Darkness enveloped Drifter and Luna Sabriel as they gathered their supplies, their footsteps echoing through the barren hills. Above them, the sky transformed dramatically, weaving streams of bck, purple, and green light through the clouds. Drifter felt the air grow dense around him, an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders.

  Luna stopped suddenly. Her eyes were fixed on her Lumina Core, its surface dispying 6:07 before the signal icon flickered and died.

  "The Lumina Core has lost connection," she said, meeting his gaze with concern.

  "We're close," Drifter murmured, his eyes sweeping across the fractured ground. A familiar sensation washed over him—even after 700 years, this pce remained unchanged.

  Then he heard it: a whisper, its voice smooth with distortion.

  "You've come, my dear... I've been waiting for you..."

  A chill silvered his spine as he stopped, scanning his surroundings. Luna studied his tense posture.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked.

  "I hear something," he said softly.

  Luna paused, scanning the surroundings. Her gaze flickered to Drifter, uncertainty in her eyes. After a brief silence, he lifted a hand and pointed toward a distant ridge.

  "From that ridge, we might be able to see the remains of Paxluma," he offered quietly.

  As they advanced, Drifter sensed a change. The world's crack sounded faint at first, then grew louder—the same sound from when Cataclymaris came. His surroundings blurred, then sharpened. The sound built to a crescendo until finally, he looked up to see the world itself crack open. Swarms of oval and round bck creatures—Orthupinels—descended upon them.

  They materialized their weapons in unison: Luna's blue sigils gleaming in her hands, Drifter's Exaltare dark gray sword materializing in his grip. A rain of tendrils mixed with red orbs surrounded them. To his surprise, Drifter found he could see their movements with unprecedented crity, anticipating each attack. He sshed through tendrils with ease, evading their barrage. When he fired an Exalt Bolt at seemingly empty space, the creatures emerged exactly where he'd aimed, their cores shattering into nothingness.

  What's happening to me? This has never happened before, he thought, noting his steady heartbeat and rexed focus. His spectral swords materialized, destroying everything around him as he moved closer to Luna.

  She fought with equal precision, her Ice Lances and Ice Bolts targeting the cores perfectly. As she unleashed Gcialis Dominus, a sudden burst of ice erupted around her, forming a frozen field that halted the rain of tendrils midair. In that moment, the tips of her hair transformed into a shimmering blue. She countered with a relentless barrage of enhanced ice attacks, each bolt and spear surrounded by a radiant silver aura. The creatures were instantly vanquished—erased without even needing to strike their cores.

  As the final creature vanished, another world crack split the sky. New swarms of Orthupinels emerged, accompanied by three Direntica-css Cataclysmaris—bck skeletal humanoids that typically required four Evocaiers to defeat. Drifter recalled how most first-timers fell to these beings. He gnced at Luna, whose expression remained unreadable despite the cold sweat breaking out on her skin.

  Standing beside Luna in her Gcialis Dominus ice field, Drifter kept his eyes on her as the Orthupinels unleashed another wave of tendrils. He engaged them methodically, his bde finding core after core. When he sensed a presence beside him, he instinctively thrust his sword backward. A gnce confirmed he'd caught a Direntica mid-attack, its dark spear arm dissolving as it vanished.

  Drifter noticed faint runes briefly appearing beneath Luna's feet as she moved. When another Direntica materialized behind her, an ice explosion caught it mid-strike, shattering it into frozen shards as Gcialis Burst triggered the rune trap she had pnted.

  The second one's dark spear met her materialized ice shield just as Drifter executed an Exalt Shift, dissolving into blue particles and reappearing behind the creature. His bde found the core hidden in its shifting armor on its left shoulder, and the Direntica vanished.

  With the Direnticas defeated, Drifter's heartbeat steadied further. Together, they cut through the remaining Orthupinels in a blur of blue streaks—his sword, spectral swords, and blue projectiles weaving seamlessly with Luna's ice spells, their movements now synchronized with newfound precision.

