In the present, Varek lay trembling on the ground, his body broken, and his spirit crushed. He stared up at Mel, his voice weak and laced with fear. "You're just like him," he murmured, tears streaking his face. "Just like Merlin..."
Before Varek could say more, Mel collapsed, the overwhelming strain of the battle rendering him unconscious. He hit the ground hard, his dark aura flickering out as his body gave in.
Leonardo smirked, effortlessly hoisting Nomak onto her shoulders. "Let's pick this up another time," she said with casual confidence, her icy blue hair shimmering under the fractured stage lights.
"Agreed," Baba Yaga replied, crouching down to lift Mel onto her back with surprising gentleness. Sera, Lumi, and Caius followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and determination.
In the aftermath of Ironclad isles…
The festival was promptly canceled, chaos and destruction leaving little room for celebration. Word spread quickly of the battle, though many details remained shrouded in mystery.
Varek, humiliated and broken, vanished into hiding, his name soon becoming a whisper in the shadows.
As for Leonardo and Nomak, they disappeared into the ether, leaving no trace behind. Their motives, like their next moves, remained unknown—a storm brewing on the horizon.
But for Melanthius and his friends, this was just the beginning of something far greater.
Mel stirred awake, blinking against the soft, rippling light filtering through the room. He realized he was lying in a grand, underwater bedchamber in Atlantis. As he yawned and rolled onto his side, he froze at the sight of Baba Yaga sitting inches away, staring at him intently.
"You bite when you sleep," she whispered, her tone teasing.
Mel shrieked and leaped onto the ceiling in a panic. "Where am I?!" he demanded, glancing wildly around the room.
He spotted Lumi and Sera sleeping soundly on either side of the bed, while Caius—currently in the form of a small octopus—was perched lazily on a nearby lamp. "How'd I get here?! What's going on?"
"Shh, calm down," Yaga said, waving a hand dismissively. "You passed out after your fight with Nomak. We took you on Klaus, brought you back to the Auroria Dominion, and then made our way here to Atlantis. And yes, we brought your little friends along for the ride."
Mel let out a long sigh of relief before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Wait, how'd you even get past the guards?"
"Uh…" Yaga scratched the back of her neck and chuckled nervously. "Let's just say… I have my ways."
Mel's gaze drifted to the window, where he saw his loyal fish army sprawled across the ocean floor, battered and bruised. "Oh my god," he groaned, running a hand down his face.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Yaga said sheepishly. "My kids never back down from a fight."
Mel dropped back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "So… I finally met another Renaissance King. Except she's a woman. Why does she even call herself a king?"
Yaga smirked, a playful glint lighting up her eyes. "Because no one truly respects a queen," she quipped, her tone laced with mockery. Then, her gaze sharpened as she turned to Mel. "But why are you so hung up on the Renaissance Kings?" she asked, curiosity threading through her words.
Mel let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Because I just found out something insane. One of the men who trained me in Caldara—Michaelangelo? Yeah, turns out he's alive. I thought he was dead, but he's been going around killing kings across Aurora. And here's the next part—I'm not even supposed to tell you this, but Donatello is alive too. He's the one who tipped me off about Michaelangelo."
His voice grew more frustrated, his words tumbling out in a rush. "and now, to top it all off, some freakishly strong lady with blue hair is chasing after me. I don't know if she wants to capture me, kill me, or something worse! So yeah, I think I've got a bit of a reason to be worried!"
Mel paused, his breathing ragged, the weight of everything he had just said pressing down on him like a boulder. Yaga studied him in silence, her usual smirk fading into something closer to understanding. Finally, she broke the tension with a shrug. "Jeez, kid, you need to chill. Maybe grab a drink or something."
"I'm extremely underage," Mel muttered, running a hand through his messy curls in frustration.
Yaga waved him off, clearly unfazed. "Details, details."
He let out a long sigh. "So, how long are you planning to stay here? Not that I mind, but you'll at least need to introduce yourself to King and Queen Aldara while you're around."
"Fine, no big deal," Yaga said, standing up and stretching. "Just as long as I don't have to tell them I'm Baba Yaga," she added with a sly grin before walking over to wake her kids.
"Mel!" Lumi's voice called out enthusiastically as the three kids ran to him, wrapping him in a group hug.
"You left without saying anything last time!" Sera teased with a chuckle, her arms still tight around him.
Mel smiled, hugging them back warmly. "I had to come back for my family," he replied, his smirk hiding the fact that he had no idea they'd be here in the Hissing Havens.
"Let's go to Auroria Dominion," he said, opening the door for them. The group nodded and followed him out.
In Auroria Dominion
As they entered Solstice City, even Sera, Lumi, Caius—and surprisingly, Yaga—were awestruck by the futuristic marvels of the city. Towering skyscrapers of shimmering glass and steel loomed above them, glowing with ethereal light. Hover-carts zipped past, weaving seamlessly through the streets, while intricate holograms danced in the air, advertising all manner of goods and events.
