The sky over Rosen City was no longer a dome of alpine blue, but a swirling bruise of smoke and emerald-tinted gas. The serene capital had become a symphony of screams, staccato gunfire, and the deep-throated crump of distant explosions. The Crown State's invasion wasn't a military campaign; it was a surgical strike of terror.
Then, as if to mock the chaos, a new phenomenon rippled across the sky. From six equidistant points on the horizon—the borders of Klemdorfstein's six outer regions—beams of shimmering, oppressive energy lanced upward, converging high above the central region. They met, then cascaded down, forming a seamless, humming dome of iridescent grey. It encased the entire heart of the country, including the burning capital. The Crown State hadn't just invaded; they had thrown a cage over their prize, cutting Rosen off from the world.
At the Rosen Royal Academy, the manicured lawns were now a tableau of panic. Teachers screamed orders, herding students toward the fortified Rosen-Heart Hall. The air, once smelling of cut grass and ambition, now reeked of ozone and fear.
Lina and Ulrich, still reeling from the broadcast, were shoved along by the tide of bodies. "This way! Quickly!" a history professor yelled, his voice cracking.
It was then that the invaders arrived on campus. They descended not from the sky, but through the main gate, a phalanx of ten soldiers in matte-black, angular armour. Their movements were eerily synchronized, their faces hidden behind featureless grey helmets. Emblazoned on their shoulders and backs was a stark, crimson symbol: Δ – Delta. They moved with a chilling, methodical purpose, cutting off the retreat to the hall.
The lead Delta officer, taller than the rest, his helmet adorned with a single red stripe, surveyed the fleeing students with detached interest. He raised a hand, and his squad leveled their rifles—not standard ballistic weapons, but sleek devices that glowed with a malevolent purple light at the barrels.
"Containment protocol," his voice issued, synthesized and cold through his helmet's vocoder. "Reduce collateral population. Leave no active witnesses."
"No!" a physics teacher, Brandt, stepped forward, arms spread. "They are children! This is a place of learning!"
The Delta officer didn't even turn his head. A flick of his wrist. A silent, violet pulse shot from a soldier's rifle. Brandt didn't scream; he simply dissolved in a cascade of shimmering particles, his glasses clattering to the ground alone.
Screams, raw and primal, tore through the air. The soldiers opened fire. Violet beams sliced through the crowd. Where they hit, they didn't leave blood, but a horrifying crystallization effect, freezing students and teachers in postures of agony before they shattered into ash.
Lina watched, paralyzed, as Klara Edelstein, her face a mask of defiant fury, tried to summon her A- rank mana. A green aura flickered around her hands, but a Delta rifleman targeted her. A beam grazed her shoulder, and her mana dispersed with a pained shriek as crystalline veins spiderwebbed across her skin.
Something snapped in Lina. A heat, different from her earlier uncontrolled surge, erupted in her chest—a white-hot rage. "STOP!" The word ripped from her throat, charged with a power that made the air vibrate. She stepped out from the crowd, putting herself between the Delta squad and a cluster of sobbing first-years.
Ulrich grabbed her arm. "Lina, don't! They'll kill you!"
She shook him off, her amethyst-tipped hair whipping around a face now set with a terrifying, regal fury. She was no longer just Lina; she was Princess Lina von Rosenlicht, heir to a throne under fire. "Why?!" she screamed at the lead officer, tears of rage cutting through the soot on her cheeks. "Why kill the innocent?! What glory is there in murdering children?!"
The Delta officer finally turned his helmet toward her. The blank faceplate seemed to drink in her defiance. A short, staticky burst came from his comms. He tilted his head, listening.
"Priority target identified," he stated flatly. "Princess Lina von Rosenlicht. Directive: capture alive for The Obscura Impact. All other hostiles in this quadrant: eliminate."
He raised his sidearm—a heavier, more ornate version of the rifles. It hummed with a deeper, darker energy. "You will come with us, Princess. Your resistance is noted, and will be punished."
He didn't aim at her. He aimed at the cowering boy directly behind her—a scholarship student named Lukas, who had defined mana so eloquently just hours before.
"Your first lesson in obedience," the officer said.
