A Fantasy Novel?

A crack tore through the air.

Then came the fall.

They landed one by one. Not gently. Not gracefully. Just—thuds, flops, grunts, curses.

"Ow—my back!" Kiyomasa rolled off the patch of grass he'd landed on, face contorted in a mixture of pain and confusion. He blinked up at the sky. It was soft blue, far too bright, with three suns hanging in the sky like someone messed up the graphics settings.

"Where... the hell are we?" Ai muttered, brushing off grass and what looked suspiciously like glowing pollen from her sleeves.

They were in the middle of nowhere. Literally.

A field stretched out around them—unfamiliar tall grass waving in the wind, dotted with translucent white flowers the size of melons. Giant mushroom-like trees loomed in the distance, casting bizarre, shifting shadows on the hills. And the sky? Not just bright. But tinged with gold at the edges, like someone dipped it in honey.

Miwa stood, shielding her eyes. "Wait. Where's Zazm?"

Everyone froze.

"...He was right behind me, wasn't he?" Minos asked, voice tight.

Jahanox scanned the area, frowning. "No trace."

"No portal residue either," Ai said, eyes narrowing as she walked a few paces forward. She knelt and touched the ground, then sniffed the air like a detective in a drama. "Something's... weird. The air. It's not normal."

"You mean like… oxygen level off?" Minos offered, squinting.

Ai shook her head slowly. "No. I can't describe it. It's like… it's humming. Not a sound. A feeling. Something in the air—everywhere. I don't know what it is, but it's not natural. Not to us."

"Great," Jennie muttered. "We've landed in a place with magic air."

"So, Zazm's missing, we're in a weird meadow with alien flowers and vibrating air. What's next?" Miwa spun around in a circle and threw her arms up. "A singing dragon?"

Min-Seok looked off toward the horizon. "There's a mountain range that way. Maybe if we gain altitude, we'll see civilization."

Jahanox nodded. "Let's move. Wandering aimlessly won't help."

The group began walking—not in a panic, but with that stiff, uncertain movement of people trying very hard to pretend things are fine.

They weren't fine.

---

One Hour Later

They still hadn't found anything. No cities. No roads. Not even a single broken-down cart or a random sword in a stone. Just rolling hills and the occasional animal that looked too intelligent for comfort.

Miwa was poking a flower that folded itself up like a fist every time she got close. "Okay, this is starting to creep me out."

"Starting?" Ai deadpanned, keeping to the edge of the group. She kept twitching slightly, like something invisible was brushing against her senses.

Minos, carrying a branch he broke off one of the trees, glanced around. "We're being watched."

"No, we're not," Kiyomasa insisted too quickly.

"Yes," Minos replied flatly, "we are. Not by people. By the land. This place feels aware."

Ai suddenly stopped. "Guys. The air thing? It's stronger here. I feel like… I don't know. It's as if we're being whispered to through our bones."

Jennie looked visibly disturbed. "Okay, no. No. That's too horror-movie."

They kept walking. Not because they wanted to—but because standing still felt worse.

---

Another Two Hours

Finally, something changed.

Over the rise of a hill, the green faded away—and gave birth to stone. A winding cobbled path, narrow and aged, led toward what looked like—

"A wall?" Kiyomasa said.

No, a gate.

A massive one. Carved stone with a wooden archway that stood nearly twenty feet tall. Beyond it, distant buildings, pointed rooftops, and a tall spire. People moved past the gate—humanoid, dressed in cloaks, armor, robes. A marketplace buzzed in the distance with voices.

They'd found a city.

Everyone stopped.

"...Is it just me or do those people look like they stepped out of a fantasy novel?" Miwa whispered.

A man passed by dragging a cart of glowing fruit, and a woman with silver hair floated beside him holding what looked like a staff. A literal staff. With a gem.

Jennie blinked. "Okay. We are in a fantasy novel."

A woman walked by with bright turquoise curls and gold tattoos. A man followed with orange eyes and green skin.

They stared at the group.

Long. Hard.

A guard muttered something and dashed toward the gate.

"...Why are they looking at us like that?" Kiyomasa asked.

Ai narrowed her eyes. "It's not just the clothes. Look around. Every single person has vibrant features. Blue, pink, silver, gold. But us?"

Jahanox's voice dropped. "We're the only ones with black hair. Maybe brown at best. That's… rare here. Maybe even taboo. Or sacred."

"So we're either freaks or some unique stuff?" Miwa whispered.

"Let them decide," Jahanox said.

Two guards approached quickly. They wore ornate navy armor with a symbol like a dragon wrapped around a tower.

