The courtyard was alive with recruits, who filled the tables, chatting and laughing over plates of food. Renjiro sat hunched over, his plate untouched. Across from him, Taro valiantly worked his way through an assortment of food—one hand holding a half-eaten rice ball, the other reaching for a skewer of grilled chicken. At the same time, a fish-shaped pastry stuffed with sweet filling rested precariously on his plate, its insides already oozing out. Crumbs, rice grains, and sauce dripped in every direction as he devoured each bite.

“Man, that was something else earlier,” Taro said, grinning between bites. “Shattering that pillar? Wild.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Renjiro muttered, staring at his hands.

“Doesn’t matter!” Taro replied, waving a piece of loaf bread like a sword. “You looked like a hero for a second.”

Thyros, seated farther down the table, snorted. “Hero? More like a hazard.”

Renjiro’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Taro raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean, big guy?”

Violet smirked, leaning forward. “You talking about Thyros or yourself...”

Thyros leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Anyone can break something if they hit hard enough. Doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing.”

Violet, seated next to Thyros, smirked. “He’s got a point. It was impressive, sure, but what’s the point if you can’t control it?”

Renjiro clenched his fists under the table. “It wasn’t like I planned it,” he muttered. “It just… happened.”

“Exactly,” Violet said, leaning back. “Which means it’s useless. Lucky shot, that’s all.”

Sitting with the Mist recruits, Tarek pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Actually, what happened earlier is worth noting. That you accessed that much power means there’s raw, unrefined potential, but potential nonetheless.”

Thyros scoffed. “Potential doesn’t mean anything if he can’t control it.”

The tension hung in the air momentarily before Violet changed the subject. “Anyway, will that be enough to deal with the Crimson Dynasty? Those monsters won’t care how much ‘potential’ you have. They’ll tear you apart before you can use it.”

“Monsters,” Thyros echoed. “That’s all they are. Destroying villages, enslaving people, taking whatever they want—they don’t deserve mercy.”

“Do you think we’ll ever actually beat them?” Emi asked softly.

“If we do,” Violet said, her tone sharp, “maybe we can finally stop wasting time protecting humans.”

Renjiro’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Violet shrugged, “Half the time, the humans we protect just destroy themselves anyway. We save their villages from the Crimson Dynasty but leave them to fend for themselves afterward. They rebuild, and another human group again tears it down.”

“Not everyone’s like that,” Renjiro said, his voice quieter now. “Some humans just… want to survive.”

“And some humans started this war in the first place,” Thyros muttered, his voice dark. “If they hadn’t—”

“That’s enough,” Tarek interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “We’re Guardians. We protect people, even if they’re flawed. That’s what separates us from the Crimson Dynasty.”

Violet smirked faintly but didn’t push the point further. Renjiro stared down at his plate, his chest tight. The recruits’ words churned in his mind, a storm of doubt and frustration. They don’t know. They don’t understand what it’s like. Not all humans are like that…

“Interesting conversation,” a calm, commanding voice said.

The recruits fell silent as Instructor Darius approached the table, his sharp gaze sweeping across the group. His presence alone seemed to quiet the courtyard, the tension palpable as he stopped by their table.

“Let me make something clear,” Darius said, his voice low but firm. “Guardians don’t pick and choose who’s worth protecting. We defend those who can’t defend themselves. That’s the job.”

His eyes lingered on Violet. “And if you think otherwise, you’re in the wrong place.”

Violet looked away, but her expression didn’t change.

Darius’ gaze shifted to the group as a whole. “If you really want to understand what it means to be a Guardian, start by learning something. The library’s not just there for show, you know.”

Renjiro lingered in the courtyard as the recruits around him filtered out, their voices fading into the distance. He knew nothing about this world—this strange, alien world of Lumina and its endless rules. If Darius was right, if learning was the answer… then maybe the library was where he needed to start.

Pushing himself to his feet, Renjiro headed toward the main academy building as he reached the library.

