The Apex Predators—Squad No. 1 among the 98 elite squads of the Starlight Saviour Army. A title earned, not given.
The Rank Allocation Battles. A brutal, tiered gauntlet designed to forge the hierarchy within the Starlight Saviour Army. It wasn't enough to survive the Crucible. To claim the coveted No. 1 spot, Squad 7, the newly formed Apex Predators, had to ascend through a series of increasingly perilous confrontations.
The first rounds were a blur of calculated efficiency. Against lower-ranked squads, the Apex Predators moved with a synchronized precision that bordered on terrifying. Liora, a whirlwind of motion, danced through enemy formations, her speed leaving opponents disoriented and defeated before they could react. Renji, a bastion of tactical awareness, orchestrated their maneuvers, his calm voice directing the flow of battle, exploiting weaknesses with ruthless efficiency.
Sylas, a whisper of shadow, moved unseen, striking from the darkness, his presence a chilling reminder of the unseen threats that lurked in the night. Zenith, his honed instincts and relentless determination driving him forward, became the unstoppable force, his strikes precise and devastating. Anya and Kael, their elemental powers tempered by the Crucible, unleashed coordinated assaults, their magic a force of nature under their control. Akash, his raw power surging, provided the overwhelming force, his attacks shaking the very foundations of the arena.
Their opponents, squads hardened by their own trials, fell before them. Squads known for their brute strength crumbled against Renji's tactical mastery. Squads renowned for their speed were outpaced by Liora's agility. Squads boasting impenetrable defenses were bypassed by Sylas's cunning. Each victory was a testament to the squad's cohesion, their ability to seamlessly blend their individual strengths into a unified force.
As they ascended the ranks, the battles grew fiercer. Squads with specialized formations, squads with arcane weaponry, squads with unique elemental affinities, all stood in their path. The challenges mounted, pushing the Apex Predators to their limits.
Against Squad 52, the Rune Guardians, known for their intricately woven magical defenses, Renji orchestrated a daring maneuver. While Anya and Kael unleashed a barrage of elemental attacks to draw their attention, Sylas slipped through the shadows, disabling the runes one by one, creating a vulnerability that Zenith exploited with a devastating strike.
Against Squad 31, the Venom Lords, masters of poison and subterfuge, Liora became their shield, her speed deflecting their venomous projectiles, while Akash unleashed a shockwave of raw power, disrupting their formations and leaving them open to attack.
Against Squad 18, the Mirror Mages, who could duplicate themselves and their abilities, Zenith became their anchor. His unwavering focus and relentless pursuit forced the Mages to maintain their concentration, preventing them from overwhelming the squad with sheer numbers.
Each battle was a learning experience, a crucible that forged the Apex Predators into an even stronger unit. They learned to anticipate each other's moves, to cover each other's weaknesses, to fight as one. The arena became their canvas, their movements a symphony of destruction, their victories a testament to their unwavering determination.
The final battle was a clash of titans. Squad 2, the reigning champions, stood before them, a squad of seasoned veterans, their bodies etched with the scars of countless battles. The arena trembled under the force of their combined power, the air crackling with raw energy.
The fight was brutal, a grueling test of endurance and skill. Both squads pushed themselves to their limits, their bodies battered, their spirits tested. But in the end, the Apex Predators prevailed. Their unity, their skill, their unwavering determination, proved to be their greatest weapon.
The final blow, delivered by Zenith, resonated through the arena. The reigning champions fell, their reign of dominance shattered. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ragged breaths of the victorious squad.
Then, the roar. A thunderous eruption of cheers from the spectators, a testament to the spectacle they had witnessed. The Apex Predators, Squad 7, had ascended to the pinnacle. They had earned the title of Squad No. 1, not through favoritism, but through sheer, unadulterated skill and unwavering determination. The arena, scarred and battered, stood as a testament to their victory, a brutal reminder that the title of Apex Predator was a prize earned, not given.
It was the squad that would be trusted with the most dangerous missions, the most impossible battles, the one team that stood at the very top. Each member had been chosen for a reason, not just for their power, but for their skill, their resilience, and their ability to work as one.
And at the head of it all, their leader—Kael.
Kael had never asked to lead.
But when President Gayle had looked over the final recruits, when she had studied the warriors who would be part of Squad No. 1, her gaze had settled on Kael. There was no hesitation, no question in her voice when she spoke.
