Before Astra went down to train again, he knew he had to do some research. He had long considered himself knowledgeable, someone who understood the deeper mechanisms of the world. But now, after everything he had encountered—devils, angels, royalty—he realized how shallow his knowledge truly was. He knew of these beings, sure. He had heard the stories, read the myths, but encountering them firsthand was something entirely different.
Angels and devils, beings closer to becoming gods than mortals. Living legends who reshaped the very foundations of the world with their mere existence. He had somehow crossed paths with two angels, fallen under the influence of a Greater House, and was now the target of not one but possibly two royal houses. As if that wasn't enough, he had also encountered a devil—a being of pure corruption—and been cursed in the process.
"Ha, just great."
Yet, he had seen through the devil's deception, something he now suspected had much to do with his nature and bloodline. The stars saw all, and perhaps, through them, he had glimpsed something no one else should have been able to perceive. Astra had always felt more, seen more than others, but he hadn't understood the depth of his abnormality until much later in life. Now, it was impossible to ignore.
He found himself once again looking at the ever-familiar interface of the Regal Coin. He had barely had time to sift through the vast archives and records of House Night since he had arrived. His initial searches had only scratched the surface, skimming through urgent issues and fragments of history. There was so much he hadn't seen, so much he hadn't yet grasped. Part of the reason was that the Regal Coin itself restricted his access—deeming certain knowledge too dangerous for someone of his current level. And the other reason? He had been caught in an unrelenting storm of chaos. From royal princesses, being pursued by House Dusk, joining Shadow, to angels and devils, all in a matter of days.
He had gotten stronger—scarily so for a Rank One—but knowledge was another form of power. He needed to understand the things he was facing.
He searched the archives for records on angels and devils. Thousands of results flooded the Regal Coin's interface, revealing a staggering collection of books and documents that House Night had safeguarded. The archives were a true marvel of mana engineering, storing knowledge through the flow of mana itself, an intricate web of preserved history and wisdom from eons ago.
Yet, of those thousands of records, Astra had access to only two or three. The rest were locked behind rank restrictions, requiring a minimum of Rank Four to even glimpse the contents, while the majority demanded Rank Five or higher. The cryptic nature of these restrictions unsettled him. Was it truly about power? Or was it something more? He suspected the answer lay in the nature of forbidden knowledge—secrets that could drive a mere mortal to madness. Perhaps only those who achieved the status of demi-god could begin to unravel the deepest truths of the world. Or so he guessed.
Astra also felt an incredibly strong compulsion to learn those secrets, find out everything about himself, devils and angels, it was so incredibly interesting, but so out of reach, like a scratch you can never reach, he also knew that-this feeling of intense curiosity is amplified by his damn curse
With a sigh, he opened the few documents available to him, determined to extract whatever knowledge he could before stepping back into the fray.
Angels and Devils: Rank Six Beings of Myth and Power
[The Divine and Profane Paths: The Beings of Rank Six]
I. The Threshold Between Mortality and Divinity
Behold, the beings of Rank Six—angels and devils—whose might stands as the greatest known among mortals. These are no mere men or women, nor even gods yet made; they are entities caught between the mortal and the divine, wielding powers most would deem unfathomable. They are the rulers of the world's deepest forces, capable of bending the flow of fate itself, warping the natural order to fit their will. These beings stand at the very threshold of godhood, yet remain untouched by the true essence of divinity. They are the harbingers of the ancient truths and the unyielding tests that govern the realms. From them, legends emerge.
II. Pioneers and Legends of the Arcane
Angels and devils of Rank Six are not mere servants of their craft; they are the pioneers, the legends who have shaped and molded the very fabric of magic and power that governs the realms. Many of them are born with the Mythical or Legendary mana cores—hearts of power so potent they allow them to command forces that lesser beings dare not fathom. But more than this, these beings have transcended the bounds of mere talent. They have surpassed every trial, every tribulation, and emerged victorious, their mastery of their respective crafts and magics unchallenged by any force that dares to oppose them.
