[Location: Verm Evocaier Academy, Grand Hall]
They made their way to the Command Spire and into the Grand Hall, where Luna and Alma paused just inside the entrance. The hall stood as a testament to majesty, with walls adorned in glowing runes that pulsed with ancient energy. The towering ceiling gave the impression that time itself was trapped within the room. Despite its grandeur, a tense energy filled every corner as the holographic projections of four Grandmasters appeared.
At the head of the table sat Grandmaster Lysander, his presence calm yet commanding. His silvery-white hair cascaded to his shoulders, contrasting sharply with his pale, weathered skin. His eyes scanned the room with quiet calculation, his armor adorned with silver accents that shimmered faintly with a soft golden light.
Beside him stood Grandmaster Ragnar, a tall, imposing figure with wild white hair and sharp silver eyes that radiated suspicion.
On the opposite side, Grandmaster Amisha stood partially obscured by shifting shadows, her presence unsettling in its quiet menace.
Finally, there was Grandmaster Mina, her burgundy hair falling to her shoulders, exuding an aura of quiet strength and crystalline resonance.
When Grandmaster Mina’s projection flickered to life, Drifter’s gaze locked onto her. There was something in her presence—a familiarity that stirred emotions he had long buried.
He spoke in a low voice, though the tension in his words was palpable.
"So... she’s a Grandmaster now."
His expression darkened briefly as he struggled to suppress his emotions, standing stiff and tense as his thoughts raced.
Grandmaster Lysander broke the silence, his voice calm but laden with authority.
"You’ve returned, Friedrich. Report."
Friedrich Rosenthal stepped forward, his tall frame unwavering though his voice carried a faint tremor that betrayed the concern beneath his composed demeanor.
"Grandmaster, we found no new Abyssal Breaches... but what we did find may be far more significant."
He stepped aside slightly, gesturing toward Drifter.
"He claims... to have crossed time, from the past."
Friedrich continued, his voice steady but carrying the weight of his words.
"He claims to be one of us, from the era of the First Grandmaster. He says he fought in the operation to reclaim Paxluma."
Grandmaster Ragnar voiced his doubt with a sharp, challenging tone.
"From the past, you say? What proof do you have for this... impossible claim?"
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All eyes turned to Drifter, their gazes heavy with expectation. He stood in silence for a moment before slowly reaching into his pouch, drawing out an old, bulky Lumina Core and a black cube.
“The Lumina Core… it’s indeed an old model, but that…” Grandmaster Amisha’s voice trembled with discomfort as her gaze shifted uneasily to the Black Cube.
Her words faltered, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve never seen that relic before. Does anyone here… know what it is?”
But the room remained silent, the weight of unspoken questions pressing down on everyone present.
At last, Grandmaster Lysander broke the silence, his voice calm yet charged with purpose. “Drifter, tell us your story.”
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Drifter took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Grandmaster."
"I was there, fighting the Cataclysmaris. One of them dropped this," he said, his voice steady and resolute.
He gestured toward the Black Cube, his fingers brushing its surface with a strange reverence.
"I picked it up, and in an instant... I fell into darkness. When I woke up, everything was... different."
His voice lowered as he spoke, memories of that moment flooding back vividly. The sensation of falling through endless darkness, losing all sense of time and space.
"Whatever this is, I believe it’s connected. I can feel it. Maybe it ties to the Abyssal Breaches... and the Cataclysmaris."
Grandmaster Ragnar spoke, his voice skeptical but tinged with something else—an undercurrent of unease.
"An outrageous claim. This is the first I’ve heard of someone crossing time. There hasn’t been magic like that since the ancient era. If this Cube is truly ancient, we would have known about it by now."
He turned to the other Grandmasters, seeking validation.
Grandmaster Lysander shook his head slightly in response.
"No, Ragnar. But that doesn’t rule out the possibility. There may still be things beyond our understanding."
The heavy silence lingered as each Grandmaster weighed the implications of what had been revealed.