"Kael. You will lead the Apex Predators."
He hadn't reacted at first. He had only nodded, accepting it. But deep inside, a storm brewed. Why him? He had always been reckless, always burned too hot, always walked the line between control and destruction.
Would he be strong enough to lead them?
Strong enough to keep them alive?
The moment he stepped into the training grounds as the Apex Predators' captain, that question weighed on him like a mountain.
But he had no time for doubt. Because if he wasn't strong enough, if he hesitated for even a second—his squad would pay the price.
Each morning, before the sun even rose, they were roused by the sharp clang of the morning bell, signaling the start of their intense training. The day began with combat sparring—but this was not like the controlled duels they had fought before; this was a battlefield. Seven-on-seven matches against other top-ranked squads, with instructors watching from above, evaluating their every move. Their first battle was against Squad 3 – The Silver Talons, notorious for their brutal efficiency in combat.
The moment the signal was given, chaos erupted.
The battlefield stretched before them, bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lanterns. A sea of warriors filled the training grounds, squads forming their ranks, murmurs of anticipation spreading like wildfire.
This was not just a training match.
This was a battle to determine the strongest squad in the Starlight Saviour Army.
At one end of the field stood Apex Predators—the elite, the ones who had never lost. Seven warriors, each a master of their craft. The No.1 squad.
At the other end, The Silver Talons, the second-ranked squad, known for their brutal efficiency and unrelenting precision. Their leader, Varen, stood tall, his emerald veins pulsing with power. He had sworn that today, Apex Predators would finally fall.
But Kael had other plans.
As the final horn sounded, a hush fell over the crowd.
Then—the battlefield erupted into chaos.
Kael led the charge, his flames roaring to life, casting the battlefield in a flickering crimson glow. His molten energy seared the air around him, creating waves of heat that distorted the space like a mirage.
The Silver Talons' front line barely had time to react before Kael was upon them.
The first opponent raised their sword, but Kael was faster.
His fist, wreathed in fire, collided with the soldier's chest, sending them flying backward with a fiery explosion. Another rushed in, conjuring a spear of stone, but Kael's flames melted it mid-swing.
The enemy barely had time to stumble back before Kael was already moving—his flames wrapping around his fists like living serpents, his strikes landing with unstoppable force.
With every step he took, the battlefield burned.
To the untrained eye, Liora wasn't even visible.
She was a blur, weaving between enemies like a phantom, her movements too fast to follow. One moment she was there—then she wasn't.
A Silver Talon fighter swung at empty air, eyes darting wildly in confusion.
Then, in a flash—Liora struck.
Her daggers cut through armor, her wind-like agility making her untouchable. When an opponent tried to trap her with an earthen wall, she ran straight up its surface, flipping over it with effortless grace before delivering a devastating kick to the enemy's head.
She didn't waste movements.
She didn't hesitate.
Liora was a hurricane, and no one could catch the wind.
While the battlefield was in constant motion, Renji stood unshaken, his feet planted firmly as if he were part of the earth itself.
A Silver Talon soldier lunged at him, sword raised, but with a simple motion of his hand, the ground beneath them erupted, sending the enemy tumbling backward.
Another opponent tried to strike him from behind—but their weapon never reached him.
With a thunderous stomp, a massive wall of stone rose from the ground, blocking the attack with ease.
Renji's power wasn't just defense—it was control. He dictated the battlefield, shaping the very earth to his will, cutting off enemy movements, forcing them into traps.
Anyone who thought they could break through him was quickly proven wrong.
At the very center of Apex Predators, Anya stood as an unbreakable force.
When an enemy mage unleashed a blast of lightning, her shield caught it mid-air, dispersing the energy harmlessly.
When another tried to pierce through their formation, her barriers shimmered like moonlight, absorbing every attack without a single crack.
But Anya wasn't just defending.
She was protecting.
When Kael nearly took a hit from a rogue blast of energy, her shield expanded in an instant, deflecting it away.
When Liora was almost cornered, Anya sent a pulse of energy through her shield, knocking back the enemies like a shockwave.
Her shields weren't just walls. They were weapons.
And as long as she stood, Apex Predators would never fall.
While the others fought in the open, Sylas was nowhere to be seen.
He moved through the battlefield like a specter, his Noctis Clan magic bending the shadows to his will.