A Rank Six angel is an embodiment of harmony, and purity—standing as a bastion against the forces of chaos that seek to unravel the very fabric of existence. Their powers flow from their perfect mastery of the laws of the universe, bringing order to the cosmos and guiding it with a steady hand.
In opposition, a Rank Six devil is an agent of destruction and freedom, a harbinger of subversion and corruption. Devils wield the forces of chaos and entropy. Their craft is that of warping reality, twisting fate, and unraveling what is whole. Their mastery lies not in creation, but in deconstruction, in the art of dismantling the world around them with a mere flick of their will.
beings at this level can wield concepts based on their mana types and progressions in mana, but most can influence the laws of the realms.
III. The Aura of Myths
The aura of a Rank Six being is a testament to their supremacy, a manifestation of their power that transcends mere physical presence. To stand in the shadow of one such being is to witness the very essence of their might. An angel's aura is one of overwhelming purity—a force so bright, so serene, it cleanses the very air in which it resides. When an angel steps forth into the world, the land itself seems to breathe in alignment with the divine laws they represent. Their mere presence can restore order, soothes the hearts of those who are worthy, and compels the weak to follow in awe and reverence. or....it can bring forth unmerciful judgment and might at the angles behest
But the devil's aura is the antithesis—one of corruption and entropy. Where the angel's presence brings peace, the devil's is one of tumult. The air grows thick, the ground beneath one's feet seems to tremble, and all that was once steady becomes fragile, uncertain. A devil's aura unravels the very fabric of existence, seducing the hearts of mortals into madness and despair. It bends fate to the devil's will, and those who falter beneath it may find themselves drawn into its twisted embrace, willingly or unwillingly. or...it can grant those true freedom, people may find their true nature, while in the presence of a devil, for better or for worse.
IV. The Influence Upon the World
Angels and devils are not beings who simply exist within the world—they are agents of destiny, wielding influence over the realms in ways no mortal can comprehend. It is they who guide the rise and fall of empires, who shape the winds of war and peace, and whose decisions echo throughout history. An angel is often a guardian, a protector who keeps the laws of the divine intact. Their influence is widespread, guiding civilizations toward prosperity and peace, upholding the eternal principles of order and harmony or so it is said, but we all know that there isn't ever pure good intentions in this world. Angels may lead the greatest of kingdoms, protect sacred knowledge, and act as arbiters between the realms of the mortal and divine.
In contrast, a devil thrives in shadows, in places where light dare not tread. Devils are agents of chaos, and their influence is seen in the crumbling of civilizations, the collapse of empires, and the whispers of temptation that lead mortals astray. They weave webs of lies and treachery, bringing entire kingdoms to their knees. To a devil, fate is a tool to be bent and broken to their desires. In secret, they offer forbidden power to those desperate enough to embrace their unholy pacts, and in doing so, they shape the very course of history through their subtle, yet destructive, influence. or so it is said, however, these beings are often incredibly free, and not all terrible, they simply don't follow the rules of the dead gods, and seek their own paths, an act of incredible audacity, and tenacity, as they tread to do whatever they want, some lose their minds and truly become devils, while others, embrace the madness but keep their minds. a true double edged sword
V. The Path Beyond Rank Six: Seraphim and Sin
Yet, even as these beings reach the highest of mortal thresholds, they are not yet gods. The path beyond Rank Six is a journey that few undertake, for it is the path that leads to either Seraphim or Sin—the final, most exalted states of being.
To become a Seraph is to achieve a state of divinity so pure that one can bend the very laws of the universe to their will. Seraphim are beings of unfathomable power—creatures who have surpassed even the mightiest of angels, whose influence over the natural and divine realms is absolute. Their power is transcendent, their wisdom beyond mortal comprehension.
On the other hand, the path to Sin leads those of Rank Six into the most profane of powers—into a state where the forces of destruction and entropy are not merely wielded but embodied. Those who achieve the rank of Sin are no longer devils; they are the very essence of corruption, the ultimate manifestation of chaos and annihilation. In this state, their powers are beyond reckoning, capable of unmaking the fabric of existence itself.
To cross this threshold is to approach true divinity, to transcend the limitations of mortality and enter the realms of the eternal. But such a transition is rare—so few have reached this state, and fewer still remain in it.