"NO!" Lina threw herself in front of Lukas, arms spread wide in a desperate, futile shield. "If you want me, take me! Leave them alone!"
A memory flashed in Ulrich's mind—not his own, but one that had haunted his adoptive mother, Alexia: "Real strength isn't in taking, Ulrich. It's in shielding." He saw Lina, small and furious, embodying that truth.
The officer's finger tightened on the trigger. "A demonstration, then."
Time seemed to slow. Ulrich saw the subtle shift in the man's posture, the microscopic glow building in the weapon's chamber. He wasn't thinking about natural energy, about technique. He was thinking about a flower garden, and a promise broken.
It won't happen again. Not like that day.
FLASHBACK: EIGHT YEARS AGO – THE SHENG-SHOU SHAOLIN TEMPLE; CHINA
The air in the Hunan mountains didn't just smell clean; it tasted of pine, incense, and latent power. The Sheng-Shou Temple wasn't merely a building; it was an extension of the mountain itself, its tiered roofs and red pagodas clinging to cliffsides, connected by rope bridges over misty gorges. The sound was a constant, rhythmic hum—the unison shouts of monks training, the clash of wooden staves, the deep chants that vibrated in the chest.
At the colossal front gate, a young family stood in awe. Wilhelm von Morgenfels, dashing in a travel-worn suit, held his wife Alexia's hand. In her arms was eight-year-old Ulrich, his white hair a stark contrast to his bright, curious eyes, taking in the majestic warriors performing impossible feats in the courtyard.
"Father, let's go in! Mommy, I want to see the flying men!" Ulrich chirped.
Alexia, a woman of serene beauty with kind eyes and hair like polished jet, laughed. "Patience, little dragon. We must be invited."
As if summoned, the great wooden gate groaned open. Standing in the entrance was not a stern guard, but a man in his late twenties, wearing the orange-yellow robes of a senior disciple. He was strikingly handsome, with a confident grin and eyes that held a playful spark. His gaze locked onto Alexia, and the grin widened into something more personal.
"Alexia! The mountain birds sang of your return, but they didn't mention… a family?" His voice was warm, but there was a strained note underneath.
"Shu Xing Long!" Alexia beamed, setting Ulrich down. "It's been too long. This is my husband, Wilhelm. And this," she placed a hand on Ulrich's head, "is Ulrich, our son."
"Adopted," Wilhelm added smoothly, stepping forward with an extended hand. "A joyous addition to our lives. Wilhelm von Morgenfels."
Shu Xing Long's eyes flickered between Alexia and Wilhelm, a complex emotion passing through them before he clasped Wilhelm's hand. "Welcome. The temple honors guests." He knelt to Ulrich's level. "And you, little warrior. Welcome to Sheng-Shou. I am Shu Xing Long."
Ulrich, with childish solemnity, performed a small bow he'd practiced. "Hello, sir. You look very strong. My name is Ulrich."
Shu Xing Long chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Come! The Supreme Abbot, Shi Tsu Fu, awaits his daughter." He whistled, and a group of teenage novices scampered over to take their luggage. As they walked into the bustling main courtyard, Shu Xing Long fell into step beside Alexia, his voice dropping to a murmur only she could hear. "He is not the one from the prophecy, Alexia. Your heart chose another path."
Alexia's smile became wistful. "The heart is a wiser map than any prophecy, Xing. Be happy for me."
"I am," he said, but his eyes said otherwise.
The temple was a living organism. Monks walked on their hands up vertical pillars. Others meditated under waterfalls, steam rising from their skin. In a secluded flower garden at the edge of the complex, Ulrich wandered away from the adults, drawn to a splash of vivid color.
Sitting on a mossy stone was a girl no older than six. Her hair was a brilliant, unnatural crimson, like fallen maple leaves, and her eyes, when she looked up, were a luminous, piercing gold. She stared at Ulrich with neither fear nor welcome, just profound curiosity.
"Hello," Ulrich said. "My name is Ulrich. What's yours?"
The girl blinked. "You are… dark-skinned with white hair. How?"
Ulrich shrugged. "I was born this way. Your hair is like fire. It's pretty."