"This place is… insane," Sera murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the advanced technology around her.
Yaga whistled low, her usual nonchalant demeanor giving way to genuine curiosity. "I've seen a lot in my time, but this? Not bad, Auroria. Not bad at all."
"Yeah, I was pretty surprised when I first saw this place too," Mel said with a sniffle, a small smile creeping onto his face as he reminisced about his first day there.
As they approached the grand castle gates, the glint of sunlight off polished armor caught their eyes. Knights stood poised, their spears crossing to block the group's path.
"Intruders!" one of the guards barked, leveling his weapon toward Yaga and her kids.
"Oh, is this a battle?" Yaga purred, her smile wicked as she licked her lips.
"Stop!" Mel quickly stepped between the guards and Yaga's group, raising his hands. "Wait, it's fine!"
The guards paused, their stern expressions softening slightly as one of them recognized him. "King Melanthius," the lead guard said, bowing his head. "Are you with… these people?"
Mel glanced back at Yaga and her entourage, then back at the guards. "Yes," he said hesitantly, "they're my… cousins? No blood relations, though."
The guard hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Very well. You may enter."
With the tension defused, the group walked through the towering gates and into the castle. Mel glanced over his shoulder, his tone firm. "Don't touch anything."
The group made their way to the throne room, where King Percival sat atop a gilded throne. The older man's eyebrows lifted in surprise as they entered.
"Melanthius," he said, standing to greet him. "You've returned from the Isles! And… who are your companions?"
Mel gestured toward the group with a sheepish grin. "These are my friends. Sera, Lumi, Caius—man of few words—and, uh, Shenelle Upan," he said, motioning to each in turn.
King Percival's gaze lingered on the group before nodding thoughtfully. "Will they be staying with us?" he asked, his tone neutral but curious.
"Hell no—" Yaga began, but Mel quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, grinning nervously.
"Yes! My friend Shenelle here is very interested in joining the staff next year at school," he said with forced enthusiasm. "And Sera, Lumi, and Caius are hoping to join the student roster as well."
Yaga's eyes flared with disbelief as she grabbed Mel by the collar and yanked him close. "Mel, what the hell are you doing?!" she hissed angrily.
Mel kept his voice calm, though his heart raced. "Look, Yaga. You're always on the run from the Magisterium, never staying in one place. Don't you think it's time to settle down for a bit? Let the kids socialize, learn, and grow with people their own age? And, honestly… you could use some stability too." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. "You're a legend, sure, but maybe it's time to be someone other than that for a while."
Yaga glared at him, then turned to look at Sera, Lumi, and Caius. Their hopeful expressions made her sigh in resignation. "You're right," she muttered, her voice tinged with reluctance. "But what about the Magisterium? They'll sniff me out eventually."
Mel shrugged casually. "Not if you keep your identity under wraps. Just stay 'Shenelle Upan,' and no one will have a clue you're Baba Yaga."
Yaga narrowed her eyes at him, then sighed again, this time heavier. "You're pushing it, kid. But fine. I'll do it… for them."
The trio cheered, and Mel grinned. "You'll see, Yaga. It'll be worth it."
"Hm, funny, Melanthius," Percival said with a sly grin. "I don't recall ever saying there'd be a school next year. What makes you so sure?"
He chuckled, and Ruecrix joined in, their snickers filling the air like a private joke.
Mel shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, right, it's supposed to be a surprise, isn't it? Yeah, Rue told me already. Don't worry—I'll keep it a secret." His casual tone carried.
Ruecrix's smirk disappeared instantly, replaced with a growl. "That little—! I am so going to ground her!"
Mel approached cautiously, his tone measured. "Uh, how has Princess Rue been?"
Ruecrix let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. "She's been fine. I know you might think it's unfair that she didn't get to accompany you to Ironclad, but once Bimoth decided not to go, I just didn't feel comfortable sending her."
Mel nodded understandingly. "No, it's okay. It was really dangerous," he admitted, scratching the back of his head as the memories of Ironclad's chaos resurfaced. "To be honest, though, I wish Bimoth had been there. Could've really used his titan strength." He chuckled softly before turning back toward the group. "Well, we'll be on our way then."
The group made their way toward the exit of the throne room and ascended the grand staircase.
"Where are we going now?" Sera asked, breaking the silence.
"Just going to see Princess Rue," Mel replied, his voice quieter, as if he were already thinking ahead.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Lumi teased with a giggle, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Mel shook his head quickly, his tone firm. "Nope," he answered, not leaving room for debate.
When they reached the large door to Rue's chambers, Mel stopped abruptly. Placing a hand on Yaga's stomach, he turned to her with a serious expression.
