Above the clouds, where this story truly begins, floats an empire.
Empyrean.
It is a monument to an age of victory, a grand empire that floats, hovers, and glides on principles of power that defy mortal understanding. Its structures are carved from cloud-marble and living gold, radiating a scent of ancient glory and fine silks. The air is sharp and clean, so high above the world that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.
In the central square, "Dancing Trees" with leaves of silver and gold call for visitors, their branches swaying in a rhythm that has no wind. And in the very middle of that square stands an onyx statue, a perfect monolith of a man crossing his arms, a confident, knowing smirk carved onto his face.
It is a statue of a legend. A god. A father.
Under the dewy morning of a sun that was ever so beautiful, and under the reverent gaze of that very statue, three youths were kneeling.
The leftmost, his hair an iridescent blue, was Myda. His dark eyes were closed, his face a mask of placid acceptance.
The rightmost, his hair as black as the onyx statue, was Seleron. His dark eyes stared at the cobblestones, his jaw tight with frustration.
And the one in the center, his black-auburn hair tied back in a dramatic, rebellious ponytail, was Lexel.
'My knees are killing me,' Lexel thought, his internal voice a low grumble. He tried to shift his weight, but the polished cobblestone was unforgiving. It had been hours. "I don't get it. What did we get wrong?" he finally asked, his voice cracking the silence.
"You fucked up, that's what," Seleron hissed from his right, not even moving his head.
"All of us fucked up," Myda sighed from his left, his voice of reason as annoying as ever.
Lexel was about to retort—to argue that it was, technically, a calculated risk—when the figure in front of them moved.
She didn't move much. She just... tilted her sword, which was resting point-down on the stone.
The instant she did, an incredible, soul-crushing pressure accumulated in mere seconds. It was not a physical weight; it was a weight on their very existence.
"Ack!" Lexel gasped, his breath stolen from his lungs.
"Ugh!" Myda groaned, his placid mask breaking.
"Ngh!" Seleron grunted, his body trembling.
The three of them were slammed flat, unable to even raise their heads. Their goosebumps rose not from cold, but from pure, primal terror. Lexel tried to call upon his "Cultivation," the power in his blood, but it was frozen. His meridians were locked, his energy next to impossible to channel.
They were weakened in an instant, as if the power to unmake the world—an absolute power—had pinched them straight by their souls.
"Hm!" The figure hummed, a sound of pure disappointment.
"P-Please forgive us! Mother Selena!" Myda, the righteous one, was the first to crack.
"P-Please forgive us! Mother Selena!" Seleron, the pragmatic one, quickly followed.
Lexel gritted his teeth, his pride warring with his survival instinct. The pressure increased. "P-Please forgive us! Mother Selena!" he finally choked out, hating every word.
As quickly as it came, the pressure washed away. The trio gasped for air, the world rushing back to their senses.
"Your father might be forgiving," a cold, beautiful voice said. "I am not."
Mother Selena turned, looking up at the statue of her beloved. She was no longer shrouded in the oppressive mystery of her power. Her corset fit perfectly, emphasizing a frame that was both divine and deadly. Her black hair, free from any bond, waved beautifully like a black sea, knotted in a fantastical style that seemed to waterfall down her back.
Her gaze on the statue was the only soft thing about her. For a moment, her eyes glimmered at the sight of her husband's face, and in that glimmer, her flawless, fair skin seemed to glow.
Then, her boots—armored and severe—tapped on the stone as she turned back to them. The ice was back.
"Seleron," she said. The boy with black hair looked up.
"Myda." The boy with iridescent blue hair looked up.
"Lexel." The boy with the dark auburn ponytail met her gaze.
"You are grounded," her words came down like it was law.
She turned around, her cloak of dark energy and black hair sweeping behind her, and left the three youngsters alone in front of the statue.
For a full minute, there was only silence.
"Goddamnit," Lexel finally sighed, rolling his eyes as he climbed to his feet. His knees ached.
"This is nothing compared to the legends about her," Seleron said, rubbing his own knees with a wince.
"Of course," Myda sighed, his calm returning. "And the famous story of how our father got his nipples cut off. He told that story many, many times; sometimes I wonder if he just wants us to be afraid of Mother Selena."
"Either way, we are grounded," Seleron said, stretching his back. "It's best that we behave. Normally."
"That's boring," Lexel scoffed. "All because we fight each other and almost destroyed Grand Heaven. It was a competition, for fuck's sake! It's bound to happen."
"What are you talking about?" Seleron snapped, his pragmatism turning to anger. "We are not grounded because we destroyed Grand Heaven. Mother wouldn't even care about that. We are grounded because it was your idea, right after the match, to peek at the Valkyrie team's changing room!"
"Hey!" Lexel said, tapping Seleron's chest. "Don't put the blame on me. Myda was supposed to keep watch—and he has the 'all-seeing' alchemy eyes! And you were supposed to talk me out of it, not just stand there 'in case of trouble'!"
