The arena was silent, save for the subtle whispers of wind that bled through the secluded coliseum high above the clouds.
It was no place for the weak, not in this cold.
Here, in the highest point of the Richinaria Palace, winter was strong. The snowstorm beyond the protective arena veil was the kind that froze wind itself, and altitude here starved even Divine lungs of breath. No one, not even immortals, dared step out in the winter weather. Everyone was inside the palace because of the cold.
But not four Divines. And Vastarael too.
He stood at the center of it all, bare to the bite of frost. His breathing was steady. His skin was glistened with sweat that should have frozen solid, and his dual-bladed glaive Calimostria danced with him like it had a soul of its own. Asenane, cloaked in fur, stood off to the side. She had seen countless performances and techniques as a Phantasm. But nothing felt like this.
At first, there was only music.
Natalis sat with poise by the edge of the arena, her fingers brushing softly across the strings of a harpx. The sound it made was amazing. And Denisia, her voice like lullabies sung by stars, sang not with lyrics, but with syllables. Her vocalizations curled like incense in the air, painting melody around Vastarael's form like a prayer in motion.
Then, he moved as he closed his hands.
At first, it was just his hands. His right hand gripped Calimostria, spinning it behind his back and across his shoulder blades in elegant arcs. The left traced delicate patterns in the snow, almost like inviting the frost to join him.
He stepped forward once and the entire floor shifted.
The arena was frozen over, slick with polished ice but not once did he slip. Every footfall was choreographed, as if he was stepping on invisible steps buried in the snow. He bent at the waist and leaned back. The glaive sliced through the wind without resistance.
And then, he used Viridescence.
Asenane recognized it instantly. It was the First Plenituse Technique. His movements began to mimic flowing water, mimicking the ebb and flow of ocean tides. Each pivot of his ankle pushed snow away in a spiral. Droplets of melting frost hovered in the air like suspended tears of winter. They moved with him. Vastarael spun, trailing sapphire arcs of light that echoed after each motion, forming delicate echoes of him mid-motion. Afterimages trailed behind him.
The glaive blades scraped the floor, forming a ring around him. He launched into a sideways flip.
He then used Calm Gale, The Second Plenituse Technique.
He was no longer just dancing. He was anticipating invisible opponents. His movements began to mirror potential trajectories, slicing into spaces where blades would have swung, dodging phantom spears and disarming illusions that never existed.
But it felt real. Asenane could feel it in the patterns of his spin, in the way he ducked, pivoted and rolled. He was fighting phantoms and winning. Every beat of Denisia's voice seemed to sync with his breathing and every string plucked by Natalis surged through his veins.
And then came the crescendo.
He arched his back and leapt into the air. He spun in midair. The water droplets around him suddenly froze, capturing the moment in a breathless sculpture of time.
For a single instant, Vastarael hovered without the use of his Mystic Circles. Asenane's breath hitched. She had seen Vastarael perform the Plenituse Technique before in the trials in the Obsidian Runic Spire. But this?
The snowflakes and frozen droplets that had once fallen with the elegance of winter's lullaby had now arranged themselves around him. They were now frozen and suspended in concentric rings, perfectly orbiting him like halos.
He opened his eyes.
Every single being within the Richinaria Palace felt it. For Asenane, however, it was worse. Time literally slowed down. The world became monochrome. Colors drained from the air like spilled paint fading into dusk. The only color that refused to vanish was the haunting blend of sapphire and gold burning in Vastarael's eyes.
He lifted a single foot and stepped on a droplet. It didn't ripple. It didn't even burst. It held. He was barefoot and in his hands now was not just Calimostria, his glaive, still floating beside him but also his white violex.
His fingers began to move the bow.
Even though Natalis played her harpx far below and Denisia continued her celestial vocalizations, it was Vastarael who led the harmony. Every suspended particle began to rotate, drawn into the pull of his performance. His glaive shifted beneath him and flattened like a floating stage. He sat cross-legged on it in midair.
Asenane stared in absolute stillness. Her golden eyes were wide with unspoken terror. Vastarael wasn't performing the Plenituse Technique anymore. He was reimagining and rewriting a technique that had already been born from oceanic divinity. He wasn't just modifying Calm Gale. He was breaking it into a new creation entirely.
The sky itself felt like it had paused to listen.
Even the sound of Denisia's voice and Natalis's strings were now second to Vastarael's vocals and playing. Their tones rose, fell, blended into a singularity of sound that couldn't be heard through ears alone. It had to be felt as if every note rearranged the beat of their hearts. Afterwards, he stopped. Natalis's fingers stopped. Denisia's breath faded. Silence reclaimed the world. And in that moment, time resumed.
Color came rushing back all at once. A powerful shockwave erupted. The entire Richinaria Palace groaned gently beneath the force. The droplets fell, as if released from heaven. Vastarael descended from midair and snow, mist, and frost began falling again in real time. His glaive vanished and so did his violex. And then he smiled.
Well, before he collapsed.
Asenane vanished from her seat before anyone else could even blink. In less than a heartbeat, she was beneath him, catching him softly in her arms before his body even touched the snow.
"Veneri…"
She whispered, brushing aside his sweat-damp hair. She pressed her hand gently against his cheek, tapping it lightly.
"Idiot. You're really gonna get the others worrying again."
His breathing was shallow. The technique had eaten through his stamina. This was extreme fatigue. Natalis and Denisia hurried forward, the snow crunching softly beneath their feet.
"He... he called us to do this," Natalis said breathlessly. "He told us to just play and sing. But what was that about?"
Denisia's hands were still trembling. Her voice, for once, cracked.
"We were just supposed to accompany him. That's all. He didn't even give us sheet music. He said he'd guide us as he played. What the hell did I just vocalize?"
Asenane looked between them and Vastarael, then down at his unconscious form again.
"Only Anamorsia could explain this," she muttered, holding him tighter. "She's the only one who'd understand what that was. She's his sister by blood. She'd know what this means."