MAKING OF FAKE STONES AND INVITATION TO ZENITH BASE

In the dimly lit room of the Mythic Base, Arslan sat near his window, the sky outside painted with faint golden hues of dawn. The room was silent, save for the quiet pulse of energy surrounding him — a stillness before another day of intensity.

From the shadowed corner of the room, Kar'Thael's voice broke through.

"It's time."

Arslan turned his head. "Time for what?"

Kar'Thael stepped forward from within Arslan, his form half-materialized with flickering tendrils of darkness curling around his limbs. He pointed to a small wooden box on the table. "We should begin focusing on the fake stones. The clock is ticking."

Arslan narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "You mean now? We barely trained for today."

Kar'Thael smirked with calm confidence. "You've grown. It's time to act between breaths of training. Bring me three stones—mud stones, nothing magical."

Without another word, Arslan walked to the corner shelf and picked up three dull, earth-toned stones—small, smooth, and ordinary. He handed them to Kar'Thael with a skeptical raise of his brow.

"What are you going to do with mud rocks?" Arslan asked.

Kar'Thael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he unsheathed his twin-faced sword—a weapon unlike any in Lumisgrave. Its hilt was bound with silver coils, and each side of its dual blades shimmered with opposing auras—one of darkness, the other of ancient violet flame.

He placed the three stones atop the blade.

The moment they touched the surface, the stones trembled. A low hum pulsed through the air, and Arslan stepped back instinctively as a sudden surge of energy rippled outward.

Black veins ran through the stones like dark lightning. The mud hardened. Their dull texture began to glow—softly at first, then with the same eerie luster as the real magical stones.

It was alchemy, but not of this world. More like something ancient—forgotten by time and forbidden by most.

When the glow settled, the fake stones rested on the blade, indistinguishable from the real ones.

Arslan's eyes widened. "That… That was the sword. Was that sword magic?"

Kar'Thael simply smiled, his expression unreadable. "Let's just say… this blade has seen the truth of many worlds. I'll explain when you're ready."

"But—" Arslan started.

Kar'Thael raised a hand. "For now, focus on your growth. The stones are ready. When the time is right, we'll use them."

As Arslan stood there processing what he'd just seen, a knock sounded at the door.

He turned quickly. Kar'Thael vanished back into Arslan's soulscape in an instant, his energy dispersing like ink in water.

Arslan opened the door.

It was Tarric Vohl, one of the Mythic-ranked thunder-wielders. He was slightly out of breath, his spiky hair damp with morning mist. "Hey," he said, "you're invited to the courtyard. Julius is here."

"Julius?" Arslan blinked, surprised. "The leader of the Guardian Council?"

"Yeah, looks like something official." Tarric turned to walk. "Hurry up."

---

Arslan followed Tarric down the wide stone hallways, where light filtered through stained-glass windows. Other Mythic members were already moving toward the courtyard.

As Arslan stepped outside, the courtyard buzzed with a faint tension. Everyone stood in a semi-circle.

Julius stood tall at the center, robed in layered gold and crimson, his arms behind his back. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered Mythics with measured calm.

"I know this is sudden," he began, "but today is important. All the Echelon Knights are invited to the Zenith Base. A joint training session will take place — one that will test your abilities, your adaptability, and your coordination."

Gasps and murmurs echoed among the group.

Vaelith, arms crossed, asked, "Is this a regular collaboration?"

Julius gave a small smirk. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You'll find out soon enough."

Elyra tilted her head. "So it's a special training?"

"Maybe." Julius gave no more than that. "But understand this — this isn't about showing strength. It's about learning. The stronger bonds between ranks, the better we fight."

Orien Dravell leaned toward Arslan and whispered, "They probably want to see what you're hiding."

Arslan said nothing, keeping his expression unreadable.

Kar'Thael, hidden within, whispered with a grin, "Perfect. Let them watch. Today, we stay low… Tomorrow, we burn brighter."

With Julius's final words echoing in the courtyard, the Mythic-ranked knights began their preparations to head to the Zenith Base. The air was thick with anticipation — for some, excitement; for others, unease.

And for Arslan… strategy. Every step, every glance, every silence he kept — all had purpose now. With the fake stones ready and a new battlefield ahead, the game was only just beginning.