Year XXXX
The scent of iron and smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the sharp, biting wind that swept across the military camp set near the edge of the northern highlands.
Rows of tents stretched far into the distance, each buzzing with urgent activity. The once-quiet wilderness now echoed with the pounding of boots, clanging of weapons, and the constant barking of orders.
The entire camp was alive — but not with celebration. With tension.
Within one of the central tents, Mikel, an adept mage of no small reputation, sat hunched over a narrow cot, carefully organizing his supplies.
He had always taken pride in his preparation—every spell crystal perfectly arranged, every scroll sealed tight with mana bindings, and even his backup potions organized in color-coded rows.
His space ring, a treasured artifact, was already half full with contingencies.
Despite the routine, a sense of unease gnawed at him.
He was supposed to be excited. After all, he was close to breaking through to the Master Mage Tier, something only a few could even dream of reaching in their lifetime.
And yet, his thoughts wandered—no, were haunted—by a name. A face.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to look down on the world from a different height.
Aaron.
The youngest archmage in the empire's history. The boy who became a legend before he turned twenty five.
The one who effortlessly surpassed everyone else in their generation, leaving even geniuses like Mikel choking in the dust of his footsteps.
It was Aaron's name that had become the bar by which all young mages were measured. And for Mikel… it had become the wall he couldn't break through.
He had long buried his envy under a mask of admiration. But the sting remained, especially when whispers of Aaron's exploits reached the training halls.
Destroying an entire corrupted forest single-handedly. Stopping a volcanic eruption. Fighting off invaders from the southern tribes alone.
"Why the hell did I have to be born in his generation…" Mikel muttered under his breath, stuffing a hardened mana core into a leather pouch.
Still, today was different. He and dozens of other adept mages had been grouped and summoned—personally. Something big was happening.
Just outside, the morning sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting long, golden shadows on the field. The sound of horns rang through the air.
"All adept units, report to Sector C for briefing!"
Mikel rose swiftly, his robes flaring as he strapped on his enchanted mantle. With one last glance at his tent, he stepped out.
The gathering spot was a circular clearing in the middle of the camp. Dozens of mages in varying robes stood at attention, murmuring among themselves.
Mikel could see faces he recognized—some fellow academy alumni, some famed war-mages from the border conflicts. The one common thread between them all: every single person here was strong.
Which only made the tension worse.
Moments later, their chief, a grizzled Master Mage with grey-streaked hair and a scar running down his left cheek, appeared on a floating platform above them. His mana aura was so intense that even without casting a spell, it pressed down like a mountain on the gathering below.
"Listen up!" he barked, voice carrying with magical amplification.
"You've all been summoned here because you're the best the Empire can currently muster in this region. Make no mistake — this is not a training exercise."
Murmurs began, only to be cut off by the sheer pressure of his gaze.
"You are to follow every command issued by your superiors without question. This operation is classified at the highest level, and you are not to discuss its details with anyone outside your assigned unit."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"And most importantly… don't die. That's an order."
Despite the grave tone, a few snorts escaped the crowd. But Mikel noticed that even those who chuckled were doing so nervously. Something was very, very off.
Then came the real shock.
With a thunderous gust of wind, several figures descended from the skies, floating effortlessly on glowing sigils of mana. The air shimmered around them with raw power.
At the center of the group, radiating calm and authority, was Aaron.
Even now, just standing there, his presence overshadowed everyone else. His golden armor was lined with ancient glyphs, his cloak fluttered unnaturally in the still air, and the mana in the area itself bent subtly toward him.
"Is that… Aaron?"
"Gods, he's even younger than I imagined."
"That's the Archmage? The Empire's 'Brightest Sun'?"
The whispers spread like wildfire. Even Mikel, for all his complex feelings, couldn't look away. Aaron's expression was cold. Focused. Determined.
And not just him—there were others. High-ranking mages from neighboring empires, recognized by their robes and insignias. Representatives from powerful mage clans.
Even a few Sky Knights, warriors who fought on flying beasts, had arrived. This was no small mission.
This was a coalition.
What were they going to face that warranted this?
Mikel's eyes narrowed as a horrifying thought crossed his mind. Don't tell me they're planning to face a flood dragon… or something even worse?
He shook his head. No—if that were the case, they wouldn't be using so many mages. Dragons had physical resistance and magic resistance. This was something else.
But what?
He clenched his fists. No one was talking about the enemy.
That night, Mikel sat back in his tent again, his heart still restless. The supply officers had handed them enchanted rations and spell enhancements usually reserved for high-level emergencies. He'd even seen a few forbidden spell scrolls being distributed under wraps.
A cold wind slipped in through the flap of his tent.
Somewhere out there, a battle was coming.
And for the first time, Mikel wasn't sure if all the power and preparation in the world would be enough.
The next morning, a cold wind whispered through the northern reaches of Eryndor, chilling even the most seasoned warriors.
Mikel pulled his cloak tighter as he trudged along the winding path, following the rest of the army as they approached the base of the treacherous mountain range known as the Blackspine Peaks.