Then, Grandmaster Mina stepped forward slightly, her gaze sharp and calculating. Her voice was calm, though an undercurrent of curiosity—or perhaps anxiety—colored her tone.
"Let him continue his story."
Drifter hesitated briefly, the image of the mysterious storm-clad figure vividly etched in his mind, clawing at the edges of his consciousness.
"Before I arrived here... there was something," he began, his brow furrowing as he pushed forward, discomfort evident in his voice.
"A figure."
He paused, then continued, his tone heavy with unease.
"It wore lightning like armor—alive, like a storm given form. Its movements were precise, almost perfect. Every step seemed to twist the air around it, and the way it fought... it didn’t feel like it belonged to this world."
He stopped again, his hand unconsciously brushing the Black Cube, seeking comfort.
"It wielded two blades, brimming with energy that transformed anything they touched. Even its shields weren’t mere defenses—they moved as extensions of its will, almost as if it could see every strike before it came."
He exhaled slowly, the weight of the memory pressing down on him.
"But it didn’t come for us—it came for this."
His voice dropped to a whisper, his gaze fixed on the Black Cube. His words lingered in the air, a warning impossible to ignore.
The room was steeped in tension. Grandmaster Lysander’s calm demeanor remained unshaken, though the lines on his face deepened.
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"Do you know what happened to the First Grandmaster before you came here?" Grandmaster Mina''s voice was sharp and urgent.
Drifter hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly.
"I’m sorry... I didn’t know," he replied softly.
Grandmaster Ragnar’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and filled with disbelief.
"What makes you so sure that thing hasn’t already taken control of you?"
"An object like that... it must be cursed."
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Drifter met Ragnar’s gaze without flinching, his voice calm despite the turmoil churning within.
"If that were true, Grandmaster... wouldn’t you have already felt it?"Stolen story; please report.
"I’m still standing here, in control. That alone should tell you enough."
"Please... let me lead a team to Paxluma. We need to know what’s happening there."
The Grandmasters exchanged uneasy glances.
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Grandmaster Lysander’s deep voice resonated through the room.
"We’ve tried, Drifter. Teams were sent to Paxluma after the operation... none of them came back."
He paused, the weight of his words hanging heavily as the room seemed to hold its breath.
"The Abyssal Breach there—it’s still active. A doorway to... something beyond our comprehension."
Grandmaster Mina’s expression softened, her sharp demeanor replaced by a flicker of sorrow.
"We sent our best. Every single one... lost. Too many have died seeking the truth. We can’t afford to lose more," she said, her voice taut with restrained emotion.
Drifter stepped forward, his resolve unwavering.
"Then let me go. Alone," he said firmly. "I know the risks. If this Cube truly is the key to sealing the final Abyssal Breach, then my life is insignificant compared to saving all of Vesteria."
Grandmaster Ragnar folded his arms, his expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Grandmaster Mina’s gaze turned distant, lost in thought.
It was Grandmaster Amisha who finally spoke, her voice calm and measured.
"He’s made up his mind," she said. "Perhaps granting his request isn’t entirely reckless. We might uncover something—something we’ve missed."
Drifter’s shoulders straightened slightly, a flicker of relief crossing his face.
But Grandmaster Lysander’s voice sliced through the moment, sharp and decisive.
"Too risky, Amisha. He’s one of us, even if he’s from the past."
"Sending him to Paxluma would be sending him to his death. I cannot condone it. We should study the Cube first, uncover its purpose—and destroy it if it’s cursed."
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Grandmaster Mina nodded and said, "The Cube should remain under strict guard here at the academy. Our best artifact researchers can focus on unraveling its secrets." She turned to Amisha. "Send Chimia and her team to investigate ruins worldwide and gather clues. Their expertise in tracking artifacts is unmatched."
Grandmaster Amisha responded with a slight nod. "That works for me. Chimia will get results."