"I want you to spend a little more time getting to know King and Queen Aldara," he said.
Yaga raised an eyebrow, smirking at him as she crossed her arms. "Oh, so you're pushing me into polite society now? What's next, tea parties and curtsies?"
Mel sighed but smiled, knowing her sarcasm was a cover. "Just... trust me on this, okay? You'll figure it out."
Yaga held Mel's gaze, her smirk softening into something warmer. After a moment, she let out a light chuckle, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. But if they start prying into my life story, I'm sending them straight to you." She spun on her heel and strode back toward the throne room, leaving Mel to face what was next.
Mel approached the door to Rue's chambers, raising his hand to knock. Before his knuckles touched the wood, he heard a voice shout from inside, "Coming!" But it wasn't Rue's voice. Confused, he tilted his head, then slowly pushed the door open.
A delinquent-looking boy stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed and cocky. His eyes scanned Mel with thinly veiled disdain. "Who the hell are you?" the boy asked, blocking the entrance.
From behind him, Mel spotted Rue sitting in her wheelchair. Her cybernetic eye glinted faintly in the room's light, metal components gleaming on her middle and pinky fingers. Around her lounged a small group of boys and girls, each giving off a similarly rebellious energy.
Mel kept his composure, his voice calm. "I'm here to see Rue."
The boy chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at the group before turning back to Mel with a sneer. "Oh, you must be Mel. Didn't Rue already tell you she doesn't feel safe around you? You already put her in that wheelchair."
His laughter grated against Mel's nerves, but it was his words that cut the deepest. Mel's gaze dropped for a moment, guilt flashing across his face.
Before he could respond, Sera stormed forward, her fury palpable. She grabbed the boy by the collar and shoved him against the doorframe with surprising force. "You heard him, right?" she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. The boy's confidence crumbled instantly, his smirk vanishing as fear flickered in his eyes.
The other boys and girls in the room stood up, their expressions protective and ready to intervene, but Rue rolled her wheelchair to the door before anyone could escalate the situation. "How was your trip, Mel?" she asked, her calm voice cutting through the tension.
Mel's gaze shifted from the hostile crowd to Rue, his expression softening. "Can we talk? Alone?" he asked, his voice low.
Rue gave him a small nod. "Follow me."
They made their way to the castle balcony, where the sprawling view of Solstice City stretched out before them. Mel sat on the edge of the balcony, his legs dangling over the side, while Rue positioned her wheelchair across from him.
"So," she started, her cybernetic eye glowing faintly as she looked him over, "how was the trip?"
Mel exhaled, running a hand through his curly hair. "It was alright. Had a stupid fight, but that's how it goes when I'm around, sadly." He unstrapped the watch from his wrist and tossed it to her. Rue caught it with practiced ease.
"Thanks," she said, sliding the watch onto her wrist.
"About earlier," Mel began, glancing back toward the room they'd left. "All those people in there—who are they?"
Rue sighed and leaned back slightly. "Don't worry about them. They're just yellow cards. Sorry for how they acted." Her gaze shifted, curious. "Who were the kids you brought in?"
"Baba Yaga's kids," he replied simply. "Remember I told you about her? She's here too. I want them to have a chance at living normal lives."
Rue tilted her head, studying him. A faint smile crossed her lips, though her tone carried a hint of disbelief. "You're too pure of heart for someone with the power to go berserk and take down four Abyssal Wardens on your own."
Mel chuckled dryly but didn't argue. "Speaking of that… when I was in Ironclad, I fought someone. I went into that mode again." His voice grew quieter, more introspective. "Except this time, I wasn't saying anything. Just… moving."
Rue's smile faded, replaced by concern. "What happened?"
Mel took a deep breath and recounted the vision: the mysterious woman shrouded in purple smoke, the crackling energy of the lightning monster, and the way it all felt disturbingly familiar yet monster. He then told her the rest of the events that occurred in Ironclad. Rue listened intently, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the watch.
When he finished, she leaned forward slightly. "You think it means something?"
"I don't know," Mel admitted. "But it felt real. Too real. And it's stuck in my head like it's… waiting for something."
Rue nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful, her gaze distant for a moment. Mel watched her carefully, then spoke, his voice tinged with concern. "You're not going to change, right?"
She turned to him and let out a soft chuckle. "No, Mel. I'm still me. I told you not to visit before you left because I was… working on some upgrades."
"Upgrades?" he asked, raising a brow.
Rue smirked, tapping her wrist. A small holographic projection appeared, illuminating her cybernetic form in glowing blue light. "Check it out," she said, gesturing to the display.
Mel leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the details. The projection highlighted two retractable robotic pincers that extended from her back, gleaming with precision engineering. There was also a sleek nanite repair system, capable of adapting her body in real time, and a compact weapons system embedded discreetly within her frame.