  Drifter turned to her. "I never thought you could handle Cataclysmaris so well."

  Luna paused, her expression unreadable as she met his gaze. "I practice a lot," she said simply, then resumed their walk toward their destination.

  As they crested the barren hill, Drifter's eyes widened at the sight before them. A vast bck chasm gaped like an open wound in the earth, the Abyssal Breach roiling above along with swarms of Gravephoma—massive, floating amoeboid Cataclysmaris. Wild bck clouds swirled violently, punctuated by fshes of lightning. Where the city had once stood, there was only an endless void.

  "Paxluma... it's... gone. Everything," he murmured.

  Drifter stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the swirling void where his home had once stood. Memories pressed in like an unbearable weight.

  "Dear, wake up... it's already noon." A woman's gentle voice echoed in his mind.

  "Magic is our blood, stop wasting your days on that alchemy," the older man said.

  "Hey, check out my painting... pretty cool, right?" A young man's voice rang out.

  Luna stepped closer, her wide eyes scanning the devastation. "This... it can't be," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm so sorry."

  Drifter barely registered her words, though his shoulders stiffened for the briefest moment. The pce, the nd, the history—everything that gave it meaning... gone. Just like that.

  Luna lowered her head, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. She gnced at Drifter, but he remained unmoving, his gaze lost to the dark chasm before them. The air grew colder still, the silence pressing down like a weight neither could lift.

  Drifter caught the flicker of emotion she tried to hide and took a deep breath. "What really happened here?" he asked.

  Luna hesitated, then shook her head. "I don’t know… but we need to go. It’s not safe."

  Drifter's gaze lingered on the chasm for a moment longer, the Void's call pulling at him like a whisper from the abyss. He resisted, though every fiber of his being seemed to ache with its pull. A deep, heavy breath escaped him, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on his chest. He turned away, forcing his feet to move.

  With each step down the hill, it felt as though gravity itself fought against him, urging him to turn back. His mind raced, thoughts tangled in a web of loss and uncertainty. His goal had always been clear—one day, he would bury his parents and his best friend with honor, once the city got retaken. But now, with Paxluma gone, how could he fulfill that promise?

  The heaviness settled deeper in his heart, but he closed his eyes for a moment, pushing back the sorrow. When he opened them again, the path ahead was as uncertain as ever, but he kept walking.

  Their journey back to the Frontier Outpost became a gauntlet of endless combat against the Cataclysmaris horde. With each encounter, Drifter consumed more potions to restore his depleted Evocyte energy. His body grew numb, his head pounding and vision blurring from the overuse of potions. Only when they finally left the Abyssal Breach area, where the dark clouds no longer loomed, did Drifter feel a slight relief in his chest, despite the lingering pain.

  As they neared the outpost, a smooth, distorted voice whispered in his ear: "My Dear... We will meet again..."

  Drifter stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the treeline. There was nothing—only leaves stirred by the morning breeze.

  Luna paused and turned to him. "Something wrong?" she asked softly.

  Drifter forced a faint smile. "No… I'm fine. Just tired, that’s all."

  Luna studied him longer than usual but remained silent as they continued walking.

  At the Outpost gates, several Evocaier Order guards stood waiting, cd in full-body suits resembling air filtration equipment. One stepped forward.

  It seemed sneaking back had already failed. Panic gripped him—he knew that breaching protocol meant the death penalty.

  "Drifter and Luna Sabriel. You're expected."

  They exchanged brief gnces before removing their Lumina Cores. Luna's expression was unreadable. She must know the punishment, Drifter thought, but unbelievably, she still looks like that.

  The suited guard took their devices and led them through the gates to a heavy door pulsing with magical energy. Beyond it y a small, white room enclosed by a Magic Barrier and an air filtration system. In the silence that followed, Drifter’s thoughts turned dark.

  This is my fault... I just hope they don’t punish her.

  He watched as Luna sat quietly beside him.

  Hours ter, the door creaked open.

  "The Grandmasters are ready to see you. Follow me," a guard announced.