"Hail, Lords and Ladies," one said, bowing deeply. "Forgive our surprise. We were not informed of a noble delegation today."

Jennie blinked. "Noble delegation?"

Jahanox stepped forward, eyes calm. "We are... unexpected travelers from the Western Isles. We seek rest and passage."

The guard looked them over with interest. "Black hair... all of you. Forgive my boldness, but are you of one house? Only those of noble or royal blood bear such uniform coloring."

Miwa blinked, then leaned in and whispered, "Let's go with it."

Minos nodded. "Definitely royalty."

The guards exchanged glances.

"That is... most fascinating. You wear your heritage openly. Your black crowns—such rare hair. Are you of the Old Blood?"

Ai was now very interested. She leaned forward. "Old Blood?"

"Yes, Lady. The Ancients—those blessed by the Astral Wellspring. Only royals like you have such beautiful hair."

Minos murmured, "We just got promoted to legendary beings."

The capital was breathtaking. Lanterns floated in the air, held by unseen threads of magic. Roads twisted gently between tall buildings of pale stone and glass. Everything shimmered faintly.

People stared as they passed. Not rudely. Worshipfully.

A child dropped her fruit at the sight of Ai. A street musician stopped mid-song. Vendors whispered behind their stalls.

The guards led them down a main road, toward what they called the Silken Quarter, but not before Jahanox murmured, "We're gathering too much attention. We need to learn."

Min-Seok nodded. "Split slightly. Ask questions. Nothing direct."

As they passed through a busy market square, Jennie lingered by a booth selling glowing grapes. She smiled at the vendor. "Are these local?"

The vendor beamed. "Yes, my lady! Blessed by the Queen's Bloom Circle herself. All royal fruits are. Would you like a sample?"

"I'm new in town. What circle is that?"

The man chuckled. "Why, the Queen's circle of Light-Weavers, of course! Surely your House has its own bloomers?"

"...Of course," Jennie lied, accepting a grape.

Elsewhere, Minos leaned against a wall near a smithy. A teenage apprentice gave him a confused look.

"You with the new council?" the boy asked.

Minos smiled. "I travel often. Which council?"

"Queen Eladriel's Inner Flame. Heard she's gathering those with rare traits."

Minos raised a brow. "Like hair?"

The boy nodded, pointing at Minos's head. "Like yours. All royal lines have black or silver. Pure lines."

Miwa whispered to Ai, "So… we're not just weirdos. We're literal magical royalty, apparently."

"May I ask which house you're all from?" A guard asked still walking with straight posture Infront.

Ai adjusted her posture subtly. "Yes," she said aloud, suddenly dignified. "We are siblings. All from the House of... Arion."

"Valerith?" The guard's brows furrowed. "Forgive me, I do not know that name."

Kiyomasa, to everyone's horror, blurted out, "We're from a very... very distant province. So distant, it's not on most maps."

"We're here for learning and knowledge," Jennie quickly added. "A journey of wisdom and culture."

"And food," Miwa said randomly. Everyone glared at her.

The guard chuckled, polite and intrigued. "Very well. You honor Solvaran with your presence. I shall inform the House Registrar of your arrival. In the meantime, may I ask your purpose for visiting the city of Altrarein?"

"We seek audience with the known scholars of this realm," Jahanox said, slipping smoothly into character. "To observe, to learn... to grow."

The guard nodded. "You carry yourselves with nobility. Please, allow us to escort you."

One guard leaned closer to Minos and asked, "Is it true all your House has black hair? How fascinating. Are there many of you?"

Minos blinked. "Oh, uh, tons. Absolutely teeming."

"We have a huge estate," Ai added, lying smoothly. "Not many visitors, so we decided to explore the world."

"What do you call your lands?"

There was a pause.

Miwa said, "The Darkleaf Archipelago."

"What the hell is that?" Kiyomasa whispered.

"Ah! That explains it," the guard replied, smiling. "Remote islands are always full of wonder."

"Are they dumb? They just keep accepting our bullshit."

Jahanox hit Kiyomasa slightly on the back, "Just play along."

As they walked deeper into the city, the group couldn't help but stare. The market buzzed with life—floating fruit vendors, cloaked dancers, mechanical pets walking beside children.

Massive mushrooms housed bookstores. Floating glass panels displayed news and magical advertisements.

Despite their regal act, the Catalysts were not subtle. They huddled together often, whispering and trying not to look stunned at every little thing.

Jennie whispered, "We really have to keep this act going, huh?"

Jahanox smirked slightly. "They think we're nobility. It might work to our advantage."

