Michael, Arata, and Kyra cut through the skies of Helionfall with controlled speed, their auras restrained yet undeniably sharper than before, heading straight toward the Starfall Covenant headquarters the Astryx Orientation Hall. This was not their first time stepping into that place. The memory of their arrival still lingered vividly in Michael's mind, etched into his consciousness like a turning point he could never forget. That hall had marked the beginning of everything the moment they stepped into the Umbrilion Expanse, the moment their ordinary existence had been replaced by something far greater, far more dangerous. But now they returned not as uncertain newcomers, but as warriors stepping into a battlefield disguised as opportunity, their presence quieter, heavier, and far more aware. The hall was already filled long before they arrived, thousands upon thousands of warriors gathered from different batches, forming a dense ocean of power that pressed subtly against the air itself. The structure responded to them embedded lights along the walls and ceiling pulsed softly, reacting to fluctuations in aura, casting shifting glows across armored figures and flowing garments. Around nearly every warrior floated their AI companions, small, round constructs some with faint wing-like stabilizers, others emitting soft pulses of light quietly scanning, calculating, feeding streams of information directly into their users' minds. The atmosphere felt calm on the surface, but beneath it, tension coiled like a tightening spring, ready to snap at any moment.
Then, without warning, the air changed. It didn't explode or shake it simply shifted, as if reality itself had adjusted to allow something greater to exist within it. A figure descended slowly from above, suspended effortlessly, untouched by gravity or resistance. His name was Xyron Velkaar. His body was tall and unnaturally slender, formed from layered crystalline structures that refracted light into shifting spectrums, making his entire form appear alive with color and motion. Beneath that crystalline surface, streams of luminous energy flowed like miniature galaxies, pulsing rhythmically through him. His face bore no mouth, no nose only a smooth, polished surface broken by two vertical slits of radiant light that served as eyes, glowing with a cold, calculating intelligence. When he spoke, no sound was heard. Instead, his voice echoed directly into the minds of every warrior present, bypassing ears and striking straight into thought itself. He introduced himself as the assessor of the Primordial Rise Bracket, the second phase of the Galactic Ascension Tournament, and without hesitation, without ceremony, he began laying down the truth. In this phase, there would be no restrictions. Warriors could use any technique refined, forbidden, or forgotten. There would be no limits placed on their power, no restraint enforced upon their methods, and most importantly, no mercy granted within the battlefield. Once a warrior stepped into the Celestforge Coliseum, their life would hang by a thread, and only strength would determine whether that thread was cut or preserved.
The weight of those words descended like a silent storm. The hall fell into absolute stillness, the kind of silence that didn't come from peace, but from realization. Many had believed this tournament was a path to growth, a structured trial meant to refine them, but in that moment, the illusion shattered completely. This was not training. This was not preparation. This was elimination in its purest form. Xyron continued, his presence unwavering as he revealed the scale of what lay ahead. The 20th batch alone consisted of 2,999 groups, and they would not stand alone they would be merged with 293 additional groups drawn from higher batches, warriors with more experience, more refinement, and far less hesitation. A ripple of unease spread invisibly through the crowd, fear creeping into hearts that had once been filled with ambition. Yet no one spoke. No one dared to challenge the reality being presented. And just as suddenly as he had appeared, the moment shifted again. A massive shadow descended over the entire hall, swallowing the light and replacing it with an overwhelming presence that every warrior recognized instantly. The Astra-Helion Vanguard had returned. Its colossal structure dominated the space above, radiating authority and power that suppressed even the strongest auras below. At its command stood Vaelion Zareth, the same figure who had first welcomed them into the Umbrilion Expanse. But this time, there was no introduction, no guiding speech, no explanation to ease their minds. There was only command. The gates of the Vanguard opened, and without resistance, without hesitation, every warrior stepped forward and entered.
Inside, the ship came alive once more, its systems reacting to the presence of thousands of warriors, scanning, adjusting, synchronizing. The journey began in silence. Days passed as they traveled, the ship moving at incomprehensible speeds, tearing through space with precision and purpose. Time blurred, losing meaning within the controlled environment of the Vanguard, until finally, the ship began to slow. When the descent came, it was into a region unlike anything they had seen before an endless sea of fog that swallowed visibility entirely, reducing the world to shifting shadows and faint outlines. Slowly, carefully, the ship descended and settled onto a massive floating platform hidden within that dense veil. For a brief moment, Michael believed they had left Helionfall entirely, that they had crossed into another domain beyond the planet's reach. But MOMO corrected him immediately, its soft, steady glow pulsing as it delivered the truth. They were still on Helionfall. The realization struck harder than any physical blow. After seven days of travel at speeds exceeding five thousand times the speed of light, they had not even left the planet's boundaries. When Michael questioned the scale of such a world, MOMO responded with calm precision Helionfall was comparable to dividing the Milky Way into five vast sections, and this single planet matched one entire section in size. For once, Michael had no response. Words simply didn't exist to match that scale.
