Astralis City, Auroria Kingdom
Sol continent, Terra
Gaea solar system. Milky Way galaxy
Luminary star system
25th Astralis cycle,
Solaris Prime, 572,413
Tumbling through the gateway, Emily emerged high above the sky—only to be yanked mercilessly downward, gravity reclaiming her with relentless force. The sudden plunge jolted her senses, snapping her from the initial shock of the explosion. Her thoughts reeled, but one singular concern anchored her mind: Rex. He had been making his way to Delacroix when everything erupted—was he safe? The worry etched itself onto her face, even as the wind howled around her, tearing at her clothes and hair.
As she plummeted, Emily's internal sight flickered to life, granting her a sweeping view of the city sprawling beneath her—a breathtaking metropolis of radiant splendor. Towering spires, sculpted from crystal and metal, gleamed under the ethereal glow of mana-powered reactors, their luminescence casting shifting patterns across the vast urban expanse. A symphony of energy and elegance, the city pulsed with life, its intricate architecture resembling a celestial wonderland woven from magic and ingenuity.
Directly below, her descent carried her toward an opulent palace—a grand, golden structure of immense scale, its circular design reminiscent of a celestial sigil carved into the land itself. Within its sprawling courtyard, towering crystal trees stood like silent sentinels, their translucent leaves shimmering with refracted light. Fountains of pristine water cascaded in delicate arcs, each droplet catching the radiance of the city, turning them into falling stars. The air itself felt charged with magic, as if the palace was more than just a place of power—it was a heart, beating with the very essence of the world.
And she was about to crash straight into it. Quickly activating the Mana Art of Skywalk, Emily seized control of her tumbling body, stabilizing herself midair. A pulse of energy rippled through her limbs as she slowed her descent, drifting downward like a feather caught in a gentle current. With practiced ease, she adjusted her trajectory, her feet finally touching solid ground with a controlled landing.
The moment her boots met the polished stone of the palace courtyard, a wave of murderous intent slammed into her like a dagger to the spine. Her instincts flared—hostility surrounded her. Shadows shifted, revealing figures clad in ornate battle armor of molten orange and deep crimson, their presence a striking contrast against the shimmering backdrop of the palace. Blades gleamed, half-drawn from their sheaths, while the low hum of mana-charged cannons whirred to life, their barrels locking onto her with unwavering precision. She was one wrong move away from being obliterated.
"A warm welcome indeed." She muttered.
"Settle down, guys," a voice cut through the tension.
The armed guards reacted instantly, stepping aside to create an open path. A figure emerged from the clearing, his presence as commanding as it was unexpected.
Emily's breath hitched. She recognized the voice, but seeing him in the flesh sent a shockwave through her. Her sharp eyes traced over the impossibility before her. He shouldn't be here. Back at Fallen Star Base, he was supposed to be lying in a hospital bed, recovering from his injuries. And yet, here he stood—adorned in gilded armor, his once-short hair now falling in elegant waves, longer than she remembered. His face, a perfect blend of boyish charm and noble regality, was as striking as ever, the kind that could effortlessly captivate hearts. Her mind spun, struggling to align reality with what her eyes were witnessing.
Gilgamesh Noavellion.
Imperial Prince of the Noavellion Dynasty. Leader of the Imperial Guard. And now, the one standing before her in his palace.
His gaze was unwavering, the scrutiny of a ruler assessing an intruder. He had noticed something was amiss—Emily had fallen directly within the palace grounds, a place fortified by a Sealing Array of immense power. The Array stretched across the entire palace perimeter, designed to nullify all Arcane and Mystical abilities within its range. No one should have been able to use magic here.
And yet, Emily had walked through the sky.
Her realization followed swiftly. The Sealing Array was already at work, pressing against her like invisible chains, tightening around her mana pathways. Her Odic Force pulsed sluggishly, her elemental spells sealed outright. She could still use Mana Arts, but even those would be hindered, sluggish in execution.
"Wonderful. As if I needed another obstacle." She exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to groan aloud.
"Please don't tell me you plan on killing us all," the stranger who looked too much like Leon suddenly quipped, breaking the silence.
