The towering gates of Paraiso loomed, a testament to the kingdom's might and opulence. Crafted from ancient white stone and inlaid with shimmering gold, they were less a barrier and more a declaration.
As Leib and Reign approached on Opa's back, they saw Jay's magnificent Ten-Tailed Beast, who's already waiting, its silver fur glowing faintly even in the morning sun.
Jay sat casually on its broad back, looking as if he'd been riding mythical creatures his entire life.
"Hey, Jay!" Reign called, sliding off Opa's back as the serpent gently coiled itself near the gate. "How have you been? Just get here?"
Jay nodded, a slight weariness in his eyes. "Yeah, just arrived. Had a hard time bidding farewell to my parents. They wouldn't stop crying." He offered a small, forced smile.
Leib and Reign exchanged a silent glance. Neither of them had the luxury of weeping parents. Reign offered Jay a genuine smile, a small gesture of understanding.
As if on cue, the colossal gates began to groan open. Two Royal Guards, their armor gleaming, stood at attention, their Elite-tier Gabays (a pair of formidable War Hawks) perched on their shoulders.
"The King awaits you in the Central Hall," one guard intoned, his voice resonating with practiced authority.
The central hall of Paraiso was a cavernous expanse that swallowed sound. The ceiling soared at least thirty meters above them, painted with celestial maps and scenes of ancient Gabay battles.
Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows depicting heroic figures and their Mythical companions.
Leib felt his insignificance acutely. Even the War Hawks of the guards seemed more substantial than him.
He looked at Opa, now a majestic, iridescent shield beside Reign, and Jin, a coiled mass of power beside Jay. He was a speck of dust in a room built for giants.
Following the others, Leib bowed low before King Batlaha, who sat on a simple yet elegant throne. Batlaha, a man of imposing presence and kind eyes, rose and smiled.
"I have been awaiting all of you. Jay, Reign, and Leib," his voice, amplified by the hall's acoustics, was surprisingly gentle. "I know your journeys back to your homes were long, so I invite you now to a welcoming feast."
They were led into a dining area that was almost as grand as the hall. A long, polished table was laden with exotic fruits, roasted meats, and delicate pastries.
The only sound in the vast room was the quiet clinking of expensive utensils. Reign and Jay, still overwhelmed by the day's events, picked at their food in silence. Leib, despite his inner turmoil, found some comfort in the warm, savory soup.
Batlaha, sensing the awkward quiet, broke the silence. "So, Reign, Jay, have you named your Gabays?"
Reign immediately brightened. "Yes! This is Opa. Her scales remind me of my birthstone, the opal. She's beautiful, isn't she?"
The serpent, draped elegantly around her chair, shifted its head, its iridescent eyes seeming to acknowledge its new name.
Jay, a bit more boisterous, grinned. "And this is Jin! He's named after a creature from an old fantasy show I used to watch on the view-mirror. A bit silly, maybe, but it suits him!" Jin, the Ten-Tailed Beast, rumbled softly, its nine remaining tails swishing gently behind it.
Batlaha chuckled, then his gaze drifted to Leib, who was still silently sipping his soup. The King's smile faltered slightly. He clearly didn't know what to ask. So, he didn't.
Instead, Batlaha deftly changed the topic. "In your time here, I will personally oversee your cultivation. We will train your bodies, hone your minds, and most importantly, nurture and train the abilities of your Gabays."
"But I don't have a Gabay," Leib stated, his voice flat, the words hanging heavy in the air.
Batlaha fell silent, the gentle smile vanishing.
"Why am I even here?" Leib continued, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I've joined a club I don't fit in. I'm taking up space that could be given to someone who deserves to be here."
Batlaha stood, his expression turning serious. "You have a place here, Leib."
Leib pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood against stone echoing loudly. "Yes, I have a place here, King Batlaha. But do I have a space? Do I deserve to fill it when I have nothing? I feel like I don't."
Batlaha walked around the table, stopping directly in front of Leib. "You know, Leib," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "Getting a Mythical Gabay is less than one percent probability. Only seventy-two individuals in history, now seventy-four, with Reign and Jay, have ever had such a bond. In terms of pure statistics, that is close to impossible. But you know what's more impossible?"
Leib's eyes, red-rimmed and filled with a week's worth of unshed tears, looked up at the King. "Are you mocking me, Your Majesty? Should I be happy that my case is the rarest of failures?"
"That is not what I mean," Batlaha countered gently. "What I mean is that the world chose you for that case. Out of billions who have gone through the Awakening, only you didn't receive a creature. Only you were left with... a void. In all the ancient books, in all the prophecies, it simply says that such a thing is impossible. Yet it happened to you."
"You just proved my point, Your Majesty," Leib replied, a bitter edge to his tone. "I'm a statistical anomaly, a failure that shouldn't exist."
"My real point," Batlaha said, placing a firm hand on Leib's shoulder, "is that getting nothing perhaps means getting everything, right? You or rather, we just don't know yet what you truly received. I am certain, as are the other Rulers, that something went inside you that day. And that is why I kept you here, Leib. Because I see something in you, and I hope that one day, you will see it too."
Leib didn't immediately respond. He simply looked at the King, then at the two Mythical Gabays and their proud trainers. Batlaha's words, though cryptic, planted a tiny seed of something he hadn't felt in days: curiosity. Perhaps he wasn't just a failure. Perhaps he was a question waiting for an answer.
That night, alone in his opulent room in the palace a room that felt vast and empty despite its luxurious furnishings Leib made a decision.
He would accept his new life here, in the heart of Paraiso, but he would not let the void define him. He would find out what the shadow was. He would understand why the Bátis had broken for him.
His days quickly fell into a routine. While Jay and Reign began rigorous combat and elemental training with their powerful Gabays, Leib was sent to the Royal Archives.
He spent countless hours poring over ancient scrolls and dusty tomes, searching for any mention of a "formless spirit" or a "shadow awakening." He devoured texts on obscure Gabay lore, forgotten rituals, and the deepest secrets of the Bátis itself. He found nothing.
Every book, every scroll, every prophecy confirmed the same thing: what happened to him was impossible.
Each evening, as he returned to his lonely room, the throb in his chest would intensify, a cold, persistent ache. It was a constant reminder of the shadow within, a silence that screamed louder than any roar.
One afternoon, after another fruitless session in the Archives, Leib felt an inexplicable pull. He didn't know why, but his feet carried him away from the palace and towards the distant edge of the city, towards the Great Arena. He moved through the deserted stands, the air still carrying the faint scent of rain and earth. He came to a halt at the edge of the Bátis.
It sat there, silent and still. The obsidian water was a mirror, reflecting the now-clear sky, betraying no hint of the chaos it had unleashed.
As Leib stared, a chilling sensation crept up his spine. He ran his hand along the smooth, ancient stone lip of the well. His fingers brushed against something almost imperceptible: a hairline fracture, no bigger than a thread, running down into the darkness. It was so faint, he almost dismissed it.
Then, from the tiny crack, a wisp of black smoke, thinner than the finest strand of hair, drifted out. It curled upwards, dissipating into the air, but as it did, a sudden, searing pain ripped through Leib's chest.
His heart seized, his breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled backward, clutching at the hollow where the shadow now resided.
The Bátis remained impassive, its surface a perfect, dark mirror. But Leib knew, with a certainty that chilled him to his bone, that the crack was not just in the well, but also within him. He gasped for air, his vision blurring, the pain a relentless vise.
What had the Bátis truly bestowed upon him? Insde him? And what exactly was growing within the crack of his broken soul?