VI. Conclusion: The Unyielding Power of Angels and Devils
Thus stand the angels and devils of Rank Six—beings of unimaginable power, whose very presence shapes the world. They are the pioneers and legends of their crafts, the rulers of fate and reality. They are forces of nature, forces of light and darkness, their influence ever present and ever eternal.
Their power extends far beyond mere magic. It is woven into the very fabric of the world, etched into the histories of civilizations and the very laws that govern existence. To behold one of these beings is to witness the highest achievement of mortal potential, and to understand the terrifying extent of their influence is to glimpse the power that lies just beyond the reach of even gods.
In the end, these entities remain the boundary between the profane and the divine, the final threshold where mortals cease to be, and the eternal begins.
[Circa Age of Knowledge]
-The One Star Sage
"What an ancient text… Hmm, interesting. So a Rank Seven on the profane path is called Sin? Creepy," Astra shuddered, struggling to imagine a being more unsettling than the devil he had met. "The Harbinger of Twisted Truths… what a splendid guy, ha." His laugh was dry, but the weight of what he was reading settled in his chest. "These beings are terrifying. Why am I, a mere Rank One mortal, stuck between these forces of nature?"
He scanned further, but the answer remained elusive. The texts all echoed the same frustrating truth—this was all he could grasp at his current level. There were four more volumes, each locked behind the threshold of Rank Three, a height that felt impossibly distant.
"Ugh… everything demands power. It's the same everywhere, whether in the damn outskirts or here in a Greater House." Astra ran a hand through his hair, irritation simmering beneath his exhaustion. "No, seriously—why am I caught in the crossfire of angels and devils? This is just absurd."
With a heavy sigh, he redirected his focus, flipping through archives on ascension to Rank Two and the Rituals of Night. Most of the rituals were relatively tame—if anything, refining his Star Core was already considered a form of self-confrontation among Star Mages.
As he continued reading, Astra stumbled upon something far more intriguing—records detailing just how rare Star Magictruly was. Even at the height of House Night's power, only a few hundred wielded it. The majority of the House's mages wielded Darkness, Shadows, Light, or even Ice, making Astra an anomaly even among his own kin. Yet those who did wield Star Magic were immensely powerful… or so it was said.
Dual affinities were common—but not for Star Mages. And certainly not ones that synergized so perfectly. Shadow and Star… that combination was considered extremely rare. Star and Light were far more common, a reflection of celestial balance. But Star and Shadow? That was something else entirely.
It was seen as a divine blessing, a sign of favor from House Night's patron gods—Noctis, the God of Night, and Umbra, the Goddess of Shadows.
Astra exhaled sharply, pieces clicking into place. "Everything is making more sense now…"
Those who wielded Star Magic in House Night were nurtured, trained, and given the House's full support. They were meant to be pillars of the House. Stars, even.
A bitter laugh escaped him. "I could've been a rich, legacied prince years ago, living a lavish life… but no." He exhaled sharply. "I got the disgusting, harsh outskirts and a childhood drenched in chaos instead."
Shaking his head, he moved on, uncovering a collection of cryptic messages, encrypted locations, and hidden stashes—all far beyond his reach. The sheer amount of secrets scattered across the world only deepened his exhaustion.
A headache crept in. He pinched the bridge of his nose before shutting the book. "Enough of this."
He needed rest before heading down to train with Velora.
.......
Astra made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the estate, his steps light but deliberate. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting long, wavering shadows that danced with his movements. He had rested, but his mind still churned with everything he had read. There was no use dwelling on it now—he had training to focus on.
As he entered the spacious underground training hall, he spotted Vesper leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, his usual smirk in place. The man's dark eyes flicked over Astra, scanning him as if assessing his condition.
"Feeling better princess?" Vesper asked, his tone casual but laced with something just beneath the surface—concern, perhaps.
Astra rolled his shoulders, nodding. "Yeah. A little beauty sleep helped." He kept his response short, unwilling to dwell on his earlier frustration.