Emily blinked, finally noticing something else—the courtyard itself was steeped in oppressive energy. The guards, despite their rigid discipline, looked tense. They were sensing the pressure of something—no, someone.
Herself.
The realization dawned like a slap. Her own Odic Force had surged outward, saturating the entire area in a storm of raw, unfiltered killing intent. She wasn't just standing there. She was radiating the presence of a powerful Ascendant. And every single guard in the courtyard felt it.
Emily inhaled deeply, drawing in the charged air, then slowly exhaled, pulling back the vast, oppressive force of her Odic energy. The weight of her presence receded, like a great storm withdrawing from the horizon, leaving only the subtle remnants of tension lingering in the atmosphere.
Gilgamesh watched the shift unfold, a knowing smile curving his lips. His amusement was almost palpable. With a single, casual motion, he raised his hand.
The response was immediate.
The Imperial Guards dispersed without hesitation, their rigid formation breaking apart like shadows dissolving at dawn. The towering mana cannons—lethal constructs of refined arcane engineering—hummed as their targeting arrays disengaged, swiveling away from her, their threat momentarily neutralized. Emily remained still, cautious, watching as Gilgamesh Noavellion studied her with keen interest.
"It's one surprise after another," he mused, his voice smooth, edged with an almost playful intrigue. "First, the lookalike who reminds me of Ina. Then, the Sleeper who doesn't belong here. And now—" His golden eyes gleamed as he tilted his head slightly. "A Celestial in a mortal body suit, standing in my palace."
Emily stiffened, the words ringing with a meaning she didn't yet grasp. A Sleeper? A lookalike? A Celestial? She had no idea what he was talking about. But then she saw his eyes. Her breath hitched.
The Sun Wheel Ocular Pattern—a celestial mandala of interwoven light and infinite complexity—glowed within his irises, shifting and spinning with an eerie, methodical grace. It was nearly identical to Leon's.
Leon's finite omniscience. A power he had rarely dared to use. A power that came at the cost of his health, leaving him frail, vulnerable, and wracked with exhaustion every time he glimpsed too far into the unseen threads of fate. Leon had never used it on her. But now—Gilgamesh was.
And as his gaze bore into her, a chilling sensation crawled along her spine. It wasn't just sight. It was dissection. Emily felt exposed, as if the intricate tapestry of her very existence—her past, her present, and the countless futures that stretched before her—was being meticulously unraveled, thread by thread, by those omniscient eyes. Every secret. Every untold memory. Every road she had yet to walk. All of it was laid bare before him.
"Fate has a funny way of doing things," Gilgamesh mused, his voice carrying the weight of amusement and something far more ancient—an understanding beyond mortal perception.
Emily narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
At her question, the golden-haired man's lips quirked into an even wider grin, like a cat toying with its prey.
"Oh! You finally speak," he teased, his voice smooth, almost playful. He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly. "I am the Imperial Crown Prince of the AurenIdril Empire, heir to the Sol Lineage, the Radiant Prince himself—Gilgamesh Noavellion."
Just as cocky as Leon.
Emily barely suppressed the thought, folding her arms as she glanced around, finally registering her surroundings. The Echo Field.
Realization hit her like a delayed strike. She was inside the very same spatial anomaly that Sam and the others had entered. The explosion—whatever its source—had wrenched her and that Mage straight into the Nexus Node.
"Where the hell am I, exactly?"
"Are you looking for your partner?" Gilgamesh's voice cut through her thoughts, sharp yet amused. "She arrived just before you…"
Emily's head snapped toward him. "She's not my partner," she corrected, the words clipped, impatient. "Is she here?"
Gilgamesh hummed thoughtfully, lifting a hand as if sifting through unseen threads of information. Then, with a mockingly exaggerated realization, he let out a small, theatrical sigh.
"Ahh! Is that so?" He chuckled, undoing his technique. The radiant, celestial glow of his Sun Wheel Eyes dimmed, fading back to their natural, striking imperial blue.
"Unfortunately, she managed to slip past my guards," he admitted, a wry smirk playing on his lips. "Which is why they were a little… startled by an unexpected second intruder."
Damn it. Emily clenched her fists, irritation flashing across her face. She had no time for distractions—she needed to find the Mage before things got even more complicated. She turned to move, but then—
"Aren't you here for the Crown of Stars?"