  They rose in silence, secured their returned devices, and followed. The rectangur room that awaited them had white walls, divided by gss partitions, with another air filtration system in pce. Seated behind a long table were four Grandmasters, each cd in a full air filtration suit: Amisha Kaputri, Mina Hildebrand, Lysander Everhart, and Ragnar Ashmane. Their expressions were solemn.

  Drifter wondered why they weren’t using a projection as usual.

  As he gnced around, he noticed Luna’s calm expression, despite the slight tension at her lips.

  "Luna, the floor is yours," Lysander said, his voice carrying an unmistakable weight.

  Luna straightened her shoulders. "I take full responsibility for my actions. I apologize for vioting protocol and accept any consequences deemed appropriate."

  Drifter stepped forward, his voice firm. "This is on me. Luna only went because of me. I brought her there, knowing the risks. If there's bme, it's mine to bear."

  "You both understand the gravity of your actions," Ragnar said, his tone severe. "According to Protocol VII, Paragraph 13, venturing into Paxluma without authorization is a breach punishable by death. Do you grasp what that means for you?"

  Although Drifter already knew, hearing it aloud made his stomach clench. He gnced at Luna, who turned her gaze away, fixing it on some distant point.

  "What do you have to say in your defense?" Ragnar's steely gaze bore into them.

  Drifter hesitated, then exhaled to steady himself, resigning to his fate. He had accepted what y ahead, but still, he couldn’t let Luna die because of him. She didn’t deserve this.

  “This is on me. If anyone has to die for this, let it be me. Just… leave her out of it.”

  Luna’s head snapped toward him, her calm mask slipping for just a moment. Her eyes widened, a flicker of something—fear, perhaps, mixed with concern.

  Lysander’s expression darkened, his voice thick with regret. “The rules are clear, Luna. I’m sorry.”

  Ragnar’s arms were crossed, his tone unyielding. “If we make exceptions, the Order falls apart. Rules are rules.”

  Drifter's eyes widened, a mix of anger and guilt swelling within him. The rule itself was absurd—why would they execute them for something like this? They hadn't put anyone in danger. Yet he knew that defiance would likely be futile. Still, he decided to bargain once more.

  As the guards stepped forward to take them away, Drifter turned back, his voice breaking. “Please.,,, At least spare her. This was my idea. My fault. Just… let her live.”

  Mina sighed, still looking at her holographic screen with a serious expression, while Amisha exhaled heavily, her hands on her head. Ragnar stood with his arms crossed, while Lysander held his chin in his hand, his gaze sad and pitying.

  Luna turned to Drifter, her smile faint but unwavering. “It’s alright,” she said softly.

  Then she faced the Grandmasters, her posture straight and her tone steady. “I’ll accept the punishment. But I have one request. Don’t tell the Academy the truth. If they hear we were executed for breaking protocol, it’ll only turn them against the Order. Tell them we died fighting Cataclysmaris. And…” She paused, pcing her Lumina Core on the table. “Please give this to Alina. She’ll understand.”

  Her gaze shifted to Lysander, her voice softening. “Thank you, Grandmaster. It was an honor to learn from you.”

  Lysander’s eyes flickered away, his jaw tightening as he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. His hands, resting on the table, trembled faintly.

  Ragnar’s stern expression faltered for a moment, his voice quieter now. “Your request is granted. Is there… anything else?”

  Drifter looked at Luna, guilt washing over him. She was really going to die just because of his fault. He bit his lips, wanting to plead again, but his rage continued to build. Still, his rational mind prevailed. If he attacked the Grandmasters, the Order would crumble, and the lives of Alma, Friedrich, and others might suffer because of it.

  Hopeless, they were taken by the guards to the execution chamber where death penalty chairs awaited them. As the heavy doors creaked open, Mina quickly showed her holographic screen to Ragnar. “Wait... Ragnar, the rule was written four centuries ago. Times have changed. We can’t keep clinging to the past.”

