Astraeus Academy sprawled across an artificial moon orbiting the Genesis Realm, stretching thousands of miles with towering peaks dominating every direction.
At its heart lay the Central Domain, the Academy's core, where administration halls, classrooms, dormitories, towering research institutes, vast open grounds, serene parks, and entire cities flourished. This was the pulse of Astraeus—a fusion of academia and daily life, where scholars, warriors, and innovators coexisted.
Encircling the Central Domain, countless Peaks rose across the lunar expanse, each dedicated to a specific discipline.
Celestus Peaks forged warriors through gravity-enhanced training fields, tempering bodies into living weapons.
Noctis Peaks housed vast, ancient libraries and forbidden knowledge, their halls whispering with secrets lost to time.
Astralis Peaks stood as the pinnacle of innovation, where warships, sentient weapons, and technological wonders were born.
Beneath the Academy, the Subterranean Sectors concealed the Abyssal Halls, where beings too dangerous to exist were imprisoned. Deeper still, the Vault of Eras safeguarded relics that defied history itself.
Despite its vastness, travel within the Academy was seamless. Aether Gates connected peaks and cities, providing instant teleportation. Above, Skyships powered by mana cores glided through the void, while below, Mana Trams sped across energy rails, threading through the Academy's vast districts.
Interaction thrived in the Virtual Nexus Halls, a digital frontier inside the Virtual Realm, where students dueled, debated, and attended lectures through astral projections.
Elite students commanded Personal Constructs—sentient AI familiars assisting in studies, combat, and strategy.
Rivalries between peaks ignited grand tournaments, while hidden societies forged alliances that shaped the Academy's power struggles.
Here, knowledge was power, strength dictated survival, and only the exceptional carved their names into legend.
Yet, the carnage NOX had unleashed upon the Academy's open grounds remained unspoken—not due to delays in information channels, but because those who had witnessed the massacre were still paralyzed by fear. Professors and students alike, despite recording the events, found themselves unable to process the weight of the terror they had seen.
Far from the Dean's chamber, where NOX and Tirius waged war against the old man, a park stretched across the Central Domain, isolated from the bloodstained grounds.
Towering trees stood in measured intervals, their canopies offering shade beneath the artificial sunlight. Students moved through the tranquil expanse, some alone, others accompanied by friends or lovers, indulging in the fleeting illusion of peace.
Beneath one such tree, Lucas reclined against the bark, his eyes closed—not in sleep, but in contemplation. His thoughts spun through the endless calculations of his plans, each scenario unfolding in his mind with meticulous precision.
More than anything, he waited.
Darian, his guardian, had been sent ahead to intercept the incoming reinforcements before they could reach Astraeus Academy.
In the past timeline, when these fleets had arrived, it had taken both Tirius and Darian working together to halt their advance. With no viable options left, the reinforcements had been forced to negotiate a temporary truce.
Admiral Valen, as the rumors claimed, was both honorable and pragmatic. He had chosen to withdraw for the sake of his subordinates, unwilling to sacrifice lives needlessly. Though he could match Tirius in battle, Darian's presence had made the difference, forcing him to back down.
But this timeline was different.
Lucas had ensured that Darian intercepted the fleets before they reached the Academy, knowing that NOX's existence alone had altered fate.
Lucas understood NOX better than anyone. They had been rivals—brothers in all but blood—for over a billion years. An unfathomable stretch of time for anyone.
If NOX had reversed the timeline, then he, too, knew the future. And Lucas knew NOX's unrelenting hatred toward the Dharma Soldiers and the Society. This time, there would be no survivors.
Lucas didn't know what methods NOX would employ, but he was certain of one thing—by the end of the day, the Dharma Soldiers would fall.
And that was a problem.
The Dharma Soldiers valued their bonds above all else. If they arrived to find their brothers and sisters slaughtered, reason would no longer matter. They would not negotiate. They would not retreat. They would fight to the death, seeking vengeance against NOX and Tirius.
Not even Darian's presence would be enough to stop them.
In the previous timeline, they had agreed to a truce only because NOX's father had been a Council Lord—a figure they deeply respected. Despite viewing NOX as a devil, they had acknowledged his father's restraint, knowing he had the power to crush them but had chosen diplomacy instead.
But this time, there would be no such compromise.
Lucas needed to prevent the reinforcements from ever reaching the Academy. NOX and he were still mortals, and if a war broke out here, they would become liabilities to their guardians. A risk he couldn't afford.
Still, he had no concern for Darian's safety. His uncle was a monster in his own right, no less fearsome than Tirius. With the Empyrean Clan's ancient techniques behind him, Darian's cultivation was deeper than any other in his realm. Against mere fleets, he would stand alone and still emerge victorious.
As Lucas pondered these thoughts, the space around him wavered briefly before settling into silence.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, though he remained still, eyes closed.
