Five Guardians faced something beyond human understanding.Four fell.One survived.
Since then, the world kept moving.But nothing truly returned to normal.
For over a year, Madame Valerious vanished.Wounded. Silent. Watching.
While the people mourned their heroes, she worked behind the scenes, preparing something quietly… patiently.
Until one day, a message spread across the continent.
Not through screens or high-tech devices, but through ancient crystal towers and runes engraved into the stone.
"The Stellar Tournament has been summoned.""Any who meet the minimum energy resonance may enter.""Only three shall be chosen."
In three different corners of the realm, three sixteen-year-olds saw the message.And each made the same decision—for entirely different reasons.
In the noble city of Alverin, beneath chandeliers of enchanted glass, Ava Aerallis smiled through another political banquet.
She listened. She bowed. She raised her cup.
And counted the minutes until she could disappear.
When the sun fell, the mask came on.Her noble attire replaced by a gray cloak, her name hidden behind silence.
She moved through rooftops and back alleys as a masked mercenary. Not for money.For purpose.
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Helping those no one else would.Unseen. Unrewarded.Free.
“Maybe this tournament… will let me stop hiding.”
In a worn-out orphanage in the southern district, Miguel was icing a fresh bruise while listening to yet another lecture.
— “Another fight, Miguel?”
— “He was bullying Lira.”
— “There are other ways to handle things.”
— “Sure. But mine worked.”
He grinned with a split lip.
Raised without a last name, Miguel grew up learning how to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves.
He wasn’t looking for fame.He was looking for power — enough to protect his people for real.
When he saw the tournament’s symbol light up on a worn announcement crystal, he simply muttered:
“Finally.”
In the forge-lined district known as the Hammer Row, Oliver was helping his father finish a model for a public structure.
Hector, a skilled architect, had a sharp mind and a stubborn cough he refused to talk about.
— “One day, I want a house so weird people come just to see how it doesn’t fall over.”
— “Just promise me it won’t collapse on day one.”
They laughed. Always laughed.Even with the illness getting worse.Even with the money thinning.
Oliver didn’t want glory.He wanted time.
“If I win this… maybe I can buy us a future.”
The instructions were clear: report to the Fortress of Aenor, an old war citadel enhanced with stellar runes and arcane technology.
No flashing lights.No flying machines.
Just stone, steel, and magic — humming with power older than the world itself.
The gates bore ancient carvings that pulsed in response to each contender’s energy.Crystal sentries floated silently, recording everything.
He was one of the first.
Wearing a worn-out travel cloak and boots falling apart at the seams, Miguel stepped through the arch.
The energy rune scanned him.
— “Miguel. Registered. Dormitory Thirteen. Group E.”
— “Thanks, rock voice.”
He walked forward, taking in the towers, the sigils, the atmosphere.
— “Okay… this place is bigger than I thought.”
He had no idea.
Among hundreds of applicants…two others were about to change his world forever.