ONLINE: Blades of Eternity

The skies over Arcanis, once painted with serene blues and drifting clouds of soft mana essence, were now darkening, not by storm, but by the gathering of war.

The Dawning of Magic Academy, revered for centuries as the crown jewel of the Human Territory's magical prowess, had been turned into a fortress. Its gleaming spires pulsed with mana barriers, its grand halls converted to command centers, and its sprawling courtyards lined with formation circles and glyph-bound sentries.

The five Wizard Lords—ancient, powerful mages who had guided the Arcanis region for decades—stood at the highest balcony of the central tower. They wore the colors of the old covenants—silver, obsidian, and sapphire—and wielded staves carved from the roots of World Trees and ores touched by stardust.

Lord Myrran the Enkindled, master of flame, stood with eyes burning beneath his hood.

Lady Seressa of the Third Veil, guardian of arcane time, her robes shimmering like liquid crystal.

Archmagus Dreign, whose thunder magic had once split mountains.

Velkhan the Hollow-Eyed, whose silence could suppress even the flow of magic itself.

And at the center, Grand Lord Iridian, the High Warden of Arcanis, clad in robes of woven starlight, his staff pulsing with a core of crystallized mana essence.

Behind them, in the courtyard, thousands had gathered. Battle-mages, sky-weavers, elementalists, shadowcasters, and magical beasts summoned from ancient pacts—all ready to make a stand. Even the noble families of Arcanis, usually aloof in times of war, had sent their own elites. Everyone knew what was coming.

Because today… Endless was coming.

And with him, the fallen First Magi—now known only as the Dark Magi—a traitor whose name was once whispered with reverence, now cursed by the same mouths.

Then, the sky tore open.

A vortex of swirling gray clouds spun into a spiral above the northern peaks, and from its heart emerged a presence that silenced the very breath of mana in the air.

He descended not with speed, but with inevitability.

Endless.

Clad in a shifting cloak made of writhing shadows and ancient runes, his face half-shrouded behind a porcelain mask with a single eye etched in obsidian ink, Endless glided over the valley like a slow-moving eclipse.

And beside him walked the Dark Magi, his once golden robes now darkened with a corrupt violet hue. His eyes no longer held the clarity of wisdom, but the madness of a man who had seen the end—and embraced it.

The five Wizard Lords stepped forward as the invaders came within reach, stopping just at the edge of the sacred runic field drawn in the earth to repel unbound threats.

Behind the lords, the entire Dawning of Magic stood at the ready.

The air cracked with power.

The earth pulsed with expectation.

Endless looked over them all—like a father gazing at wayward children.

"Is this," he said, voice calm yet resounding like distant thunder, "what you believe to be the right course of action?"

His words floated into every mind—filling their thoughts with both doubt and dread.

But it was Iridian who answered, stepping forward with a voice like celestial chimes.

"We have never been more right in our entire lives."

Seressa's eyes gleamed as she added, "We will stand for the Arcane, for the balance, for the very world you seek to drown in emptiness."

Dreign raised his staff. "You shall not take Arcanis without feeling the wrath of its ancestors."

A heavy pause followed.

Then Endless lifted his hand. A single, slow motion.

"Then I will wipe this land from memory," he said.

The very sky dimmed.

The runic fields cracked as Endless raised his hand—and from the shadows at his feet, monstrous forms began to rise. They were not beasts. Not men. But things forgotten, stripped of identity, molded from dying stars and failed realities. Their limbs bent the wrong way. Their mouths were silent. Their eyes wept with mist.

And behind them, the Dark Magi whispered a phrase in a forgotten language—one that twisted the tongues of those who heard it.

The battle had not begun.

It had arrived.

And the Dawning of Magic was the first flame to test the winds of annihilation.

And the battle erupted like a thunderclap through the valley.

Boom! Boom!!

Lord Myrran was the first to strike, hurling a torrent of celestial flame that scorched through the frontlines of the rising horrors Endless had summoned. The earth trembled under the pressure, and the skies lit ablaze as infernal fire clashed with shadow.

Crackle! Roar!!

