The Astral Castle sat perched upon the jagged cliffs of the Eternal River Plains like a slumbering obsidian beast, its towers piercing the low-hanging clouds.
To the outside world, it was a mystery; to those within, it was a marvel of both aesthetics and lethal efficiency.
The walls were not merely stone, but a composite of basalt and crushed magic crystals that shimmered with a faint, violet luminescence under the moonlight.
Defensive arrays of the highest order hummed silently in the air, creating a pressurized atmosphere that made the very oxygen feel thick with authority.
Through the winding corridors of the castle's third tier, the décor shifted from martial coldness to an elegant, gothic opulence.
Vaulted ceilings were painted with maps of the Astral Plane, and floating candles illuminated statues of ancient, nameless Magi.
A tall, slightly hunched old man with a mane of vivid green hair made his way down the hall. He wore the deep charcoal robes of the Astral Requiem, the fabric heavy and enchanted to dampen the sound of his footsteps.
Pinned to his left chest was a shimmering five-winged sigil, a mark of high status within the organization.
This was Elder Armani Greenwood. His brown eyes were clouded with the weariness that came from days of meticulous laboratory work, his shoulders burdened by the weight of a century of life.
He walked with a slow, deliberate cadence, his mind still cycling through thoughts known only to himself.
At the end of the corridor, he approached a set of towering adamantine doors. Beside the entrance stood a knight whose presence was like an unsheathed blade, broad-shouldered, clad in silver-and-black plate armor, and radiating the disciplined aura of a veteran.
The knight immediately snapped into a crisp bow.
"Knight Greem," the elder acknowledged, his voice raspy but firm.
"Elder Greenwood," Greem replied, his voice echoing in the vast hallway.
Greenwood grunted, leaning slightly on his staff. "I have already completed the latest bloodline experiment. Twenty-one specimens were able to make it out alive. I am still a bit short compared to the success rates of Lord Leylin, I'm afraid."
"You are a pillar of the Astral Requiem, Elder," Greem said with sincere respect. "No one would dare underestimate your achievements or your service to this castle."
Greenwood offered a tired smile. "Through the new experiments and the specific tweaks suggested by Lord Leylin, these survivors should have a lifespan of about two to three years. They are ready for deployment. You can integrate them into the Rebel Hearts wing immediately."
Knight Greem nodded, his gauntlets creaking. "Is there any suggestion from you, Elder, regarding their placement?"
"Divide them into teams of three," Greenwood instructed. "Send them to the six main gathering points to bolster our border security. Send the final team to my Desolate Manor, if that is acceptable."
"Of course, Elder. You are entitled to such favors as a five-wings elder. If you wish, we can spare a few more for your personal guard."
"No," Greenwood waved a spindly hand. "The tensions between the various organizations are growing more intense by the hour. It is best to integrate as many as possible into our primary fighting force. We cannot afford waste."
"As you command. Thank you for your kind consideration." Greem bowed again, but as he raised his head, he noticed the dark circles under the Magus's eyes. "Should we delay the initiation ceremony to a later date, Elder? You look as though you've spent a month in the abyss."
"No, it is fine. I need to return to my manor soon, and though I am tired, it is no great issue to initiate a few Saint Knights," Greenwood replied, dismissing the concern.
"As expected of a revered Magus such as yourself, sir. Your dedication is unparalleled."
"Have they gathered in the Knight Hall?"
"Yes, sir," Greem confirmed. "They have been waiting since last week, not daring to delay even a second of your great kindness."
"It is nothing," Greenwood muttered as they began to walk toward the hall. "To serve the Astral Requiem is my duty, and the contribution points are significant. As a recently added member, I must continue to showcase my worth."
"Your strength is self-evident, Elder Greenwood. His Highness is quite pleased with your recent hard work."
"It is my honor," Armani Greenwood nodded.
Internalizing his thoughts, Armani felt a strange sense of irony. Before him stood Greem, a man who, physically and magically was as weak as a child compared to a Rank 2 Magus like himself.
Yet, Armani did not dare slight him easily. While Armani was a Five-Wings Elder, Greem held a Six-Wings status. He was bestowed Dragon Guard status, part of the inner circle closest to Leylin.