"You have a weapons system?!" Mel exclaimed, suddenly darting over to Rue with childlike curiosity. His hands began poking at her stomach, thigh, chest, and arms as if trying to uncover hidden compartments.
Rue blushed and narrowed her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Mel," she said, her tone a mix of warning and exasperation.
"Hold on, I'm just—"
"Defense mechanism: Shock," Rue announced flatly.
Before Mel could react, a small surge of electricity zapped his finger. He yelped, stumbling back and shaking his hand. "Ow!"
Rue sighed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Curiosity killed the cat, Mel. Lucky for you, I've got my settings on mild."
"Noted," he muttered, still shaking his hand. "You could've just said, 'Don't touch.'"
"And miss the chance to teach you a lesson? Never," Rue teased with a mischievous giggle.
Mel chuckled, shaking his head. "Glad to know you're not mad at me or anything."
Rue rolled her eyes playfully, a soft smile lighting her face. "Come here," she said, motioning for him to come closer.
Mel stepped forward, lowering himself to one knee in front of her. Without hesitation, they leaned into a hug, her arms wrapping gently around his neck while his hands settled on her waist. For a moment, the world around them faded, and the embrace felt tender.
"So, about the Renaissance King," Rue began, her tone measured. "Think you could tell me about that? And why Leonardo came looking for you?"
Mel shook his head, the weight of his promise pressing down on him. "I made a promise. I can't involve you in any of this—not anymore," he said with a heavy sigh.
Rue nodded, though her disappointment was evident. "Well, I guess it's for the best," she admitted, leaning back slightly. "But why did you go into that uncontrolled mode again?"
Mel exhaled deeply, leaning against the cool stone wall of the balcony. "I wish I knew. The first time it happened, it was pure rage. The second time... it was because I hated myself for letting you get hurt," he said, his voice quiet as his gaze dropped. "But this time? I think it was because someone incredibly strong knocked me out. Then again, it didn't happen against the Wild Storm Spider, so maybe... certain conditions need to be met?"
Rue's face brightened as an idea sparked. "We should name it!" she said enthusiastically. "What about... 'Purple Smoky Man!' Since that's the color your eyes go!"
Mel groaned, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "That's an awful name, Rue."
"Well, until you come up with something better, Purple Smoky Man it is!" she declared with a grin, clearly amused. "Maybe… Amethyst Fury?" Mel suggested cautiously. Rue scrunched her nose, clearly unimpressed. "What's wrong with Purple Smoky Man?" she whined, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "I'm not a superhero," Mel replied dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," she said with a mischievous grin, leaning back in her chair. "Then I'll just call you… Smoky Moody." She giggled, clearly proud of herself. Mel groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just… put a pin in this conversation and never come back to it. Ever."
Meanwhile, Baba Yaga—now going by Shenelle Upan—trailed behind King Aldara as he guided her through Solstice City. They came to a stop in front of the ruins of the high school and middle school.
"The high school fell during the battle with the Jester," King Aldara explained, his tone heavy with memory. "Then the middle school was destroyed in the fight against four Abyssal Wardens. Thanks to Melanthius, the wardens were ultimately apprehended. But… my daughter was left in a wheelchair." He paused, his voice softening. "None of us blame Melanthius for what happened."
"And where were your knights during all of this?" Shenelle snapped, crossing her arms with a scowl. "If you're so eager to lay blame, you should start with them. Not Melanthius." Her words were laced with venom, her frustration evident at how much responsibility was unfairly placed on Mel's shoulders.
King Aldara sighed heavily, the weight of his own failure pressing on him. "It's sad to admit, but… my gate of knights is incredibly weak. They have no magic, no notable skills. The black card students were the ones who defended the kingdom… more or less…" His voice trailed off, heavy with guilt.
Shenelle's gaze hardened, her expression filled with disgust. "You let children bear that burden? You're absolutely pathetic." Her blunt words cut deep, and King Aldara could only look down, unable to defend himself.
"Anyway," she said, brushing the subject aside with an impatient wave, "how much am I being paid?" Her arms crossed again, her tone making it clear this was more a demand than a question.
"P-paid?" he stammered, his composure faltering. "Do you even have any teaching experience?" His voice was a mix of incredulity and nervousness.
"What? No, not for teaching." Shenelle raised her hand, a faint blue glow emanating from her palm. "For this." With a flick of her wrist, she released a sphere of crackling blue energy.
"Detailed Reconstruction," she commanded, her voice resonating with authority.
In an instant, both the high school and middle school were restored before their eyes, now grander than before, with new wings and modernized additions. The amethyst and silver accents shimmered under the sunlight, and the intricate designs made the structures feel almost otherworldly.
The citizens around them gasped, their amazement turning to awe as they watched the schools rise anew, towering symbols of resilience and innovation. Shenelle lowered her hand, smirking at the stunned silence that followed.
