Alexia Magic Association!

✦ The Unseen Hands of Alexia ✦

(Where the fates of legions turn under silent gazes…)

✦ The heart of power

In the sprawling dominion of Alexia, where Himwarry Academy stood as a proud pillar of magical advancement, there existed a far older, deeper seat of power — one that dwarfed even the grandeur of academy towers and bustling legion squares.

This was the Alexia Magic Association, a solemn sanctum said to be the cradle of every law, every safeguard, and every last breath of peace that blanketed their vast lands. It was here that the greatest orders were born — sweeping decrees that could shift armies, redraw borders, or bury entire scandals beneath polite silence.

It was also here that many young mages secretly dreamed of standing, shoulders squared beneath the weight of the world, as the voice of Alexia itself.

But that was only a dream for most.

In reality, to work within the hallowed marble corridors of the Magic Association was to surrender yourself to endless responsibility. Not only did one need a mind of iron and magic that could withstand storms, but they needed to be able to bend their own desires to serve the legion's collective good — to put aside personal ambition for endless, tireless paperwork, meticulous treaties, and the constant tightrope dance of maintaining fragile peace with rival legions.

"It's a place for someone with Minato's soul," people would often laugh in hushed voices, invoking that mythical figure from far-off tales — a man who could smile through stacks of forms and still carve golden arcs through the battlefield.

"Not someone like Naruto, who'd rather leap off a cliff than handle paperwork. Hah!"

✦ A playful aside: the Hokage comparison

Indeed, even among Alexia's youth, there was a curious affection for these old foreign legends — stories of a Hidden Leaf village, of a father and son who both bore the weight of an entire people.

Minato and Naruto.

One the brilliant, unflappable Fourth Hokage — diligent, patient, elegant even with pen in hand. The other his son — fiery, loud, often slouching over in agony at the sight of paperwork. Both protectors, both heroes, yet cut from such different cloths.

So too, the Magic Association was Alexia's own version of that Hokage's office: the final line of defense, the weavers of law, the keepers of fragile peace between all legions.

And yes, countless apprentices would sigh with conspiratorial grins,

it's probably also where you'd want to marry a man like Minato. Someone who'd do your paperwork for you. Hehe.

✦ The silent chamber of elders

Yet for all its layers of humor, the Association was ultimately a fortress of solemnity. Within its deepest halls sat five ancient elders, the enigmatic stewards of Alexia's fate.

These were beings of such rarefied existence that even their own highest-ranking commanders rarely saw more than their vague silhouettes — shrouded in shadow, surrounded by thick magical veils that made the very air vibrate with hidden power.

It had been sixty years since the elders had shown their true faces to the outside world. Most who served the Association their entire lives retired without ever laying direct eyes upon them. Orders instead came filtered through crystalline conduits — eerie chambers where only their calm, ageless voices resonated.

And yet, across all legions — from the vast domain of Alexia, to Pantrixia of Baewiths, Sanxcities of Dritota, and Yenturies of Klolsort — this was simply how things were. Each legion had their own mysterious elders. And on the rarest of occasions, every few generations, a Grand Conference was called, where all these elders emerged at once.

The last such meeting was sixty years ago.

Why?

Ah, that secret lies deeper still. Patience — the story would reveal it in time.

✦ After Closoria: uncertainty and grief

In the meantime, less mythic troubles brewed.

The aftermath of the Closoria incident weighed heavily on every heart that survived it. The battered magic squad led by Marcus Libreria had returned to their field base, their ranks thinner by six — six whose families would soon be facing the cruel courtesy of official condolences.

The mages sat in clusters, murmuring in low, troubled voices.

"How did it go so wrong? They were just low-grade monsters…"

"I saw Greek — Mighty Klaus — cut down three in one blow, then moments later he was screaming… It was like something twisted inside that dungeon."

Marcus himself kept largely to his tent, poring over reports and mentally rehearsing what he'd need to say. His calm eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, jaw set in grim lines.

Soon, he could delay no longer. He mounted up and made for the Association headquarters to deliver his failure in person.

✦ Marcus at the gates of power

The Magic Association stood like a silent colossus at Alexia's capital center — a labyrinthine complex of pale towers and shadowed archways. Marcus, still caked in a sheen of dried sweat and blood that he hadn't fully managed to scrub off, felt the weight of it the moment he dismounted.

Inside was quiet. Always eerily so. His boots echoed alone on the polished stone.