One by one, the enemy warriors began falling, their bodies slumping to the ground before they even realized what had happened.
A Silver Talon scout, sensing something was wrong, turned abruptly—
Only to find nothing but darkness behind him.
And then—Sylas's dagger slid across his throat.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
By the time the rest of the enemy realized their numbers were dwindling, it was already too late.
Amidst the chaos, Akash stood perfectly still.
His violet veins pulsed, his expression unreadable as he reached into the minds of their enemies.
A Silver Talon archer, about to fire at Kael, suddenly hesitated—his fingers trembling on the bowstring.
Another fighter, mid-swing, suddenly forgot what they were doing—their strike faltering as doubt crept into their thoughts.
Akash did not need to fight with his fists.
He fought with whispers.
With a mere thought, he planted seeds of confusion, hesitation, and fear. And as those seeds grew, their enemies fell apart from the inside out.
Then there was Zenith.
No glowing veins. No fire. No wind. Nothing.
And yet—he was the deadliest of them all.
He moved like a phantom, his speed unmatched, his reflexes honed to perfection.
A Silver Talon warrior lunged at him, expecting an easy target. Zenith dodged before the attack even finished.
He stepped to the side, grabbing the enemy's arm, twisting it with lightning speed, and flipping them onto the ground in a single motion.
Another came from behind.
Zenith ducked. Spun. Kicked.
The opponent hit the ground before they could even realize what had happened.
He saw the openings before they existed.
He predicted attacks before they came.
Without magic, without an element, without anything but his body and his will—he tore through their ranks like a storm.
Within minutes, the battlefield was cleared.
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
The Silver Talons—one of the strongest squads in the entire Starlight Saviour Army—had been utterly obliterated.
In five minutes.
Kael stood at the center of the wreckage, flames still flickering at his fingertips.
He turned, scanning his squad—his friends.
They stood strong, unshaken.
Apex Predators had proven, once again, why they were the best.
Kael let out a slow breath, then smirked.
"Well," he said, "that was fun."
Their reputation as Squad No. 1 had been sealed. But winning their first battle only raised the stakes. They were no longer just recruits; they were the strongest squad in the entire Starlight Saviour Army. And with that title came immense responsibility.
Their training became more brutal.
The Gauntlet Run was not just a test.
It was a battlefield.
A brutal, merciless three-mile sprint through a shifting combat zone, filled with traps, elemental hazards, and relentless adversaries. Warriors who passed it weren't just fast. They weren't just strong.
They were survivors.
For Apex Predators, completing the Gauntlet Run wasn't enough. They had to dominate it.
It was their final trial before official deployment outside the Green Shield. No squad had ever completed the course in under fifteen minutes.
They intended to do it in ten.
The seven of them stood at the starting line, their gazes fixed on the shifting battlefield ahead.
The course was alive, ever-changing—lava pits bubbling one second, frozen walls forming the next. The instructors had designed it to be unpredictable, an ever-moving labyrinth of death traps and illusions.
Kael, Liora, Anya, Renji, Sylas, Akash, and Zenith.
The Apex Predators.
They exchanged no words. No need. They had trained together for years.
And when the horn blared, they moved as one.
The first stretch was a straight path—an obvious trap.
As soon as they stepped forward, arrows of flame, bolts of lightning, and shards of ice rained down from hidden launchers. The air crackled with energy, the very ground beneath them shifting to throw them off balance.
Kael charged first.
His flames roared to life, spiraling from his fists as he raised a wall of fire, incinerating the incoming projectiles before they could reach them. The sky burned, the heat warping the air, turning ice to steam and lightning to harmless sparks.
"GO!" he roared.
Liora vanished in a blur, sprinting ahead, her Zephyr Clan speed allowing her to dodge every incoming strike. She was their eyes and ears, scouting ahead, finding the fastest and safest route through the chaos.
Anya stayed at the center, her barriers expanding outward, deflecting any attacks Kael didn't burn away. Every strike against her shields shimmered, absorbed, and dissipated.
Renji controlled the terrain, lifting slabs of rock to create instant cover, redirecting the battlefield to their advantage.
Behind them, Sylas moved unseen, his form flickering through the shadows, eliminating the archers and mages who launched attacks from above. His blade found throats before they even saw him coming.