Ai nodded. "But Jahanox, look. Everyone here has wild hair colors. The only ones with black hair are us. That must be what tipped them off."

Minos muttered, "So we're rare... and apparently noble. That's good. But it could also mean we're going to attract a lot of attention."

As they passed by a bookstore nestled inside a tree, a guard gestured. "Feel free to visit the Great Archive at your leisure. I will notify the Chancellor of Guests of your arrival."

Miwa asked innocently, "Do you know where we could get some food?"

The guard smiled. "There is a sky parlor not far from here. I can lead you."

The group followed, slowly adjusting to their strange new roles. They spoke in measured tones, nodded regally, and tried to keep their awe from showing. But beneath their practiced calm, a current of questions surged.

The Manor

They were brought to a marble manor in the Silken Quarter, with enchanted gates, musical wind chimes, and an animated mural of stars across the ceiling.

Their rooms were ready. Their clothes replaced with silks and threads of gold. Servants called them lords and ladies, and asked what blessings they preferred at breakfast.

Once alone in the lounge, the group sat silently, the truth sinking in.

"We're stuck," Kiyomasa said.

"No," Jahanox replied. "We're undercover nobles now."

Ai stood by the window again. "The air is getting louder. More insistent. This whole city is buzzing. I think we're standing in a node. A magic hotspot."

Miwa slumped into a couch. "At least we're in luxury."

Jennie sighed. "What now?"

Minos cracked his knuckles. "We learn. We adapt. We don't break character."

"But still it's unusual that everyone has arrived except Zazm." Ai said sitting down on a couch.

Miwa jumped down next to her, "Don't worry he himself said it's normal and besides we have already seen something similar once."

"Yeah...."

Inside the lavishly appointed guest chambers of the city's Grand Guest Manor—typically reserved for nobles, diplomats, and high mages—the group gathered around a long wooden table, still getting used to the luxurious yet slightly odd architecture.

The walls pulsed faintly with enchantments, lanterns hovering mid-air and casting soft gold glows, and the air carried a strange warmth that felt alive, like the room itself was listening.

Jahanox sat at the head of the table, arms folded, expression as composed as ever. His eyes flicked from face to face, waiting for the noise to settle before he finally spoke.

"Let's go over what we know."

Kiyomasa sat cross-legged on the chair to his left, casually playing with a flame in one palm and a swirling orb of water in the other. "If this is what people here call magic, then they've got a long way to go," he grinned. "I'm doing this with my eyes closed."

"Which is exactly why we need to tread carefully," Jahanox replied calmly. "We've stumbled into a world where magic is everywhere. Ai mentioned something in the air earlier. If I had to guess, I'd say it's mana. That's what fuels everything here."

Ai, who had been sitting by the tall arched window, nodded slowly. "It's... dense. It clings to your skin. I didn't notice it at first, but now I can tell it's like an ocean around us. And it's in people too. Like... they breathe it."

Miwa tilted her head. "Breathing magic? Sounds poetic."

"Sounds dangerous," Minos muttered. He had been silent until now, leaning against a pillar near the back wall. "We're not from here. Our bodies aren't attuned to this mana. We don't know what long-term exposure will do."

"We're stronger than them," Kiyomasa shrugged.

"Still doesn't mean we're invincible," Minos shot back, tone sharp.

Jennie raised a hand gently, trying to ease the tension. "We've already seen people flying in the streets. Literal flying. And that woman with the glowing tattoos made a bridge of light with a snap of her fingers. This world may look primitive on the surface, but magically, it's advanced."

Jahanox nodded, absorbing everyone's words. "So. We've confirmed magic exists. Mana's in the air and inside people. Some control it instinctively. Others might be trained. Either way, it's foundational."

He gestured around at all of them. "And somehow, our average appearance by universal standards made us stand out here."

Everyone chuckled. Miwa even clapped. "We're royalty now! All hail House... um, what did we even call ourselves again?"

"House Arion," Ai reminded her with a sigh. "Because it sounded ancient and mysterious."

Jahanox allowed the smallest smile. "Yes. House Arion. The mysterious noble siblings from a far-off continent. That's what we're rolling with, remember? Because the guards asked about our hair color."

"Only royalty and the ancient bloodlines have black hair," Jennie repeated in a whisper, imitating the guard's awestruck voice. "Truly, you must be the Children of the Eclipse!"

Kiyomasa burst into laughter. "Children of the Eclipse? We sound like a band."

"They also asked why we had no sigils or accompanying retinue," Ai added. "And we panicked."