Vesper studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Good. Would've been a shame if you collapsed mid-spar."
Astra snorted. "Please. I'd sooner bite my own tongue."
A cold presence settled into the room. Velora stood at the far end, already wrapping her hands in dark cloth, her gaze unreadable. Her ravenblack hair was tied back in a tight braid, not a strand out of place. If Vesper was all sharp humor and relaxed confidence, Velora was his opposite—detached, silent, and utterly focused.
"You're late." Her voice was flat and cool, devoid of any real emotion.
Astra merely raised a brow. "Only by a minute."
"A minute wasted is an advantage lost," Velora replied as she tightened the wraps around her knuckles. "Are you ready, or should I wait for you to make another excuse?"
Astra exhaled through his nose, stepping onto the polished stone floor of the sparring ring. "yeah yeah, gods your boring."
Velora nodded, stepping forward with the effortless grace of a predator. "No mana. Hand-to-hand only. You need to fix your footwork."
Astra cracked his neck. "Oh? Are you finally admitting I have talent?"
Velora didn't even blink. "No. But your flaws are irritating to watch."
Vesper laughed from the sidelines, arms still crossed. "Oh, this will be fun."
Astra ignored him, rolling his shoulders as he squared up with Velora. The air between them tensed, an unspoken challenge passing between their gazes.
"Ready?" she asked.
Astra smirked. "Always."
And then she moved.
Out of all forms of combat Astra considered himself the best at hand to hand and grappling, he had a knack for it, he enjoyed it as well, something about the complex yet simple nature of two beings using no weapons but themselves to fight was beautiful to him, the way one had to move and the many techniques involved, it was like poetry
However when mana is involved it gets complicated and things get lost in translation...thats why Velora has deemed it worthy to beat down on Astra today, and totally not because the bastards has been too cocky as of late.....
For veloras small stature she was quite fast and strong, as she was upon Astra throwing a handful of combinations on him, astra did well enough to dodge but it seemed as if velora wasn't even trying
Astra barely had time to react before Velora closed the distance in a single step, her movements precise and merciless. Her jab was a feint—her real attack came in the form of a sweeping low kick aimed at his lead leg.
Astra twisted his stance, narrowly avoiding it, but Velora was already pressing forward. A jab, a cross, then a sudden pivot into a sharp elbow aimed at his ribs.
He ducked just in time, shifting his weight to counter. He shot forward, his hands snapping toward her in a clinch. But Velora anticipated it.
She latched onto his wrist and yanked him forward, twisting her hips into a flawless throw. Astra's feet left the ground, his body tilting before he could properly react. At the last moment, he tucked and rolled with the momentum, avoiding a brutal slam, but Velora was already on him.
Before he could fully recover, she slammed her knee down, pinning his forearm to the mat.
Astra gritted his teeth. The pressure was suffocating. He reacted on instinct, bridging hard, twisting his hips to break free. Velora adjusted instantly, but Astra was faster this time—he rolled with the motion, slipping out from under her, twisting onto his feet.
He barely got his footing before she was attacking again. A spinning kick snapped toward his ribs. Astra caught the motion and blocked with a forearm, the impact rattling through his bones.
She was ruthless. Efficient. Precise.
"You're still too slow," she murmured.
Astra exhaled sharply, his breath ragged but his mind still sharp. "Or maybe you just don't give people time to think."
Velora's gaze was unreadable. She merely raised her hands again, stance unwavering.
"Again."
Astra wiped the sweat from his brow, rolling his shoulders. His muscles burned, his body ached—but he grinned.
"Yeah, yeah."
And then he stepped forward, launching into the fight once more.
In the corner, Vesper was on the floor, crying from laughter, his frame shaking as he wheezed between gasps.
"Oh gods—Astra—she's folding you like laundry!" he choked out, wiping at the tears in his eyes.
Astra, currently trapped in a vicious armbar, gritted his teeth. Every muscle in his arm screamed in protest as Velora torqued his limb with effortless precision.
"Shut. Up," he snarled, twisting his body, rolling into the pressure to relieve the tension. At the last second, he managed to slip free, barely escaping the hold before she could break his elbow. He scrambled up, breath ragged.
