Drifter awoke to the soft glow of his Lumina Core dispying 07:07. After completing his morning routine, he left his quarters and began the long walk to the research center. With each step, the questions swirled in his mind—had Luna discovered something new? Was it finally time for another operation to retake Paxluma?

  He walked toward the towering white building, its sterile interior with white walls and floors. He entered the elevator, which took him to the seventh floor. A few more steps, and he finally arrived at the main chamber. The Bck Cube was gripped by a massive mechanical cw, surrounded by a diamond-like energy barrier. Researchers in white uniforms worked diligently around it. His gaze locked onto Luna Sabriel.

  She stood wrapped in concentration, her fingers weaving patterns across a holographic interface. When she finally looked up, her words cut straight to his core.

  "Morning, are you still hearing the whispers?"

  The question grated against his expectations. After coming all this way... Disappointment gnawed at his resolve.

  “I haven’t heard them... since that day,” Drifter replied.

  “I see... That’s good,” Luna said.

  Suddenly, a heavy sensation pressed against Drifter’s head, like an invisible weight. His vision blurred, and faint distorted voices echoed again.

  “I hear it again. The whispers are back,” he muttered, holding his head.

  “We need to leave. Now,” Luna said urgently.

  They quickly left the building and stepped into the green, peaceful scenery outside.

  “It seems the whispers only return when you’re near the Cube,” Luna said.

  Drifter’s concern grew. “Have you found anything about it?”

  Luna sighed. “It might be connected to other artifacts... from the era of the First Holy Emperor.”

  She activated her Lumina Core, projecting an image of an ancient inscription. The carving depicted a long-haired man seated on a throne, with a rge, glowing cube-shaped artifact behind him.

  Drifter studied the ancient inscription, his expression grim as he recalled the history lessons that always spoke of the man known as the First Holy Emperor. He had formed an alliance with the elves, unched a brutal invasion, and ultimately united all of Vesteria under his dominion—ensving other races and ruling with an iron fist.

  Did this Cube give them the power to dominate? The thought sent a chill through him.

  “There’s no way the Empire would let this be known. Where did you get this information?” Drifter asked.

  Luna hesitated. “From Chimia. She’s the head of the expedition team tracing the Cube’s remnants, from ruins to legends.”

  Drifter’s gaze sharpened. This was his chance—he had waited long enough. Even after months at the academy, his desire and curiosity hadn’t faded, and he still wondered what had truly happened to Paxluma.

  "If that's true... this artifact is too dangerous. With that kind of power, sooner or ter, the empire—or any nation—will come after it. I should try using it now, if it can seal the final breach," he said.

  Luna’s expression hardened. "No. We don’t even know what the Cube truly does. You know what happened there. I won’t risk it."

  As Luna turned away, Drifter's frustration burst forth. He stepped closer, his body tense with conviction.

  “Seven hundred years… can you really be sure the Cataclysmaris will stay dormant forever? Sitting idle won’t change anything—it’s just another form of surrender. And technology?” He scoffed. “It’s useless against the Abyssal Breach.”

  He watched Luna grip the fabric of her white coat, her breath uneven under the weight of his words. His patience was wearing thin.

  She wouldn’t understand. She never could. She had grown up in peace—protected, untouched by the horrors he had seen. She never spent years fighting in the dark, never lived without the sun, never abandoned the dreams of her youth just to survive.

  They’ll never understand.

  He stepped forward. "Please… while there's still time, let me go there. … at least let me investigate what really happened there. Before it’s too te."

  After a long pause, Luna finally replied softly, "I’ll speak to Grandmaster Lysander, but I can’t promise anything."

  Drifter nodded. “Thank you.”

  It had been a long time since he’d st said that to her.

  That evening, in his quarters, Paxluma haunted his thoughts like a relentless shadow. A terrible thought gnawed at him—the world could become that hellish ndscape again.

  Food turned to ash in his mouth, and the news broadcasts flickered before his eyes, leaving no impression. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore, so he drifted off to sleep.

  When he woke, morning brought no relief. Driven by desperation, he contacted Luna immediately.

  “Drifter? What’s wrong?” Luna asked via Lumina Core visual, her brow slightly raised.

