The scent of the morning breeze mixed with the golden light filtering through the corridors of the grand headquarters of Equilibrium. The vast halls, lined with banners of the Order, carried a familiar air of discipline and history. Beyond the arched walkways, the training grounds stretched wide, bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun.

  Hans sat alone on a bench near the edge of the training field, absently turning a package of Serenara Mochi in his hands—the very same kind that Jun’de used to enjoy. His fingers pressed lightly against the packaging as he let out a sigh.

  It had been days. Days since he had last seen his comrade. Ever since Jun’de returned from Kazhamara Plain—his Ring broken—he had become elusive. Hans had heard the rumors swirling through the ranks, whispers that the king himself had summoned Jun’de for a private audience. And after that… nothing. He was nowhere to be seen in the Royal Capital.

  Hans exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around the mochi package.

  Had the king disbanded him? The thought lingered uncomfortably in his mind. He could ask the king himself, but Chris had been preoccupied lately—preparing for his wedding, caught in meetings, and dealing with the increasing burden of war.

  Hans was lost in thought, staring at the rippling reflections in a nearby water trough, when a sudden rustling sound snapped him back to reality. From above, two flying lemurs swooped down, landing gracefully on the bench beside him. One tilted its head at him, its large amber eyes blinking curiously, while the other stretched its tiny paws toward him.

  Hans blinked, then chuckled softly. “It’s been a while,” he murmured.

  The smaller lemur chirped and crawled up onto his shoulder, while the other clung to his arm, sniffing at the package of mochi still clutched in his hand. It tugged at the wrapping eagerly.

  Hans raised an eyebrow. “You want this?”

  The lemur squeaked in response.

  “Well, I guess nothing hurts with sharing.”

  With a small smile, he unwrapped the package, tearing off a piece and offering it to them. The creatures nibbled happily, their tiny mouths working on the soft, sweet rice cake.

  Hans sighed again, his gaze drifting toward the corridors. The rhythmic footsteps of approaching heels caught his attention, and he turned his head. From the far end of the walkway, a familiar figure emerged—Rena Lumius.

  Even from a distance, her presence carried weight. Elysion’s High Cleric moved with quiet confidence, her violet eyes scanning the training ground with thoughtful precision. Sunlight danced against her silver-white hair, which framed her face in elegant strands. She carried a stack of books, cradled neatly in one arm, while her free hand lifted in greeting.

  A soft, knowing smile played on her lips. Hans quickly straightened and stood, brushing crumbs from his hands. The lemurs, sensing movement, took flight once more, disappearing into the training hall’s rafters.

  “Good morning, Lady Rena.” Hans bowed respectfully.

  “Good morning, Hans,” she greeted, her voice light but perceptive. “You’re early as usual. But… why are you alone?” Hans hesitated for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I was hoping to find Jun’de,” he admitted, his expression shadowed with concern. “But I guess it’s hard to catch him these days.”

  Rena studied him for a moment, noting the subtle weight behind his words. “He should be fine,” she reassured. “I heard he was with King Chris the other day. But with the royal wedding approaching, I haven’t seen the king much either.” Hans hummed in response, his gaze drifting to the books in her hands. “You seem pretty occupied yourself.”

  Rena followed his eyes before letting out a small chuckle. “These?” She lifted the stack slightly. “These are writings by Master Gordon and Neil—along with recent reports from the Science Division.”

  Hans raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of reading material.”

  “With Titan attacks becoming more frequent, and no one knowing when Coeus and Rem will strike again, we need to learn more about the Emperor Rings.” At her words, Hans instinctively glanced at his own hand. Tempest Tear, one of the Thirteen Emperor Rings, gleamed faintly under the morning sun. His fingers grazed the smooth surface, tracing its familiar patterns. Then, his eyes flickered to Rena’s own ring—a golden band resting delicately on her finger —Golden Nirvana, another of the Thirteen Emperor Rings.

  A quiet sigh escaped Rena’s lips. “We’ve lost one,” she murmured, the weight of grief evident in her tone. “But… we’ve awakened six.” Hans looked up, curiosity stirring.