Akash's violet veins pulsed faintly—and suddenly, the enemy fire grew weaker, their attacks slower, their minds uncertain. He whispered doubt into their thoughts, subtle and deadly.
At the very back, Zenith moved like a ghost, dodging projectiles without a shield, without flames, without magic. Not a single attack touched him.
Within two minutes, they had cleared the first half-mile.
They were unstoppable.
The battlefield shifted beneath their feet, walls rising and twisting, forming a maze of enchanted stone.
Liora's voice rang out. "Splitting up is too risky. We move as a unit."
"Renji," Kael called.
Renji gritted his teeth, his veins glowing, and raised his hands. The earth rumbled, shaking the maze itself.
With a single downward punch, he forced the entire path to shift, breaking the formation of the walls.
Kael burned through whatever remained, carving a direct passage through the maze.
Anya extended her shields outward, protecting them from any collapsing debris, while Sylas vanished into the gaps of the structure, taking down hidden guards before they could react.
Halfway through the maze, the floor suddenly crumbled beneath them, revealing an abyss below.
"Damn it!" Kael snarled, his flames flickering as he caught himself on the edge.
Liora had already leaped to the other side, moving too fast for gravity to catch her.
But Anya, Renji, and Akash weren't built for speed. They were falling.
Anya didn't scream. She reached outward, summoning a barrier beneath them, creating a shimmering platform in midair.
Renji slammed his fists down, creating a stone bridge from the edges of the abyss.
Sylas, moving like a shadow, grabbed Akash before he could slip, pulling him to safety.
The moment their feet hit solid ground, they ran.
The battlefield shifted beneath their feet, walls rising and twisting, forming a maze of enchanted stone.
Liora's voice rang out. "Splitting up is too risky. We move as a unit."
"Renji," Kael called.
Renji gritted his teeth, his veins glowing, and raised his hands. The earth rumbled, shaking the maze itself.
With a single downward punch, he forced the entire path to shift, breaking the formation of the walls.
Kael burned through whatever remained, carving a direct passage through the maze.
Anya extended her shields outward, protecting them from any collapsing debris, while Sylas vanished into the gaps of the structure, taking down hidden guards before they could react.
Halfway through the maze, the floor suddenly crumbled beneath them, revealing an abyss below.
"Damn it!" Kael snarled, his flames flickering as he caught himself on the edge.
Liora had already leaped to the other side, moving too fast for gravity to catch her.
But Anya, Renji, and Akash weren't built for speed. They were falling.
Anya didn't scream. She reached outward, summoning a barrier beneath them, creating a shimmering platform in midair.
Renji slammed his fists down, creating a stone bridge from the edges of the abyss.
Sylas, moving like a shadow, grabbed Akash before he could slip, pulling him to safety.
The moment their feet hit solid ground, they ran.
The last mile was a wide-open battlefield, but it was heavily guarded.
Thirty opponents. Warriors wielding fire, wind, earth, water, lightning.
A final test of pure combat.
Kael grinned.
"Time to end this."
They charged.
Kael was a storm of fire, incinerating everything in his path, every step leaving scorched earth behind.
Liora became the wind, untouchable, dancing through enemies before they could even track her movements.
Anya held the line, her barrier unbreakable, allowing Kael and Liora to fight freely.
Renji turned the ground into a battlefield of shifting terrain, knocking enemies off their feet, crushing their defenses with walls of stone.
Sylas moved unseen, a shadow in the war, his blade finding weaknesses, ending fights before they even began.
Akash didn't need to fight.
His mind invaded theirs, turning their own fears against them. Warriors hesitated, faltered, turned on each other without realizing.
And Zenith—
Zenith was a ghost.
He didn't use shields, fire, or tricks of the mind. He moved faster than the eye could follow, dodging every strike, landing every single hit with perfect precision.
One enemy swung a sword—Zenith was already behind him.
Another sent a blast of fire—Zenith sidestepped, knocking them unconscious in a single blow.
In three minutes, the battlefield was cleared.
They reached the final marker.
The horn blared.
And with nine minutes and fifty-two seconds, the Apex Predators set a new record.
The instructors were silent.
No squad had ever completed the Gauntlet Run in under ten minutes.
Gayle stepped forward, eyes scanning the exhausted but victorious warriors.
"You will be deployed beyond the shield," she said, her voice unshaken.
Kael nodded, his flames flickering one last time before vanishing.