"Panicked?" Minos raised a brow. "You started reciting a poem about wandering sages looking for knowledge."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Ai huffed. "Now we're honored guests."

Jahanox cleared his throat, bringing the focus back. "So, we've deduced a few more things. One: this world has structured nobility—kings, queens, houses, sigils.

Two: hair color and clothes matter more than we thought. Three: there's a working magical economy here, and we have no currency."

"Technically," Miwa raised a hand, "Minos can just... make some."

Minos shook his head. "Already told you, it's not that simple here. This world's economy might be enchanted.

Forging magic coins without understanding them could backfire. We don't know what triggers counterfeiting detection spells."

"That... is actually a thing?" Kiyomasa blinked.

"It probably is," Jahanox replied. "We need to be cautious. Let them believe we're nobility for now. Play the part. Gather information slowly."

Miwa groaned, slumping onto the table. "Playing nobility is so boring. Do I have to curtsy?"

"Yes," Ai said.

Miwa glared at her.

Ai smirked. "With flourish."

Jennie chuckled. "I think we can manage a few days of acting. As long as Zazm gets here soon."

That made the room go quiet.

A strange silence fell. They hadn't talked about him much since they arrived. Each of them had assumed—hoped—he would follow right after. But he hadn't.

"He'll be fine," Jahanox finally said, almost too softly. "He always finds a way."

Jennie smiled at that. "Probably annoyed we're better at blending in than he expected."

Jahanox stood up, stretching. "Let's not waste the chance we have. We're guests of the city. Let's go out again. See the rest of the market. Talk to people. Discreetly."

Minos crossed his arms. "You're saying spy."

"I'm saying learn," Jahanox corrected. "The more we know, the better we can move forward. And the better we can find out what this world is really like."

The Grand Market was chaos woven into color. Stalls of glowing cloth and levitating fruit carts, barkers selling enchanted trinkets, swords that hummed with lightning, perfumes that changed your voice—it was a dreamworld of magic, wealth, and secrecy.

The group walked in pairs, trailing just close enough to still keep each other in sight.

Two guards—assigned to them upon their arrival—trailed behind. At first politely, but as the hours passed, they began asking more questions.

"Forgive my curiosity," one guard asked Jennie with a courteous bow. "But which branch of the Arion family are you descended from?"

Jennie gave her best noble laugh. "Oh, we come from the coastal side. Much... rain."

"Oh! Of course," the guard said, despite clearly having no idea what she meant.

Miwa, overhearing, leaned toward Ai and whispered, "We're going to get caught."

"Shh. Smile and nod," Ai whispered back.

The second guard approached Minos and Jahanox, who were examining a stall of metal gauntlets etched with sigils.

"Lord Arion," the guard said with a respectful tone. "You've all traveled far. What brings your House to Selphira? Surely not just the market."

"Knowledge," Jahanox replied without missing a beat. "We seek to understand the fabric of magic in other lands. Broaden our House's wisdom."

Minos stared at him. "Where did that come from?"

"I listen to Ai's poetry sometimes," Jahanox murmured back.

The guard bowed. "Then may your journey be fruitful."

As they walked further, a woman with antler-like hair and glowing green eyes passed by, nodding at them with reverence. A merchant offered them samples of dreamfruit—citrus slices that caused images to bloom in midair. Even among the wonder of the market, the group was drawing attention. The black-haired siblings from a mysterious land. The children of House Arion.

Whatever this world was… they had become something in it.

The deeper they moved into the heart of Selphira's Grand Market, the more everything seemed to shift—not just the sights and sounds, but the air itself.

The crowd parted almost subconsciously around them. Heads turned. Voices hushed into murmurs. A dozen different scents—spiced oils, roasted fruits, dusted sugar, and something floral and ancient—filled the air, but the group hardly noticed.

It was the stares they felt the most.

People weren't looking at their clothes anymore.

They were looking at their hair.

Jet black. Polished obsidian. Night incarnate. In a city of shimmering white, copper-red, and iridescent pastel hair, their midnight strands might as well have been made of stardust.

A little girl pointed from her mother's side. "Mama, look! They're... they're all dark...."

"Hush," the mother said quickly, bowing her head. She didn't scold—she looked afraid.

Another vendor stopped mid-call, his floating fruit basket wobbling unsteadily in the air. He placed a hand over his chest and gave a small bow, his eyes wide with awe. "Pure black hair," he whispered, like invoking an old fairy tale.

Some were curious—stall owners leaning closer, trying to hear the siblings speak, taking note of their every word. Others stepped back, murmuring with uncertain expressions, as if unsure whether to bow or bolt.