The library was enormous, far larger than Renjiro had expected. As he stepped through the double doors, they creaked open with a low groan, revealing a vast chamber. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. The air was cool, and the scent of aged paper and ink filled the air.

Renjiro hesitated at the threshold, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the place. He’d seen books before, of course, but nothing like this. The shelves seemed to stretch forever, each packed with leather-bound tomes and neatly rolled scrolls.

As he stepped further in, his eyes caught the golden plaques mounted above each row, each engraved with an elegant script: “Combat Techniques,” “Weapons of the Clans,” and “Mastering Lumina Abilities.” The words gleamed faintly in the soft light, drawing his gaze from one section to the next.

Renjiro’s feet moved independently, carrying him past the shelves as his eyes darted from title to title. The books in the “Mastering Lumina Abilities” section caught his attention, their spines lined with intricate symbols that almost seemed to glow. He paused momentarily, his hand hovering over one of the books, but something else drew him forward.

A narrow archway stood ahead. Above it hung a small, faded plaque engraved with the words “The Chronicles” in bold letters.

Renjiro stepped through the archway, his breath catching as he entered the room. The atmosphere was different here—heavier, almost sacred. Shelves lined the walls, packed with thick, ancient tomes, their spines marked with titles that seemed to hum with significance.

Renjiro began scanning the spines, reading the titles aloud under his breath.

“Verdance Keepers. Solaris Imperials. Crimson Dynasty. The Arakoni War.” His brow furrowed as his fingers brushed over another. “Screechers. The Zitanians. The Forgotten Realm.”

Each title evoked a flicker of curiosity in him. But as intriguing as the titles were, one book in particular caught his eye.

It was larger than the others, with a thicker spine and darker cover. The title was embossed in bold letters: “Remedias—Guardian of Peace.”

Renjiro reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface of the cover. The book felt heavier than it looked as he pulled it from the shelf, its weight settling in his hands. He opened it carefully, the pages old but intact, and began to read.

In a time long before the clans, when chaos reigned and the Luminarians were scattered and enslaved, a single figure rose to unite and protect them: Remedias. He was the first to wield the power of Cerula, a force of harmony and protection. With his wisdom and strength, he gathered the oppressed and the vulnerable, uniting them under one banner to stand against their oppressors.

Remedias founded what is now known as the Azeron Guardians, a group dedicated to peace and the protection of all who could not protect themselves. His mastery of Cerula was said to be unmatched. He possessed the spiral of a phoenix, which we wear to remember his legacy. His energy was a beacon of hope that could shield entire armies and heal even the gravest of wounds.

But Remedias did not stand alone.

Beside him stood his twin brother, Migama, a warrior of unparalleled courage and skill. Where Remedias brought wisdom and compassion, Migama brought strength and resolve. His fiery and aggressive determination inspired those who fought alongside him.

The brothers were inseparable, and their bond was unshakable. Together, they led the Luminarians to freedom, liberating them from oppression and forging a new era of peace. Migama was just as powerful, he alone defeated the Alpha Arakoni, ancient enemies of monstrous size and strength that threatened to destroy all life.  Their reason to this day is still unknown. This victory cemented his place as one of the greatest warriors in Luminarian history.

The brothers fought side by side for years, protecting the vulnerable and maintaining peace. Under their leadership, the Luminarians flourished, and for a time, it seemed the darkness had been vanquished.

But peace is fragile, and in the far reaches of the world, a new darkness began to stir.

Far away, a new power was born in the depths of the unknown. It was said to have been born from hatred, an energy fueled by destruction and chaos. This power came to be known as Crimsa, and with it came a Luminarian whose heart knew only anger and cruelty. He was called the Prince of Darkness, and his emergence shattered the fragile peace that Remedias had worked so hard to create.

The Prince of Darkness founded what is now known as the Crimson Dynasty, a force dedicated to domination and eradicating what he saw as weakness. Mercy and compassion—these were traits he despised, believing them to be flaws that held the Luminarians back. His armies swept across the land, destroying villages, wiping out millions with no remorse, and leaving a trail of devastation in their wake.

