ONLINE: Blades of Eternity

The once-vibrant halls of the Pacesetters Academy stood cloaked in a heavy, almost suffocating silence. Where once students sparred with wooden blades and unleashed torrents of mana in training grounds, now there was only the quiet shuffle of patrols and the distant echoes of hushed murmurs. News traveled fast in Eldoria, and this time, it struck like a divine thunderbolt.

The representatives who had journeyed to the Battle Convention in the Valoria Kingdom were all confirmed dead. It wasn't just the loss of youth and talent that shook the land—it was the loss of leadership.

Chancellor Castaneda—a pillar of intellect and diplomacy.

Vice Chancellor Reeves—a man of wisdom and discipline.

General Cao—the backbone of the Academy's military prowess.

All gone. All eradicated.

A black flag flew over the central spire of the Academy—a symbol not just of mourning, but impending collapse.

The room was constructed of enchanted obsidian and silenced by ancient wards. It was never meant to be used in peacetime—only in moments where civilization itself teetered on the edge.

Now, it housed the final surviving authorities of the Pacesetters Academy:

Camilia, the Ice Queen – her pale blue eyes as frigid and unyielding as ever, her breath misting the air around her from the cold mana that constantly radiated off her.

Vlahović, the Spear Leader – a massive man clad in plated steel robes, his spear resting against the wall, his expression a permanent scowl as if daring fate to challenge him again.

Bowel, the Dark Saint – cloaked in ceremonial black with silver lining, his aura reeked of death mana, his silver irises faintly glowing beneath his hood. His face was unreadable, but his name evoked fear even in enemy kingdoms.

Opposite them stood Charlotte, the Shield Wielder—once one of the brightest young talents of the academy and was one of the representatives that went to the battle convention this year. Now her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and her once-glorious shield was now chipped, worn from a recent encounter that nearly took her life.

She stood stiff, jaw clenched.

"It's worse than we imagined," she finally said.

Camila's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Charlotte tapped the scroll in her hand, and it unfolded into a magically-encoded projection. An image bloomed—dark skies, a shrouded silhouette surrounded by kneeling horrors of impossible shapes, all beneath a blackened star.

"The being known as Endless has returned. He isn't just an entity of destruction—he is the origin of Abyssal Will, a force not native to our world as I think he was an Eternal. He feeds on despair, corrupts mana, and unravels the natural laws."

"An Eternal?" Vlahoviç exclaimed with a shocked look on his face, but his face quickly darkened when he saw Charlotte gave a nod as confirmation.

Bowel's voice cut in, cold and metallic. "And what of the First Magi?"

Charlotte flinched. "Apparently, he is aiding the being willingly in hopes of maybe reaching transcendence."

"That Bastard!!" Carmilia cursed with a furious look on her face

Vlahović let out a guttural growl. "So we've lost more than people. We've lost time. Momentum. The world is unraveling faster than we thought."

Camila leaned forward, her fingers laced. "How did he appear? Where?"

Charlotte looked at them grimly. "Apparently it was King Alexandria, The First Magi and Kael Dragonyx who orchestrated on bringing Endless back"

"Now one is dead or should I say killed by his partners in crime, another fled to gods know where, while the other one is helping it eradicate his own race just for a flimsy personal ambition. Just wonderful" Bowel muttered with a bitter smile on his face

There was a heavy silence before Bowel finally stepped forward. "Then the stories were true… The Veins of the World—those sacred points of mana flow the Celestials left behind—are being targeted."

Camila's eyes turned colder. "Do we know why?"

Charlotte nodded gravely. "To open the Abyssal Gate. They're collecting veins to fuel a tear in the dimensional fabric. If they succeed…" she paused, swallowing dryly, "then not even the Celestials can save us."

Vlahović slammed his palm into the table, cracking the stone. "And where are the Celestials now? Hiding behind their laws and silence?"

Bowel's voice was even. "They've been absent for centuries. We've always known the gods abandoned us. We just didn't want to admit it."

Camila rose from her chair. "Then we are what's left."

"And the children?" Charlotte asked.

Kelvin. Kaelen. The scattered survivors who might still be alive.

Bowel's expression darkened ever so slightly at the mention of Kelvin, his estranged son. "They're out there. And if they're alive… they've seen more than we can imagine."

Camila nodded slowly. "Then we pray they live long enough to return. We may need them more than ever."

Charlotte took a step forward. "There's one more thing."

They all turned to her.

Charlotte hesitated, then said solemnly, "Endless… spoke. He said the Human territory will be the last to fall, because we'll suffer the most watching everything else crumble first."

A cold stillness swept the room.

Then Camila uttered, "Then let's make sure we're the last thing he sees before he dies."