Grandmaster Ragnar interrupted once again, his tone sharp and decisive, his suspicion dripping from every word.
“I object to this. There’s one thing I know for sure—destroy the Cube now! That thing will bring doom to us all.”
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Grandmaster Mina’s eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Do you truly believe an artifact of this nature can simply be destroyed, Ragnar?"
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"Let him prove he hasn’t already been corrupted—destroy the Cube, Drifter, or I will destroy you!" Ragnar said, rising from his chair, arms crossed and gaze unwavering.
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Drifter stood firm, his expression hardening as his body tensed. The challenge struck sharp and direct, like a blow to his chest. His hand tightened around the Black Cube, his grip unyielding.
Beside him, Friedrich’s eyes widened as he watched Drifter, then he let out a deep sigh.
"Ragnar, that’s going too far. He’s just returned from a nightmare none of us can even begin to comprehend," Grandmaster Amisha interjected, her tone firm.
"Amisha is right," Lysander added. "Let him rest, Ragnar. We’ll discuss this again later."
Before Ragnar could respond, Drifter’s voice cut through, resolute and unwavering.
"No, Grandmaster. I’ll prove it now."
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In one swift motion, Drifter materialized Exaltare. Without hesitation, he slashed at the Black Cube. The sound of the strike echoed through the room, sharp and resonant, but the Cube remained completely unscathed.
Drifter stood unmoving, his gaze fixed on the Cube, his grip steady.
"Again!"
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Ragnar sighed, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. "There’s no other choice. We’ll proceed with this plan."
Grandmaster Lysander’s voice cut through the tension, firm and authoritative.
"Then it is decided. The Cube will remain at the academy under heavy guard. Drifter, you will stay here. Friedrich, ensure the artifact’s security."
Drifter nodded, his voice barely a whisper amidst the deepening quiet.
"Understood, Grandmaster."
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Friedrich’s response was swift and resolute.
"It will be done."
The room fell silent once more as the glowing Evocyte projections of the Grandmasters began to fade, their figures dissolving into shimmering light. Drifter stood motionless, the Black Cube pulsating faintly in his hands, its presence heavy in the air.
[Location: Grandmasters'' Chamber – Varde Sky Fortress - Verudia Region, Headquarters of the Evocaier Order]
Perched high above the clouds of Verudia, the Varde Sky Fortress floated majestically. The colossal structure towered amidst the heavens, its golden domes reflecting the sunlight in a brilliant display. Suspended bridges connected circular platforms in an intricate web of breathtaking architecture. Interspersed throughout were lush green gardens, dotted like jewels upon a sprawling carpet of clouds, lending life to the fortress’s imposing form.
At the heart of the fortress stood the Grandmasters'' Chamber. The constant hum of countless skyships passing by outside seeped through the thick walls.
Inside, Grandmaster Lysander sat at his seat, his shoulders slightly slouched. His long fingers absently fiddled with the Lumina Core on his wrist.
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Before him, the air shimmered, and a projection materialized—Luna Sabriel. Her image was crisp, her voice firm.
"You’ve spoken to him? This is about the Cube, isn’t it?"
Lysander’s voice came low, almost a whisper.
"Tell me, Luna. Is it the same Cube as before?"
Luna’s expression tightened, her words deliberate.
"I’m not sure. Its appearance has changed, but..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "He can hear the whispers. And only him."
Lysander’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in his expression.
"But when I spoke to him... he seemed ordinary. Are you certain?"
Luna inhaled deeply, a shadow crossing her face.
"It always starts small. Whispers that feel like your own thoughts. Until one day, you realize..."
The room sank into a heavy silence. The weight of Luna’s implication pressed on Lysander’s chest.
"So... Drifter isn’t even aware yet," he said grimly.
"Not yet," Luna replied.
Lysander straightened in his seat, his expression turning resolute.
"We’ll investigate the Cube. I’m counting on you. Chimia has already been dispatched to search the ruins for any clues that might connect to it."