Gilgamesh's words froze her mid-step. Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, Emily turned back toward him, the weight of those words pressing into her like a phantom force. The Crown of Stars.
****
Sam adjusted the priestly battle robes draped over her form, their pristine white fabric embroidered with celestial gold filigree, marking her as both a warrior and a priestess of the AurenIdril Empire's holy order. The garment was a fusion of elegance and resilience, designed for both ceremonial authority and the unforgiving trials of battle.
She settled into the Imperial transport, a vehicle reserved exclusively for AurenIdril nobility, its sleek obsidian frame lined with intricate mana-infused carvings that pulsed softly in the dim light. The air inside was cool, scented faintly with divine incense—a subtle reminder of the empire's reverence for order and tradition.
Seated beside her, Henry, Callum, and Trini were clad in sleek, orange-hued battle armor, the enchanted alloy fitting each of them with seamless precision. Their presence was a stark contrast to Sam's attire, a silent but unmistakable declaration: They were here to fight.
Ina's Servant, the attendant who had led her to her chambers earlier, had relayed a message before their departure—one that had set her teeth on edge. The Grand Matron was insistent. Ina's lessons, it seemed, were far from over.
The revelation carried more weight than she liked. Inas was being prepared to assume the role of the next Grand Matron, the supreme authority overseeing the clergy's administrative and spiritual governance. It was a position of immense power—one that bound its bearer to the empire's rigid religious structure. Sam, however, had no interest in such formalities or expectations.
The mere thought of meeting with the Matron sent a surge of defiance through her veins. She had no time for obligations that shackled her to a path that was not hers. Instead, she had issued her own request.
A transport.
She and her team were bound for the Imperial Palace, where the key to the Crucible awaited—where, if the information was correct, the Crown of Stars was hidden. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric of her robes, her resolve solidifying like tempered steel. There was only one goal now. The Crown.
As the Imperial transport glided over the royal streets, Sam's gaze drifted toward the world beyond the tinted windows. The city stretched out in seamless beauty—marbled avenues, towering structures of shimmering crystal, and floating lanterns that cast soft, golden light upon the cobbled roads below. The people bustled along their daily routines, blissfully unaware of the falsehood they lived within.
A simulation. A scripted existence.
Sam hated thinking about it. The idea clawed at the back of her mind, an unsettling notion she could neither confirm nor deny. And yet, every time she looked too closely, the cracks became impossible to ignore—the patterns of behavior, the repetitive loops, the subtle inconsistencies that suggested something artificial lurked beneath the surface of reality.
Her frustration simmered beneath her skin.
With a deep breath, she let the Eye of Mathias activate, her vision shifting—no longer bound by mere sight but attuned to the hidden symphony of existence itself.
And the world transformed. Everything around her dissolved into a vast, intricate geometric tapestry—fractals and golden spirals of sacred mathematics unfurling like a celestial equation, solving itself in real time. The once-solid forms of people, buildings, and objects now appeared as cascading grids of intersecting frequencies, their structures composed of pulsating energy, fluctuating at specific resonances.
Cymatic sound patterns rippled through her perception—the vibrational signature of reality made manifest. Every motion, every spoken word, every footstep on the stone-paved streets below resonated in the unseen spectrum of harmonic waves.
The imperial banners that swayed in the wind carried a low, reverberating hum, a frequency that signified stability and order, woven into the very design of the city's architecture.
The market square below buzzed with overlapping resonant frequencies, each vendor, each customer contributing to the polyphonic song of life. Every voice, every movement, every exchanged coin created its own signature, a ripple in the vast ocean of vibrational existence.
Then there were the soldiers. Their armor carried a subtle but disjointed frequency, something just slightly off, as if their presence was inserted into the world, rather than born from it. Their harmonic signature did not align with the natural rhythm of the streets, standing in stark contrast to the organic resonance of the civilians.
Sam's empathic abilities normally grant her insight into emotions and intent. Still, through the Eye of Mathias, she could see the truth beyond perception—the equation of the universe itself unfolding before her. And she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what lay beyond the veil of falsehoods.