"We're ready."
And for the first time, Gayle believed him.
Because Apex Predators were more than a squad.
They were unstoppable.
The Gauntlet Run had ended.
The Apex Predators stood victorious, their breaths still heavy, their bodies drenched in sweat, but their stance unshaken. The battlefield around them was scarred, broken, smoldering with the remnants of their battle—a testament to their strength.
The horns of Lunaris rang through the sky, signaling the end of the trials, their echoes carrying across the vast city. All 98 squads had completed their runs, but only one had done the impossible.
The Apex Predators had shattered the Gauntlet record.
Nine minutes, fifty-two seconds.
No squad in the history of the Starlight Saviour Army had ever finished in under ten minutes.
But they had.
And now—the entire army was watching them.
The Gauntlet Run had ended.
The Apex Predators stood victorious, their breaths still heavy, their bodies drenched in sweat, but their stance unshaken. The battlefield around them was scarred, broken, smoldering with the remnants of their battle—a testament to their strength.
The horns of Lunaris rang through the sky, signaling the end of the trials, their echoes carrying across the vast city. All 98 squads had completed their runs, but only one had done the impossible.
The Apex Predators had shattered the Gauntlet record.
Nine minutes, fifty-two seconds.
No squad in the history of the Starlight Saviour Army had ever finished in under ten minutes.
But they had.
And now—the entire army was watching them.
The Grand Courtyard of Lunaris was alive with anticipation, the vast marble platform glowing under the golden hue of sunset.
All 98 squads stood in formation, warriors lined in precise rows, awaiting the final announcement from President Gayle.
At the center of it all, Apex Predators stood at the front, their names already cemented in history.
A hush fell over the crowd as Gayle stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the assembled warriors.
"In times of peace, warriors train," she said, her voice carrying through the air. "In times of war, warriors rise."
She turned to Kael, the fire of the Magma Clan still burning in his eyes.
"For leading your squad to an unprecedented victory," she continued, "Kael of the Magma Clan remains Captain of the Apex Predators."
Kael nodded, his expression steady, but a flicker of pride glowed in his golden eyes.
Then—Gayle's gaze shifted.
"However," she said, pausing for effect, "a leader does not stand alone. Strength is not just in power—it is in guidance, in strategy, in the ability to make the impossible a reality."
She turned to Zenith.
The crowd stirred.
Zenith had no magic.
No elemental abilities.
No glowing veins to mark his strength.
Yet, he had done the impossible.
He had fought alongside elemental warriors—and won.
He had adapted, outmaneuvered, and defeated opponents who could tear mountains apart.
He had proven that magic did not define power.
Gayle's voice rang clear.
"For your unmatched tactical skill, your discipline in battle, and your ability to defeat even the strongest elemental users without magic—"
She lifted her hand, a silver medal gleaming in the fading sunlight.
"—Zenith of the Veinless has been appointed Vice Captain of Apex Predators."
Silence.
And then—chaos.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers turned into outright disbelief.
"A veinless—Vice Captain?"
"How can someone with no magic lead the strongest squad?"
"This has never happened in the history of the army!"
Even among the generals, there was hesitation. Some narrowed their eyes, while others looked to Gayle with uncertainty.
But the Apex Predators didn't hesitate.
Kael clapped a hand on Zenith's shoulder, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.
Anya beamed with pride, her white veins shimmering.
Akash simply smirked, arms crossed, as if he had already foreseen this moment.
Liora, Renji, and Sylas nodded in silent approval.
And then—
Kael raised Zenith's arm high into the air.
A roar erupted from the crowd, shaking the very ground beneath them.
Because regardless of what the generals thought—
The warriors of Lunaris knew the truth.
Zenith had earned this.
He wasn't just a warrior.
He wasn't just a survivor.
He was a leader.
And now—the whole world would know it.
As the crowd began to disperse, groups of warriors still murmured in disbelief.
"Have you seen the way he moves?" someone whispered. "He fights like magic isn't even necessary."
"They say he can dodge fire, stone, lightning—without even breaking a sweat."
"I heard he beat a Magma Clan warrior without even using a weapon."
And beneath all of it—one whisper rose above the rest.
"He might not have veins like us."
"But he might just be stronger than all of us combined."
Later that night, under the quiet glow of Lunaris's twin moons, Zenith sat alone at the edge of the training grounds, staring at the medal in his hand.