He paused, his gaze locking onto Luna’s.
"Luna... watch him. If the whispers grow stronger, you must stop him. Before it’s too late."
Her response was cold, unyielding.
"If it comes to that, Grandmaster, there will be no other choice."
As Luna’s projection faded, Lysander leaned back in his chair and let out a long, weary sigh.
[Location: Grand Hall – Verm Evocaier Academy, Late Afternoon]
Friedrich’s voice rang out, calm yet commanding, each word carrying a weight that could not be ignored.
"Go ahead. Luna is waiting outside. She’ll show you to your quarters."
Drifter nodded, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to him like a shroud.
"Understood. Thank you." His voice was quiet, nearly swallowed by the vast stillness of the Grand Hall.
As he stepped outside. Luna Sabriel stood waiting, her back straight, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Luna turned to face him, her movement fluid but commanding. She extended two items that glimmered softly in the evening light.
"Here," she said coolly, her voice sharp as an icy wind.
"Your new Lumina Core... and your identification card."
Drifter stared at the items warily, as though they were riddles he couldn’t yet solve. The Lumina Core in his hand felt small and light. Its surface was smooth and nearly slick. A holographic interface lit up at his touch, numbers and symbols spinning too quickly for him to comprehend.
The other item, the Vytros Seal. The crystal card reflected the evening’s light, projecting a spinning hologram of his own face.
"Your Lumina Core is synced with your identification," Luna explained, breaking his thoughts.
"Keep the card as a backup."
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Drifter nodded slowly.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He avoided her gaze.
Luna’s eyes remained fixed on him, her tone cold and resolute.
"The Grandmasters have ordered the Black Cube to be investigated. Hand it over to me."
The Cube in his hand pulsed strongly, almost defiantly, as if rejecting the thought of separation. Its energy surged through him, warm and alive, like a part of himself. But orders were orders. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and let the Cube pass into Luna’s hands.
As soon as it left him, an emptiness engulfed him, as though a piece of his soul had been ripped away. The whispers vanished, replaced by a silence too stark to endure. The world felt colder, quieter. He tried to draw a breath, but the air felt thinner, less real.
Luna examined the Cube carefully, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Why... isn’t it glowing anymore?"
Drifter froze, his heart pounding. The Cube, once brimming with energy, now sat inert, a lifeless object devoid of the vibrant pulses it once radiated.
"What does this mean?" Drifter’s voice trembled with confusion as his hand reached out instinctively.
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Luna scrutinized the Cube for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
"Perhaps... it only responds to you," she said softly, her tone firm and measured.
Drifter hesitated, the words lingering in his mind.
"Responds to me?... Why is that?" he wondered.
After a pause, he spoke quietly. "So... what should I do now?"
Luna’s gaze didn’t waver as she replied.
"For now, you are free to explore the academy. This is your home now—learn, train, and find your place here."
Her tone grew more resolute.
"But you won’t return to Paxluma. Not without the Grandmasters’ permission. It’s too dangerous. Too many have died there already."
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"Understood," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation.
Without another word, Luna turned sharply and began walking toward the Residential Complex. Drifter followed silently, his steps heavy, his mind burdened with questions. Was this his home now? Or merely a prison he didn’t yet comprehend?
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When they arrived, Luna activated the lights, revealing a modern room with a dark gray palette. The space was well-furnished, featuring a black sofa in the living room and two floors connected by a simple staircase.
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Strange devices surrounded him—Magisterial Consoles, holographic screens, and other advanced technology displaying symbols and scripts in patterns he couldn’t decipher.
Luna turned to him, her voice cold but tinged with a faint hint of understanding.
"If you have trouble figuring anything out, contact me or Friedrich. Any questions?"
Drifter shook his head slowly.
"No. Thank you, Luna."
She nodded and walked out with measured steps, leaving the room. The door closed behind her, leaving Drifter alone in the spacious, unfamiliar quarters.
He stood there for a long time, unsure where to begin.