As Sam immersed herself in her heightened perception, the unfamiliar yet exhilarating shift in her senses felt like stepping into an entirely new dimension of reality. Her Internal Senses resonated in perfect harmony with the Eye of Mathias, amplifying her awareness, allowing her to perceive more than ever before.
And then—a ripple.
The Odyllic force of the Echo Field pulsed through her, a silent warning woven into the fabric of existence itself. A presence. A sensation so visceral it made her stomach twist in revulsion, her breath hitch in her throat, her blood churn with burning, unyielding hatred.
Her grip tightened on the armrest of her seat.
Something—or rather, someone—was here.
The sudden shift in her atmosphere was palpable. Henry, Callum, and Trini felt it instantly, their own battle instincts kicking in as their eyes darted outside, scanning the streets for the unseen threat that had put Sam on edge.
Without a word, Sam pressed a button on the armrest, forcing the Imperial transport to an abrupt halt. The vehicle hissed as its levitation field disengaged, settling onto the paved ground in a seamless, controlled stop.
She stepped out.
The air was heavy—thick with an unnatural presence, something that didn't belong within the ordered resonance of the city. Her gaze swept across the environment, searching, dissecting the unseen frequencies lingering in the air.
And then she saw them.
A group of figures, draped in black, hooded cloaks, moving with calculated precision through the city's shadows.
Her eyes flickered with an ethereal glow as she dissected the enchantment laced into their garments—a sophisticated spell of concealment designed not only to cloak them from sight but to synchronize them with the darkness itself, allowing them to slip through the city unnoticed, moving seamlessly between the shadows.
But they were not hidden. Not from her. Her Mystic Eyes, empowered by her Internal Senses, tore through the layers of deception like a blade through silk. What should have been a flawless veil of secrecy now lay bare before her perception. And then—she felt him.
The one responsible for Stella's death. Her breath turned razor-sharp, her fists clenching at her sides. The cold, merciless fury that had simmered beneath her skin ever since Stella's murder ignited into a white-hot inferno.
Nabu.
He was here.
-
Nabu moved with silent efficiency, his dark robes blending perfectly with the night, his fellow Sector Zero agents keeping pace beside him. They had arrived within the city's outer districts, slipping into an abandoned alleyway, far from the Imperial sectors where they would draw unwanted attention.
The operation was precise. Sector Zero had already secured the area, eliminating any obstacles in their way, ensuring nothing disrupted their mission.
Hekate was late.
Not unusual, but inconvenient. Nabu adjusted the comm-tech embedded in his ear, a device linked to every Sector Zero agent on this mission. The moment Hekate's signature frequency was detected, he issued the silent command to regroup.
And then—he felt it.
A presence. A pressure that should not be there. It was subtle, like an imperceptible shift in the air—yet to Nabu, it was unmistakable. Someone had locked onto him. Someone who should not have been able to sense him. His eyes narrowed beneath his hood as an unsettling realization sank in.
They were not alone.
The air shifted—sudden, volatile, electric.
Dark storm clouds spiraled above Nabu and his agents, churning in an ominous vortex of green lightning and roaring thunder. The heavens themselves seemed to recoil as a mighty thunderbird materialized from the maelstrom, its form crackling with arcane energy.
With a piercing cry, the celestial beast unleashed a bolt of emerald lightning, striking the ground with an earth-shaking boom. A shimmering barrier erupted around them, isolating the battlefield, sealing away the prying eyes of ordinary citizens.
Nabu reacted instantly.
His spear manifested in a single, fluid motion, the dark weapon humming with lethal intent as his gaze locked onto the one responsible for this sudden celestial disturbance.
Samantha Sinclair.
She stood at the eye of the storm, her priestly battle robes billowing in the charged wind, her presence a force of nature. Beside her, Avis, her thunderbird familiar, spread its wings, maintaining the Isolation Spell that shielded the battle from outside interference.
Then—Sam moved.
She blurred forward, her entire body reinforced by her Mana Art, accelerating with a speed unnatural even for a Warrior Realm expert. Her first strike came swift, ruthless, aimed directly at Nabu's throat.
Nabu's reflexes kicked in.
His hand shot out, intercepting her with precision honed from countless battles. Their collision shattered the air, sending a concussive force through the streets as their clash ripped through a nearby building, sending debris and dust cascading around them.