In the hierarchy of the Requiem, that status placed the knight's political weight above even a Rank 2 guest elder.
Armani's mind drifted back to how he had arrived here. Only months ago, he had been a guest elder in the Ennea Ivory Ring Tower, a prestigious position for an aging alchemist.
During a mission in the Eternal River Plains, he had clashed with the Black Horrall Snake. He had defeated the beast cautiously, only to realize too late that he had tripped a wire.
Through the Soulbound Devourer, Leylin had sensed the defeat of his emissary. He had traced the spiritual signature back to Armani with terrifying speed.
When Armani and Leylin finally stood face-to-face, the sheer, abyssal depth of Leylin's power had paralyzed the old man.
He had mistaken the young magus for a Peak Rank 2 or perhaps even a Rank 3 Magus. He had surrendered on the spot.
The main reason why he swear allegiance is mostly because in the manor that Leylin attacked was also his only kin, his granddaughter.
Any full fledged battle with leylin would have implicated her, which he did not want, because at the end of his lifespan he was very protective of his own flesh and blood.
Leylin had threatened to erase his entire lineage if he refused, but offered a glorious future if he joined. Armani had pledged his allegiance, bringing the entire Greenwood family into the fold.
Since joining, Leylin had shared obscure alchemical knowledge that had breathed new life into Armani's research. In return, Leylin had made him the supervisor of the Bloodline experiments and the delicate process of Saint Knight Initiation.
The doors to the Knight Hall swung open. The air inside was cool and smelled of ozone. Seven teenage boys stood in a perfect line, their postures straight as arrows.
The moment Greenwood and Greem entered, the boys snapped into a unison knight's salute, their hands striking their chest plates with a heavy thud.
These were the seven orphans Leylin had adopted years ago. Once scrawny children, they were now peak Grand Knights, their bodies honed to perfection and their minds sharpened by the Saint Knight meditation techniques.
Elder Greenwood walked down the line, his brown eyes sharp. To achieve the Saint Knight Initiation, he would have to draw complex, invisible runes over their bodies using his own spiritual force, pulsating energy through their nervous systems to open their "Spirit Gates." It was a task that required the delicate touch of a Rank 2 Magus.
Armani Greenwood stood before the seven boys, just as he was about to address them, he paused. A thought flickered through his weary mind, and he glanced over his shoulder toward the stoic figure of Greem.
"Knight Greem," the Elder asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn't disturb the focused silence of the trainees. "What about that silver-haired girl? I don't see her among the Saint Knight candidates today. What decision did she finally make?"
Greem's expression remained as unmoving as his armor. "She has already made her choice, Elder. She volunteered directly under the Lord to become a Bloodline Knight."
Greenwood's eyebrows shot up, a look of genuine intrigue crossing his wrinkled face. "A Bloodline Knight? With her potential and the Pala Nighthawk lineage..." He trailed off, a slow, clinical smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, it would be quite interesting to join that experiment. Her unique constitution would help me immensely with my own research into stabilizing the higher-tier transitions."
"I will let His Highness know of your intentions, Elder," Greem replied with a respectful nod. "I reckon he would agree; your expertise in alchemy is exactly what that particular project requires to succeed."
"That would be quite appreciated," Greenwood said, his fatigue momentarily forgotten at the prospect of a new, complex challenge. "I wouldn't want to disturb Lord Leylin unnecessarily while he is in seclusion, but if you could bridge the gap, I would be grateful."
"It shall be done," Greem promised.
With a final, sharp nod, Greenwood turned back to the seven youths, his eyes narrowing as he looked at their expressionless countenance.
"Listen well," Greenwood's voice echoed. "You are a select few. You are quite possibly the last batch to receive such personal sponsorship from the Master himself. This is a monumental honor. You must fulfill your duty as the Requiem's Blade."
He stopped at the center of the hall. "The experiment I am about to perform will be painful. It involves branding your very soul with the runes of our order. Before we begin, you must prove that your spirit is as tempered as your steel. Place your allegiance."
The seven boys moved as one. They reached up to the left side of their chests, gripping the Astral Requiem crest pinned to their tunics. Their voices rose in a fierce, rhythmic chant, vibrating through the hall:
"By the Shadow of the Castle, and the Will of the Master,
I pledge my blade to the Requiem's call.
