The journey back from Izerra left Thalen with more silence than answers. The raven never returned, and the words of the First Tyrant echoed louder the farther he walked from the mountain.
"When you face that test, it won't ask for strength. It will ask for purpose."
He had thought his purpose was clear: become stronger, protect those who could not protect themselves, surpass his limits. But now, it felt like a shadow of something deeper something still hidden.
The Bastion rose in the distance, dark and steady. But as he neared the gates, a ripple moved through the air.
A new aura. Sharp. Wild. Familiar.
The Arrival
The moment Thalen stepped into the outer hall, a cheer erupted from the southern court.
He followed the noise.
Dozens of trainees gathered around the dueling arena. At its center stood a young woman in a black cloak, sword slung lazily across her shoulders, boots planted in a stance that dared challenge.
Thalen's eyes widened.
No… it couldn't be.
"Is that her?" whispered a voice nearby. "The Crimson Gale?"
"An SSS Hero," someone else breathed.
It was her.
Elya Varin. The tenth-ranked member of the SSS Heroes. Youngest to ever pass the Tyrant Spirit Exam. Known for her Windcall Aura and a combat style so fast it left afterimages.
And she was smiling right at him.
Echoes of the Past
Elya approached him as the crowd parted.
"You look taller, Thalen."
He blinked. "You remember me?"
"We trained together," she said. "Three years ago. You had terrible footwork and tried to cut boulders with a rusted sword."
He flushed. "I remember your arrogance."
"And yet, here you are. Summoned by the Tyrant himself."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the teasing tone dropping. "What did he say to you?"
"That I'm not ready."
She smiled again, but this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. "He said the same to me. The day before I passed the exam."
Test of Flame and Wind
Word spread fast. An SSS Hero visiting the Bastion was rare. That she had requested a friendly duel with Thalen turned it into a spectacle.
Ragan approved it but only under controlled terms.
Arena 4 was cleared. Energy barriers hummed. Spectators filled the viewing platforms.
Thalen stood across from Elya, blade in hand.
"You're not ready," she said, echoing the Tyrant's words. "But that doesn't mean you can't surprise me."
A flick of her hand and she vanished.
Windcall.
Thalen spun, blocked just in time as her sword clashed with his, faster than he could track.
She darted away. Appeared again this time from above.
He didn't try to dodge.
He let his Ember aura flare.
The blast knocked her back, heat curling around him like armor.
"You are faster," she admitted, circling. "And your aura control is tighter than I expected."
"Don't go easy on me."
She didn't.
They clashed again and again, blades ringing, flame against gale. Ember sparks hissed through the air, and wind howled with each strike.
Then, just as fast as it began, she stepped back and lowered her sword.
"Enough."
Ragan raised his hand, signaling the duel's end.
An Offer and a Warning
Later, they sat near the forge, drinking chilled ginger water from stone cups.
"You're reckless," Elya said.
"You held back."
"I didn't want to hurt your pride."
He laughed. "You did anyway."
A moment passed between them.
"I'm not here just to test you," she finally said. "I'm here to train you."
His eyes widened. "You?"
She nodded. "You've been marked. Whether you like it or not, the path to the Tyrant Spirit is opening. And the world is watching."
"I don't want to be a Tyrant," Thalen muttered.
"You don't get to choose."
She stood.
"One last thing," she added. "There's a rumor going around. That the Council may reopen the Eastern Wall."
Thalen stiffened. "That hasn't happened since the Black Siege."
"Exactly," she said. "And if they do, we'll need every potential Tyrant we can find."
Then she was gone, wind trailing behind her.
Unfolding
That night, Thalen sat outside the Bastion forge, blade across his lap. The Ember aura pulsed faintly, warmer, steadier now. The duel had pushed him further than he expected.
And Elya's arrival meant only one thing:
Time was running out.
The exams would begin soon.
And the world was shifting.
In the darkened sky, a sliver of red moon rose.
Not a good omen.
A sign of change.