Dreign summoned his storm dragons, beasts of lightning and gale that rumbled as they tore through the mist. Seressa, weaving time itself, slowed enemy movements with layered temporal fields, buying precious seconds. Velkhan melted silence into the battlefield, muting the screams of abominations as he drowned them in anti-magic voids. And Iridian, the High Warden, called upon the ancient ley-lines of Arcanis, channeling the purest essence of magic into a radiant shield that expanded across the entire battlefield.

The skies above were a battleground of light and corruption.

But Endless… simply watched.

And then, he moved.

With a flick of his finger, the storm dragons crumbled into ash mid-flight. With a tilt of his head, Myrran's flames recoiled, turning against their master. Seressa's time fields shattered like glass, temporal magic rendered obsolete before Endless's incomprehensible nature.

Rumble!! Rumble!!

And then came the Dark Magi, his arms raised, his voice weaving syllables that shouldn't exist. The ground split open beneath the defenders as chains of blackened mana burst forth, dragging entire platoons into screaming oblivion. Arcanis's proud mages unleashed everything—summons, beams of pure magic, elemental avatars—but none of it mattered.

Endless walked forward—no defense necessary—as the very concept of resistance bent around him.

The Wizard Lords regrouped mid-air, forming a defensive circle as runes ignited around them.

"He's eating our mana!" Velkhan shouted, blood pouring from his mouth.

"No—he's unmaking it," Seressa corrected grimly.

They struck again—this time all five together—a concentrated beam of true magic, one only ever used in prophecy-anchored threats.

It hit Endless square in the chest.

And then... he smiled.

"Magic," he whispered, "was never yours to begin with."

He lifted his hand—and the sky fell.

An inverted storm burst downward, raining voidflame and broken dimensions. The protective barriers crumbled like paper. Towers of the Dawning Academy buckled and fell. Screams of elite mages pierced the night as their bodies contorted unnaturally from the pressure of unraveling mana.

Within moments, Arcanis—the once untouchable magical stronghold—was crushed under the heel of annihilation.

And then—at the very edge of this dying storm—Aether watched.

The isolated forest felt far removed from the chaos in the distance, yet the skies above still bled with dark streaks of shadow and light. Here, by a moss-covered altar, Aether stood with four figures.

They were not dressed in the academy's ceremonial garbs.

Their auras had changed—sharpened, disciplined—honed from their battle at the convention and what came after.

Lila, calm and intense, her hazel nut hair flew gracefully while her light brown eyes now as sharper as ever.

Morris, eyes narrowed, the Elemental God's power faintly coursing through him.

Ethan, his blade humming with mist magic which is also swirling around him.

Guinevere, flames licking at her fingertips, eyes no longer bright with arrogance but forged in loss and clarity.

They had grown. And they were ready.

"Aether," Guinevere said anxiously, "we can't just stand here. We need to help them—"

"You will," Aether said calmly, raising his hand.

A circular glyph formed mid-air—a dimensional portal glowing in hues of blue and violet.

"Kaelen and Kelvin," he said, "are the only ones who stand a chance now."

Morris blinked. "You mean to send us to find them in the middle of all this?! What about you?"

Aether turned slightly, his gaze distant. "My fight is here."

Ethan stepped forward. "You'll die here alone."

Aether's voice was low. "Not alone. Just… in place."

"But—" Lila began, stepping forward.

He turned sharply now. "Go! You don't have time to argue. The longer we wait, the stronger Endless becomes."

There was silence. The kind that only came before heartbreak.

Aether placed his palm to the portal, stabilizing it. "Find them. Tell them the world hasn't given up yet."

Still hesitating, one by one, the four stepped into the portal. Guinevere lingered last, her eyes locked with his.

"Don't die," she said softly.

Aether smiled—but there was no joy in it. "That's not up to me."

And then she was gone.

The portal collapsed behind them, leaving Aether alone. He turned back toward the horizon where Endless's storm still raged. His fingers clenched. Mana gathered in spirals around his body.

And then, with a deep breath…

He walked toward annihilation.

But unbeknownst to him, at a hidden bush not far from where Lila and the others got into a portal, a boy and a girl appeared there.

"So all we gotta do is follow them and we will accomplish the mission our family head assigned to us?"

"No kidding, but let's be quick, before we lose them" the girl said before she suddenly conjured a portal and quickly went into it.