To Lord Leylin, I offer my life; His enemies are my footstool, His word is my law.
I shall walk the path of the Saint Knight with honor,
Protecting the glory of our banner through blood and flame.
If I falter, let the Void consume me; if I betray, let my name be erased.
Forever a Blade, Forever a Shield. For the Requiem!"
As the final word echoed, a faint blue light shimmered around the boys. Armani Greenwood raised his hands, his spiritual force manifesting as glowing, emerald needles in the air.
"Very well," the Elder whispered. "Let the branding begin."
....
Night descended over the secret plane. Despite being an artificial dimension, the moonlight was unnervingly bright, casting long, sharp shadows across the rugged terrain of the Eternal Plains that made it indistinguishable from the outside world.
A lone figure, draped in a heavy black cloak that obscured both face and form, moved with ghost-like silence through the Four Seasons Garden's encampment.
The figure skirted the edges of the flickering torches, creeping toward the outer perimeter where the manicured gardens gave way to the twisted, ancient vegetation of the wild plane.
Chila!
The figure came to a halt before a gnarled, devilish tree. Its trunk was grotesquely split into three distinct sections, looking like a skeletal hand reaching out from the earth. The cloaked traveler raised a hand, and a small, concentrated orb of crimson flames flickered to life between their fingers, a silent signal.
"You're finally here!"
The bark of the tree rippled like liquid. A wooden, human-like face contorted itself out of the grain, its eyes hollow and its mouth a jagged slit.
As it spoke, the voice sounded like dry wood grinding together. "Come down from here!"
Tsssla!
At the base of the twisted roots, the earth groaned and parted, revealing a pitch-black passageway leading deep into the subterranean depths. The Magus nodded and stepped into the darkness without hesitation.
Boom!
As soon as the figure cleared the threshold, the entrance slammed shut. The wooden face on the tree surveyed the moonlit clearing with predatory vigilance for a moment before melting back into the trunk. Silence returned to the grove, leaving no trace of the encounter.
The passageway was narrow and damp. The Magus walked for nearly ten minutes, the air growing heavy with the scent of ozone and freshly turned earth. Finally, the tunnel opened into a vast, cavernous basement. The walls flickered with the steady, golden pulse of earth magic, a sign that this structure had been excavated with high-level spells only recently.
In the center of the spacious chamber stood a looming silhouette, The Giant of Thousand Meddling Hands.
Great plumes of toxic green fog swirled around his massive frame, clinging to him like a shroud. Upon sensing the newcomer, the giant's jagged teeth bared in a grin. "You're here!"
"Hn."
The Magus reached up and pushed back the hood, revealing a face of striking, cold beauty. Blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing an elegant face with fair skin and eyes that shimmered with a piercing azure glint.
This was Lancey Evans. Her eyebrows furrowed as her gaze swept the room, taking in the sheer number of Dark Magi lurking in the shadows.
"Looks like you're planning something grand," she said, looking the Giant straight in the eye.
From the spiritual fluctuations she sensed, it was clear that Giant hadn't just brought a scouting party, he had mobilized the absolute elites of the Thousand Meddling Hands.
"Hehe! This isn't just my plan. This is the design of the Lord behind me!" Giant rumbled, once again referencing the terrifying Rank 2 Dark Magus who pulled the strings of their organization.
"Our target this time is the central resource warehouse in the Eternal Plains' secret plane, the very heart of the Four Seasons Garden's logistics," Giant revealed, abandoning all pretenses. "This time, not only will every one of our members go all-out, but even the Lord behind us will personally make his move when the moment is ripe."
Lancey's face twitched. It was exactly as her Master, Leylin, had predicted. A cold thought crossed her mind: perhaps her Master hadn't just predicted this but perhaps he had been the one to subtly nudge the pieces into place.
She knew the stakes. Within the Four Seasons Garden camp, Reynold stood guard, a Rank 2 Magus of immense power. Without a similar powerhouse to draw his fire, any assault by the Dark Magi would be nothing short of a suicide mission. But with a Rank 2 Dark Magus involved, the secret plane was about to become a slaughterhouse.
"Alright," Lancey inquired, her voice steady and professional. "What's my mission?"