HONOR CEREMONY

The sun was at its peak, casting golden rays upon the stone pathways of the Mythic Base. The members of the Mythic rank returned after an intense yet spiritually enriching training session. Their bodies were a bit tired, but their minds felt sharper, focused, and more connected to their powers than ever before.

Arslan walked quietly among them, his steps calm but purposeful. He noticed how his teammates smiled more freely now, laughing among themselves, lightly teasing one another about their new skill revelations.

Just as they entered the main corridor of the base, Kar'Thael's voice echoed gently in Arslan's mind.

> Kar'Thael (softly): "You did well today, Arslan. That wasn't training… that was leadership."

Arslan responded quietly in his thoughts as he gazed at his teammates entering the lounge.

> Arslan: "I want to see them as powerful as I am. We're a team. I won't let them stay behind… not anymore. I'll train with them every day. And at night—I'll continue with you. There's still more I need to learn."

> Kar'Thæl: "Hmm… a warrior with purpose and balance. I'm proud of you, Arslan. You're not just growing stronger—you're growing wiser."

Arslan gave a small smile. His purpose wasn't just vengeance or survival anymore—it was responsibility.

That evening, the entire capital of Lumisgrave held its breath.

The Great Courtyard of Valor, situated in the heart of the Royal Capital, was lit by rows upon rows of glowing lanterns and shimmering magical torches, casting warm light over white stone. A sacred hush filled the atmosphere as citizens, Echelon Knights, and even Council members gathered to honor the fallen—those who gave their lives during the infernal assault led by ZARELLE.

Banners of mourning—white with golden lining—were hung across the stage. A massive circular altar had been constructed at the center, decorated with the symbols of each fallen Knight, their names inscribed with glowing runes, forever preserved by enchantments.

The King himself stood at the altar, clad in ceremonial robes of deep royal blue with golden embroidery. The Council of Surge, Zeniths, Apex, and Mythic-ranked members stood in full attire on either side of the courtyard.

A gentle wind whispered across the plaza as the bells tolled—each strike representing a life lost.

King Farhan stepped forward as the bells quieted. His voice was steady, solemn.

> King Farhan: "Today, we do not just mourn the brave souls who fell… we honor them. We remember them. They were not just Knights. They were fathers, daughters, sons, mothers, friends… protectors."

The crowd remained still, the weight of grief hanging in the air.

> "Each soul that fought… stood not just against devils—but against fear. And when the sky darkened, they stood their ground so others may see the morning sun."

He raised his hand, and a magical illusion appeared—faces of the martyred glowing like stars above the altar. As each face lit up, family members from the crowd shed tears, clasping one another.

The Mythic-ranked members stood with heads lowered, many still holding emotional bruises from the fight.

Elira Saelwyn, the Zenith who had fought valiantly, stepped forward.

> Elira: "We lost comrades. Friends. Partners. But we gained something greater—their legacy. And we vow this: We will not let their sacrifice be in vain."

Tyrus, another Zenith, ignited a flame in his palm and launched it gently into the sky where it erupted in a golden burst—a signal of passage to the honored realm beyond.

Then the King continued.

> King Farhan: "For each family who lost a hero, we grant a home within the inner capital. For each name carved in this altar, their story shall be taught. And for the brave Mythics, Apex, and Zeniths who returned, you carry their memory now."

As the ceremony neared its end, an enchanted lantern was given to each Echelon Knight present.

Each one was instructed to light it with their aura.

Arslan lit his with dark energy, and a black-and-blue flame flickered to life within the lantern. One by one, the others followed—flames of moonlight, toxin green, soulfire, frost blue, golden pulses—all rising into the air.

The sky filled with glowing lights, floating upward like souls ascending.

The King bowed his head as the lights rose.

> King Farhan: "Let the heavens receive our warriors."

Everyone bowed, and a shared silence held—for thirty breaths, not a word was spoken. Even the air felt sacred.

As the lights vanished among the stars, Arslan whispered to himself.

> Arslan: "Rest well. We will protect what you died for."

Kar'Thæl didn't speak. He didn't need to.

For tonight, the world remembered its heroes.

And tomorrow… the guardians of that memory would continue to rise.