Months passed in a blur, a relentless whirlwind of preparation, training, and planning. After the storm of the Fall Ball and the nerve-rattling audience with the Radiant-rankers, life settled into a tense rhythm. But the stillness was deceptive—beneath the surface, the gears of destiny ground inexorably onward.
For me, those months were a crucible. Every waking hour was spent sharpening my skills, refining my arts, and weaving the intricate web of plans that would lead to tomorrow—the day that could reshape the world.
I stood in my office, overlooking the sprawling cityscape that housed Noctalis's headquarters. The lights of the bustling metropolis mirrored the constellations in the night sky above, a chaotic reflection of the stars' serene order. I pressed my hand against the glass, feeling the faint hum of the building's energy resonate through the pane.
"Finally," I murmured, the words barely audible to my own ears. My heart thrummed steadily, the rhythm a promise of the trials to come.
Tomorrow, everything would begin.
The market launch of aetherite—a substance so revolutionary that its mere existence threatened to topple the balance of power—was set to roll out across all continents. Noctalis, my guild, would finally step into the light, directly challenging the Twelve Great Guilds. Titans of their respective industries, they had stood unopposed for decades, even centuries. But tomorrow, the first cracks in their monolithic power would form.
The enormity of what I was about to undertake pressed against my chest like a weight. I inhaled deeply, my gaze hardening. This is what I've been working toward. No hesitation now.
The goal wasn't simply market dominance or even the accolades of being the youngest to achieve a 9-star adventurer license—a title I would claim as soon as I reached peak Ascendant-rank, an accomplishment now tantalizingly within reach. No, this was about something far more critical.
The engagement.
Elara Astoria, daughter of Archduke Astoria, was set to be engaged to Valerian Slatemark, the crown prince of the Central Continent. The union, orchestrated for political gain, was a linchpin in a precarious web of alliances. Breaking it would be a seismic act—one that would draw ire from the empire itself.
And yet, it must be done.
Failure to stop this engagement would ignite a catastrophic civil war. Millions of lives would be lost, and the balance of power across continents would crumble. The Slatemark Empire, already stretched thin, would fracture irreparably. And amidst the chaos, humanity's defenses against the black mana species and the rising cults would collapse.
My reflection stared back at me, shadowed but resolute. I must succeed.
The magnitude of the challenge wasn't lost on me. To reach this goal, I would first need to ascend to the throne of the guilds—a king among the Twelve Greats. Only then would I have the leverage and status necessary to challenge the emperor himself. It was an audacious plan, built on countless calculated risks.
In the shadows of my mind, doubts whispered their insidious lies. 'You're rushing headfirst into an empire's wrath. You're betting everything on fragile alliances and untested strategies. You're not ready.'
I clenched my fists, silencing the voices. Since I must, I will.
I turned away from the window, the city lights fading from view. My steps carried me across the room to a desk piled high with documents, blueprints, and spell diagrams. Each page was a brick in the foundation of the future I was building—a future free of the chains of the past.
"Luna," I called out, my voice steady despite the storm brewing in my chest.
The ethereal figure materialized beside me, her qilin form shimmering faintly in the dim light. Her galaxy eyes met mine, a knowing sadness reflected in their depths.
"You're ready, aren't you?" she asked softly, though it wasn't really a question.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. "This will be the hardest thing I've ever done, Luna. But there's no alternative. If I fail, everything falls apart."
She studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Then you won't fail. You've come this far, Arthur. The path forward is yours to carve."
I nodded, more to myself than to her. The weight of the next day pressed heavily on my shoulders, but it also lit a fire within me—a fire that burned with purpose and defiance. I would stand against the Twelve Great Guilds. I would break the engagement. And I would prevent the war that threatened to consume everything.
Because that was the only choice. Because I could not, would not, let the world fall to ruin.
Tomorrow, it all begins.
