Morning arrived quietly, but the training grounds of the Aether Academy never truly slept.
Kael Draven stood at the edge of the field long before the others arrived, his breath steady, his body already warm from hours of movement. His fists opened and closed as he stared at the wide stone board mounted near the arena gates.
The Star Board.
Names. Teams. Rankings.
Gold stars gleamed brightly beside elite squads—especially Team Valeris, Rion's team. Their line was almost overflowing, shining like a declaration carved in light.
And then there was Iron Resolve.
A long trail of black stars still clung to their name, like a shadow refusing to fade.
Kael didn't look away.
He never did.
"Still staring at that thing like it's going to apologize," a calm voice said behind him.
Kael turned slightly. Taren, the acting defense lead, leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable as always—half tired, half amused.
"It won't," Kael replied. "But we will."
Taren chuckled quietly. "You're really serious about erasing every single one."
"I am," Kael said, without hesitation. "Not just for me. For all of us."
Taren studied him for a moment longer, then nodded once. "Good. Because today's mission decides whether the board starts respecting us… or keeps laughing."
The rest of Iron Resolve gathered soon after.
Lyra Selendis arrived last, her noble posture still present, but far less rigid than before. Her Aether flickered faintly around her fingers—not wild, not unstable. Controlled.
Not perfect.
But improving.
She caught Kael looking and scoffed lightly. "What? Still expecting me to explode?"
"No," Kael said honestly. "I'm expecting you to do better than yesterday."
For some reason, that annoyed her more than an insult.
The others laughed.
It was a small thing—but it mattered.
The Mission
The mission briefing was simple, which meant it was dangerous.
A border village had gone silent. Scout teams reported distorted Aether signatures, unnatural and unstable—signs of followers of Malrik Noctis.
Not the man himself.
But his shadow.
Iron Resolve was assigned as support.
Support usually meant staying alive while others earned glory.
Kael clenched his jaw.
The village was already broken when they arrived.
Buildings scorched. Aether residue clung to the air like poison. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was waiting.
Then the ground trembled.
Figures emerged from the smoke—humans twisted by dark Aether, their movements jerky, eyes hollow but burning.
"Formation!" Taren snapped.
Iron Resolve moved.
Not perfectly.
But together.
Kael surged forward first—not with Aether, but with momentum. His body moved on instinct, years of training screaming through muscle and bone. He ducked under a corrupted blade, drove his shoulder forward, and smashed his fist into the enemy's chest.
The impact cracked bone.
The thing didn't fall.
Kael's eyes widened—
A flash of controlled light cut across the battlefield.
Lyra's Aether wrapped around the creature like chains, holding it still.
"Now!" she shouted.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He struck again.
This time, the enemy collapsed.
For a brief moment, the battlefield went quiet.
Iron Resolve stood breathing hard—dirty, wounded, but standing.
And then more enemies appeared.
Too many.
Taren raised his hand, preparing to order a retreat—
"No," Kael said.
Everyone froze.
Kael stepped forward, chest heaving, eyes burning—not with Aether, but with resolve so heavy it felt tangible.
"If we run," he said, voice steady, "those stars stay black."
Silence.
Then Lyra stepped beside him.
"So we don't run."
One by one, the team followed.
Taren stared at them… then smiled.
"All units," he said calmly. "Advance."
When it was over, the village still stood.
Barely.
Iron Resolve returned battered, exhausted—and victorious.
That night, the Star Board changed.
One black star faded.
Replaced by gold.
Kael stood beneath it, staring upward.
It wasn't victory.
But it was proof.
And somewhere far away, in the depths of twisted Aether…
Something noticed.
And smiled.