One woman in a robe of singing glass leaned toward another and said under her breath, "Do you think they're from the Northern Peaks? Only a few Houses had blackblood lines..."

The guards at their side stood straighter, more alert. One even subtly shifted his hand closer to his hilt—not out of fear for the nobles, but fear of offending them.

Jahanox walked with calm precision, eyes sweeping the street, taking it all in. He leaned slightly toward the nearest guard. "This market... this land. Who does it belong to?"

"Ah," the guard said, trying to sound casual despite the sweat at his temple, "You are standing in Count Selphira's domain. He governs these lands in service to the Western Sigil Throne."

Ai, who had been walking silently beside them until then, raised her eyebrows in theatrical disgust.

"A mere count?" she said, voice sharp and loud enough to make several heads turn. "This whole place is ruled by a count?"

Even Kiyomasa blinked at her.

"Don't tell me we've stumbled into a provincial backwater," Ai continued, arms crossed, face contorted in disdain. "I expected at least a Grand Duke, if not an Archmage at the helm."

The guard paled. "C-Count Selphira is a great man, my lady! His wisdom is praised throughout the western continent—"

Jahanox cut in coolly, voice low and dripping with aristocratic weariness. "We must lower our expectations, it seems. Such is the price of curiosity."

Before the guard could fumble another apology, Jahanox reached out and yanked Jennie and Kiyomasa gently closer by their sleeves, lowering his voice between his teeth.

"Act like nobles," he hissed. "Ego. Arrogance. Entitlement. That's how they expect us to behave. If they think we're royalty, be royalty."

Jennie blinked. "You want me to be rude?"

"Just distant," he murmured. "Like you've never waited in line your whole life."

Kiyomasa grinned, catching on immediately. "I can do that. Should I call everyone peasants?"

"No!" Ai and Jennie whispered in unison.

Jahanox exhaled. "Subtle arrogance. Not cartoon villain."

Minos walked past a merchant who tried to offer him a shimmering silver dagger. He didn't even glance at it. "He's right. Nobles don't engage. They expect you to chase them, not the other way around."

Miwa spun dramatically on one foot, then whispered, "Do I walk like this now?"

"You look drunk," Ai muttered.

They passed a book stall where an old man in floating glasses bowed so low his hat fell off. "My lords... my ladies... may I offer the rarest scrolls of the Eluvar Ruins?"

Jahanox raised a brow and waved him off like someone batting away a fly. "Send them to the manor. We don't sort our own relics."

The man's jaw dropped in admiration.

"Nice," Minos whispered. "That was actually really noble."

"You sound surprised," Jahanox replied flatly.

By now, a small crowd had begun trailing them—not too close, but just far enough to whisper and speculate without being noticed. The whispers grew louder with every step:

"Did you see the one with red eyes? A warborn heir, surely."

"Look at the youngest. He conjured fire and water like a sage."

"They all have the same hair. Same walk. Same air. They must be blood."

"They're siblings, aren't they? Has to be."

The group didn't speak for several moments as they walked. Just basked in the weight of it all. The attention. The power. The fantasy of it.

"Okay," Kiyomasa whispered, trying not to smile. "This is actually kind of fun."

"It won't be forever," Jahanox said, tone turning serious again. "Eventually someone will ask the wrong question, or try to test us. The illusion only works while we're unknown."

"Then we learn what we can before that," Ai said calmly. "Play noble. Spy like street rats."

"We're noble rats now," Miwa added helpfully.

"Wonderful," Minos muttered. "That's a T-shirt slogan."

Jennie looked around. "What now?"

Jahanox's eyes drifted toward a marble building near the edge of the market—tall, white, marked with old glyphs glowing soft green.

"There," he said. "A mage registry. We go inside. Learn how their magic works. Find out how they measure power."

"And if they ask who we are?" Ai asked.

Jahanox glanced back at the murmuring crowd.

He smiled.

"We're Arion. Let them wonder."

The large double doors of the marble structure creaked open slowly, revealing a vaulted hall filled with murmuring voices, floating lights, and the sharp clang of practice weapons. Stone walls shimmered faintly with embedded glyphs, and paths of glowing lines snaked across the floor like ancient circuitry.

Dozens of figures moved with purpose—some cloaked in silver-and-blue uniforms, others in enchanted armor or flowing robes of authority. People sparred with shimmering blades and hurled magic across wide arenas, bolts of flame and ice dancing in midair.

The guards escorting them stepped forward, one placing a hand over his chest.

"You stand within the Veltherian Spire, nobles," he announced solemnly. "The testing grounds for all with talent in the arts—both Arcane and Martial."