He wielded Crimsa with his power and Spiral, unlike anything the Luminarians had ever seen.

In their final confrontation, Migama faced the Prince of Darkness head-on, his courage and determination driving him forward. The battle was fierce, their powers clashing in a storm of light and fire. But the Prince of Darkness consumed him. 

Remedias’ grief was immeasurable. The loss of his brother and the lives lost left a scar that would never heal. In his sorrow, he swore to avenge Migama and end the threat of the Prince of Darkness once and for all.

The final battle between Remedias and the Prince of Darkness shook the very foundations of the world. Cerula and Crimsa collided in a cataclysmic display of power, lighting up the sky like a second sun. In the end, Remedias emerged victorious, but his victory came at a cost.

The Prince of Darkness was not destroyed. Instead, Remedias used the last of his strength to cast him into a realm beyond comprehension, a place of eternal exile that came to be known as the Depths of Woe. It was said that this realm was forged by Cerula itself. But even in exile, the Prince of Darkness’ influence lingered. The seeds of his hatred had already taken root, and his followers—the Crimson Dynasty—continued to spread his teachings.

Remedias returned to the Luminarians a broken man. Injured and weak. He passed, but his spirit continued to live inside us all.

Yet, even after his passing, the world remained scarred. The Crimson Dynasty grew stronger, its hatred fueled by the memory of its fallen leader. And so, the fight continues, even now.

The final words of the text burned into Renjiro’s mind:

"We must live up to the legacy of Remedias. To protect peace, we must destroy evil, no matter the cost. The Crimson Dynasty represents all that threatens harmony, and only through strength, unity, and will can we hope to prevail. The Prince of Darkness may have fallen, but his shadow lingers. We must be strong enough to fight it. Destroy the Crimson Dynasty at all costs."

Renjiro stared at the page. The story felt larger than life, the weight of history pressing down on him. But something about it didn’t sit right. The words “no matter the cost” echoed in his mind. Was that really what it meant to be a Guardian? To destroy, no matter what?

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the glowing orbs overhead. Renjiro closed the book carefully, his thoughts swirling. Before he could process them fully, a quiet voice broke the silence.

“Pretty intense story, huh?”

Renjiro nearly jumped, spinning to see a girl leaning casually against the shelf. Her sharp eyes glinted with amusement.

“You like sneaking up on people, don’t you?” he muttered.

She smirked. “Not sneaking. You were just too absorbed to notice.” Her gaze flicked to the book in his hands. “Remedias, huh? Big fan already?”

Renjiro hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean… he was amazing, but… it’s like they’re saying destroying the Crimson Dynasty is the only way to protect peace. Is that really what being a Guardian means?”

Illira tilted her head, “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a tale—something passed down to make people feel like they’re on the right side of history.”

Renjiro blinked. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaning lightly against the shelf. “Think about it. Who writes these stories? Scholars, historians—decide what gets remembered. But who’s to say it’s all true? Even if it is, they leave things out. Add their spin. You’ve got to wonder—what’s missing?”

Renjiro stared at the book, “But… what if it is true?”

Illira gave him a faint smile, “Then ask yourself why they tell it like this. Maybe it’s about more than the story—the message. What they want you to believe.”

Renjiro frowned. “You don’t think Remedias was a hero?”

“I’m not saying he wasn’t,” she said softly. “But peace always comes with a price. They call him the Guardian of Peace, but how much did he have to sacrifice to earn that title? And was it worth it?”

“You’ve got a point,” Renjiro replied. “And the Depths of Woe… they say the Prince of Darkness was cast there, but what does that even mean? A prison? A punishment? Or something worse?”

Illira straightened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stories like this—they’re never the whole truth. Maybe they’re real, maybe they’re not. But even if they’re not, they still mean something. The trick is figuring out what.”

She turned to leave, her voice trailing behind her as she walked away. “I’ll see you around, Renjiro. You might learn more than you expect.”

Renjiro watched her go, the book heavy in his hands. Her words echoed in his mind, leaving him more uncertain but curious.