The Obsidian Knights arrived not with fanfare, but with thunder.
From the moment their gravity-skiffs blackened the sky above the academy, silence swallowed the campus. These were not enforcers, nor were they emissaries of hope. They were omens made of flesh, clad in armor forged from the calcified remains of dead stars, trimmed with entropy-threaded gold. Where they walked, even the wind dared not follow.
Their leader stood a head taller than any human, his presence devouring the space around him. His helm bore the image of an eclipsed sun, and his cape shimmered with constellations that shifted even when still. He marched into the center of the school's grand courtyard, flanked by twelve Knights who moved like they shared a single mind.
Principal Halara appeared beside him as if conjured from shadow. Her galaxy eyes shimmered, galaxies spiraling within.
"The Crucible Trials begin now," she announced, voice echoing across the atrium like a spell. "Your performance shall decide your future. Excel, and the finest Celestial Universities will claim you. Fail, and the abyss claims you."
The eclipsed Knight stepped forward. "Your pain will forge you. The Crucible is merciless, but so is destiny."
And with that, the Trials began.
As students gathered in the grand amphitheater, holographic banners shimmered into existence above them, illuminating the four universities that loomed like mythic beacons at the edge of possibility:
Emberlight Institute – the weakest, yet foundational.
Focus: Entrants in early Phases (1–2) honed rudimentary Entropy control and Crucible stabilization.
Reputation: Often mocked as "Cinder School," it was a safety net for those too weak or unstable for higher calls.
Campus: Perched on the still-burning skeleton of a collapsed sun, forever cloaked in ash.
Frostspire Academy
Focus: Dissonance mitigation, relic purification, and Entropy combat medicine.
Reputation: Famed for producing elite Husk Knights and cryo-forgers.
Campus: A glacial tower suspended above a glistening frozen fissure, patrolled by glass-eyed wardens.
Voidreach University
Focus: Phase 3–4 Crucible manipulation, advanced mutations, and Void pact negotiations.
Reputation: Cultivates Cabal hunters and star-forged mercenaries. Students returned half-changed—or not at all.
Campus: A shifting labyrinth nestled within a pocket of entropy, accessible only during spatial dissonance.
Celestial Bastion – the apex.Focus: Anchors, Thronebound initiation, and forbidden rites.Reputation: Only Phase 5+ students were admitted. Its alumni were saints, monsters, or legends.
Campus: A radiant fortress orbiting the throne's true castle, visible only during eclipses.
Tatsu stood amid the crowd, absorbing every word, every shimmer of power. Ren brushed past him with a sneer.
"You'll be lucky to get into Emberlight," he spat.
Tatsu said nothing. But his fist tightened around Kio's pendant.
That night, the whispers returned.
Tatsu's dorm warped under the weight of memory. His star-mark pulsed hot against his back, glowing faintly in the dark as he stared into his dorm's cracked mirror. Veins of starlight webbed across his chest, forming constellations of pain.
The mirror rippled. Not glass but memory. Not reflection but judgment.
His mother appeared first, her face twisted in agony. "You couldn't protect me."
Then Kio, screaming, her form disintegrating into Crucible shards. "Where were you?!"
And finally the throne's mimic. It wore his face, but its eyes were bottomless pits. Its voice was him, and not.
"You're a storm in a cracked vase. You'll shatter before you shine."
Tatsu struck the mirror. Glass exploded outward, embedding in his knuckles. Blood and stardust fell in equal measure, hissing against the cold floor.
The air thickened. Shadows clawed along the walls, frost forming beneath his feet. The scent of burnt sugar and charred memory filled the room.
Then, Lira appeared.
She flickered into being, her form more stable than before, though still trailing spectral afterimages. Her voice barely held together.
"They're breaking her," she whispered. "Grafting throne-shards into her bones. But you—you can still save her."
Tatsu fell to his knees, clutching Kio's pendant so tightly it scorched his skin. His memories surged, Kio's laugh as they skipped Stabilization class, her smile as stardust fell across their hair.
His reflection shifted. The mimic faded. The face looking back was his again—still afraid, but no longer alone. Determined.
"Get stronger."
The Prism Arena was built to contain gods-in-training.
Sprawling beneath a fractured dome of mirrored skyglass, the arena hummed with suppressed power. Students stood in rows, each facing a relic placed on an obsidian pedestal.