After Vaelion's brief, final presence faded, leaving them behind without guidance, the atmosphere shifted once again. A new figure emerged, and unlike before, his presence did not arrive quietly. It crushed the surroundings instantly. Draevok Thal'Zerith stepped forward, his massive form wrapped in dark armored plates that seemed alive, shifting subtly as if breathing. His crimson eyes burned with intensity, and behind him flowed a cloak composed entirely of shadow energy, moving like liquid darkness. Even standing still, he radiated pressure so immense that Skywalkers struggled to maintain steady breathing. Without speaking a single word, he turned and began walking forward. That alone was enough. The warriors followed. As they moved, the dense fog gradually parted, revealing what lay beyond and what they saw stopped them completely. The Celestforge Coliseum floated in the sky, not supported by structures or technology, but held between the hands of something far beyond comprehension. The Primordial Weaver of the Void. A towering feminine entity formed entirely from cosmic darkness, her body wrapped in constellations that shimmered like distant stars. Her eyes burned like dying suns, ancient and endless. She was not a statue, not a construct, but a manifestation of raw cosmic force. One hand hovered beneath the coliseum, the other above it, holding the entire structure in place without touching it, as if cradling existence itself between her palms. Across the vast region, four more manifestations of her form stood, positioned at immense distances, forming a five-point dominion that governed the entire space. Below this terrifying presence lay the city known as Nyxara Dominion, a place where reality itself felt unstable, thin, as though it could collapse at any moment under the weight of the forces surrounding it.
The sky above split open violently, and from that fracture descended a colossal serpent-like dragon, its body stretching across kilometers, scales shimmering with ancient runic patterns that pulsed with primordial energy. This was Zytherion the Void Serpent, ranked 19 among all high-tier covenant beasts beneath the Primordial Beast classification a creature that existed near the apex of non-primordial entities. Standing atop its head was a figure whose presence alone sent waves of dread through the gathered warriors. Vorthak Draelion. Two massive horns extended from his head, each splitting into five jagged tips like fractured blades. His dark crimson skin was etched with glowing sigils, and his eyes radiated pure, unfiltered killing intent. When he spoke, the city itself trembled. He welcomed them to Nyxara Dominion and declared the official beginning of the Primordial Rise Bracket. The numbers were revealed with brutal clarity 3,292 groups in total, drawn from multiple batches, each one irrelevant in the face of raw strength. Then came the structure of the battles waves from 1 to 1,646, five waves per day, ten groups fighting daily, spanning a total of 330 days. The rules followed without pause. Any group could challenge another. Requests had to be accepted. Rejecting a challenge cost 5 PT. Accepting required both sides to stake 3 PT. The winner claimed everything, along with an additional bonus point. For a brief moment, Michael felt relief when he realized their battle would come after seventy-one days but that relief shattered the instant he saw their assigned opponent. A group from the 19th batch known as the Abyssal Vire Dominion. Five members. Their leader stood at Stage 3 Star Warrior, while the remaining four were all above Stage 7 Skywalker, their combined presence radiating a level of coordination and lethality that spoke of countless battles survived. The Obsidian Star Legion said nothing, but the tension between them became undeniable.
Later, within their assigned sector in Nyxara Dominion, frustration surfaced. Words passed between Michael, Arata, and Kyra in a cycle of irritation and disbelief, each one questioning the system, the matchups, the imbalance. It continued until their AI companions MOMO, Pink, and J intervened simultaneously, explaining that grouping was not based on fairness, but on performance metrics gathered since their arrival. Silence followed that explanation. Michael exhaled slowly, the frustration leaving him in a controlled release, and made a quiet decision complaints would not change anything. After a meal prepared by Arata, he returned to his room and instructed them not to disturb him. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes as MOMO deployed a sound barrier around him, isolating him completely from the outside world. His breathing slowed, his awareness sank inward, and his consciousness slipped into his spiritual realm. At first, it appeared as an endless ocean stretching beneath him, calm and infinite but in an instant, everything changed. The sky vanished into darkness. Countless flowers of different colors floated endlessly through the void, roses blooming in mid-air as their petals drifted slowly in every direction. Islands hovered silently, suspended in a sunless expanse, while rivers of pure light carved through the darkness like glowing veins. The air itself pulsed with overwhelming spiritual pressure. Then a voice called his name. Before he could react, his entire spirit was pulled forward violently, dragged across that surreal landscape until he saw it. A being so massive that a single eye alone dwarfed his entire existence. Michael froze completely, his mind unable to process what stood before him. Confusion gave way to fear, and fear to absolute silence. Then it laughed a deep, cosmic sound that echoed endlessly, each vibration carrying unbearable pressure that felt painfully real despite existing within a spiritual plane. With every passing second, Michael felt himself shrinking, his presence diminishing, his strength fading as if the very concept of his existence was being suppressed under the weight of that entity's gaze.