A faint pink touched her cheeks. "My name is Oz. People here… they don't talk to me much."
"Why not?"
She hugged her knees, her golden eyes dimming. "My eyes… they see things. Bad things. When people are going to get hurt. Or… or die. They call me 'Witch-Sight Oz.' Only the Supreme Abbot is kind to me. He says my sight is a burden, not a curse."
Ulrich plopped down beside her. "Seeing the future sounds amazing! You could know if it's going to rain, or if there's extra pudding for dinner!"
A tiny, reluctant smile touched Oz's lips. "It's not like that. It's only the sad, scary things. It… hurts."
"Then I'll be your friend," Ulrich declared. "And if you see something scary about me, you can tell me, and we'll face it together."
Oz looked at him, her golden eyes wide. For the first time, they held a flicker of hope. "You… you mean it?"
"Promise." He held out his pinky. After a moment, she linked hers with his.
The night finally came, in the Hall of Heavenly Celebration, a feast was underway. Lanterns glowed, laughter echoed. Alexia was surrounded by old friends. Wilhelm held court, charming monks with tales of European architecture, his eyes secretly cataloging the temple's defensive layouts and energy flows.
The festive atmosphere shattered when the doors at the far end boomed open. The Supreme Abbot, Shi Tsu Fu, entered. He was an old man, but his age was an illusion. He stood straight as a spear, his shaved head gleaming, his white beard and eyebrows like wisps of cloud. His simple robes couldn't hide the coiled, tectonic power within him. His eyes, however, held no joy. They were fixed on Wilhelm with the intensity of a predator.
The hall fell silent.
"Father!" Alexia rushed forward, arms open for an embrace.
Shi Tsu Fu sidestepped her, not unkindly but with absolute focus. He pointed his simple oak staff, its tip suddenly humming with golden light, directly at Wilhelm's heart.
"You," the Abbot's voice, though quiet, silenced the very air. "You serpent. You have woven lies into my daughter's heart to gain entry to this sacred place. I have dreamed your face for months. You come not for family, but for plunder."
A stunned murmur rippled through the hall. Wilhelm held up his hands, the picture of wounded innocence. "Venerable Abbot, I assure you, you are mistaken! I love Alexia! I only wish to learn from your wisdom—"
"Silence!" Shi Tsu Fu thundered. The golden light at his staff's tip flared. "You seek the Golden Flame of Shen. The heart of our temple's power. You will not have it. Leave now, and spare this place your corruption."
Wilhelm's placid expression melted away. The charming businessman vanished, replaced by something cold, calculating, and utterly merciless. A slow, chilling smile spread across his face. "Ah. A man of true vision. A pity."
He snapped his fingers.
The sound was like a cracking bone. From the sleeves of every monk in the hall—except Shi Tsu Fu and Alexia—a wisp of inky black smoke emerged, snaking into their ears. Their eyes, once clear and focused, glazed over with a purple film. They turned, as one, to face their Abbot, their movements jerky, unnatural.
"What have you done?!" Alexia cried, horror dawning on her face.
"Neuro-puppetry nanites, my dear," Wilhelm said, examining his nails. "Administered in the welcoming tea. Quite my own design. They now answer to a higher power. My power."
He looked at Shi Tsu Fu, all pretense gone. "Give me the Golden Flame's coordinate, old man. My Obscura Impact requires its resonance signature to stabilize."
"Wilhelm… you… you never loved me?" Alexia's voice was a broken whisper.
"Love?" Wilhelm scoffed. "A useful chemical reaction to facilitate access. You were the key to this temple's door, Alexia. Nothing more."
Rage, pure and volcanic, contorted Shi Tsu Fu's face. "DEFILER!"
The Abbot didn't just move; he exploded into action. He became a blur of golden light. He wasn't fighting; he was a force of nature. He slammed his staff into the stone floor.
BOOM!
A visible, concentric shockwave of pure natural energy, golden and rippling, erupted from the point of impact. It hit the front rank of puppeted monks. They didn't fly back; they were erased from the kinetic wave, disintegrated into dust.