King Aldara's jaw dropped, and he began to stammer. "B-b-but… the students were supposed to be on a nine-month break because the schools were destroyed! How am I supposed to recall them now? Especially the ones who've already made plans! And—and I still need to hire more staff, rethink the curriculum, and redesign the card system for rankings! We used white for academic excellence, yellow for technology, red for royalty, and black for all of the above, plus magic and supernatural races! How am I going to pull this off?!"
Shenelle rolled her eyes, unimpressed with his flustered panic. "Simple," she said, her tone calm but sharp. "First, keep the nine-month break. That gives you more than enough time to get everything in order. Announce the reconstruction of the schools, but make it clear the break remains as planned. That way, no one feels rushed."
She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with practicality. "As for staff, start with me. I'll oversee them and ensure the people you hire are actually competent. Think of it as your first line of quality control."
King Aldara blinked, still overwhelmed. "And the card system?" he asked hesitantly.
"Keep the colors," Shenelle said, waving a hand dismissively. "But refine the criteria. Add sub-ranks within each color if you're so desperate to show structure. And don't forget: focus on practical skill development, not just status."
Her tone softened slightly, though her words still carried weight. "You're overthinking it, Aldara. Plan smarter, not harder. You're not building a kingdom from scratch—you're rebuilding. Use what you already have and make it better."
The king nodded slowly, her clear-cut solutions grounding him. "You really think it's possible?" he asked.
She smirked. "Of course. I just fixed your schools in five seconds. The rest should be child's play."
"But I didn't create the card system," King Aldara admitted, running a hand through his hair. "My parents did, and then my brother took over. He knew everything about it… until he died. I never once had a hand in the school's management. Originally, there were only three black cards per grade level. After the jester incident, I decided to add more black cards, but now I'm not sure what to do." His voice wavered as he looked to Shenelle for guidance.
Shenelle crossed her arms, her sharp gaze unwavering. "Maybe you should allow for more than three black cards. Better yet, consider creating groups of three black cards per grade. That way, there could be teams—maybe twelve black cards in total per grade. It would give students structure and opportunities to collaborate." She leaned forward slightly. "Now, tell me about the original black cards."
He hesitated before responding, his tone reverent as he recounted their names. "The old senior black cards were Jasper Onyx, prince of the Dwarven Mountain Clans; Kai Stormbringer, heir to the Northern Barrens; and Draven Stormclaw, the sole heir to the Drachenwald Kingdom."
Shenelle nodded, urging him to continue.
"The old junior black cards," he went on, "were Laurel Havenfall, daughter of the Spirit Queen; Emrys Ambrose, heir to the Golden Throne; and Kali Indraja, princess of the Eastern Isles."
"And the sophomores?" Shenelle prompted.
"Amara Winterborn, princess of the Frostlands; Cassius Taurus, prince of the Minotaur Kingdom; and Astroman, real name Akoni, son of the Astronomer Royal."
A faint smile tugged at Shenelle's lips. "And the freshmen?"
Aldara hesitated, his tone softening. "The freshmen were the most interesting. There was Melanthius Shadowbane, son of the late King Merlin of Noctara; Dorian Dracula, son of Vlad Dracula, the reigning king of the Bloodthorn Dominion; and Elowen Pendragon, daughter of Arthur Pendragon."
"And the newer ones you added?" Shenelle asked, her interest clearly piqued.
"The new ones, or those who endured the trials, were Arid Rosethorn, a demigod and son of Mother Nature—Gaia herself—from the Horace Groves. He doesn't hold any royal status. Renita Kala, a vampire from the Crypt's Runners clan in the Biba Kingdom, also without royal standing. And Lincoln Randolph, a werewolf from the Demonhide Howlers pack in the Bugia Kingdom, also without royal ties."
Shenelle leaned back, processing the information. "So, you've already expanded the roster before. Why are you hesitating now? You clearly have an eye for talent. Just refine the system. Structure those teams and ensure the black cards know their responsibilities. Don't let tradition hold you back from making improvements."
Mel, Rue, Sera, Lumi, and Caius made their way to the area, Rue wheeling alongside them. As they arrived, Mel squinted against the sunlight, shielding his eyes as he took in the sight of the towering, newly restored schools. "What's going on? Whoa! The schools are back?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise and awe.
Lumi let out an impressed whistle, her gaze fixed on the gleaming structures. "So… what does this mean?" she asked, curiosity sparking in her tone.
Percival, standing nearby, turned to face the group with a grin. Glancing back at the schools, he announced with excitement, "This means… on August 16, school is officially back in session!"
The words barely left his mouth before cheers erupted from the surrounding crowd, their voices echoing with energy and anticipation.
In the serene expanse of Horace Groves, Jake Knight sat quietly on the porch of his modest home, pencil in hand, sketching with quiet focus. The tranquility was soon interrupted by the arrival of a group of kids, their marks of magic etched prominently on different parts of their bodies.