Sam gritted her teeth, straining against his grip, trying to force her fingers to break free—but Nabu held firm, his strength undeniable.
"Asha'Yee," he hissed, eyes narrowing as realization dawned. "You're a lot stronger than before."
He wasn't wrong.
Sam's physical prowess had undergone a radical transformation—from the foundation of her natural strength to the layered reinforcements of her Mana Art applications. What was once mere Warrior Realm-level strength had now ascended, pushing her body past the limits into the mid-tier of the Master Realm.
But she didn't care for his observations.
With a sharp breath, she activated her Combat Art—and entered Adamantium Validus Form.
A pulse of power detonated outward, and in an instant, Nabu was sent hurtling backward. The sheer force of her transformation flung him through solid walls, sending him crashing into the next structure with a thunderous impact.
Sam pursued without hesitation. Her fist—wreathed in resonant mana—drew back, the intricate energy signatures of her new gauntlets amplifying the force behind the strike. Nabu barely had time to react.
He swung his spear in a precise, deadly arc, but the moment his blade met Sam's body, a shimmering barrier flared to life around her, absorbing the impact effortlessly. His eyes widened in that brief instant. And then—Sam's uppercut landed.
A direct hit.
The blow cracked the air like a sonic boom, the force sending Nabu flying, his body crashing through the cathedral's stained-glass entrance. Shards of shattered glass rained like falling stars. The impact left deep fissures in the sacred stonework, the dust settling around his crumpled form.
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, a soft clatter echoed as a piece of his mask broke away, revealing the face beneath. Nabu's ethereal, unnaturally handsome features were exposed—his smooth, pale skin now marked by wounds, blood trailing from the corner of his lips. His once-imperious expression was marred by something new—acknowledgment, frustration… and something dangerously close to amusement.
He exhaled sharply, wiping the blood from his mouth. Sam stood above him, the energy of Adamantium Validus still humming through her body, her eyes locked onto him with unwavering resolve.
She wasn't done yet. Just as Sam prepared to strike again, the shadows at Nabu's feet coiled unnaturally, twisting like living tendrils before expanding into a gaping void. A figure stepped forth from the darkness, her presence warping the very air around her.
Hekate.
The moment she emerged, she unleashed a spell with terrifying precision—a darkness-forged arrow, sharp as a spear, fired straight at Sam. Sam reacted instantly. She twisted, her body weaving through the attack with preternatural grace, but even as she dodged, she felt the raw, destructive force humming within the projectile. If that had connected—even in her Adamantium Validus Form—it would have shattered through her defenses.
She landed in a crouch on the far side of the ruined cathedral, her gaze locking onto the new arrival. The tension in the room shifted. Hekate's cold, piercing eyes swept over the destruction, finally settling on Nabu's bloodied form.
"Get up," she ordered, her voice like a blade slicing through the silence.
Nabu gritted his teeth—what remained of them. He spat out a glob of blood and the remnants of broken molars, his jaw already knitting itself back together with unnatural regeneration. But the fact that his teeth had been knocked out at all sent a surge of seething rage through his body.
Hekate barely acknowledged his frustration. Instead, she turned her attention to Sam. A slow, deliberate assessment. The air around her seemed to darken, bending under the oppressive weight of her presence, the sheer density of her power merging with the abyss from which she had stepped forth. And then she spoke.
"So you're just like the Annihilator."
Sam froze mid-step.
The words slammed into her like a physical blow. She had heard that title before. From Rhyka. The Wolf Abomination she had fought back at Northbrook Mall. The creature had spoken of an Annihilator, a figure whose mere existence carried destruction in its wake.
Before she could demand answers, Hekate snapped her arms outward. The shadows surged, rising from the ground like a wave of pure void, wrapping around both her and Nabu in an instant. And then—they were gone.
The air where they had stood remained thick with residual darkness, the afterimage of their departure still twisting unnaturally before finally dissipating. Sam exhaled, lowering her fists, but her mind was already racing.
Annihilator.
The word resonated within Sam like a half-remembered dream—a name that carried weight, meaning, a past she had yet to fully understand. But now was not the time for introspection.
