The Untold Story

When we arrived at the headmaster's office, Aertharion and I were greeted by Lycandor, the headmaster of Aeternal.

— Aertharion, huh? It seems you managed to catch him before he caused something truly disastrous… — said Lycandor, his serious tone adding weight to the tension in the air.

— So, what did that boy hear to get like this?… Well, never mind. What's done is done, and we have bigger problems to deal with now. We can no longer deny the fact that Keltherion has already discovered what happened to his daughter that day. Sigh… Of all the beings in this universe, Kyrion got close to Aurëalis? Doesn't he understand the nature of your relationship with them? — Lycandor asked, crossing his arms as his curious gaze shifted toward me.

— Well, Lycandor, if I had to guess, I'd say this relationship was initiated by Aurëalis. Kyrion wouldn't have had the energy or will to get involved on his own. The only friends he has are those who became curious about his behavior and decided to approach him. — replied Aertharion, carefully placing me on one of the office sofas.

— As for understanding the differences between our races, he absolutely does. He may seem lazy and indifferent, but, believe it or not, he was the best student of his generation at the academy. Even I was impressed. — Aertharion continued as he sat in a chair near Lycandor.

— Yes, I know. I sensed his potential the first time I saw him in the hall during the entrance festival… When he insulted Theronir in front of everyone. — commented Lycandor with a faint smile as he took a sip of tea.

Aertharion glanced away, visibly unsettled by the memory.

— But while the boy is unconscious, don't you think it's time you tell me the secret you've been keeping about him? After all, it was already a mistake to withhold such a crucial piece of information from me, the headmaster of Aeternal. Now, with all this chaos, I have the right to know. How can someone with so little energy exude something so powerful and, at the same time, so dark? — said Lycandor, his tone growing increasingly serious with each word.

Aertharion remained silent for a moment, deep in thought, before finally responding.

— Tsk… Sigh… Alright… I'll tell you everything. But remember, Lycandor, this is a secret that must remain well-guarded. It can never leave this room. Understood? — Aertharion said, locking eyes with the headmaster with intensity.

— You have my word. — Lycandor replied firmly.

Kyrion's Dark Past

— Sigh… This issue occurred millennia ago and resulted in the loss of many void dragons. — Aertharion began, his distant gaze reflecting memories of a dark time.

— About two thousand years ago, Kyrion was about to turn 15,000 years old. Even then, as throughout his entire existence… no, perhaps even before he was born, he was exactly as he is now: absurdly lazy.

Aertharion paused briefly, his eyes glimmering with a mix of nostalgia and worry.

— Sigh… Because of this, he rarely participated in activities that weren't absolutely necessary to complete his education. For him, everything always boiled down to sleeping. Yet, despite that, his grades were the best in his class, even in real combat — a fact that's hard to believe. — he continued, letting out a tired breath.

— Kyrion was brilliant at everything he did, even with his laid-back lifestyle. When he and his classmates reached 15,000 years, they were finally on the verge of graduating. All the knowledge they needed had been imparted to them, and they were ready to move forward with their lives.

Aertharion's tone shifted, becoming more somber and serious.

— However, to officially graduate, all students were required to undergo a test of spiritual and magical strength. This test wasn't just a rite of passage, It revealed each individual's true potential and helped direct them toward the paths where they could thrive.

He paused again, his expression growing heavier.

— Despite his consistent excellence in subjects related to spiritual energy, magic, and combat, Kyrion had never tested his own limits. He had no idea what the true extent of his power was.

Aertharion took a deep breath before continuing.

— Even so, he was forced to participate. It wasn't a choice. The test was mandatory, and allowing a student to graduate without taking it would have been unfair to the others.

— What happened that day… changed everything. Not just for Kyrion, but for all of us.

Lycandor listened intently, his expression growing graver with each passing word.

— Sigh… On the day of the test, Kyrion was the last to go. When his turn came, he entered an isolated chamber, protected by a barrier that allowed those outside to safely observe the demonstration — including the examiners, his classmates, and his parents.

Aertharion paused briefly, as if searching for the right words.

— He began releasing his power slowly, letting it grow until it reached its apparent maximum. However, when he hit that limit, I noticed something odd. His maximum power, while not extremely low, was still weaker than his classmates'. At the time, it seemed normal enough. After all, it wasn't unheard of for students to struggle to reach the same level as their peers. It was rare, but not impossible.

— Sigh… But for Kyrion's former professor of spiritual energy and magic studies, Kael Dravonar, that wasn't the end. Kael believed Kyrion had more to give — that he hadn't yet tapped into his true limits. Kael was a strict teacher, known for pushing his students to their utmost capacity. While his methods were dangerous, they were also necessary. We couldn't allow a generation of weakness to rise.

Aertharion's gaze grew darker, his voice heavy with remorse.

— Even as I watched Kael encourage Kyrion to push further, to go beyond what seemed possible, I didn't intervene. I thought, at worst, Kyrion would collapse from exhaustion, and that nothing more serious could happen… Ha, how foolish I was.

His voice dropped to a grave tone, carrying the weight of what was to come.

— Then it happened. Kyrion, barely able to stand, began to falter. Everyone believed he had finally reached his limit. But suddenly, everything began to change. Far on the horizon, the lights of the great quasars that illuminated the skies of our kingdom started to disappear, one by one. It was as if they were being extinguished — or devoured by something. Within moments, everything plunged into utter darkness, as though we had been swallowed by the void itself.