"This place…" Marcus breathed under his breath.

"Every time I come it feels like the walls themselves are watching. But today… today it's like they're holding their breath."

A gentle cough snapped him from his reverie.

"Marcus. Marcus. Marcus!"

He blinked. A woman in pale robes — one of the senior clerks — was tapping his shoulder lightly.

"Oh — forgive me. Yes?"

She gave him a faintly worried look. "The elders have summoned you. They're ready to receive your report."

Marcus dipped his head in a stiff bow. As he passed, he caught the woman's small frown and the thought that lingered on her face even after she turned away.

Is he alright? He looks… haunted.

✦ Before the five elders

He walked alone into the dark chamber. Instantly, it felt like the world outside shut its doors. The atmosphere pressed on his chest — a gravity that made it hard to draw a full breath.

Before him sat five indistinct figures, their outlines wreathed in shifting mist. Their presence was so immense it nearly forced Marcus to his knees just from proximity.

He forced himself to stand straight and bow low.

"Great elders," Marcus began, voice tight with tension,

"I come to deliver my report on the incident at Closoria. I am… ashamed to confess we did not achieve the complete eradication as ordered."

There was a long, pulsing silence.

Finally one of the elders spoke — a voice perfectly balanced, neither harsh nor gentle, yet somehow slicing right into Marcus' ribs.

"What do you mean by that, Marcus?"

✦ The confession

Marcus swallowed, then recounted everything in painstaking detail:

How they'd only brought a smaller squad, confident in facing low-grade beasts.

How the initial sweep outside the dungeon was straightforward — almost insultingly so.

How Klaus, blinded by pride, charged in ahead.

How six men and women lay dead in the span of mere heartbeats once they entered that dungeon's throat.

And finally, how they chose to retreat before the entire squad was consumed.

When he finished, the chamber was silent again — except for Marcus' own ragged breathing. A hot prickle of sweat ran down his spine.

At last, that same elder voice responded.

"I see. You chose wisely, Marcus. Too many commanders would press forward from wounded pride, and lose all. The six lost today is a tragedy, but we will not compound it by condemning the rest."

Another voice — slightly raspier, older perhaps — interjected.

"Nonetheless, something lurks in that dungeon that twists the nature of these monsters. That it only affected low-grade creatures is a grace… for now. Imagine if it had reached wyverns or shadow bears. Or drawn out a boss."

A third voice, smooth and dry, added:

"Prepare notifications. Every squad patrolling other dungeons in Alexia must heighten vigilance. And dispatch diplomatic envoys to Pantrixia, Sanxcities, and Yenturies. If this is a phenomenon spreading across legions, we'll need coordinated response before it devours all of us."

✦ A final order

Then all five seemed to breathe together — an almost seismic shifting of power.

"Marcus. You may take your leave. Rest your squad, tend to the families of the fallen. There will be honors granted, and reparations. Go."

Marcus exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Bowed low enough his forehead nearly touched the ground. Then backed out of that heavy room, feeling the press of unseen eyes on his back until the door clicked shut.

✦ The elders alone

Inside, the elders sat in contemplative silence for a long moment. Then the first elder spoke softly.

"Summon Squad Aegis. And their captain. If Closoria must be cleansed, they will be our hammer. We cannot afford hesitation."

There was a faint pulse in the air, as if the entire chamber nodded in agreement.

✦ Meanwhile: clueless echoes at Himwarry

Far away in Himwarry Academy, Aether Ryens was once again caught entirely off guard. He stiffened in the middle of a sword swing, shivering as if someone had just dumped ice water down his back.

"Huh? What was… that?"

WHAP!

"Focus, dummy!" Teacher Rune barked, delivering a firm swat to the back of his head with her wooden sword.

"Ow! I-I'm sorry! It wasn't on purpose!"

Rune clicked her tongue, cheeks puffed with exasperation.

"Keep zoning out like that and I'll make sure you do push-ups till next spring. Now stance — again!"

Somewhere, Aether giggled nervously. Somewhere else, the stirrings of monstrous evolution crept on, uncaring of clueless boys learning to dodge spankings.

✦ A tiny narrator wink

And so — while ancient powers plotted and dark dungeons spawned nightmares that could threaten entire legions — one genius-mechanic-non-mage still struggled to hold his sword properly. Don't worry, dear reader, we'll get back to his bruised ego (and bruised skull) soon enough. Hehe…