Vice Captain.
It felt… strange.
Not because he didn't want it.
But because he had never imagined it would be possible.
Footsteps approached. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
Kael sat beside him, tossing a fireball between his fingers. "Hell of a day, huh?"
Zenith exhaled a small laugh. "Yeah."
Kael let the fire fade, leaning back on his hands. "You deserve it, you know."
Zenith turned the medal over in his fingers. "Maybe."
Kael eyed him. "You're thinking about them, aren't you?"
Zenith didn't answer.
Because he was.
The generals. The skeptics. The ones who didn't believe in him.
The ones who whispered behind his back. The ones who still saw him as the veinless boy who shouldn't have been here.
He clenched his jaw.
"I don't need them to believe in me," he said finally. "I'll prove it myself."
Kael smirked, standing. "That's why you're my second-in-command."
Zenith looked up at him.
Kael extended a hand.
"Come on," he said. "Tomorrow, we start training again. Vice Captains don't get to slack off."
Zenith let out a slow breath—then clasped Kael's hand firmly.
As Kael pulled him to his feet, a thought settled in his mind.
He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore.
He was fighting for Lunaris. For his squad. For the future.
And when the Green Shield collapsed—
When the Darkness returned—
He would be ready.
The night was calm.
Lunaris lay in a blanket of silver moonlight, the great towers casting long shadows over the quiet streets. The city, which had roared with applause hours before for the Apex Predators' victory, was now silent.
But inside Wilson's home, Zenith was restless.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the silver medal of Vice Captain still clutched in his hand.
Today had been a turning point. He had fought, he had won—he had earned his place.
And yet, in the back of his mind, something gnawed at him.
A shadow. A whisper.
Like something unseen was watching, waiting.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under.
And then—
He dreamed.
It started with a whisper.
Low. Distant. Unintelligible.
A cold wind rushed through the darkness, sending a shiver down Zenith's spine.
He was no longer in his barracks.
He stood in the center of Lunaris, but it was… wrong.
The streets were empty. The air was too still. The city, always alive with magic, with the hum of enchanted lanterns and the distant murmurs of its people, was now hollow, lifeless.
A feeling of dread coiled in his chest.
Then, above him—a deep, cracking sound.
Zenith looked up.
And his blood ran cold.
The Green Shield—the great barrier that had protected Lunaris for a century—was breaking.
High above the city, the once vibrant emerald dome, woven from the power of Lunaris's greatest mages, began to crack.
Hairline fractures spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing with a sickly green hue.
The whisper he had heard before grew louder.
It wasn't the wind.
It wasn't the earth.
It was a voice.
A voice that wasn't human.
"It begins…"
The first crack shattered into a gaping wound, and for the first time in a hundred years—
The Darkness seeped through.
A low, guttural roar rumbled from the sky as the barrier ruptured completely, emerald shards raining down like falling stars.
Then—they came.
A great void opened above Lunaris, swallowing the stars, turning the night into a hungry abyss.
And from that abyss—they came.
Dark creatures, their bodies twisting and shifting, shadows given form, eyes burning with a sinister, unnatural glow.
Some were humanoid, their limbs too long, too thin, their movements unnatural, distorted—as if reality itself struggled to contain them.
Others were beasts, massive and crawling, their bodies pulsing with black veins, their mouths filled with too many teeth.
Their very presence made the air feel heavier, pressing against Zenith's chest, as if the weight of the abyss itself had stepped onto the land.
The first screams rang out.
Zenith turned to see Lunaris erupt into chaos.
The warriors stationed at the city walls reacted instantly, launching attacks—fire, lightning, wind, stone.
But the darkness swallowed their magic whole.
A Magma Clan warrior unleashed a wave of fire—only to have it snuffed out before it could reach its target.
An Aqua Clan mage called upon a towering wave—but the water turned black in midair, twisting, betraying him before it consumed him whole.
A Wind Clan fighter tried to outrun the creatures—but the air itself turned against him, trapping him in suffocating tendrils of shadow.
Nothing worked.
They were unstoppable.
Unnatural.
And they were winning.
Zenith tried to move—tried to run, to fight, to do something.
But he was frozen.
His body refused to obey, as if the nightmare itself had bound him.
He watched as Kael's fire dimmed, as Anya's shields cracked, as Liora's speed slowed to a crawl.