"Jake," one of them called in a sing-song tone, a mocking lilt in his voice. "Still drawing that dumb stuff? I get it—you're one of the only ones without magic—but come on. At least gouge your eye out or something and get rid of that scar. You think you're better than us because you went to Auroria? Or is it because you hung out with Melanthius Shadowbane?"
The boy snatched Jake's sketchbook with a sneer. Jake immediately stood, his voice firm despite the unease tightening his chest. "Give it back!" He lunged for the book, but the boy struck him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. Jake collapsed to the ground, clutching the dirt as laughter erupted around him.
The mocking was short-lived, however. Something stirred within Jake, a surge of defiance he hadn't felt before. Rising to his feet, he clenched his fist and threw a punch that connected squarely with the bully's jaw. Both Jake and the others froze in shock, unsure of what had just happened.
"You're dead now!" one of the boys snarled as the group closed in, ready to pounce.
Before they could make a move, a figure stepped in front of Jake—Arid Rosethorn. His presence alone was commanding, the weight of his lineage palpable.
"That's enough," Arid said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The boy sneered, his bravado wavering but not gone. "Oh, Arid, you think you're tough, huh? Let me remind you about your father. My mother says that your so-called lineage—descendant of Mother Nature and all—left him traumatized from some-"
Before he could finish, Arid moved with swift precision, slamming the boy into the ground with a powerful shoulder throw. The impact sent a shockwave of silence through the group, their earlier confidence vanishing in an instant.
"That's what I thought," Arid said, his tone steady, his eyes burning with quiet intensity.
"A-Arid, what are you doing here?" Jake stuttered, still in disbelief that the boy who once tormented him was now standing as his protector. Arid didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached down and grabbed Jake by the arm, pulling him to his feet before holding up a newspaper.
"Look at this," Arid said, his voice more serious than Jake was used to hearing. A holographic image flickered to life from the paper, showing King Aldara's announcement: the schools were reopening.
Jake's eyes widened in shock. "Wait—so the schools are back? That's... that's amazing!" His excitement was palpable, his tone filled with genuine wonder.
Arid nodded, but there was a certain gravity in his expression. "Yeah, and that means there could be new students—magic students, especially. And I need to make sure you're ready for it."
Jake blinked, his enthusiasm fading into confusion. "Ready for what?"
Arid's gaze softened, but the determination in his voice didn't waver. "You're going to a school full of magic students with no magic of your own, Jake. You'll need to be stronger, smarter, faster. You can't let yourself be a target. Besides," he added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I owe it to Melanthius, and since you're his friend, helping you out is the least I can do."
A while later, after an intense run, Jake collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath as if his lungs were on fire. Arid stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him with a raised eyebrow. "You're seriously out of shape," he said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, well, when you don't have magic, you focus on studying," Jake replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "My father, one of the strongest around here, doesn't even acknowledge me. Then I had to go to school and get bullied for it—by you." He covered his forehead with his arm, trying to hide the bitter look in his eyes.
Arid paused for a moment, looking down at him. "I get it," he said, his tone softer now. "I wasn't much better back then. But I was an idiot, trying to prove something I didn't need to. I'm sorry for what happened. And about your dad... that sucks, man. But you don't have to be defined by him." Arid offered a hand to help Jake up. "You've got potential, even without magic."
In Camelot, atop the rugged cliffs of The Narrow Peaks, Elowen stood at the edge, her workout clothes fluttering in the mountain breeze. She gazed out at the sprawling valleys below, her thoughts lost in the vastness of the horizon. Behind her, her Aunt Abigail ascended the mountain path, carrying a massive dead boar slung effortlessly over her shoulders and clutching a rolled-up newspaper in one hand.
"Hey, Ellie," Abigail called out, her voice cutting through the crisp air. "Look at this." She tossed the newspaper toward Elowen.
Catching it, Elowen scanned the headline, her eyes widening. "Whoa, the schools are repaired?!" she exclaimed, excitement lighting up her face. Without hesitation, she drew Excalibur from its sheath, the blade gleaming in the sunlight as she spun it skillfully, her energy palpable. "Can't wait to see my friends again." She smiled.
Meanwhile, in Transylvania, a chilling mist blanketed the dense, dark forests that seemed to stretch endlessly under a perpetually overcast sky. Towering gothic castles perched atop jagged cliffs, their spires piercing the clouds like talons. The villages nestled in the valleys below were a patchwork of cobblestone streets and timber-framed homes, their dimly lit windows glowing faintly against the encroaching twilight.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of blood—a land steeped in ancient lore and shadowed by its vampiric lineage. Bats darted through the air in silent flocks, their wings slicing through the mist as the eerie howl of wolves echoed in the distance.