— The people watching were paralyzed with shock. No one understood what was happening. Then, a different kind of energy appeared. It was dark, dense, and suffocating in its own way, as if it carried the weight of a living entity. This energy began to emanate uncontrollably from Kyrion's nearly unconscious body, wild and untamed.

Aertharion paused, as though he could still feel the moment etched into his skin.

— Kyrion slowly began to levitate. His eyes, black as the sky at that moment, suddenly opened, and he let out a scream filled with unbearable pain, as if his very soul were being torn apart.

His tone dropped, heavy with solemnity.

— And then… there was an explosion. A colossal explosion of energy that devastated everything around him. The shockwave flung those nearby as if they were mere twigs in a storm. Some were thrown hundreds of meters away.

— When we managed to recover, we saw something unimaginable. Kyrion had broken through the barrier of the testing chamber. That barrier was made of primordial energy — the same force that shaped the universe at its creation. Only a superior energy could destroy it. But what kind of energy could surpass the energy of creation?

He shook his head slightly, as if still searching for an answer that eluded him.

— After that, the entire testing arena was completely destroyed. Many people were gravely injured. Some were unconscious, while others ran in panic, trying to escape.

— Then the kingdom's defense forces arrived. They were an elite unit, trained to face an entire army if necessary. At that moment, everyone believed they would be able to contain him without much difficulty, as we thought it was just a temporary anomaly in Kyrion's power.

He gazed into the distance, his expression darkening further.

— But we were wrong… completely wrong. We didn't know… we couldn't imagine that every single soldier in that unit who faced Kyrion would die almost instantly that day.

— The way they died… It was cruel, swift, and utterly senseless. The screams, the blood… all of it was unbearable. I couldn't just stand by any longer. Something inside me screamed for action, even if it was a desperate impulse. How could I just sit there, watching my own people suffer like that?

Aertharion took a deep breath, his voice hardening with determination.

— So, I stood up, ignoring those around me who tried to hold me back. They said it would be suicide to face him in that state. Maybe they were right… But I couldn't just stand there, so I went to him, determined to do something — anything.

— We fought. And, as incredible as it may seem… I was losing. — He let out a short, bitter laugh. — Hahaha… Saying that out loud still feels… embarrassing. I'm not even sure how to describe it.

He shook his head, sighing deeply.

— Sigh… But what I do know is that if it weren't for what happened next… I would have died that day. And without a doubt, my people would have been destroyed.

Aertharion held up the amulet hanging around his neck, revealing it to Lycandor. It was the Orb of Dawn, radiating a soft but undeniable power.

— Is that… what I think it is? — Lycandor asked, his eyes wide with disbelief as he focused on the object.

— Yes. If it weren't for the Orb of Dawn and its divine power, Kyrion wouldn't have stopped. And today, all the Gods would undoubtedly be in danger. — Aertharion replied, his voice grave and solemn.

— But how is that possible? This divine object… shouldn't it belong to the Light Dragons? — Lycandor asked, his confusion evident.

Aertharion tightened his grip on the amulet in his hand before responding.

— Hm… I'm not entirely sure. For as long as I can remember, it has always been with us, in our family. Perhaps there are records in the kingdom's archives that explain its origin. But the Quasar records are vast, and to this day, I haven't found anything that mentions the emergence of this amulet. What I do know, however, is that it's the only thing capable of stopping Kyrion when he loses control.

Lycandor furrowed his brow, still processing what he was hearing.

— How did you discover this? — he asked, intrigued.

Aertharion sighed again, his expression reflecting the weight of his memories.

— As I said, this amulet has been with me for as long as I can remember. My mother, Queen Marie, gave it to me. Since then, I've never let it go. She used to say that the Orb of Dawn was sacred, created by one of the great primordial gods, and that it had the power to illuminate the path of those lost in darkness. A metaphor that makes a lot of sense to us Void Dragons, who are intrinsically tied to the void.

Aertharion's voice grew more solemn as he continued.

— During the fight, as I felt death approaching with each passing second, I remembered the amulet and my mother's words. It was all I had left… and so, I decided to use it.

He tightened his grip on the amulet again, as if he could feel the weight of that moment in his hands.

— When Kyrion grabbed my neck in his final attempt to finish me, I channeled the energy of the amulet directly into him. I didn't know if it would work, but… I had to try.

Aertharion's voice carried an edge of emotion as he recounted what happened next.

— To my surprise, as soon as the energy struck him, Kyrion was thrown backward. It was a significant breakthrough in a battle that seemed hopeless, as until then, he was the only one capable of dealing any blows, while we were utterly defenseless.

— Even so, that initial attack wasn't enough to stop him. So, I kept trying… once, twice, three times, until, almost unconsciously, I struck Kyrion with the sharpest part of the amulet, channeling all the remaining energy into him.

Aertharion glanced at the amulet again, his eyes filled with reverence and respect.

— What happened next was… indescribable. A brilliant light erupted from his eyes and mouth as he screamed in agony. It was a scream so visceral that it seemed to echo in the very souls of everyone present.

— Finally, Kyrion collapsed to the ground, unconscious. That moment brought an end to hours of sheer panic. Hours in which not only we, the Void Dragons, had suffered but also Kyrion himself. Because, deep down, I knew that even he didn't want any of this.

Aertharion finished, his voice now laden with a mixture of sorrow and relief, while Lycandor remained silent, completely absorbed by the magnitude of what had just been revealed.