  “We have the Cyclone Crown secured within the Royal Keep.” She paused, her expression shifting. “And perhaps… we have another one, too.”

  Hans frowned. “Another one?” His thoughts turned over the possibilities before he finally voiced his question. “What do you mean by that?”

  Rena didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she hummed softly—a tune familiar yet distant. The Song of the Thirteen Rings.

  Then, in a low voice, she recited:

  "The third was Darkness, of hellish flame,

  A ring of shadows, of endless blame.

  Its fiery depths were cruel and deep,

  A howled terror where horrors creep.”

  She turned to Hans, her violet gaze locking onto his deep-blue eyes.

  Hans felt a chill prickle down his spine.

  “That description…” Rena continued, her tone unwavering. “Don’t you think it fits someone’s ring?”

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  Hans’ brows furrowed, confusion settling on his face. Rena exhaled, shifting the weight of her books slightly.

  “During your final exam in Aetheris, I was assigned to supervised Lorenzo’s group.” Her voice was steady, but there was an unspoken intensity behind it. “During the attack from Mnemona, he activated a power I’d never seen before.”

  Hans listened carefully.

  “Blue hellfire. The mark of Cerberus. Spectral control over shadows.”

  Hans stiffened.

  “But Lorenzo, he doesn’t remember any of it,” Rena went on. “Each time he taps into that power, all he recalls is blacking out.”

  Hans took a slow breath, piecing together her words.

  “We’ve been researching ever since,” Rena continued, “tracing back the history of the Cult of Cerberus and the ancient tribes of Bao Ao. But there are too many missing links… too many wiped-out records. I hope to find something in these archives”.

  She turned, her gaze drifting toward the vast training halls, then back to Hans.

  “Well, since Jun’de isn’t showing up…” Her expression softened. “Why don’t you join me for my morning tea?”

  Hans glanced down at the crinkled mochi wrapper in his hand.

  Rena smirked. “Those mochi will go to waste if we don’t enjoy them soon.”

  A small chuckle escaped Hans as he nodded. “Alright,” he said.

  Just as the two were about to leave for their morning tea, a member of Equilibrium hurried toward them, urgency evident in their expression. The guard, panting heavily, managed a quick bow before speaking.

  "Lady Rena, Captain Hans!" he gasped between ragged breaths.

  Rena stepped forward, concern etching her features. "What is it? What's the urgency?”

  Hans crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "Catch your breath and speak.”

  The guard swallowed hard and straightened. "Lady Audries has had a horrible premonition. The king calls for the remaining captains in the capital to gather immediately—something terrible is about to happen to Titan’s Keep.”

  ——

  The silver owl descended from the storm-ridden sky, its luminous feathers gleaming as it swooped down toward the guard station perched atop Titan’s Keep. Lightning split the heavens behind it, momentarily illuminating the vast, jagged silhouette of the fortress, its walls etched with the scars of centuries-old battles. At the very edge of the great wall, Lorenzo Mazco stood motionless, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the storm churned violently. The air crackled with foreboding energy, carrying the scent of rain and the distant tremors of an approaching catastrophe.

  Behind him, four seasoned warriors sat in a tight circle around a flickering bonfire, the flames casting wavering shadows against their battle-worn armor. Ron, Drake, Wien, and Paul—each a stalwart Titan Slayer, each bearing their own burdens and victories—exchanged quiet words, their voices a mix of anticipation and grim resolve. The firelight caught the reflection of their weapons, polished but well-used, ready for the inevitable clash.

  Ron, the fireball conjurer, gripped his hands into fists, causing small flames to flicker between his fingers. “I can feel it, Captain,” he said, his voice tinged with both excitement and apprehension. “The air... it’s different today. This isn’t going to be like any battle we’ve faced before.”

  Drake, the lizard manipulator, crouched low, his eyes scanning the distant horizon. His connection to the earth and its creatures was strong, and he could feel the vibrations of the titans through the ground. “They’re coming fast,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “And there’s more of them than we anticipated.”

  Wien, the hulking brute with iron gauntlets, exhaled deeply, his muscles tensing as he adjusted his grip. "Let them come. We can’t afford to lose—our friends, our families, the Elysians are counting on us.”

