The Phalyx continued to soar effortlessly through the night sky, carrying Renjiro and the Luminarian soldier over a mist-covered landscape. Cool air rushed past Renjiro's ears, carrying the scent of damp earth and a faint hint of pine. Below them, the ground was hidden beneath a swirling fog, as if the world had disappeared, leaving them suspended in a dreamlike void.

Renjiro shivered slightly, though it wasn't just from the cold. His mind still reeled from everything that had happened—the burning village, Satoshi, and the uncertainty of Kaelan's fate. Each thought weighed heavily on him, yet he was being carried to a place he would only think existed in legends—the Azeron Citadel.

As they flew further, a faint light appeared in the distance. Renjiro's breath caught in his throat as the massive, translucent dome came into view. The Azeron guardians leaned forward, guiding their Phalyx toward it. The Lumina energy in the air hummed softly as they passed through the barrier as if the dome had welcomed them.

Inside, the mist thickened, swirling around them like a living force. The Phalyx flew steadily through the fog. Renjiro's pulse quickened. What would the citadel look like? What kind of place was it? He had imagined it a thousand different ways, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when the mist began to part.

And there it was.

Rising out of the clouds, like something pulled from the pages of an ancient tale, stood the Azeron Citadel. Its towering spires gleamed in the moonlight, their white stone reflecting the soft blue glow of Lumina energy that pulsed through the walls like veins of light. 

The sight stole Renjiro's breath. The citadel was massive, far grander than anything he had ever imagined. Elegant bridges and walkways connected the citadel's many levels. Everything felt ethereal and otherworldly as if the citadel existed outside of time.

But beneath the beauty, Renjiro sensed something more. Something daunting. He wasn't here to admire it. He was here to be tested, pushed, and forged. 

The Phalyx descended slowly toward a large platform near the base of the citadel. Renjiro's heart raced as they neared the ground. The platform bustled with activity—other Phalyx were landing, delivering riders to different parts of the stronghold. The Phalyx landed with a soft thud, its wings folding elegantly behind it as Renjiro and the soldier dismounted.

"This is where we part ways," the soldier said, his voice softer now, almost wistful. "You'll be collected shortly and taken to the refugee sector of the citadel."

Renjiro hesitated. He had spent the past few days with this man, who had saved, guided, and brought him to this new world. Now, they were parting ways, and Renjiro wasn't sure how to feel. "Thank you," he said quietly.

The soldier gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Remember why you're here, Renjiro. Don't forget that. The training ahead won't be easy, and there will be times when you doubt yourself. But if you focus, you'll find the strength you're looking for. Just don't waste this chance."

Renjiro nodded, trying to absorb the weight of the soldier's words. There was so much ahead of him, so much uncertainty. 

With a firm nod, the soldier mounted the Phalyx again. The creature let out a low grunt as its wings unfolded, and with a powerful beat, they lifted off the ground. Renjiro stood in silence, watching as they vanished into the mist.  He was alone now. Truly alone.

The last flicker of Cerula Lumina energy disappeared into the night sky.

Renjiro felt the enormity of the moment presses down on him. This was the beginning of something far more significant than he had ever imagined.

A guardian approached him, motioning toward a pathway from the citadel. "Follow me."

Renjiro walked silently as they passed through a large archway marking the citadel’s boundary. As they moved deeper into the refugee sector, the reality of the situation sank in.

The refugee camp stretched before him, hidden behind the grandeur of Azeron. Rows of tents and stone barracks housed displaced Luminarians—survivors of numerous threats, including the Crimson Dynasty’s brutality. Some were injured, their bodies wrapped in bandages, while others sat in quiet despair.  Azeron Healers moved through the crowd, offering aid where they could.

Renjiro swallowed hard. He had seen suffering before, but not like this.

As he walked past one of the tents, he felt it—a presence.

His steps slowed. It wasn’t noise—there was no sound—just something watching.

Renjiro turned slightly and saw a girl with black hair and eyes in dark rags.

She sat near the entrance of a tent, away from the others. Just watching.

Her face was unreadable, half-hidden in the shadow of the fabric. Sharp, cold eyes followed his movements, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

She didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away—just held his gaze.

A guardian called his name, snapping the moment apart. Renjiro turned forward, following the path.

“You have two paths before you.” The official said firmly.

“The Scholarship Path—where you will be trained in the governance of Azeron, Lumina energy control, and the inner workings of our leadership. It is an honourable path that allows you to shape the future of our people.”

The man stepped closer. “Or the Guardian Path—where you will train to become an Azeron Guardian, a warrior who will combat threats to our people and fight against the Crimson Dynasty.”

Renjiro didn’t hesitate.

“I want to fight,” he said. 

The official studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Then you will join the recruits.”

Renjiro glanced at the citadel before following the guardian toward the outskirts. They passed through a large archway marking the citadel's boundary, and Renjiro caught his first glimpse of the land beyond. The mist thinned, revealing rolling fields that stretched into the distance, but they were far from untouched. Deep scars marred the landscape—remnants of battles fought long ago. 

The path wound through the valleys, and slowly, the lights of the citadel faded behind them. After a short walk, the Azeron Guardians' Academy came into view.

Unlike the citadel's grandeur, the Academy was built into the rugged terrain. It was where warriors were made, a far cry from the citadel's ethereal beauty.

As they passed through the main gates, Renjiro's eyes widened at the sight of the training grounds. Everywhere he looked, recruits were honing their skills—sparring with glowing weapons, practising their control over Lumina energy, conjuring shields and blades from thin air. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the night, and the air thrummed with power.

"This is where your training begins," the guardian said, glancing at Renjiro. "You'll be housed in one of the barracks camps. It's not as grand as the citadel, but it's where every Guardian starts their journey." They led him through the grounds until they reached a cluster of tents near the edge of the Academy. "You'll stay here tonight. Your training begins at dawn."

Renjiro entered the tent, his heart racing from what he had seen. The barracks were simple—only a tiny cot and a few basic supplies.

He sat down on the cot, the weight of the past few days finally settling over him. 

He had come here to get stronger, never again to be powerless. But as he looked around the training grounds, he realized how far he had to go. Was he ready for this?

The soldier's words echoed in his mind. "Don't waste this chance."

Renjiro lay back on the cot, staring at the tent's ceiling. Tomorrow would be the first step toward mastering the power inside him. Tomorrow, he would begin training, not just for himself, but for the people he had lost—and the ones he still needed to protect.

With that thought, Renjiro closed his eyes. His grief remained a dull ache in his chest, but for the first time in days, he felt a small glimmer of peace. Tomorrow, his journey would truly begin.