Renji's walls crumbled into dust.
Sylas, hidden in the shadows, was dragged into the darkness he once controlled.
And Akash—his violet veins flickering with a desperate glow—clutched his head, eyes wide, whispering over and over again.
"This isn't how it's supposed to happen."
"This isn't how it's supposed to happen."
"This isn't—"
But before he could finish, the shadows claimed him, too.
One by one, his squad fell.
Until only Zenith remained.
Alone.
The city was drowning in the abyss.
And then—he felt it.
A presence unlike the others.
A figure stepped forward, emerging from the void.
It wasn't twisted like the creatures. It wasn't monstrous.
It was human.
But its eyes—they were endless.
Two swirling pits of darkness, emptier than the void itself.
It lifted a hand.
"You will be the last."
And with a flick of its wrist, the abyss swallowed him whole
Zenith gasped, shooting upright in bed.
His body was drenched in sweat, his heart hammering like a war drum in his chest.
His hands trembled. His breath was uneven. The room was dark, but not like the abyss.
Not like the dream.
He was back in Wilson's home.
Safe.
But the dream had felt too real.
His mind raced.
The cracks in the Green Shield.
The creatures that devoured magic itself.
The figure that had spoken to him, as if it already knew him.
Was it a nightmare? Or was it something worse?
A warning.
He reached for the bracelet on his wrist, the one his father had given him, the same one his father had worn before he vanished.
His fingers clenched around it.
Was this what his father had seen before he left?
And more importantly—
Was this the fate that awaited them all?
Zenith exhaled, forcing his breathing to steady.
One thought burned in his mind.
The nightmare had given him something precious.
Time.
The Green Shield hadn't broken yet. The creatures hadn't come yet.
Which meant there was still time to stop it.
He wasn't going to sit back and wait for fate to take everything from him.
He was going to fight.
And this time, he would be ready.
But above all, one image haunted him the most.
One that left him feeling cold. Hollow. Betrayed.
It wasn't the creatures.
It wasn't destruction.
It wasn't even the shadowy figure that had spoken to him.
It was Anya.
She had been standing at the heart of it all.
Not as a victim.
Not as a warrior.
But as their ruler.
He had seen her standing in the ruins of Lunaris, her white veins no longer glowing with the protective light he had always known—but pulsing with darkness.
And the creatures obeyed her.
She had controlled them, commanded them. She was their queen.
And worst of all…
She had looked at him.
Not with fear. Not with regret.
But with indifference.
Like he was nothing.
Zenith clutched his bedsheets, trying to steady his breathing.
This was a dream. It wasn't real.
But… What if it was?
What if it was a vision of the future?
What if… this was who Anya truly was?
His fingers brushed against the bracelet on his wrist, the same one his father had worn.
His father had vanished after revealing something shocking to him.
What if Anya was the reason?
His stomach twisted, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He couldn't tell the others. Not yet.
He had seen Kael die. He had seen Akash screaming in agony. He had seen Renji crushed, Sylas consumed by darkness.
And above it all, Anya had watched.
If he told them, would they even believe him?
Would Anya herself even believe him?
No.
For now, he had to stay silent.
But he needed to know the truth.
And that meant he had to start with Anya herself.
Morning arrived, but Zenith felt none of its warmth.
The moment he saw Anya, standing by the training grounds, he knew he had to ask.
She turned to him, her usual calm expression softening when she saw him.
"Zenith?" she asked. "You look tired."
He ignored the concern.
"Are you sure that your parents died in an accident?"
The question froze her.
Her soft expression wavered, and for the first time, uncertainty flickered in her silver eyes.
She opened her mouth—then hesitated.
"I…" she shook her head. "I remember my life with David. With you. But… my parents…"
Zenith stepped closer, his pulse roaring in his ears. "You don't remember them, do you?"
Anya's brow furrowed, as if she was trying to pull memories from the void.
She swallowed. "No. I don't."
The world around Zenith felt like it tilted.
Anya didn't remember her parents.
She didn't remember the accident.
The only life she had ever known was with him and his father.
So what if—what if there was no accident?
What if David had lied?
What if she wasn't just a lost child—but something far more dangerous?
Something that even his father had feared?
Zenith clenched his fists, his heartbeat turning cold, dark, unshaken.