  Amisha gave a small, knowing smile. "Then let’s revise it. No time like the present."

  Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, his tone biting. “Convenient, isn’t it? Rewriting the rules to suit yourselves. Do you even realize the risk? If they’re infected, we’re all dead.”

  Drifter didn't know what disease they were talking about. As far as he remembered, even 700 years ago, there was no disease reted to the Abyss. Perhaps something had been discovered in the future.

  Amisha crossed her arms, her voice firm but calm. “And what if they’re clean? Punishing them for a risk that might not even exist—how is that fair?”

  Ragnar’s jaw tightened, his tone cutting. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. A single mistake and it’s not just them—it’s everyone. Millions. And there’s no coming back from that.”

  Mina's voice steady but firm. “Ragnar, the incubation period tops out at three days. If they’re clean by then, they’re clean. Why not make that the rule? It’s safe, and it’s fair.”

  Lysander nodded, his voice thoughtful. “The old rules were written for a different time. No one’s broken them in centuries—until now. Indefinite quarantine doesn’t make sense anymore. A week is enough to know.”

  Amisha folded her arms, her gaze steady. “I agree. Seven days. It’s fair, and it works.”

  Ragnar hesitated, his stern expression faltering for a moment. Finally, he let out a sharp breath. “Fine. But if this backfires, it’s on all of you.”

  With the decision made, Drifter and Luna were returned to their white room for quarantine.

  Inside the white room, curiosity stirred within him about the disease they had mentioned. He searched the nearby Magisterial Console for "Paxluma/Area Zero disease" and uncovered information about Ameviora disease—an infection caused by Eviora microorganisms from the Abyssal Breach. It was airborne and transmissible through direct contact, with an incubation period ranging from hours to three days. Early symptoms typically included fever, bckened skin, and difficulty breathing.

  It seemed that an outbreak had occurred 400 years ago when the reserve team from the first expedition returned. The disease spread rapidly across Vesteria, resulting in a catastrophic pandemic that cimed billions of lives. Disease control efforts were severely hindered, as no definitive treatment was avaible. However, some individuals appeared to have a natural immunity, which allowed researchers to study potential vaccines. Yet, before a cure could be developed, the disease had already stopped spreading, and no new cases had been recorded since then.

  As he read, a chill ran down his spine. He gnced at Luna, her expression tense as she studied the same information.

  Let’s hope we’ll be okay, he thought.

  On the third day, he felt relieved when no symptoms appeared in either him or Luna. She, too, was relieved, a rare shift from her usually unreadable expression. Now, all they could do was wait and hope they would remain alright.

  Eight days ter, Drifter and Luna were brought to a white room where the Grandmasters awaited them.

  Mina was the first to speak, her smile warm and relieved. “It’s good to see you both well.”

  Amisha nodded, her tone gentle but firm. “You made it through. That’s what matters.”

  Lysander’s shoulders rexed, and though he didn’t say much, the faint smile on his face spoke volumes. Meanwhile, Ragnar gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.

  Drifter dipped his head respectfully, his voice steady but soft. “Thank you, Grandmasters. Your decision… it means more than I can say.”

  Luna stood beside him, her hands csped lightly in front of her. “We’re grateful,” she added, her tone sincere but understated.

  Ragnar’s voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding. “Tell us what you found. Everything.”

  Luna stood straight, her tone calm but firm. “There’s nothing left. Paxluma is gone. The entire city—vanished. All that’s there now is a void. We fought Cataclysmaris, but… there’s no trace of the city. No ruins, no remnants. Nothing.”

  The Grandmasters exchanged gnces, their composed reactions hinting that this wasn’t entirely unexpected. Drifter’s hands tightened into fists, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

  Ragnar leaned back in his chair, his voice low and heavy. “I’ve seen it. Nearly four centuries ago, I was part of the first expedition. Those who went deeper… they never came back. I only survived because I stayed on the perimeter. But what I saw…” He trailed off, his gaze distant. “It’s stayed with me all these years.”