"To me, daughter!" Shi Tsu Fu grabbed Alexia's wrist. With a leap that defied physics, he shot upward, shattering through the wooden ceiling and onto the temple's main roof, dragging Alexia with him.
Wilhelm sighed, as if inconvenienced. He closed his eyes. On his forehead, the skin parted, revealing a third eye—sickly, pulsating purple, with a vertical slit pupil. "Puppets! Channel the mountain's ley energy! Box him in! Bring me his staff!" His voice was amplified, a psychic command.
The remaining puppeted monks—hundreds of them—ceased their clumsy movements. As one, they stomped their feet into the temple stones. Purple tendrils of corrupted energy shot from them into the ground. The mountain itself groaned in response. They weren't using their own power; they were syphoning the temple's sacred natural energy and twisting it.
On the roof, Shi Tsu Fu set Alexia down behind a decorative dragon statue. "Stay." His voice was gentle for a second.
Then he turned. The puppets were flowing up the walls like insects, their movements now fluid and empowered by the stolen mountain energy. One, a former master of the spear, lunged, his weapon wreathed in purple lightning. Shi Tsu Fu didn't block. He spun, his staff a golden arc. The spear shattered. He palmed the monk's chest, and a gentle push released a controlled burst of energy that blew the man backwards, cleanly severing the purple threads controlling him. The monk collapsed, unconscious but free.
But there were too many. They attacked in waves. A group of six channeled stolen energy into a combined blast—a screaming vortex of purple and black. Shi Tsu Fu crossed his arms, and a dome of golden chi erupted around him. The blast hit it and screamed into the sky, carving a furrow in the clouds.
He was a tempest. He used "Heavenly Dragon's Tail" – a spin-kick that released a crescent of golden energy, cutting down a dozen puppets. He used "Mountain Root Fist" – a punch into the roof tiles that sent a localized earthquake through the structure, toppling entire squads. For every puppet he disabled, two more, empowered by the corrupted ley lines, took its place. They began combining their stolen energy, forming giant, clumsy constructs of purple force—a massive hammer, a writhing serpent—which Shi Tsu Fu shattered with focused, pinpoint strikes.
But he was one man protecting his heart. He couldn't be everywhere.
Wilhelm, watching from a safe balcony below, pointed. "The girl. Target her. Distract him."
Three puppets broke off, firing bolts of corrupted energy not at the Abbot, but at the cowering Alexia behind the dragon statue.
Shi Tsu Fu's golden aura flared in panic. "ALEXIA!"
He abandoned his defense, becoming a golden streak to intercept the blasts. He batted two aside with his staff, but the third he took on his back, grunting in pain as the purple energy crackled against his skin. In that moment of distraction, the lead puppets, channeling a massive surge of the mountain's stolen power, formed a colossal, jagged spear of condensed violet energy.
"NOW!" Wilhelm commanded.
The spear, twenty feet long, shot toward Shi Tsu Fu. He turned, bringing his staff up in a desperate parry. The golden light met the purple corruption.
KRA-KOOM!!!
The explosion of colliding energies lit up the night. The roof shattered. When the light faded, Shi Tsu Fu was on his knees, his staff held above his head, still holding back the dissipating spear-tip. But the cost was evident. Cracks of purple energy ran up his arms. He had contained the blast, but the corrupting energy was inside him.
He looked at Alexia, her face streaked with tears. He gave her a soft, final smile. "Live, my daughter. Be strong."
Wilhelm, from below, clenched his fist. The purple third eye pulsed. "Extract the coordinate from his dying mind. Then, kill her."
The puppets advanced.
In the flower garden, Ulrich and Oz heard the explosion, saw the flash of gold and purple light the sky.
"People are dying!" Oz shrieked, her golden eyes seeing visions too horrific to describe. "A dark devil is here! Ulrich, please, don't go!"
Ulrich's heart was a drum of terror. "My parents are there, Oz! I have to help!"
"You'll die! I see it!" she wailed, clinging to his shirt.
He gently pried her fingers loose. "I'll be back. I promise." And he ran, a small, determined figure, toward the apocalyptic sounds.
Oz collapsed to her knees in the flowers, her whispered plea lost in the chaos. "But promises… can break…"