This wasn't just about finding Anya's past anymore.
This was about uncovering the truth that had been hidden from him all his life.
And if that meant digging into the deepest, darkest secrets of Lunaris—then so be it.
Zenith couldn't stop thinking about it.
Anya didn't remember her past. Didn't remember her parents.
The dream—the nightmare—had shaken him. The Green Shield had collapsed. Lunaris was in ruins. The Darkness had consumed everything.
And at the center of it all, Anya had stood as their ruler.
It wasn't just a bad dream. It wasn't just fear.
It felt real.
And he had to know the truth.
That's how he found himself standing in front of Wilson, heart pounding, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
The older man was sitting by the window, his gaze distant, lost in thought as he cleaned his worn-out leather gloves. The glow of the twin moons outside cast long shadows across the wooden floor, making the room feel smaller.
Zenith took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
"Wilson."
The man didn't look up. "You're still awake?"
Zenith didn't answer. He stepped closer, his voice lower, heavier.
"Why is Anya the only person of the Agape Clan?"
The gloves slipped from Wilson's hands.
For the first time in all the years Zenith had known him, Wilson looked… startled.
His usual calm, composed demeanor shattered in an instant.
His eyes flicked to Zenith, narrowing slightly. "Why are you asking me this?"
Zenith took another step forward, his chest tightening, his pulse roaring in his ears.
"Is the Agape Clan even human?"
Silence.
A thick, suffocating silence.
Wilson's face remained impassive, unreadable—but his fingers had curled into fists, gripping the edge of the wooden table so tightly the wood creaked.
He didn't answer.
Not right away.
Instead, he asked something else.
"What did you see, Zenith?"
Zenith swallowed hard. His breath felt cold.
He wasn't sure if he should say it.
But the dream—the nightmare—wasn't something he could keep to himself.
So, slowly, carefully, he told Wilson everything.
The Green Shield breaking.
The Dark Creatures devouring the city.
His squad falling one by one.
Anya standing at the center of it all—controlling the darkness.
And the way she had looked at him.
Like he was nothing.
When he finished, Wilson had gone completely still.
Zenith could hear the night outside—the distant sound of wind rattling against the wooden walls, the soft flicker of candlelight.
But in this room, in this moment, it was too quiet.
Wilson's eyes were unreadable, shadows hiding whatever emotion flickered behind them. But Zenith knew.
He knew Wilson was afraid.
Not for himself.
For Zenith.
And for Anya.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, Wilson finally spoke.
"The dream you saw… might become real."
Zenith's stomach twisted.
His hands clenched at his sides. A part of him had already known that.
But hearing it aloud? From Wilson? It made it feel inevitable.
Wilson exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. He looked… exhausted.
Not physically. But emotionally.
Like someone who had been keeping too many secrets for far too long.
Then, finally, Wilson looked up, and the weight in his eyes was unbearable.
"But instead of pushing Anya away," he said softly, "if you take care of her, it might change."
Zenith's breath caught.
Take care of her?
His heart pounded painfully against his ribs.
Did Wilson really believe that?
That if he just stood by Anya's side, it could change everything?
That it could stop the destruction? The Darkness? The end of Lunaris?
His mind rebelled against the idea. It was ridiculous. Illogical. Impossible.
And yet—
The way Wilson said it… he believed it.
There was no doubt in his voice. No hesitation.
Like he already knew something that Zenith didn't.
Like he had seen this story play out before.
Zenith forced himself to speak. His voice was hoarse. Barely above a whisper.
"Do you know something I don't?"
Wilson didn't answer.
He just looked at him for a long moment—then turned away.
"You'll understand at the right time."
Zenith felt his chest tighten, frustration clawing at his ribs.
He hated those words.
He had heard them before—from his father.
Before he vanished.
Before everything changed.
And now, Wilson was saying the same thing.
Zenith wanted to press him. Wanted to demand answers.
But something in Wilson's expression—in the way his shoulders sagged slightly, in the way his fingers trembled before he clenched them into fists again—stopped him.
Wilson was afraid.
Not for himself.
For Anya.
For Zenith.
For something far greater than both of them.
Zenith exhaled slowly, feeling the weight in his chest grow heavier.
The answers weren't coming tonight.
But one thing was clear.
This wasn't just about Anya's past anymore.
This was about what she would become.
And whether or not he had the power to change it.