At the heart of Transylvania stood Bloodthorn Manor, the seat of power for the ruling Dracula family. Its dark stone walls bore centuries of scars from battles fought and won, and the crimson banners bearing the Dracula crest fluttered ominously in the cold wind. Inside, the grand halls were illuminated by the flicker of candelabras, casting long, dancing shadows across intricate tapestries and statues of past rulers.
Dorian slouched on the throne, the massive, tattered robe of his father, Dracula, draped over his shoulders like a shadowy mantle. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light of the great hall, fangs bared in frustration as he scanned the newspaper in his hands. The headline about the schools reopening caught his attention, and his grip tightened. Rising to his feet with a growl, he crumpled the paper in his fist and hurled it to the ground, his mind flashing back to that dreadful day—the day everything changed.
Flashback
The streets of Transylvania lay shrouded in mist as Dorian strolled through, the weight of his lineage pressing heavily on him. Townsfolk bowed low as he passed, their murmurs of reverence trailing behind him like ghostly whispers. He smirked faintly, his tone laced with bitterness. "Ugh, now I'll have to hear his lecture about not defeating the wardens myself," he muttered. Then, after a pause, he chuckled wryly. "Still, I can't be too mad at the old bastard. He tried his best to raise me all these years."
Stopping by a local vendor, Dorian grabbed a freshly prepared meal, the savory scent of roasted deer wafting through the air. With the bundle in hand, he headed toward Bloodthorn Manor. The towering castle loomed like a sentinel over the valley, its jagged spires piercing the night sky. He ascended the grand staircase, each step echoing ominously, until he reached his father's sleeping quarters—a cavernous room dominated by a massive casket engraved with intricate vampiric runes.
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the casket's lid. "Wake up, Dad. I brought your favorite. Deer," he called, his tone teasing but affectionate. There was no response.
Glancing toward the window, he frowned. "It's already 7 p.m. You're usually up by now," he murmured. His unease growing, Dorian knocked harder. "Dad?" Still no answer.
An icy dread coiled in his chest as he slowly lifted the lid. The sight within wrenched a scream from his throat—a sound that reverberated through the halls. Vlad Dracula, the King of Bloodthorn, lay decapitated, his once-terrifying eyes gouged out and his legendary fangs ripped from his mouth. The casket, once a symbol of power and fear, had become a grotesque tableau of his father's brutal end.
Dorian staggered back, his mind reeling, and the meal he carried fell to the stone floor with a dull thud. "Who… who did this?" he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of grief and rage as he clenched his fists. Darkness and vengeance filled the void left by his father's absence, setting his path ablaze with purpose.
Meanwhile, Michelangelo—known to Mel as "Goldman," one of the fabled Renaissance Kings and Mel's former mentor—strode into a grand chamber with an air of grim determination. This was no ordinary room; it was the Magisterium, the shadowy council of nine wizards who had shaped the course of kingdoms for centuries. Their motives were as opaque as the dark enchantments they wielded.
Michelangelo was more than just Mel's mentor—he was the man who had killed Triton, the former King of Atlantis, and Maren's father. He was also responsible for the supposed death of his brother, Donatello, though Mel knew the truth: Donatello was still alive, hidden away for reasons known only to him.
As Michelangelo entered the chamber, the members of the Magisterium turned their piercing gazes upon him, their contempt thinly veiled.
"Michelangelo," one of the wizards sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, "I thought you'd rotted away in prison. And yet here you are, scurrying back like the rat you've always been, sniffing for your cheese." The council erupted into derisive laughter.
Without a word, Michelangelo reached into a leather satchel and hurled it onto the stone floor. The bag spilled open, its macabre contents clattering to the ground. Gasps filled the room as the severed remnants of kings tumbled out: Dracula's fangs, still gleaming with an eerie crimson hue; Triton's severed head, his regal features frozen in eternal rage; a leg, still clad in royal armor; and an arm, bearing the insignia of a fallen monarch. The room fell silent, save for murmurs of shock and unease.
Michelangelo straightened, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I did what you commanded all those years ago," he said, his voice cold and deliberate. "I killed kings, toppled thrones, and threw the world into chaos at your behest. But then I killed my brother and ended up rotting in prison, unable to finish your dirty work."
He scanned the room, his golden eyes narrowing with contempt. "You wanted me to slay kings to earn a seat at your wretched council. And now you mock me?" His smirk deepened as he gestured to the bloody relics at his feet. "Here's your proof. But don't think for a second that I've forgotten how despicable you are. Manipulating pawns to do your bidding while you sit here, untouched."
The council exchanged uneasy glances, their laughter silenced. The air grew thick with tension as Michelangelo's smirk widened into something far more menacing. He had returned, but not as the obedient pawn they once controlled—this time, he was playing his own game.
"You're in," one of the council members declared, their tone laced with calculated authority. They pressed a button on the sleek control panel before them, and a holographic image flickered to life in the center of the room.