"Veltherian Spire?" Ai repeated, her voice calm, but eyes sharp.

The group exchanged glances.

Jennie whispered, "Is this like… a guild?"

Jahanox stepped forward, keeping his expression stoic. "Forgive us. Our dialect differs from the local tongue. We're not entirely fluent in your customs." His words were polished, distant, exact. "What is the purpose of this place?"

The lead guard nodded quickly, almost too quickly. "Of course, my lord. This spire is a proving ground. Those with power—be it spellcraft, swordplay, or other arts—come to demonstrate their skills before selection. Some are taken into the Selpherian Army. Others become licensed as Mercenary Adepts. Nobles may also sponsor them. It is a sacred pillar of advancement in the West."

Ai raised her hand slowly, chin tilted just enough to convey pure aristocratic disdain. "Then give us a tour. Show us what this... 'pillar' of yours looks like inside."

The guards stiffened.

One shifted awkwardly. "There is… a regulation, my lady. Only those who have been formally recognized through trial may enter beyond the atrium. It is not custom to permit untested blood, even if they—"

He stopped.

Jahanox had stepped forward. Cold.

Not angry. Not loud.

Just quiet. Still.

The kind of stillness that made animals run.

His crimson eyes locked onto the guard's like twin daggers.

"...Are you refusing entry to members of House Arion?" he asked, each word slow, quiet, heavy. "Or are you suggesting we are unworthy?"

The guard dropped to his knees.

"I meant no offense! My lord, please—you must understand—we are but servants of regulation, not law-makers—!"

Ai stepped forward, resting a gloved hand gently on Jahanox's shoulder.

"Brother," she said coolly, "it's fine. Let us not strike fear into our hosts."

She turned to the guards.

"Tell us, then. What do we need to do to satisfy your 'rules'?"

The guards scrambled to their feet. "Just a display!" one blurted. "Just a brief showcase of talent, my lady. At the far end, the testing range—"

They were already walking.

---

Inside the Veltherian Spire's great training hall, the air grew thick with tension.

All activity paused as the noble entourage entered. People who had been locked in magical duels or sword forms now froze mid-step, staring as the black-haired figures moved toward the practice arena.

Whispers followed them like shadows.

"Black hair…"

"All of them?"

"Are they truly a royal house? Which nation do they belong to?"

"Do you see how they walk? They own the floor."

The group reached a wide platform that overlooked a massive training field. Huge stone targets stood at the far end, each carved in the shape of mythical beasts. Some glowed faintly with enchantments.

The lead guard pointed nervously. "These are our combat markers. If one of you would simply demonstrate your prowess…"

Ai yawned into her gloved hand. "How utterly tedious."

She turned with a flick of her wrist and pointed at her youngest "sibling."

"Kiyomasa Arion," she said crisply. "Show these peasants what passes for talent in their realm."

Kiyomasa blinked—and then dropped into a deep bow with perfect timing, voice serene.

"As you wish, elder sister."

He stepped forward alone, back straight, arms folded behind him.

The room went completely silent.

Some people began whispering—curious, amused, even skeptical.

But then—

He raised one hand.

Then the other.

Five orbs of flame flickered into existence—one after the other, each one larger, brighter, hotter. They spun around him like miniature suns, casting wild shadows across the floor.

The air rippled.

Without a single word, without a chant or motion, Kiyomasa thrust his palms forward.

The five flames screamed through the air—and when they struck the massive targets, they didn't just burn them.

They annihilated them.

The explosions roared like a dozen dragons. Stone vaporized. Heat surged across the room. Embers danced like stars before falling into stunned silence.

People gasped.

Several stepped back.

A mage dropped their wand.

The guards' mouths hung open.

"He—he used wordless casting—!"

"Five spells—at once?!"

"Wordless—without runes or circles?!"

One older swordsman muttered, "That's upper-royal tier sorcery. No commoner can do that. Not even most nobles. That's... that's lineage-level control."

A young girl with a staff clutched her chest. "We're in the presence of a highborn house."

A student near the balcony cried, "What house did they say they were from?!"

Before anyone could ask, Jahanox stepped forward with chilling grace.

"If someone from House Arion had required words to cast," he said smoothly, "that would have been a disgrace."

Gasps echoed once more.

"House Arion…?"

More heads turned. The crowd had swelled now, drawing in trainees, instructors, and guards alike. Even a few senior mages stood at a distance, observing the scene with wary eyes.

A burly soldier leaned toward a robed man. "You ever heard of House Arion?"

The mage shook his head slowly. "Not in Selpheria. Not in the Eastern Reach, either."