  “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask… has the Grandmaster decided on Paxluma?” he asked.

  “They’re still deliberating. You know the risks. Paxluma… it’s not an easy decision,” Luna replied.

  “I understand. Thank you for asking. I truly appreciate it,” Drifter said.

  As Luna's projection faded, solitude embraced him once more. His gaze drifted between Vina's Elysian Ward Stone and Mina's device, each item a silent witness to his growing obsession. Driven by relentless curiosity, he began to make pns, focused on uncovering what had transpired at Paxluma over the past 700 years.

  A dark thought gnawed at him—today's world peace was an illusion. He envisioned the sun, bright smiles, and hope turning to darkness and fading away. His fist clenched.

  For three nights, he tried to reach her again, but the answer remained unchanged. Finally, unable to wait any longer, he made his decision.

  The night swallowed him as he moved through the corridors of Verm Evocaier Academy. His steps were soft against the polished floors, the cold air brushing past him as he made his way to the underground garage. There, his Alcherider Zenith awaited. As the vehicle ascended to street level, a sudden white fsh appeared to his right. Instinctively, he raised his hand, signaling for the Zenith to stop.

  In front of him stood teal Alcherider Ferocia—an elegant frame with narrow, horizontal headlights glowing faintly. Drifter powered down the Zenith. From Ferocia's cockpit, Luna Sabriel emerged.

  Disappointment and suspicion warred in his mind. His carefully id pns now banced on a knife's edge.

  “What are you doing, Luna? Are you here to stop me?” Drifter asked coldly.

  “No. If you’re going, I’m coming with you. It’s too dangerous to face this alone,” Luna replied.

  Before Drifter could respond, Alina, from the other seat in the Ferocia, opened the door and stepped out.

  “Tsk… You really think we’d let you go alone,” Alina said.

  Drifter studied them both carefully, searching for hidden motives. Luna's face remained unreadable, while Alina stood firm in her resolve. Doubt crept through his mind – were they truly here to help, or were they the Grandmaster's instruments? Could this be an eborate trap, culminating in his death? Yet even these dark possibilities couldn't deter him now.

  He nodded slowly.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Luna offered a faint smile in return, but Drifter thought it was just another act.

  They returned to their vehicles, the soft hum of antigravity engines filling the air. The Ferocia took point, the Zenith close behind. As they left Nethia City's Safety Zone, an eerie stillness settled over East Verm Pin—no Alcheriders in sight.

  Monsters lurked along the road, some firing energy bolts, but the Alcheriders shifted into their folded-leg formation, forming an impenetrable shield. Avoiding direct combat, they pressed on.

  After what felt like hours, the Frontier Outpost finally loomed ahead—a towering metallic fortress against the horizon. Their vehicles glided to a stop in the outpost’s parking area. Without hesitation, Drifter, Luna, and Alina stepped out, striding toward the gate where guards stood watch.

  The guards asked for their IDs. The three complied, raising their wrists to dispy their Lumina Cores while the guards checked and confirmed their identities against the database.

  “What is your purpose here?” one of the guards asked.

  “Routine inspection for the novices. We need to ensure they can manage the stress of being this close to Area Zero,” Alina replied.

  “Proceed,” the guard said.

  Alina nodded politely. “Thank you.”

  Just inside, beneath a small archway, Alina paused. She tap her Lumina Core. A soft blue glow illuminated a holographic map of the Frontier Outpost—glowing blue hexagons marking system areas, while shimmering circles represented the patrolling Mistral Quartz Orbs. Then, in a gesture that gave Drifter pause, she removed her Lumina Core and handed it to Luna.

  “Here, Luna. I’ll distract them,” Alina said.

  “We’ll be back,” Luna said.

  Watching them, Drifter slowly began to wonder—had they truly come all this way just to help him? It seemed unbelievable. Yet, little by little, his doubts started to fade.

  “Thank you,” Drifter said.

  “Just promise me you’ll both come back. Drifter, look out for her,” Alina said.

  “I will,” Drifter replied.

  "I don't need anyone looking out for me, Alina," Luna's said.