Velora simply adjusted her stance, cool and detached, like she hadn't just tried to dislocate his arm. "You keep relying on strength, but your balance is off. Again."
Astra groaned but squared up once more. The next instant, she was already moving.
This went on for hours.
Vesper, meanwhile, was half-dead from laughter. Every time Astra got slammed, choked, or thrown, Vesper only laughed harder, curled up on the mats like he was witnessing the greatest comedy of the century.
By the end of it, Astra lay sprawled on the floor, drenched in sweat, his limbs barely functioning.
Velora stood over him, barely winded. "You lasted longer this time," she remarked, as if that was some great achievement.
Vesper, wiping away his last tears of laughter, grinned down at Astra. "You good, champ?"
"screw you"
"Take a break, then go spar some swordsmanship with Vesper."
And just like that, she disappeared, vanishing into the shadows as if she had never been there in the first place.
Astra groaned, still flat on his back, his body screaming in protest. Every joint ached, his muscles throbbed, and he was fairly certain Velora had thrown him hard enough to leave an imprint of his soul on the mat.
Vesper loomed over him, grinning. "So… ready to get your ass kicked again?"
Astra slowly sat up, cracking his neck. His exhaustion was real, but so was his pride.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Just give me a second to remember why I put myself through this hell."
Vesper clapped him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into the mat. "Because deep down, you love it."
Astra shot him a glare, but despite himself, he smirked. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up. His body ached, but the fire in his eyes remained.
......
Astra found himself once again standing in front of Vesper, this time with a sword in hand.
No mana, no tricks—just steel and skill.
Vesper rolled his shoulders, lazily twirling his blade. "Alright, let's see what you've got. No fancy footwork, just pure technique."
Astra smirked, bringing his blade up. "Try not to cry when I land a hit."
Vesper barked out a laugh. "Oh, I needed that." Then he moved.
Astra barely saw the strike before it crashed into his guard. His wrists screamed as he barely deflected the blow, his blade rattling like a tuning fork. Vesper wasn't just strong—he was precise.
Astra shuffled back, realigning his stance. Another attack. Another clash. Another struggle just to keep his sword in his hands.
Vesper's strikes were relentless, flowing between cuts and thrusts so smoothly Astra felt like he was drowning in steel. Each swing funneled him exactly where Vesper wanted, like he was being led into a trap he couldn't even see.
And yet—something clicked.
At first, Astra was just reacting, barely surviving. But then, he started to see.
It was as if time slowed down, he saw vesper covered in many threads
His mind sharpened. Every movement, every slight shift in Vesper's stance, every tiny flex of his grip—it all started piecing itself together. His curse burned within him, dissecting Vesper's style, breaking it down to its core components. like a intricate spiderweb
His footwork. Controlled aggression, stepping into attacks rather than away, always claiming space.
His tempo. Quick strikes, then a sudden change of rhythm, a pause to bait a reaction before punishing it.
His blade control. Subtle rotations in the wrist, redirecting force, making every movement effortless yet powerful.
Astra's body moved on instinct. He adjusted. Then adjusted again.
At first, he was just blocking.
Then, he was deflecting.
Then, he was redirecting.
Vesper swung—Astra slipped just out of range.
Vesper feinted—Astra didn't bite.
Vesper stepped in to break his guard—Astra twisted, guiding the pressure away, countering with a sudden thrust.
Clang! The tip of Astra's sword grazed Vesper's side.
Vesper stopped. Blinking.
"What the actual fuck, Astra?" His voice was genuine disbelief. "How did you just improve that much in a span of hours?"
Astra exhaled, rolling his wrists as if testing a new weapon—except the weapon was his own skill.
"My curse," Astra said simply. "Curiosity."
Vesper raised a brow.
Astra tapped the side of his head. "It forces me to understand. To learn. To adapt." His gaze drifted to his own sword. "The more I engage with something, the deeper I see it. And once I see it…" He looked back up at Vesper, smirking. "It's mine."
Vesper took a step back, staring at Astra like he was some sort of monster.
"how insidious...for a princess"