"That kind of power isn't from some unknown family."

Whispers quickly gave way to curiosity, then tension.

One of the guards—flushed and visibly nervous—stepped forward toward Jahanox. He bowed, but there was hesitation in the motion.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said, glancing between them. "But… may we ask to see your house crest? Or… a sigil?"

The crowd hushed again.

Jahanox's gaze turned toward him—not angry, just… blank. As if he was staring at something smaller than dust.

He raised a gloved hand slowly and spoke with eerie calm.

"We have already stated," he said coolly, "that we are on a voyage."

He stepped forward once. The guards instinctively stepped back.

"And what purpose would it serve to flaunt heirlooms or banners when the soul of our journey is to understand the world—not conquer it?"

His tone was like silk wrapped around a dagger.

Jennie and Kiyomasa straightened behind him, as if silently backing his presence.

Ai added, voice sharp with just the right amount of annoyance, "Our people call it the 'Dimming Pilgrimage'—a rite to cast off name and throne, to walk among the stars and return wiser. House Arion abides no weakness. If your doubt remains, we can settle it with action, not antiques."

The guards paled.

One opened his mouth, then closed it, visibly swallowing.

The lead guard stammered, "N-no offense meant… of course not, Lady Arion. Please, forgive our ignorance."

Jahanox's expression remained unchanged.

"Then perhaps," he said softly, "we should demonstrate another form of strength… to dispel all doubt?"

His eyes glittered like ice under moonlight.

A rush of anticipation pulsed through the crowd.

The room tensed.

Everyone waited.

Miwa tilted her head toward Jahanox, her eyes shimmering like a playful cat catching the scent of curiosity.

"Brother," she asked sweetly, "may I go next?"

Jahanox gave the smallest nod, folding his arms behind his back as he stepped aside. "Don't overdo it."

Miwa beamed, walking delicately toward the center of the ground as if she were stepping onto a stage. Whispers stirred again in the crowd. She didn't look threatening—more like a dreamlike noble child than a combatant. But something in her gait was off. Too smooth. Too confident.

When she reached the center of the courtyard, she stopped.

Without a word, she rose from the ground.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

She levitated effortlessly, hair fluttering around her like strands of silk caught in a windless current. A soft glow began to radiate around her form. The earth trembled beneath her feet—or rather, where her feet used to be. The dirt and stone around her lifted, fragmenting into hundreds of shards, then molding together.

They became jagged spears, hovering ominously in a slow, spiraling dance.

The tension was sharp enough to cut.

Before anyone could speak, the massive spikes blasted forward—right at the spectators.

Screams erupted.

Guards leapt into defensive stances.

And then—poof.

Gone.

The spikes vanished into mist a meter before reaching anyone.

The crowd was frozen in horror and awe.

Miwa descended slowly, landing with a graceful step as if she'd just finished a courtly waltz. She giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Oops. Got carried away."

Silence.

And then—

"D-did you see that?!"

"She was flying."

"No way. That spell… that was Ground Shaker. The Ninth-Star Earth magic!"

"No incantation. No staff. Just raw manipulation—wordless."

"That's not even taught in the Royal Academy…"

A mage near the back of the crowd turned pale. "That wasn't Ground Shaker. That was modified. The trajectory, the targeting—it was customized in real time."

One of the guards turned to his comrade and whispered, "Who are these people?"

The other guard glanced nervously at Jahanox and the rest of the group. "From a House we've never heard of. With black hair. And Ninth-Star mastery…"

The first looked shaken. "Just what kind of monsters does House Arion raise?"

Up front, the lead guard wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

Jahanox stood calmly, hands behind his back, expression unchanged. But his voice rang loud and clear.

"I trust that is enough of a demonstration."

Ai stepped forward again, tone sharp. "Or must each of us level a mountain before you believe our intentions are peaceful?"

The guards bowed deeply, stammering apologies.

"No, my lady. Not at all."

"We are honored by your display."

"Forgive our ignorance…"

As they groveled, Jahanox whispered to the others, "We keep up the act. These people don't just admire power. They worship it."

Jennie leaned close, whispering, "Should we let Miwa do that again at dinner?"

Miwa was already humming to herself, walking back with a pleased smile, like she had just picked wildflowers—not triggered an existential crisis among trained mages.

As the guards stood again, still pale, one of them turned nervously.

"P-please, my lords and ladies. You must allow us to inform Count Selpheria of your presence. He will be honored. We… we had no idea we were hosting legends."

Jahanox nodded, voice cool and bored. "Do what you must."