  Drifter watched as Alina approached the patrolling guards as she drew them into conversation. The guards attention shifted entirely to her animated discussion, leaving Luna free to act. She activated Alina's Lumina Core, bringing up the outpost map they'd seen moments before. With practiced precision, she tapped a hexagonal node, watching it fade before leading the way. Drifter followed close behind as they navigated corridor after corridor, carefully avoiding the watchful Mistral Quartz Orbs. Luna consulted her Lumina Core periodically, each gnce guiding them closer to their objective. At the metallic balcony, Drifter took Luna's hand. Their eyes met briefly before their bodies began to glow with shimmering blue particles. In an instant, they vanished.

  The barren ndscape materialized before them, and immediately Drifter felt the oppressive weight of the air pressing down. His Lumina Cores dispyed 1:07 as they found shelter beneath a gnarled tree. Drifter employed his Telekinesis, carefully lifting away branches to gather woods. Luna use a small red orb item, tossing it into the gathered wood. With a subtle flicker, a campfire sparked to life.

  They worked in silence, each setting up their own tent with basic amenities—a bedroll and chair arranged around the fire's glow. Drifter sat lost in contemption, his gaze fixed on the dancing fmes while Luna settled on the ground across from him, methodically sorting through her bag of supplies and rations.

  As they settled around the fire, a worn photograph slipped from Luna's bag. She retreated to her tent as Drifter gently retrieved it, glimpsing a young dark-haired girl with an older man.

  "Sorry, is this yours?" he called softly.

  Luna froze at his words, her eyes fixed on the photograph. She reached out with deliberate slowness, fingers tracing its worn edges.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Your family?" he asked.

  Luna didn't look up. "My grandfather," she said after a moment, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

  Drifter observed the way Luna's eyes softened as she gazed at the photograph, noting how she seemed to cradle it like a precious treasure. The absence of any parents in the photo struck him as peculiar, though he kept this observation to himself.

  After a while, Luna tucked the photograph away and gnced up at him. "What about your family?"

  The question caught him off guard. Luna had never shown interest in his personal life before, and for a moment, he wrestled with how to respond. Ultimately, he chose honesty.

  "They were once part of the Mage Association in Paxluma. But as you know, the city's gone now. The Cataclysmaris took everything." he said.

  Luna didn't respond immediately. When she did, her voice had lost its usual edge. "I know what that's like."

  Drifter looked up, studying her across the fmes. Something had shifted between them. His earlier suspicions about her motives suddenly seemed paranoid. If she'd wanted to trap him, the Frontier Outpost would have been the perfect pce. Yet here she was, sharing this moment with him, showing a vulnerability he hadn't expected.

  Luna pulled her knees to her chest, eyes reflecting the firelight. "Before all this happened... what did you do? Before joining the Order, I mean."

  Drifter exhaled slowly. "Nothing special. Just another mage in the Association. Studied magic, took on small missions when I could get them." He shrugged. "My life was... Peaceful. Then the Cataclysmaris appeared, and everything changed. I abandoned my studies and picked up the Arcane Saber. Trained until I couldn't stand." He gestured vaguely at the wastend around them. "And now here we are."

  He tossed his stick into the fire. "What about you? Why did you join?"

  "It wasn't complicated," Luna said, absently arranging small stones near her feet. "Grandmaster Lysander was my teacher. I just... followed him."

  Drifter nodded slowly. Her answer made sense, but something in her tone suggested there was more to it. Still, her connection to Lysander nagged at him—there was still a possibility of betrayal, though he found himself hoping his fears were unfounded.

  The fire crackled in the silence. Drifter cleared his throat.

  "Just so you know," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, "I snore. Loudly. Really loudly. You might want earplugs."

  A faint smile tugged at Luna's lips. "I'll manage."

  Drifter's quiet ugh broke the tension. When he looked at Luna again, she was staring into the fmes, lips parting slightly before closing again, whatever she'd considered saying left unspoken.

  They sat in comfortable silence until the fire died down to glowing embers. Eventually, they retreated to their separate tents, leaving the darkness and silence of the wastend outside—a momentary peace before whatever dangers awaited them tomorrow.