Weight of promises

The weight of Promises

Arthur Valerian sat calmly on a sleek obsidian sofa within his private dorm chamber, the dim morning light filtering through the enchanted windows. Clad in his crisp Erinoguard uniform, the insignia of Yearlord gleamed subtly on his chest. Resting by his side was his sword — Ashbreaker — its edge still faintly glowing from yesterday's training.

He took a bite from a steaming paratha, part of a luxurious Eastern-style Tenjiku breakfast spread across the table in front of him. Delicate chutneys, spiced lentils, and a kettle of dark herbal tea gave the room a comforting, homely scent.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Without breaking stride, Arthur stood up, paratha still in hand, and casually opened the door.

"Morning," Saryn Bhumari grunted, stepping in before Arthur could speak.

Arthur didn't respond. He simply returned to his seat, continued chewing, and motioned with a nod. Saryn gave a small smirk and plopped down beside him, immediately digging into the untouched dishes on the table.

"At least say good morning once in a while," Saryn muttered, stuffing a bite of paneer roll into his mouth.

Moments later, Jullian Reinhart entered with a tired-looking Nyssara trailing behind him, already chewing with the hunger of a starved wolf.

And behind them—stood Nyx Akers.

His appearance hadn't changed much since yesterday's emotional outburst, but something was… different. His dark circles were still visible, his presence subdued—but his eyes burned with a new fire. Determination. Resolve. The weight of yesterday hadn't crushed him—it had forged something sharper.

"Good to see you're alive," Saryn joked, glancing up.

Nyx didn't reply. He simply nodded and took a seat, katana strapped to his back. His posture was straight. Focused.

Jullian poured himself a cup of spiced tea and leaned back.

"So… when do we move?" he asked casually.

Arthur took a sip of his own tea, then spoke calmly. "9:00 AM. We'll leave by train. It won't take the whole day—should be back by six."

"Where's the dungeon?" Nyx asked, voice steady.

Arthur set his cup down. "At the base of the eastern mountain range. It's a concealed site, hidden from general student knowledge. As Yearlord, I have direct access to its coordinates and classification. Nobody will interfere."

Saryn raised a brow. "Classification?"

"It's a Rank 3 dungeon," Arthur replied, without a hint of hesitation.

There was a brief silence.

Then — CLINK! — Jullian dropped his teacup.

Nyssara, mid-bite, froze, blinking. "Wait… what?"

Saryn nearly choked. "Are you insane? A Rank 3? Seriously?"

"I think… I'm in the wrong place," Nyx said quietly, standing halfway. "I should go before I die in there."

"Sit down, all of you," Arthur said sharply.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a force that made everyone pause.

"It's a Rank 3 dungeon. So what? We can handle it. Or are you telling me I chose the wrong people?"

Jullian blinked, then slowly broke into a laugh. "Hah… You're unbelievable."

Saryn pointed a finger at Arthur. "You do know a Rank 3 dungeon boss is likely to be Rank 4, right? And they've always got mid-bosses—Rank 2s, maybe even more Rank 3s."

"Exactly why I picked you four," Arthur said, his voice still calm but firm. "Each of you can fight a stage above your level. That's what makes you worthy of this team."

Nyssara sighed, putting her fork down. "Sure, we can fight a stage up… But a Rank 4? That's still a massive leap."

"I'll handle the boss," Arthur said.

They all turned to him.

"You focus on the mid-bosses and clearing the path. The final fight is mine."

Jullian narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure about that?"

"I don't make claims I can't keep," Arthur replied. "Now—finish up. The train ride is an hour. We depart in twenty minutes."

Nyssara wiped her mouth, nodding. Jullian stood and adjusted his cloak. Saryn cracked his knuckles.

Nyx was the last to rise, his fingers brushing the hilt of his katana. He stared down at the gleaming blade. There's something for me down there. His eyes narrowed. My cure. My answer. Even if I have to crawl through blood and hell to get it.

Arthur stood at the doorway, finishing the last bite of his paratha. "Let's go."

And without waiting for agreement, the group followed their leader — stepping into the unknown, where shadows stirred and destiny waited.