The Obsidian Knights watched in utter silence from elevated platforms. Recruiters from all four universities observed from crystal-box galleries, their eyes hidden but their judgment heavy.
One by one, the trials began.
Ren's Trial: He strode forward, the sun reflecting off the chrome of his prosthetic arm. Ashfire erupted from his palm in a controlled spiral, transforming into a serpent that snapped at its own tail.
A recruiter from Frostspire inclined their head.
Tatsu's Trial: He stepped forward. The relic before him was a decaying star-core, humming with raw instability. It pulsed with violet entropy.
The throne whispered. "Unleash me. Show them what they should fear."
Tatsu gritted his teeth. He reached for Kio's pendant again.
No. Not fear. Hope.
He channeled entropy not through wrath but memory. Her laughter. Her strength.
The relic sang.
A helix of stardust and shadow unfurled around him, coalescing into a crown of refracted light. The mirror behind him reflected not the throne's corruption, but Kio's smile.
The arena went silent.
Then,
The lead Knight rose. His voice cut through the quiet like thunder.
"Phase Four: Sovereign. Conditional offer: Celestial Bastion."
Gasps echoed. Some students dropped their relics. Ren's jaw clenched so hard his teeth cracked.
Halara watched, her eyes unreadable. But the corner of her mouth twitched, was it pride… or fear?
The Celestial Bastion was unlike anything Tatsu had imagined.
Suspended in orbit above a dying sun, the fortress defied physics and comprehension. Its towers curved inward like clasped hands, shielding the secrets within. The air shimmered with dense entropy, yet remained breathable, regulated by relics so ancient their creators had long turned to stardust. Every surface pulsed faintly with celestial glyphs, living script that rearranged itself based on the observer's state of mind.
Tatsu stood at the edge of the central courtyard, watching a dueling match unfold. Two Phase 6 initiates clashed midair, wings of crystallized entropy sprouting from their backs, their limbs half-metal, half-organic. The battle wasn't just physical, it was metaphysical. Every strike reverberated across the Bastion's wards, echoing like hymns through the ancient halls.
"You're not ready," said a voice beside him.
Instructor Veyra was a phase 10 hollow, her spine embedded with a fragment. Her presence warped time subtly; clocks ticked slower around her. She didn't look at Tatsu when she spoke. "But you will be."
Training was brutal. No lectures, only survival. Each student was assigned a celestial anchor to synchronize with, a relic-core known to either kill or catalyze. Tatsu's anchor, Solfractum, was a sun-kernel wreathed in entropy. Just touching it scorched his mind with visions of collapsing stars and screaming gods.
He fought other students daily. Not for dominance but understanding. Each opponent revealed a flaw in his style, a fracture in his will. The Bastion didn't reward power. It demanded clarity. Control. A willingness to step closer to annihilation and smile.
Lira observed in silence, her form no longer flickering. At night, she quizzed him relentlessly on entropy resonance, phase feedback loops, and how to sever a throne's tether without dying. She was no longer just a ghost. She was becoming a mentor.
The throne still whispered, but its voice was quieter now, watching. Waiting.
One morning, after a particularly grueling ritual, his veins still aglow from overexposure, Veyra handed him a scroll bound in void-leather.
"Your pilgrimage begins tomorrow. Don't return until you've survived the edge."
Tatsu opened the scroll. Inside were coordinates, a warning, and a single line of prophecy:
"At the edge of all things, the Sovereign chooses itself."
Later that night, Tatsu sat on his balcony, staring at the stars. The trial had changed something in him. He could feel it in his bones, silver thread now wove through his veins, trailing from the trial's burst.
Lira emerged from the shadows behind him. She no longer flickered, her form was steadier, her eyes brighter.
"The Bastion's offer is a key," she said. "They have knowledge the others hide. Secrets that can save Kio… or destroy what's left of her."
Tatsu turned to her, his voice hoarse. "What's the condition?"
She looked to the sky. A shadow passed over the moon.
"You must pass their initiation. A pilgrimage to the throne's edge."
Tatsu stood. Behind him, his mirror reformed from starlight, whole again.
Below, the Obsidian Knights mounted their skiffs, leaving the academy behind. But their shadows, those lingered.