With a controlled breath, she dismissed her Combat Art, allowing the volatile energy coursing through her to settle. The raw power of Adamantium Validus faded, the storm within her body retreating as she reined in the tumultuous emotions that had fueled her fight.
She stepped out of the ruined cathedral, the aftermath of battle still humming in the air. Above, the sky remained unsettled as if the storm Avis had summoned had left behind an echo of its presence.
With a quiet motion, she summoned Avis back within herself, dispersing the avian familiar into streaks of crackling energy that disappeared into her core. The city was still buzzing with the aftermath of the fight, murmurs and whispers crawling through the gathered crowd like wildfire. Some pointed toward her. Others whispered her title, their voices hushed yet insistent. Sam ignored them, her focus solely on Henry, Callum, and Trini, who stood waiting for her across the street.
Sector Zero's agents were gone.
Henry exhaled, relieved to see her unharmed, but she could sense his displeasure beneath the surface. She had shut them out of the fight, sealing them away behind Avis's barrier. He didn't like being sidelined—none of them did. As she crossed the street, weaving through onlookers, movement caught her eye. Someone was pushing through the crowd, rushing toward her with urgency. Sam's heart clenched in recognition.
Rosa.
"Sam!" Rosa called out.
Sam's breath hitched in surprise. "Rosa, you're here?"
The young woman reached them quickly, her expression filled with relief and something else—something deeper.
"How… Where have you—"
Before Rosa could answer, a smooth, commanding voice cut through the moment.
"Forgive me, but she's been with me, Asha'Yee."
Sam's head snapped toward the source of the voice. Perched atop her Imperial transport, lounging with effortless confidence, was a Beastman—his form a striking silhouette against the fractured light of the city. His resemblance was undeniable. A mirror image of the Fallen Beast King, the very monster that had once attacked her as a child.
But he was different.
Where the Beast King had radiated an aura of chaos and darkness, this man was bathed in celestial presence, his energy refined and regal. His golden eyes held an intelligence far beyond the people of this world. And then, a flood of memories surged within her—memories that were not her own but Ina's. Her lips parted in realization.
"Enkidu."
The Beastman chuckled. "Huh. So you know me."
His smirk was knowing, but his sharp gaze studied her intently, as if peeling apart the layers of her existence.
"I suppose merging with Ina gave you access to her memories."
Sam's mind reeled. Wait… he knew?
Everyone in this world was supposed to see her as Ina Vysileaf, the woman whose place she had taken within this Echo Field. If he recognized her for what she truly was, then what else did he know?
"Just as I'm aware that this world of ours is nothing but a mere Echo."
The weight of his words crashed over her like a tidal wave. He knows. Sam's fingers tightened instinctively, her mind racing. Ina had known the truth about this world, thanks to the Eye of Mathias she also wielded. But now… now Enkidu stood before her, another anomaly in this fabricated existence.
Rosa took a cautious step forward. "Don't underestimate him, Sam."
Sam glanced at her.
"He's a lot sharper and more self-aware than the rest of the people here."
That much was clear.
First, Ina had known the truth, now Enkidu, and that raised a chilling question—what about Gilgamesh? Gilgamesh Noavellion, the man who bore Leon's face, the one who had called her Ina without hesitation. Did he know? No—he believed she was Ina. He had spoken to her as such. If he truly saw through the illusion, he would have acknowledged her real identity.
Sam's thoughts swirled, the questions piling up with no immediate answers. Enkidu, meanwhile, simply observed her. The resemblance between this woman and his best friend, Ina, was uncanny—yet, he knew, they were not the same person. His gaze was unreadable as he pieced together the truth. These people were from the future.
They had entered this simulated world—this Echo Field—for a purpose. To grow, to uncover something, to break through the limits of their reality. And he understood the implications. A simulated world bearing a simulated world within it. An Echo Field layered with other Echo Fields. If one thought too deeply about it, it posed an existential nightmare. But Enkidu decided not to dwell on the contradiction.
He had already made his decision. With a graceful movement, he leaped down from the transport, landing effortlessly. His golden gaze locked onto Sam's.
"You're here for the Echo Field, aren't you?"
Sam nodded. "Yes. The Crucible Trial."
Enkidu exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off unseen weight. "Well then—let's get going."