  Paul, the calm and collected master of the frozen rapier, nodded silently, his breath visible in the cool mountain air. His icy blade gleamed in the dim light, a cold contrast to Ron’s flames.

  Ron gazed toward the distant glow of his hometown, the flickering lights reflecting in his eyes. He turned a small, ornate ring between his fingers, its delicate engravings catching the firelight. "If I make it through tonight," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "I’m going to propose to her.”

  Drake smirked and nudged Ron with his elbow. "Oh, so that's why you've been fidgeting all night? Planning to woo her with your heroic survival story? Maybe save the proposal until after we’re not knee-deep in Titans, yeah?”

  Paul smirked.

  Wien grunted in agreement. “Focus on surviving tonight. That’s the best gift you can give.” As he patted Ron on the shoulder.

  The squad shared a brief, knowing look. Despite the lighthearted teasing, the gravity of their task weighed heavily on them. Each member held the thought of their loved ones close, a silent vow to return alive.

  As they spoke, the heavy doors of the station creaked open, and three figures emerged into the bitter cold, their fur-lined coats billowing slightly in the wind. Hans Nimbersonn, the wielder of Tempest Tear, adjusted the clasp of his coat. Beside him, Martin Apollo, the head of science division and the wielder of Humming Sun, scanned the skies as if calculating the trajectory of fate itself. And at their center, Lady Rena Lumius moved with a quiet grace, her piercing violet eyes settling on Lorenzo. These three, the bearers of the Emperor Ring, had come to Titan’s Keep in response to the foreboding premonitions that plagued the Order’s visions.

  Rena’s gaze lingered for a moment on the gleaming Shadow Spectre Ring that adorned Lorenzo’s finger, its dark glow pulsating subtly against the storm’s backdrop.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, his words carrying the weight of duty. “The Order of Titan’s Keep and Titans slayer are grateful for your aid. We’ll need every blade, every force we can muster.”

  Hans exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the icy air. “No need for thanks, Lorenzo. We’re here because we know what’s at stake.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I only wish I could have brought more hands to help. The rest of my team is still recovering.”

  Martin gave a curt nod. “The Titans have been restless for weeks. Lady Audries' premonition led us here. Some of my team couldn’t make it—they’re still assisting Marge's division in the western region—but I’m grateful that Titan’s Keep is only hours from the capital. At least we could make it in time.”

  Rena folded her arms, her gaze shifting past them toward the darkness beyond the walls. “The first sighting was moments ago, wasn’t it?”

  Lorenzo turned, his jaw tightening. “Yes, Lady Rena. They’re close.”

  As if summoned by his words, the ground trembled violently beneath their feet. A distant, guttural roar tore through the night, reverberating through the mountains like the howl of some ancient god awakened from slumber. The warriors on the wall instinctively reached for their weapons as, in the distance, the first monstrous shapes materialized from the gloom.

  Lesser Titans, their towering forms wreathed in mist and shadow, emerged from the ruined forests beyond, their thundering steps flattening trees as they advanced. At the head of their vanguard, a lone figure strode with an unnatural presence. Rem, the traitor, moved among them like a specter, her once-illustrious aura now tainted with a dark, celestial energy. The Titans obeyed her command, their hunger for destruction palpable.

  Lorenzo’s grip on his blades tightened as he turned back to his team. His voice was resolute, unwavering. “Steel yourselves. We fight to the death. The chain must not fall, or calamity will be unleashed.” His gaze locked onto Rem, who had yet to acknowledge their presence, as if she already knew the outcome.

  The Titan Slayers exchanged nods, their camaraderie unshaken despite the odds. Ron clenched his fists, sparks of flame dancing between his fingers. Drake crouched low, pressing his palm against the stone as he attuned himself to the tremors beneath. Wien flexed his gauntlet-clad hands, exhaling deeply as he steadied his stance. Paul, ever composed, lifted his frozen rapier, the blade glistening like ice under the storm’s glow.

  Rena, Hans, and Martin stepped forward, standing alongside them. For all their differences in command and division, in this moment, they were warriors united against the coming storm.

  Another tremor rocked the fortress. Another roar split the sky. The fight for the Keep is about to begin.