As the guards rushed off, the rest of the crowd remained—half in awe, half in fear, all whispering just one name:

"House Arion…"

A name that didn't exist.

A name that now echoed like thunder.

---

The chamber was opulent, lit with gentle floating orbs of golden mana. Velvet curtains framed tall windows, and portraits of warriors and mages long past watched over the room like silent judges.

Count Velden Selpheria sat at the head of a long mahogany table, swirling a glass of honeywine, dressed in an embroidered indigo coat lined with silver.

His wife, Lady Miriel, a former battle-healer of renown, sat beside him, gracefully sipping tea. Across the table were their two sons and daughter—trained nobles, each capable in magic and swordsmanship, and all keenly attuned to rumors of power.

The doors opened. A pair of guards entered, still breathless with the weight of what they'd witnessed.

Velden raised an eyebrow. "You seem shaken. Speak."

The taller of the two bowed quickly. "Milord, you asked us to report if the strangers proved of interest."

"They are more than that," the second guard said quickly. "They… they call themselves the House of Arion."

Miriel's fingers paused over her teacup. The eldest son, Rhain, leaned forward. "I've never heard of such a house."

"They claim to be nobles from a far land," the guard added. "But, my lord… their power... it's unlike anything I've seen. One of them—he was addressed as Kiyomasa Arion—burned down the entire training field's target row. Five flaming orbs, simultaneously, with no words, no staff—nothing. The flames were massive, precise."

The daughter, Elira, blinked. "Wordless magic? That's advanced even for warcasters."

"It gets stranger," the guard said. "Another—Miwa Arion—she floated into the air like it cost her nothing. Then she summoned a swarm of stone spikes, shaped them mid-air, and launched them with terrifying speed. But they all vanished before hitting anyone."

"She used Ground Shaker," the first guard whispered, "but… different. Quieter. Sharper. Like it was tailored. Again—no incantation."

The Count sat forward slowly, glass forgotten in his hand.

"Ground Shaker is a Ninth Star spell."

The guards nodded.

"And you're telling me… a girl no older than twenty cast it without a word or focus?"

"Yes, my lord."

There was silence.

Rhain muttered, "Only the highest battle-archmages can do that…"

Miriel narrowed her eyes. "This House of Arion… if they truly have that much control—"

The younger son, Halric, leaned in, grinning. "So where were the elders of the house during all this?"

The taller guard glanced nervously at the Count. "That's what's most troubling, sir. The two oldest—the ones referred to as Ai Arion and her brother, Jahanox—didn't move. At all. They simply watched."

Miriel's eyes widened slightly.

The Count's face darkened. "They showed no magic?"

"None, my lord. But the crowd treated them like royalty. One of them Ai gave the order. The other Jahanox frightened a guard into submission with a stare."

Elira scoffed. "Then they're likely weak. Powerful nobles often hide behind younger talents."

The Count gave her a sharp look. "Or…"

He set the glass down with a faint clink.

"…they are Twelfth Star mages."

The air in the room thinned.

Halric's smirk faded. "Twelve stars?"

The Count nodded. "If they didn't need to prove anything, it's because they knew no one there was worth their effort."

The older son said quietly, "But the only Twelfth Star mage in the Western Kingdom is Duke Verin…"

Then the guard cleared his throat. "There was… another thing."

Velden turned. "Well?"

"When we said they must be Twelve Stars, one of the spectators joked—what if they are Thirteen Stars?"

The silence returned like a hammer drop.

Then came the Count's deep laugh, echoing against the chamber walls. "Thirteen? Thirteen Stars? There's only one person in this kingdom with that level of power. The King himself."

He shook his head.

"Thirteen Star mages can end wars alone. They can command fire, water, shadow, and time without a whisper. They rewrite the laws of battle. No noble house—no matter how secretive—raises four such people and stays hidden."

And yet…

He leaned back, rubbing his chin.

"But to cast Ninth Star spells like that… and with such ease…"

Lady Miriel finally spoke. "Whether they are Twelves or merely Nines doesn't matter. If this House of Arion is real, they've kept hidden for a reason. Perhaps from somewhere beyond our borders."

The Count's eyes sparkled.

"Or perhaps from beyond our world entirely."

He turned to the guards.

"Watch them. Learn all you can. And do not offend them. We don't need to provoke the ire of beings that might exceed our understanding."

"Yes, my lord," the guards bowed.

As they left, the family remained silent.

And far in the city, unaware of the storm their presence had stirred, the Catalysts wandered beneath a painted sky, weaving unknowingly through the gaze of a world that had just begun to notice them.

______________________________