Outside, atop the spires of the Pacesetters Academy, the skies were no longer clear. A faint, unnatural hue of violet and gray rolled in slowly with the winds. Students trained harder. Teachers whispered more grimly. The world was shifting.

And war—true war—was not just coming.

It was already here.

–––––

Meanwhile, the Grey Family manor had always stood as a beacon of majesty in Eldoria—a shining symbol of nobility, strength, and tradition. Its sprawling marble steps, silver-crested gates that has the head of a wolf emblem on it, and levitating obelisks of mana were known far and wide, a visual reminder of their long-standing heritage.

But now, that majesty bore the weight of tension.

The guards stationed along the estate walls wore stern expressions, their postures rigid and weapons sharpened to the edge. Inside the family training grounds, warriors trained in silence, the sound of clashing steel and volatile spells the only conversation. Every corner of the estate buzzed with one clear message: prepare for war.

---

Within the core of the estate, a chamber rarely opened except during times of national crisis, the heavy iron doors shut with a resounding thud as the new Head of the Grey Family, Drake Grey, stood over a floating map, his cloak brushing the engraved marble floor beneath him.

He was no longer the youth Morris once despised and hated.

The Drake of today had grown into a man whose sharp jaw was chiseled like iron, whose shoulders bore the weight of legacy, and whose eyes—those piercing yellow limpid eyes—were clouded with a mixture of vengeance, pressure, and above all, fear.

Not for himself.

But for Morris.

"My lord," said a kneeling servant at the door, "the mages have completed the third layer of enchantments along the western defensive barrier. And the Bloodfang Riders have arrived from the northern ranges. They await your command."

Drake didn't respond right away.

Instead, he stared at a section of the map—Valoria. A small black circle had been placed on it. A death mark. That was where the representatives of the Pacesetters Academy had gone. Where Morris had gone. And where the bodies of their parents—Lord and Lady Grey—had been recovered just days ago, burned beyond recognition but confirmed by a surviving artifact that bore the family's ancient mana seal.

Drake had been there when they were laid to rest in the ancestral crypt. He hadn't shed a single tear.

But he hadn't smiled since then, either.

He finally turned, his voice steady but low.

"Keep the defenses tight. No one gets in or out without my approval. Dispatch emissaries to the Dawning of Magic academy in Arcanis for potential reinforcement mages. I want our vaults sealed—access only through blood verification. Prepare the Exalted Formation in case of a full-scale invasion."

The servant blinked. "My lord, you're preparing as if the capital will fall—"

"It will," Drake cut in coldly. "If not today… then soon."

He stepped away from the map and moved toward the window that overlooked Eldoria. The once-shimmering skies were now overcast, painted in hues of violet and storm-blue. Mana in the air pulsed unnaturally, and beasts in the distant forest had begun to behave erratically.

Drake clenched his fists behind his back, his voice quieter now.

"I've seen too much death to be optimistic. What I need now… is to endure."

He lowered his head slightly, eyes distant.

Morris…

He hadn't received any concrete confirmation of his brother's fate. The other representatives were assumed dead, but Morris's name remained unconfirmed. Not among the bodies. Not among the fallen. His profile in the Academy's directory had been marked Inactive. Status Unknown.

A tiny spark of hope remained. And for Drake, that was enough.

---

At night ....

Drake stood alone, the faint glow of the ancestral torches flickering against the carved stone faces of past patriarchs. In the center lay the two newly added statues of his parents. Ornate. Reverent. But lifeless.

He knelt before them, bowing his head.

"I never got the chance to say goodbye properly…"

His voice cracked slightly.

"But I swear on my name—on your legacy—I will not let the Grey Family fall. Not while I still draw breath."

He slowly stood up, hands curled tightly at his sides.

"And if Morris is alive out there… then I'll make damn sure this world is one he can return to."

His mana flared briefly—pure steel-gray, radiating calm fury—as he turned and exited the shrine.

---

Back in the War Room.....

Drake stood before the gathered nobles of the lesser Grey branches. Every pair of eyes was on him.

"From this moment forward, we no longer stand idle. Pacesetters may have lost its leaders, but we will not lose our will. We prepare for war not just for Eldoria, but for what lies beyond."

His gaze hardened.

"For the enemy isn't just at our gates. He lies beneath the world, clawing his way into our skies."

He raised his hand, and the room burst into light as every battle formation and war artifact in the chamber lit up with new enchantments.

"Until my brother returns…" he muttered under his breath, "I will carry this weight."

And from that day on, Drake Grey was no longer just the heir of a noble family.

He became a warden of fate, the spearhead of the Grey legacy… and the last bastion of hope for his brother's return.