—————————

Arthur's POV

The train car hummed gently beneath us, wheels slicing across invisible rails as Arcadia's floating lines gave way to the descending eastern mountains.

No one spoke.

Jullian stared out the window, expression unreadable.

Saryn leaned back, arms crossed, gaze fixed at nothing.

Nyssara chewed quietly on a sugar tablet, her eyes distant.

Nyx sat perfectly still, katana upright by his knee, brows furrowed with something deeper than nerves.

And me?

I was calm. Focused.

But my thoughts… were far from still.

This dungeon. This moment.

It all began four years ago.

⸻

[Flashback — 4 Years Ago]

I had just reached Peak Rank 1.

My journey had only just begun, and yet I already carried the bloodline of the Valerians, the weight of a thousand expectations. I remember the cold wind on that northern expedition—me, Rein my butler, and a small contingent of elite knights heading toward the mountain pass.

Everything was routine—until it wasn't.

A rift tore open mid-transit.

A swirling crack in space, leaking otherworldly mana. We were dragged in—me, Rein, and half the guards. The monsters inside were not strong—Rank 2 at best—but they came in waves. Rein, at Peak Rank 5, made quick work of them. The knights, most at Peak Rank 4, kept formation, disciplined.

Then… a tremor.

The dungeon shuddered. Mana surged unnaturally.

A spatial fluctuation—violent and precise—struck.

Rein tried to pull me away, but we were thrown into a separate dimension.

An isolated void.

And there—he was waiting.

A lone knight clad in obsidian armor, face hidden, aura distorted. I couldn't sense his rank, but he radiated dread. I drew my sword. Rein stood beside me.

We fought.

Rein released his true power—a hidden art of the Valerians even I hadn't seen before. Blades danced like starlight, reality cracked under his strikes.

But it wasn't enough.

From behind—a soul attack.

Unseen. Silent. Lethal.

Rein collapsed mid-fight.

The knight advanced on me. I used everything Father had given me—a defensive scroll, imbued with emergency wards. I blocked four… five strikes. Each one heavier than the last. My mana burned, muscles screamed.

Then… he raised his sword for the final blow.

And Rein—barely conscious—stepped between us.

He took it for me.

That was the last time I saw him stand.

Before I could scream, light enveloped us.

My mother—Rubina Valerian—descended from the skies like a tempest. Her teleportation magic tore through dimensions. She held me. Grabbed Rein. And fled.

She saved us.

But Rein never woke up.

Doctors failed. Archmages failed. Even divine prayers failed.

He needed something more.

Divine Essence.

⸻

Back in the train.

I blinked. The weight of that memory never left me.

A few months ago, Emperor Solan came to me—not in person, but in a dream.

A dream more vivid than waking.

He stood in a garden I'd never seen, under a starless sky.

"The cure lies in a hidden dungeon," he had said. "But nothing comes free. You'll go to Erinoguard. You'll become Yearlord. You'll take who I allow—and you'll build what I ask."

I hadn't planned to come here. I hadn't planned to lead.

But plans are illusions.

Fate had already written the script.

The dungeon we approach now—sealed, hidden from all—was once discovered by Nyx Akers' father when he was still a student here. To even open the gates, the blood of the Akers family is required.

It's no coincidence.

Even choosing Nyx was calculated. Breaking him. Reforging him.

I need him as my sword.

And I need his blood to open the gate.

The Emperor said:

"There is enough Divine Essence for five people. Who to give them… you will decide."

I already decided.

Rein ,Saryn ,Jullian and Drake

as for last one I haven't decided yet and

Leona she have already left saying

"I followed you by choice, Arthur—but I was never meant to serve; I walk my own path."

I let it go everyone have different path they want to walk she also have.

DING!

A calm voice echoed over the cabin's speakers:

"Eastern Mountain Station. All passengers disembarking, please exit with care."

I stood, stretching slightly. My companions stirred from their thoughts.

"It's time," I said simply.

We stepped out onto the stone platform, wind biting at our coats as the towering cliffs rose ahead of us. Somewhere within them…

lay answers, power, and perhaps—redemption.

I'm coming, Rein.

I'll find your cure… even if I have to burn the heavens to do it.