  Luna’s eyes narrowed, her voice edged with disbelief. “You knew? And you kept it hidden? Why?”

  Amisha sighed, her expression weary. “Because the truth would have torn Vesteria apart. An entire city, gone without a trace? The rumors, the fear—it would’ve been chaos. We’ve worked too hard to keep the peace to risk it all on something we still don’t fully understand.”

  Mina nodded, her brow furrowed. “We don’t even know when it happened. Was it during the Battle of Paxluma? Or after? That uncertainty… it’s what makes this so dangerous.”

  Lysander’s gaze was steady, his voice firm but not unkind. “This mystery is beyond us—for now. Drifter, Luna, you’ve been forgiven under the revised rules. But listen carefully: do not go back. Not until we know more.”

  A faint smile crossed Drifter's face, but his thoughts on the Grandmasters' true motives remained hidden beneath the surface.

  "Thank you, Grandmasters," they said in unison, bowing before turning to leave.

  "Wait, Luna. I need a word," Lysander called out.

  Luna halted. "Of course, Grandmaster."

  Drifter lingered by the door as Lysander and Luna spoke in hushed tones about his condition—the whispers that seemed to follow him. As he waited, Mina passed by, meeting his gaze. They exchanged a silent nod, and she offered him a faint smile before continuing on her way.

  As Luna bid farewell to Lysander, Drifter gave her a small nod before following her out. He gnced at her, regret flickering in his eyes. He thought of the time she had spent guiding him, the suspicion that had lingered between them. Yet, the way she had looked at him in Paxluma lingered in his mind—something in her gaze felt familiar, almost like a reflection of himself.

  Was she truly following the Grandmaster’s orders, or was she just as conflicted as he was?

  Even now, he couldn’t fully understand her reasons for coming with him, but the fact that she chose to stand by his side against danger was something he deeply appreciated. His expression softened, and he dipped his head slightly.

  "Luna… I’m sorry. I dragged you into this. And… thank you. For everything."

  Luna met his gaze, her smile faint but genuine. "Don’t apologize. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

  She hesitated for a moment before adding, "And about that disease… I’m sorry. I should have known, but that’s really outside my expertise."

  "I wasn’t aware either," Drifter admitted. "I should look into it more. Seven hundred years ago, there was no such thing."

  Luna fell silent, his words giving her pause as a thoughtful expression crossed her face.

  Without another word, they made their way to the parking area, where Drifter’s Zenith waiting. He settled into the controls while Luna took her pce beside him. The engine hummed to life, a steady vibration beneath the whisper of the wind. As they set off, the road stretched endlessly before them, dust swirling like ghosts in their wake.

  Neither spoke at first. The silence between them was thick with unspoken thoughts—yet somehow, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  Then, breaking the quiet, Drifter started a casual conversation, mentioning the bread she had baked before and the stray Vellcat shelter she and Alina had built at the academy.

  To his surprise, Luna responded, engaging in the conversation rather than giving her usual brief replies. She even mentioned that if she baked the bread again, she’d save him another.

  I wonder… does she actually like that bnd bread? he mused. Was it on purpose, or just a baking mistake?

  The journey felt long, but soon, the crystalline towers of Nethia rose in the distance. The wind stirred endless waves of green grass, while Skybirds flitted through the air, their melodic chirping filling the silence. The distant hum of other Alcheriders barely registered beneath nature’s peaceful symphony.

  A faint melody pyed from the Magisterial Console, nearly forgotten as Drifter’s mind drifted to darker memories—smoke-choked skies, lifeless earth, suffocating despair. The stark contrast between that haunting past and the fragile beauty of the present struck him deeply.

  Upon arriving at the Academy, an unusual hush greeted them. The campus stood still on Founders’ Day—the 17th of Karythia, the seventh month—a solemn yet celebratory occasion commemorating the formation of the Evocaier Order. As they emerged from the underground parking zone, their footsteps echoed along the quiet path leading to the Residential District.

  In the courtyard, familiar faces had gathered, their spirits bright with the festival’s energy.