"Uncle, you arrived so soon." His voice carried an unmistakable hint of amusement. "Don't tell me… they beat you so badly that you ran away?"
Darian came to a halt, his towering form casting a long shadow over his nephew. The afternoon sun burned high in the sky, but Lucas remained undisturbed beneath the shade of a tree, lounging as if today were no different from any other.
Darian frowned. He couldn't comprehend his nephew's eerie composure. The looming war was not a mere skirmish—it was a battle that could lead to their clan's annihilation. Lucas had said so himself. And yet, rather than preparing for the storm ahead, he sat there as though war was a tired, familiar tune.
Darian exhaled slowly, his voice measured. "Did you know this would happen?"
Lucas finally looked up. "Of course I did. That's why I sent you to stop them." His tone was calm, deliberate. But there was something more beneath the surface—something only a select few would understand. A billion years was a long time. Long enough to strip away urgency, to erode the natural responses of a man until all that remained was an indifferent stillness.
And no—he was not one of those Dragon Country protagonists suffering from 'Indifferent Prodigy Syndrome.'
Darian's frown deepened. The sharp glint in his eyes did not fade. "No, I'm asking—did you already know they would die before they reached here?" His voice dropped, heavy with meaning.
The weight of the day pressed down on him. This was not just an attack. This was the prelude to something far greater, and he needed to understand what pieces were already in play. Though he did not fear the Society itself, he feared for his people. If he had followed Lucas's orders and stopped the fleets, their clan would now be branded as traitors, dragged into a war against the world.
He couldn't afford mistakes. He couldn't afford Lucas's indifference.
Lucas's eyes slid open fully now, narrowing as they locked onto Darian. "They died before reaching here?" His question was more than an inquiry—it was an admission of uncertainty, directed both at his uncle and at himself.
Darian studied him closely. Lucas had predicted the Society would send three Rank 9 Awakened to seize the Ashborn heir—and they had. He had foreseen the arrival of the fleets—and they had come.
But this? The deaths of the soldiers?
This, even Lucas had not foreseen.
Lucas stirred beneath the tree, rousing from his thoughts. After a brief moment of contemplation, he looked at Darian and asked, "Uncle… can you show me what you saw?"
Darian gave a silent nod and extended his hand. Golden tendrils of energy coalesced in his palm, forming an illusory mirror woven from Aether of the Light attribute.
This was a simple technique, one that most Rank 9 Awakeners could perform. By externalizing their memories, they could project them into the world, but such an ability was only possible for those who had constructed a Mental Realm within their consciousness.
After all, in the Mental Realm, information about oneself was stored like digital plankton—an intricate network of experiences imprinted upon the mind. And through the guidance of [Dharma Intent], one could use their energy to manifest these memories into reality.
The memory played across the illusory mirror like a moving picture. Darian's recollection of the fleets unfolded before them, and Lucas watched in silence, scrutinizing every minute detail with careful precision.
He replayed it once. Then twice. Then a third time.
And yet, there was nothing.
Nothing but the eerie silence within the fleets.
Lucas was no fool. Just like Darian, he knew the soldiers inside were dead. He had no doubt about it.
A sharp breath escaped him as realization struck.
This was NOX's doing.
He didn't know how NOX had done it, nor when. But he knew—with absolute certainty—that NOX had slaughtered them all. Because aside from himself, NOX was the only one capable of altering the known future.
And that meant NOX had already foreseen this outcome.
Lucas exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. He needed to meet NOX soon—to understand what the hell he was doing, what had driven him to so brazenly wipe out an entire fleet. If NOX had no reasonable explanation for this, Lucas would beat some sense into him.
And yet… he knew NOX.
He knew that, despite his recklessness, NOX would never risk his own family's safety out of mere hatred.
Darian, still watching Lucas, waited for his response. His gaze was steady, but beneath it was a storm of emotions—concern, frustration, and an unease that gnawed at him.
Lucas finally spoke. "Uncle, you don't need to worry about this. The Society won't go to war immediately over the deaths of a few soldiers." His tone was reassuring, but Darian was not so easily convinced.
For a long moment, Darian simply held Lucas's gaze, searching for certainty in his words. He found none.
His lips parted, as if to argue, but then he stopped himself. With a deep sigh, he swallowed his words and withdrew. Without another sound, he faded into Lucas's shadow, retreating to his own thoughts.
Lucas understood his uncle's worry. He felt it too. But he had no words of comfort to offer. Because unlike NOX—who had his Divinity and the System to assist him—Lucas had nothing to rely on.
Nothing but his family.
Nothing but his past memories.
And if the Society chose to strike back, there was no doubt in his mind—they would not spare his clan either. Whether out of greed or the desire to eliminate a potential threat, the Society would seize the opportunity to crush the Celestial Heaven Clan.
After all, their ties to NOX's Dark Heaven Clan ran too deep.
And the Society would never leave an enemy standing.