The image revealed a teenage girl, dressed in rags, her unkempt hair falling wildly around her face. Despite her disheveled appearance, she exuded an air of defiance, a toothpick clenched between her teeth. Gasps rippled through the chamber as the council leaned forward, their murmurs filling the air.
"She goes by the name Althara, and here's the kicker…" The councilmember's voice dropped, heightening the tension. "Her last name is Shadowbane."
The room fell silent, the name cutting through the murmurs like a blade. Michelangelo's golden eyes widened in disbelief, his usually composed demeanor faltering. "Shadowbane?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned forward, his fingers twitching toward his mouth as he began biting his nails—a rare tell of unease. "Does she have any connection to Merlin Shadowbane? Could she be… his daughter?"
The council members shook their heads gravely. "We have no records of her connection to Merlin. Nothing in our archives suggests a familial link. But here's what we do know: several of our operatives were sent to apprehend her, and none of them returned. Not one. It's as if they vanished into thin air."
"Vanished?" Michelangelo repeated, his brow furrowing.
"We suspect she has ties to the Capital of Sins—a confederation of kingdoms so depraved, they make the worst of us look tame. The people we managed to capture, those who claimed to work for her, were… loyal beyond reason. They killed themselves before revealing anything of value."
The room filled with an uneasy silence as the council absorbed the gravity of the situation. The speaker's voice grew sharper, the urgency unmistakable. "The question remains: is her power tied to Merlin? To Melanthius, who we allowed into Auroria? We have no answers. But what we do know is this—Althara Shadowbane is a threat. If we do nothing, she will destroy everything we've worked for."
Michelangelo stared at the image, his mind racing. "Shadowbane," he murmured to himself, his thoughts already spiraling. "Just who are you, Althara?"
In the Kingdom of Wrath, of the capital of sins, within the dim confines of a modest hut, former King Leonardo of the Renaissance Kingdom lay sprawled on a worn bed. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting long shadows across the room. She turned over, her hair cascading over her shoulder, and her sharp eyes fell upon Nomak, seated on the floor with his back against the wall.
His gaze was fixed downward, a lit cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The faint tendrils of smoke curled lazily into the air, the acrid scent mingling with the cool night breeze.
"What's on your mind?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with curiosity.
Nomak exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression distant. "Melanthius," he murmured, the name hanging heavy in the air.
Intrigued, Leonardo pulled the blanket tighter around her bare shoulders and slid closer to him, her curiosity piqued. "What about him?" she pressed, her voice quieter now.
Nomak's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his voice raw with emotion. "I've been battling this weight—this relentless depression—for as long as I can remember," he admitted, taking another drag from the cigarette. "Then I met you, and for the first time in years, that weight… it lifted, even if only a little." He paused, the smoke swirling in the faint light. "But when I fought him—Melanthius—it was like it vanished completely, just for a moment."
Leonardo studied him carefully, her expression unreadable as she digested his words. "Why do you think that is?" she finally asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.
Nomak didn't respond immediately. Instead, he crushed the cigarette against the floor, the ember dying with a faint hiss. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "But that moment… it made me feel alive in a way I haven't in years."
The room grew heavy with silence, the raw emotion of Nomak's confession lingering in the air like an unspoken truth. After a moment, he broke it, his voice low but curious. "What was it like—when you fought Merlin Shadowbane? With your brothers?"
Leonardo exhaled a deep sigh, her expression darkening as she stared at the flickering shadows on the wall. "Overwhelming," she began, her voice tinged with a quiet bitterness. "He was… unstoppable, like a machine. It didn't matter how much we threw at him; he was always a step ahead. His power wasn't just in his strength, but in how he could dismantle us piece by piece."
She glanced at Nomak, her eyes clouded with the memory. "He had this ability to absorb powers. All of us. We thought he would strip us completely bare, leave us with nothing. But then he said something I'll never forget: 'You're all strong in your own way, so you can keep your magic. But I'm taking your dignity.'" Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "And he did. He was right. By the time he was done with us, we were shattered—broken beyond recognition."
Leonardo paused, her voice softening as her gaze dropped. "Then, not long after, my brother turned on the other, killing him in cold blood. And I…" She swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't think I'd survive it. I was broken all over again."
She leaned closer to Nomak, her voice steady but warm now. "If you hadn't been there that day… if you hadn't pulled me out of the darkness, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have made it." She leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips—a gesture of gratitude and something more.
Pulling back, she offered him a small, teasing smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Now, come back to bed," she murmured, her voice laced with gentle insistence.
Nomak stubbed out the cigarette against the ground, the embers dying with a faint hiss before he flicked it away. Without a word, he climbed back into bed, settling next to her. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, and a shadow of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Melanthius fucking Shadowbane," he muttered, his voice low but resolute. "Let's meet again."