On Friday morning, within Training Ground A-7.
The Training Ground resembled a gymnasium but much more grand, with everything within sight radiating sturdiness and endurance.
The vast training ground was immaculate, silent but for the soft shuffle of feet. The students of Coeron Arbora formed seven long, precise lines, stretching across the expanse. Their formation was flawless—a testament to the years of discipline ingrained by the academy.
They numbered close to a hundred.
Every student wore the dark-blue, tailored uniform of Coeron Arbora, crisp and unblemished. Etched at the chest of each was the academy's insignia: a circular heraldic crest with a single vertical tree at its center. The emblem was simple yet proud, a symbol of endurance, growth, and roots deep enough to pierce even the world's harshest layers.
"Connor might really not make it…" Alex muttered, voice low, leaning slightly toward Ellie, who stood just ahead. "Blooming is the step that makes one a real Integrator. It's… brutal. Few ever get through it."
Ellie said nothing, her posture straight, eyes fixed forward, as if she were already bracing herself.
"Oh—he made it," Alex added suddenly, relief seeping into his tone before Ellie could even reply. A faint smile that disappeared the next second played on Ellie's lips.
At the front of the formation stood the academy's principal, Sir Anderson—the Galeblade—whose very presence radiated authority. Beside him was the trainer from the capital, Senior Kaelon Malven, better known as the Hourglass.
Malven's speech flowed with an eerie casualness, each word carrying weight despite his carefree tone. The atmosphere shifted suddenly as the massive alloy reinforced doors at the edge of the hall slammed open.
Connor stumbled through.
All eyes snapped toward him. Some students scowled at the disruption; others smirked. The nobility from distant cities and the capital showed their displeasure most clearly, faces tight with annoyance.
"Idiot," Ellie muttered, flat and hushed, her voice slicing through the murmurs.
Malven's sharp gaze caught Connor immediately. "A new bloomer," he said softly, approaching him. "Have you been suppressing your breakthrough… or hastening it?"
Connor opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Malven conjured a charm from thin air.
He pressed it lightly against Connor's forehead.
Silence fell.
The seconds stretched, heavy as iron.
"You don't need to answer," Malven said, removing the charm. "Go join the others."
He remained effortlessly composed, as if scanning Connor's memories had been mere routine. Connor hurried into line, the weight of attention pressing on him.
_So he's hiding here in Coeron as a charm vendor… clever,_ Malven thought, a faint, calculating smile tugging at his lips. He returned to the front and resumed his speech, each word deliberate.
"I will repeat myself," he began, voice calm but sharp as steel. "Your journey is far from random. This is not mere training."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the students. The room seemed to shrink under his scrutiny.
"This is a mission personally assigned by His Majesty himself. Your talents are being tested. Your potential scrutinized. That is the expectation placed upon Coeron Arbora."
He stepped forward slightly, hands loose but deliberate, the air thickening around him.
"The resources you will receive… your future… it depends entirely on your success."
"Kill—or be killed."
A hush fell. The students stiffened. Malven's voice dropped lower, each syllable precise.
"Those eras you are about to enter are chaotic beyond imagination. Monsters hunt in packs, humans hunt for relics. New-rank relics are exceedingly rare—do not hesitate to defend what is rightfully yours."
"Those without relics," he said, eyes piercing the nearest students, "this is your opportunity. Take it by defeating chaos-perpetrators of that time."
"To be succinct," Malven said, his tone now almost a growl, "your mission is to eliminate the Chaotic Overload—Malvoryx, the First Ruin."
"Survive. Destroy him. Wipe out his army... Beware of his generals.
"And do not concern yourselves with the future," he added lightly, though the room felt anything but light. "You're all too irrelevant to change it."
He clasped his hands together. Focus sharpened his features like a blade.
Then the impossible happened: a massive hourglass, pulsating with energy, materialized in the air before him.
Its presence was crushing.
A mountain of invisible weight pressed down on every student. Groans and cries filled the hall as many fell to their knees, some trembling, some frozen mid-step.
Even Sir Anderson, a master of physical and mental fortitude, lowered his head slightly.
This was no ordinary relic. This was Rank Six; Demigod grade.
Chronos Tyrannis.
The source of Senior Kaelon Malven's infamous title.
"This… this is not something you see in your entire life…" a student groaned, voice strained under the mental weight. "I'm glad… I bloomed… just to witness it."
Connor's eyes widened behind Alex. Awe, fear, and a rising exhilaration warred in him as he clenched his fists and lowered his head to resist the crushing presence. Alex and Ellie mirrored him—every muscle taut, every breath measured.
Malven spread his arms wide. Concentration etched every line of his face—a rare, terrifying sight.
The pressure intensified.
Even Sir Anderson had to bow further, sweat beading on his brow.
Dong!
Dong!
Dong!
The sound shattered reality itself, reverberating like the bell of an enormous clocktower.
Above them, a massive white clock appeared. Its three hands spun violently counterclockwise, slicing through the air like spectral blades.
White light erupted from every student. Malven's own form glowed with equal intensity.
The radiance brightened… reached its peak…
—and in the next instant, the more than ninety students vanished, Malven included.
Only Sir Anderson remained, trembling in the ruined training hall.
"That *sshole!" Anderson roared, smashing a fist into a wall. The alloy wall shattered, and part of the structure collapsed.
"The students could have lost control under that pressure!" he bellowed, fists clenched so tightly the air warped around them.
The seal on Alex shook violently, nearly breaking free. Sir Anderson reinforced it with every ounce of his strength.
---
Far away, within a massive deep-orange mansion crowned with the Emberclaw symbol, Lord Emberclaw stood in a chamber draped in fiery red décor. His ancient, stylized robe trailed just below his knees.
"So it's happening," he murmured, his gaze fixed toward the distant grand academy, upheld by a towering, intimidating mountain.
From the highest window, he witnessed the flare of white light—
and heard the reverberating bell echo across the land.
---
In Coeron's crowded markets, the bell echoed. Citizens froze mid-step, some in terror, others in awe.
Old Man Bramble, messy-haired and keen-eyed, murmured, "The Hourglass… in Coeron?"
"Get a move on, old man!" shouted an elderly woman, shoving him with a fruit basket.
---
In a simple, ancient-looking flat, space rippled.
Alex materialized, glowing brightly. The light slowly dimmed until he stood before an empty, silent building. The building was silent, with no one from the academy in sight.
Before him stood dozens of monsters—and at the very center of the doorway hovered an evil core, radiating a sinister blue aura.
In an instant, every monster, including the guardian, snapped toward his position, hunger blazing unmistakably in their eyes!.