The air in the Empire's capital was heavy with tension. News of the alliance's invasion had swept through the city like wildfire. On the empire's fringes, fortified outposts burned, and soldiers fought valiantly against an enemy unified in their hatred of the Boc dynasty. Kaelion could feel the shift, not only in the somber faces of those around him but also in the very air itself—charged with the storm of coming war.
In the vast training grounds of the palace, Sir Vellor, once a figure of gruff encouragement, had grown grim and unyielding. Each barked command carried the weight of lives depending on the strength of his soldiers. Nearby, the Magistra stood amidst a gathering of mages, her sharp eyes scanning their progress as she drilled them on barriers, offensive spells, and support magic.
Kaelion stood apart, observing the frenetic activity. His own training had taken a new intensity. The thought of war terrified him, but deep within, it also sparked something he hadn't felt before—a sense of purpose.
Kaelion had spent months shaping his body, honing his Crown of Balance, and adapting techniques from the countless books he had read. Now, he was forging something new—a style uniquely his.
He called it "The Form of Five Stars":
Crossbow Form: A precision-based technique that utilized air bullet projection. With magic-infused eyes, Kaelion could see the flow of energy—Qi—within a person's body. By exhaling concentrated air bullets, he could disrupt those flows, creating openings or weakening even the deadliest techniques.
Sword Form: A forward slash of raw power, where Kaelion channeled his magic and physical strength into a single decisive strike.
Halberd Form: A spinning kick, mimicking the deadly sweep of a halberd's arc, designed to unbalance and incapacitate opponents.
Spear Form: A piercing attack using his Dragon Claw technique, where his hand, shaped into the form of a deadly Zhijiatao, could tear through armor or magical defenses.
Armor Form: The ultimate defense, combining his Crown of Balance with swordplay. By absorbing the energy of an enemy's attack through his sword or armor and redirecting it, Kaelion could turn an opponent's strength into their downfall.
Kaelion practiced these forms tirelessly, bringing them from theory into reality. His arms and legs, once frail, now bore the beginnings of true strength. He could flex and see muscle ripple beneath his skin—a sight that filled him with pride.
One evening, Kaelion returned from training to find his father waiting in his chambers. The Emperor was clad in his ceremonial armor, his expression inscrutable. In his hands, he carried a magnificent set of pauldrons, crafted from gleaming steel and inlaid with gold.
"These," his father said, his voice deep and steady, "belonged to one of the greatest warriors of our lineage. They are now yours."
Kaelion accepted the Almighty Spaulders, their weight both literal and symbolic. As he donned the armor, he felt a surge of defensive power, as though the spirits of his ancestors stood beside him, protecting and guiding him.
"This is not just a gift," the Emperor continued. "It is a responsibility. Our people look to us for strength in times of hardship. Do not fail them."
Kaelion met his father's gaze, his voice quiet but resolute. "I won't."
The following days blurred into a haze of relentless preparation. On the training grounds, Kaelion's progress was undeniable. Soldiers who had once sneered at his weakness now watched in grudging respect as he demonstrated his techniques.
During one sparring session, Kaelion faced a seasoned knight. As the knight's sword came crashing down, Kaelion invoked his Crown of Balance. He absorbed the blow through his sword, the force rippling through his body before he redirected it back. The knight's weapon shattered under the returned energy, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.
Even Sir Vellor, who rarely offered praise, gave a nod of approval. "Not bad, boy," he said. "You might just surprise us all."
That night, Kaelion sat in his chambers, staring at his reflection in the polished bronze mirror. His once frail body had transformed; his arms and legs bore lean muscle, and his posture exuded confidence. He flexed his arms, a grin breaking across his face as he admired the progress.
"I'm not weak anymore," he murmured to himself. "I can fight. I can protect."
But as his gaze drifted to the Almighty Spaulders resting on their stand, the weight of his responsibility settled over him. War was no game. The lives of his people were at stake, and he was no longer just a boy struggling to prove himself.
Kaelion closed his eyes, his resolve hardening. "I'll be ready," he whispered. "No matter what comes, I'll be ready."
Far from the capital, the Emperor's forces clashed with the alliance's armies. Reports filtered back daily—villages razed, battles won and lost, and the enemy pressing ever closer.
In the Emperor's war council, grim faces gathered around a map marked with the Empire's diminishing borders. Sir Vellor's voice rang out as he outlined strategies, while the Magistra proposed ways to integrate magic more effectively into the battlefield.
Kaelion wasn't yet permitted into these councils, but he overheard fragments of their discussions. His heart sank with each grim report. Yet, beneath the fear, a fire burned.
He would not be a helpless observer. He would stand on the frontlines, not as a liability but as a warrior worthy of his ancestors. The Form of Five Stars would shine brightly, and Kaelion vowed to master it before the war reached the capital.