__________________________________________________________________________________
In the heart of Avalon, the capital of the sprawling Slatemark Empire, a new landmark had risen, gleaming and imperious—a multi-story complex owned and operated by one of the city's most influential guilds. Such expansions weren't rare; Avalon thrived as the nexus of power and commerce, where guilds often evolved into sprawling corporations that greased the empire's economic machinery.
But this particular complex was different.
Outside, a procession of luxurious vehicles lined the gilded streets, their polished exteriors gleaming under the sun. This wasn't the usual trickle of affluent customers a guild might attract—wealthy merchants, influential nobles, or the occasional eccentric adventurer. No, this was an inundation, a flood of Avalon's upper crust, converging on the complex with the urgency of pilgrims to a shrine.
The air buzzed with a peculiar energy, a current of curiosity and anticipation that had swept through the city like wildfire. Whispers circulated in salons and parlors, in the echoing halls of noble estates and the bustling hubs of merchant guilds. Whispers of something new, something extraordinary.
Inside the complex, the scene bordered on surreal. The grand hall, with its soaring ceilings and intricate chandeliers, was packed with people of unimaginable wealth, their expressions teetering between disbelief and elation. They crowded the aisles, eager to see for themselves the object of the city's latest obsession.
A woman with golden hair, clad in an opulent dress that shimmered with every step, paused before a display shelf. Her emerald eyes scanned the rows of potions arranged like jewels in a case. She picked one up—a sleek vial filled with liquid that shimmered faintly, its surface shifting like quicksilver.
Her gaze drifted downward to the price tag, and her perfectly manicured hand flew to her mouth. "Impossible," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
A man beside her turned, his brow furrowing. "What is it, Viscountess?" he asked, though his tone held more curiosity than concern.
"This is half the price of the potion I purchased last week," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She held up the vial as if it might vanish if she didn't keep her eyes on it. "And from the looks of it, it's of a higher grade."
The man raised an eyebrow and took the potion from her, holding it up to the light. Its glow reflected in his eyes, but his expression darkened. "That's absurd. You're saying this… substance they're using, this aetherite, can produce potions of this quality for this cost?"
"That's what they're claiming," she said, though her voice carried doubt, even as her eyes sparkled with the allure of possibility.
All around them, similar conversations erupted. Nobles huddled in clusters, examining the potions and elixirs with expressions of mingled wonder and skepticism. A gentleman in a crimson waistcoat muttered something about undercutting established markets, while another declared the guild responsible would either revolutionize commerce or spark outright economic chaos.
A shopkeeper, sensing an opportunity, approached the Viscountess with a practiced smile. "Madam, I assure you, every product in this establishment has been rigorously tested for quality and efficacy. Aetherite allows us to create potions and elixirs that are not only superior in potency but also more accessible to a wider audience."
"Accessible?" the Viscountess repeated, incredulous. "You think half the price of an S-class potion qualifies as 'accessible'?"
"Compared to the standard pricing, yes," the shopkeeper replied smoothly. "And when production scales further, the prices may drop even more."
The crowd rippled with murmurs at that, an electric charge of disbelief and anticipation. A revolution was unfolding before their very eyes, and they were at the precipice of it.
Meanwhile, outside the store, the gathering of luxurious vehicles began to draw the attention of passersby. Rumors spread like wildfire through the city streets, igniting curiosity in every corner of Avalon. More nobles, merchants, and adventurers descended upon the complex, eager to see this strange new marvel that promised to upend the established order.
The Viscountess finally placed the potion back on the shelf, though her fingers lingered on it as if reluctant to let it go. Her companion watched her, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"You're going to buy it, aren't you?" he asked.
She hesitated for the barest moment before nodding, her voice tinged with reluctant awe. "Of course I am. Whatever this aetherite is, I want to see what it can do."
And so she did, joining the line of eager customers who, knowingly or not, were part of a moment that would change the course of Avalon's history—and perhaps the entire world.