"It is in the past now," Myda said, stepping between them. He was, as always, the one with the righteous heart and face. "It is not like we can turn back time and undo the mistake."
"If we could turn back time, we wouldn't be grounded," Lexel smirked. "We'd just plan it better."
"You are avoiding the lesson here," Myda and Seleron sighed in perfect unison.
Lexel's smirk faded. He looked around the empty square. "But... what is our punishment? She just said 'grounded.' That's... easy."
"Me."
The voice didn't come from one place. It came from everywhere. It was deep, resonant, and felt like a mountain was speaking.
All three boys' eyes opened wide, their pupils shrinking in the blink of an eye. A shadow fell over them. Their goosebumps didn't even have time to rise before they realized they were no longer on the ground.
They were in the air, hailed into the sky by an unknown force.
Seleron, his instincts as a swordsman's son kicking in, managed to see an incoming fist from below. He swiftly turned his hips, rotating his body as his "Cultivation" flared. The assault—a blur of pure physical might—narrowly avoided him, the wind from it stinging his face.
The three of them hovered, spinning around to see the figure.
He was tall. Impossibly tall. His back was a wall of rippling muscle, and his long, ashen hair was held back by a simple golden sash. He was a half-giant.
He was Graham, one of the legendary Six Pillars of Empyrean. And, as the legends told, the first and strongest of their father's own disciples.
"Master... Graham..." Lexel gulped, his arrogance gone, replaced by pure dread. "You're... our punishment?"
"Disciplinary." Master Graham didn't smile. He simply slapped away his golden sash, his muscles flexing. He looked at the three of them, his eyes old and powerful, and taunted them with a simple "come on" gesture from his hand.
Lexel looked at his brothers. This wasn't a scolding. This was a beating.
"Might as well do it now than later," Myda sighed, but his dark eyes sharpened. The trees below danced in harmony. The wind around him calmed, the air becoming still, letting him hear his surroundings with perfect clarity.
Graham furrowed his brows. He saw it. A line of transparent, chaotic energy—a Ley-line of pure, raw potential—was swirling around Myda's body. It was an energy just like the boy's mother, the Lady of the Woods.
"Torga Art!" Myda shouted, the name of the art itself stunning Lexel and Seleron.
"T-Torga Art?!" Lexel exclaimed. He wasn't supposed to have mastered that!
Myda launched himself at Graham with the momentum of Heaven and Hell. His right fist commanded the creation of light and fire, a torrent of pure, "organic" Cultivation energy. His fist burned with reckoning. His knuckles, tightened to a rock, impacted hard against Graham's bare, unmoving chest.
The impact connected.
And... nothing.
The entire torrent of energy, the "momentum of Heaven and Hell," dissipated into Graham's skin without a sound.
Myda looked up, his arm still extended, his face a mask of disbelief. He saw Graham, the half-giant, simply nod at him, as if to say, "Good try, boy."
Myda pulled his hand back from Graham's chest. The impact had left an imprint... of faint red. Nothing more. It faded even as he watched.
Myda gritted his teeth, his ultimate attack rendered meaningless. He shouted in pure, adolescent frustration:
"FAAAK... faak... faak... faak...!" The echoes traveled through Empyrean's deepest corners.
"Hmm," Graham said, unimpressed.
The half-giant moved. He was a blur. He swiftly back-handed Myda behind the neck. A single, sharp THWACK echoed, and Myda's consciousness took a begrudging vacation. Graham simply let him fall.
"Tch!" Lexel and Seleron shouted in unison. Their rivalry was one thing, but this was teamwork. They swooped down together, their Cultivation flaring as one, to catch their falling brother.
This act, at least, put a small smile on Graham's face. Before he, too, swooped in.
"Got you!" shouted both Lexel and Seleron, their hands just about to grab Myda. But before they could even smile...
"Got you both as well," Graham's deep voice rumbled from above them.
Lexel's world turned upside down. A hand, the size of a helmet, pressed against his head. He saw another hand press against Seleron's. Graham had intercepted them both. He wasn't just fast; he was everywhere.
"OOOH SHIEEEEETTTT!!" Lexel shouted, as Graham, with both of them in his grip, continued his dive straight toward the ground.
The impact of the crash was deafening.
As the dust settled, Graham crossed his massive arms, looking down at the three boys, all lying unconscious in a small, smoking crater.
"Heh," Graham smirked, before turning to walk away. "His kids, all right."
Lexel's eyes, however, still caught a glimpse of reality. It was blurry. His head felt like it had been split in two. But he could hear another set of footsteps approaching.
This silhouette was different. It wasn't the mountain-like shadow of Graham. This one was familiar, walking with a stride of complete aloofness.
The onyx statue. The smirk.
"Dad."
Lexel's consciousness finally joined his two brothers.