"Anomaly detected on the starboard side!"
The alarm shout from the spirit master jolted the Pardera skyship into action. Within seconds, armored warriors surged onto the deck, forming disciplined defensive lines with their weapons drawn.
Vice Commander Feil stepped forward, her cloak whipping in the high-altitude winds. The commander's battle instincts sharpened as she scanned the turbulent skies.
A strange object erged from the clouds—a large cube of polished tal and earth, swiftly closing the distance.
"Prepare for battle!" she barked.
But before her order was carried out, a voice echoed from within the cube. Familiar.
"Vice Commander Feil—wait! Do not attack. It's ."
The tal flying box shifted position, gliding smoothly beside the Pardera warship. With a chanical hum, one of its panels slid open, revealing Ery standing at the edge. Behind him stood thirty-two weary survivors—n and won scarred by battle, yet still holding themselves with quiet resolve.
Despite the recognition dawning on both sides, tension crackled in the air. Spears of spiritual energy flared on the Pardera deck as warriors held their weapons at the ready.
Ery raised both hands in peace.
"We're survivors from Central Stronghold," he called out. "We barely made it out alive. We're heading to Northstar Stronghold"
Vice Commander Feil stood at the ship's prow, her gaze locked on Rosin Karat, her expression hardened. She recognized the old man imdiately.
A Supre Realm prisoner of Pardera.
Dangerous.
Sensing the tension, Ery interjected with urgency.
"Commander... This elder saved our lives. Without him, we'd all be dead. Every one of us owes him our lives."
Before he could continue, Feil raised a hand, silencing him. She turned slowly, her eyes settling on a young elf standing behind her.
There was sothing unusual about the elf—sothing ethereal. Ery squinted. His breath caught.
The elf's eyes were glowing gold, like molten sunlight. And in those eyes, Ery saw sothing more. The familiarity.
Recognition struck him like a thunderclap.
"Lord Ariel?!"
The young elf stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding. "He speaks the truth."
Gasps were whispered among the Pardera officers.
With Lord Ariel himself vouching for them, the group of survivors was granted permission to board the Pardera warship. Relief washed over many faces, but tension still lingered in the air.
Once aboard, Ery, Rosin Karat, and a few others were escorted to the ship's command cabin. Inside, the truth of Lord Ariel's survival was unveiled.
During the fall of the Central Stronghold, the elven leader had indeed perished—his body annihilated in the chaos of the battle. Yet, as a Soul Champion, he had prepared for such an outco. Splitting his consciousness into a dozen soul fragnts, each piece had fled in a different direction while saving as many survivors as they could.
One such fragnt had found this very vessel, rging with the willing body of a young elf warrior. Through that sacrifice, Lord Ariel was reborn into flesh once more.
Now wearing the youthful shell of a soldier, Lord Ariel turned to Rosin Karat and expressed his deep gratitude.
Though once held prisoner by Pardera, the elderly supre magus had still chosen to help them in their hour of need. Without that intervention, even Lord Ariel's soul fragnt would have faded into the void, extinguishing forever.
"If you didn't help that ti, I would not be able to survive."
The emotional mont was broken by Ivaris, the chubby alchemist who could never quite keep quiet in monts of tension.
With a hopeful glint in his eyes and a forced smile, he expressed his relief at having both Lord Ariel and Commander Feil present.
"We are safe now, right? ... with so many strong figures here... we certainly can return to Pardera... "
However, the female commander's response was grim. Feil's eyes held no joy, only the weight of recent horrors. Slowly, she shook her head, delivering news even more crushing than expected.
"We can't go back... Three of the five northern strongholds have fallen... The borders are war zones now. Even half of the expedition forces were destroyed before we could escape. We've been routed off course. I can only hope that the other ships survive."
As the tension deepened in the room, Lord Ariel—still ntally linked with his other surviving fragnts—offered a broader overview of the situation. His updates matched what Veyarel had said about the massive invasion, and in response, the entire Pardera Kingdom had been mobilized. A dozen supre-level experts had joined the battlefront.
Ery exchanged a glance with Gelael and the others. The situation was far worse than they had imagined. There was no going back. Northstar Stronghold wasn't just a refuge—it was their last bastion.
After confirming their plan, Rosin Karat finally allowed himself to rest. The rest of the survivors aboard followed suit—so training, so tending to their wounds, all ntally preparing for what waited ahead.
But that peace was fleeting.
Only hours after their union, they received the worst possible news: the enemy had also reached the Northstar Stronghold.
The once-secure fortress was now under siege.
Despair rippled through the rank. So advocated turning back—finding another way, another stronghold, another plan.
Ery stood at the center of the cabin, silent as the storm of voices and distant footfalls swirled around him. He wasn't listening anymore. His mind had narrowed to a single point of certainty—the Northstar Stronghold was his only path back to the Magus Realm. If he abandoned that path now, he might never find another way ho.
No. Ery couldn't retreat. Not now. If battle was the price for his return, then he would gladly pay it in full.
Fortunately, he wasn't alone in that resolve.
Commander Feil, who had remained statuesque at the edge of the cabin, finally moved.
"We're not turning back!" she declared, stepping to the front of the command deck. "Everyone to your stations!"
Across the deck, warriors and crew alike snapped into motion. The female commander raised her arm high, her eyes locked on the storm-wreathed horizon.
"Advance to battle!"
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