The Supremes

Arkiz sat still in his balcony chair, a delicate porcelain cup of tea in hand—untouched, cooling fast. The rain had softened into a drizzle, a quiet rhythm against the tiled roof above. But peace had long left the moment the sky blackened and the world declared his sister's ascension.

He wasn't sure what emotion gripped him. Awe, maybe. A twinge of unease. Curiosity, definitely. The name had echoed across the heavens:

ZERISE NORZÉ RYLA — The Third Supreme of Decay.

He stared at the swirling clouds beyond the misted veil of his balcony.

Zerise.

He didn't know her well. Not really. She was the older sister he'd never met—out on distant campaigns, training grounds, or locked away in her own world of blood, rust, and grit. The only time he'd asked about her, it was to his personal maid, Aurela. Her response was simple and a little sad.

"She's an unlucky girl," Aurela had said, folding bedsheets with a wistful expression.

Unlucky—not because she lacked talent. No, if today proved anything, it was that Zerise was terrifyingly gifted.

The reason was timing. She had been born in Year 158. And the last Planetary Games were in 160. She'd missed the cutoff by a hair. No matter how genius she was, no child could leap into the Games at age two.

Among noble families, births were often carefully timed—fifteen to twenty-eight years before the next planetary games. It was calculated. Strategic. Efficient. The Games were more than sport; they were a shortcut to power, packed with resource-rich zones, fast-leveling opportunities, and exclusive aetheric buffs. Simply being there could multiply the amount of purified soul aether a person earned, especially from higher-tier beasts.

In that system, Zerise was the exception. A powerful anomaly born just a little too soon.

Arkiz had overheard once—his mother had cried for her, guilt-ridden that they'd deprived her of the best path to rise.

But Zerise never blamed them. Never complained.

She had simply said:

"I don't need the Games to get stronger."

Arkiz believed she meant it. And now, the skies themselves believed it too.

He tilted his cup slightly, watching the steam fade.

Decay. That was the element she awakened after reaching tier-3.

He understood a bit of it from his studies. The base form of decay was predictable—organic decomposition, rusting of metals, corrosion of structures. But it couldn't affect aether itself. And it certainly couldn't unravel the soul like the Nullborns did.

Their decay was something entirely different—a corruption of essence itself. Nullborns defiled what made things alive. Their mere presence could rot a forest into gray mulch and twist the land into something unrecognizable. He'd read how their touch could even decay spells mid-cast. Zerise's obsession with them… it all made sense now.

She was learning from them. Fighting them. Mastering the one element that stood as their counterweight.

And now she'd become a Supreme.

Arkiz leaned back in his chair, letting the drizzle play on the roof while his mind turned.

He knew what Supremes were. Possibly more than most scholars in Vireya.

After all, Kael Thorne—the storm-chasing, lightning-wielding pirate from Stormbound—was a Supreme himself. He had refined lightning into its deadlier cousin: Plasma. A concentrated, high-energy state born from manipulating the particles within lightning itself. And with that, he'd become one of the Supremes of Lightning on the planet Velhara.

Only the first person to unlock a specific concept within an element could earn the Supreme title for that concept on a given planet. That's why Zerise was called the Third Supreme of Decay—because two others had already ascended through different concepts of Decay before her. Perhaps one grasped something like 'Decay Immunity,' another something Arkiz couldn't even imagine. But she was the first to reach her concept—making it hers alone.

He had hoped—maybe—if he awakened lightning, he could chase Kael Thorne's path. Plasma.

But no—that concept was already claimed by someone in Vireya. Even if Arkiz mastered Plasma, he would never be recognized as its Supreme. Worse, he would always stand in the shadow of the original—because Supremes were not just about mastery. It was like a domain. The first one there becomes its ruler. Others who follow... remain visitors.

Still, the concept of the Supremes fascinated him. He'd read the Ryla family's archived records and the detailed book in the library's restricted section—one that listed the rare few who had ascended to the rank of Supreme by pushing their elemental affinities into uncharted territory. There were few names. Fewer titles.

And now, only two belonged to his family.

The first: his grandmother—Evaline Norzé Ryla—a Moon Elf who once earned the Supreme title through the elusive concept of Lunafrost, The creation of frost through Moonlight, How did she do it? Nobody knows. Last he heard, she was traveling with his eldest brother somewhere far. Even mother didn't say where. Her silence was legend. Her power, undeniable.

The second: his battle-scarred sister, now a war maiden recognized across the skies.

Among the current Supremes, there was another known wielder of the Moon element—a pure-blooded Moon Elf and the mother of the current Queen of the Moon Elves—who had reached Supreme through the concept of Reflection. She was the younger sister of Evaline. Her mastery allowed her to bend light and energy with the reflective properties of moonlight, turning defense into a deadly artform. And no, it wasn't just plain reflection—she used the reflective property of moonlight to create clones of herself, elevating the element into a unique territory of its own. Strangely, the same concept had also birthed another Supreme, though not through the Moon element. This other figure—shrouded in anonymity—had reached the Reflection concept through the Light element instead, proving that even similar concepts could stem from entirely different roots.

Arkiz had no personal connection to either of them. The Ryla family, despite its strength, had long since been severed from the Moon Elf bloodlines. His grandmother—Evaline Norzé Ryla—had once belonged to that race, but she'd been banished for one unforgivable act by her father: marrying a human.

Something had happened during the last Hundred Year Wars—something between Evaline, her father—the King of the Moon Elves at the time—and the battle that claimed her human husband's life. She never spoke of it. For years, she harbored a deep hatred for her former kin.

That hatred dulled after her father's death, mostly because the current Queen's mother—her younger sister—had once shared a close bond with her. But whatever warmth remained between them had long since cooled.

Evaline had turned her back on the Moon Elves. With her son-in-law by her side, she carved out a new legacy on the southern edge of Vireya.

Thus, the Ryla family was born—not of ancient nobility or divine blessing, but of grief, defiance, and an unbreakable will.

Arkiz exhaled slowly.

It was a strange feeling. Not jealousy. Not exactly. But something a little heavier.

He wanted to chase that level. Not just follow behind. Not just watch from balconies with cooling tea.

He wanted to catch up.