  Alina was the first to spot them, her expression shifting to relief. Luna stepped forward, handing her the Lumina Core with a soft smile.

  From behind, Jaxon appeared, cpping Drifter on the shoulder with a hearty ugh.

  "Where’ve you been, man? How was the date?"

  Luna averted her gaze, a faint flush creeping across her cheeks.

  Drifter blinked, caught off guard. Seeing her like this was... unexpected. A smirk tugged at his lips as he cut in, his tone lighthearted.

  "Yeah, sure. Fighting Cataclysmaris totally counts as a date."

  Alma tried to suppress her ughter but failed. "Luna, who would've thought? For a moment, I almost believed you two eloped!"

  The crowd erupted in ughter.

  "True that, Alma!" Sloane grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. "So, where's the party to celebrate the new couple?"

  "No! It's not like that!" Luna excimed, her face reddening further.

  Nadia adjusted her gsses, smiling softly. "I'm just gd you're both back, Drifter and Miss Luna."

  Vaeloria stepped forward with mock disappointment. "Aw, I'm jealous. Drifter, I've been waiting for you this whole time."

  "Sorry to disappoint, but this wasn't a date," Drifter sighed, shaking his head.

  The banter continued, with Lorcan, Sloane, Reine, and the others chiming in—until Friedrich stepped forward, his commanding presence tempering the mood.

  "It's good to have you both back safely," he said, his stern expression softening slightly. "But leaving without notifying anyone... that was unexpected."

  "You had Dad pacing for hours!" Alma teased, nudging Friedrich pyfully.

  "We're sorry," Luna murmured, her gaze lowered.

  "It's my fault, Professor. I just—" Drifter began, but Friedrich raised a hand.

  "Whatever the reasons, what matters is that you both returned safely."

  Alma's smile brightened as she addressed everyone. "Alright, everyone! Since it's Founders' Day and we're all here, let's take a group photo!"

  The nearby round automaton, linked to Alma's Lumina Core, prepared to take their picture. As they gathered, Vellya floated in with a grin.

  "Ooh, looks like something fun is going on here!"

  With a pyful flick of her wrist, she materialized her two skeletons, Papa and Mama.

  “Well, this is a first. A group photo with actual skeletons—truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Sloane smirked.

  The group gathered—Alma, Nadia, Vaeloria, Mia, Lily, and Vellya, whose skeletons fshed peace signs. Sloane and Lorcan mimicked them with exaggerated expressions. Drifter stood beside Luna, steady and composed. Behind them, Reine and Erick tiptoed in an attempt to be seen, while Caelus, Bryan, and Alyssa struck their signature “cool” poses. Meanwhile, Jaxon, Alina, and Friedrich anchored the group with their quiet presence.

  "Alright, everyone! Say 'Evocaier'!" Alma called, her enthusiasm infectious.

  "Evocaier!" they shouted in unison as the camera fshed.

  The moment froze in time. As Drifter took in the scene, a familiar ache stirred in his chest. The gathered smiles, the camaraderie—it reminded him of another photo, long ago.

  Paxluma Public School. His graduation. His parents standing beside him. His best friend, Ein, grinning at his side.

  "I'm proud of you, dear..." His mother had smiled at him.

  "Being part of the Mage Association is a huge responsibility," his father had said, pcing a firm hand on his shoulder. "I hope you'll take it more seriously from now on."

  "Congrats, man... Well, your duties are still just within the city, right? Guess we'll still get to see each other pretty often," Ein had ughed.

  Drifter exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His gaze swept over Luna, Alina, Jaxon, Alma, Nadia, Lorcan, Sloane, and Reine, who smiled back at him. Memories of the time he had spent with them flooded his mind.

  That familiar warmth in his chest—it was just like back then.

  He had lost everything once. Years spent fighting to recim his homend, yet now the truth hit hard—his homend had already vanished into the void. But now, perhaps, he had found something worth holding onto again—something he could finally call home.

  Naravelt