The skies above the capital of Vastelune turned a shade darker, as if the heavens themselves sensed what was about to unfold.
The six-month ceasefire, fragile and cold, shattered with a single message—an urgent dispatch sent via soulthread courier from the border stronghold of Aegir's Veil. The sealed scroll was marked with crimson glyphs of emergency and bore the insignia of the warfront general himself.
King Vastelune sat in his throne chamber, crown askew on his silver hair, his normally composed face carved with tension. A low murmur rippled through the war council as the scroll was read aloud.
"The Aurelion Kingdom has broken the ceasefire pact. As of dawn, their elite battalions surged past the Tranquil Accord border and assaulted our western bastions. Losses confirmed. Casualties rising. Requesting immediate reinforcements. The enemy… wields unfamiliar glyphs—magic that bypasses our barrier threads."
Silence crashed over the room like thunder. Then, panic ignited like wildfire.
"Aurelion has mastered forbidden runes—this isn't just war, it's genocide!" spat General Haramont, slamming his gauntleted fist on the war table.
The King remained still, eyes distant. "So... they found remnants of the False Codex," he whispered, barely audible.
A court mage paled. "That text was believed to be destroyed…"
"No," the King said bitterly. "Buried. Forgotten. Like the Originis once were."
At that moment, the great doors opened.
Ari Solen stepped into the hall.
He walked with a calm, chilling presence—adorned in the ceremonial cloak of the Originis, its black-and-silver folds swirling with living glyphs. His gaze was resolute, the obsidian-gray of his eyes now darker, deeper, as if staring through time itself. Behind him, Eluin, Cerys, Lysira, and Primira followed, their steps synchronized, expressions tense.
Ari lowered his head slightly in greeting. "I heard," he said simply.
King Vastelune studied him. "You knew this would happen."
"I suspected," Ari replied. "The Fragmentwalkers made their move through Aurelion's court. The ceasefire was only ever a stalling tactic."
The council flinched at the word. Fragmentwalkers. The true enemy—manipulators of time-lost code, immune to system barriers, and bearing hatred for Originis' resurrection.
"I'll lead the countermeasure," Ari said, stepping forward. "But this time… it will not be containment. We end this."
"You are but a boy—" one noble began.
"—who defeated the highest mage of Detracta," the King cut in coldly. "And shattered the spell-forged walls of the Sacred Gymnasium with a single duel."
The nobles fell silent.
Ari nodded respectfully to the king. "With your permission, I'll take a mobile strike unit—Vanguard Class. Myself, my companions, and volunteers. No generals. No bureaucracy. Only those who wish to fight for truth."
King Vastelune stood slowly, voice solemn. "So be it. Assemble your force. From this moment… Vastelune is at war once more."
A single bell tolled across the palace, echoing into the distance. One ring, clear and resounding.
The Ring of Reckoning.
From the highest tower, war banners unfurled. Vastelune's royal crest fluttered beside a new sigil: the swirling glyph of Originis.
The world would remember this day.
Not as the day war resumed—
But as the beginning of a reckoning 30 million years in the making.