 9-star adventurer. It wasn't a title given lightly. Beyond raw strength, it required feats of legend, the kind of achievements that echoed across continents. The scarcity of 9-star beasts made it even harder; they were rare, elusive, and dangerous enough to challenge even the strongest Immortal-rankers. Without that recognition, I couldn't hope to be taken seriously among the Twelve.
The thought gnawed at me, a constant weight pressing against the edges of my resolve. The Twelve weren't just obstacles—they were mountains, immovable and unyielding. Each name was a testament to their mastery, their guilds a reflection of their indomitable will.
I stood, pacing the room. The glow of the hologram flickered behind me, casting faint shadows across the walls. My thoughts spiraled, pulling me into the labyrinth of plans and contingencies. Aetherite was the key. Its potential was vast, capable of reshaping industries and creating a new economic epoch. But innovation alone wouldn't be enough. Not without strength to match.
Luna shimmered into existence, her qilin form graceful and otherworldly as she perched on the bed. Her golden eyes followed me as I paced, her presence a silent reminder of the bond we shared.
"You're restless," she observed, her voice soft but pointed.
"Restless doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied, my tone clipped. I stopped mid-stride, turning to face her. "There's too much at stake. Too many moving parts."
"You've done the impossible before," she said, her voice steady. "This won't be any different."
"It has to be different," I countered. "This isn't just about me anymore. It's about the empire. About Noctalis. About preventing the war."
Her gaze didn't waver, the depth of her wisdom etched into her golden irises. "And yourself?"
The question caught me off guard, cutting through the storm of my thoughts like a blade. I shook my head, unwilling to answer. This wasn't about me. Not anymore. It couldn't be.
I returned to the desk, leaning over the hologram as my fingers danced across the controls. The display shifted to schematics of the aetherite-based spatial pathways I was developing with the Creighton family, the foundations of a new era of travel and trade. They were critical to the plan, but they were just the beginning.
"I'll need more than time," I muttered. "I'll need allies. Resources. A miracle."
"You'll get them," Luna said, her tone unwavering. "Because you're Arthur Nightingale."
I allowed myself a faint smile, her confidence in me a small balm against the enormity of the task ahead. The path was treacherous, the obstacles daunting. But the alternative was unthinkable.
I would climb higher. I would fight harder. And I would win.