Subhash exhales loudly and slams his mug down on the table, making the wood creak and the utensils clatter. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before hailing the waitress to bring him another pint.

‘Now that’s what I call true nectar!’

‘You’ve been hanging out too far from Asgartha, Bash. Next time, I’ll take you where you can get a real brew. And by the way, you’ve got some foam on your mustache.’

He roughly wipes his lips and squeezes his chin dry.

‘Yeah, I really need to get to the barber before I leave’, he grumbles.

Nzinga raises an eyebrow.

‘Oh? I thought you were planning to let it grow back after what happened last time.’

‘Maybe. Honestly, I realized it was itching under my helmet.’

‘Plus, you’re starting to get frosty down there’, Nzinga laughs.

‘Ha! Don’t be rude. You’re not far behind, remember.’

‘Speaking of white hairs, have you heard from Ven?’

Bash shrugs. ‘I ran into him during leave at the Ouroboros. We ended up under the table.’

‘Not surprising at all, coming from you two.’ Nzinga shakes her head. ‘So where is he? Isn’t he supposed to be joining us?’

‘The man’s got responsibilities. He’s probably overseeing security at the Asterion. Plus, he’s taken a kid under his wing. He’s got to set a good example.’

‘What, like a recruit?’, the ferryman asks in surprise.

‘Yep, I’d even say a substitute son.’

‘Wow, who would’ve thought? A father at his age…’, she says with a half-joke.

Despite her teasing, he knows she’s sincerely happy for him.

‘Pfff. I don’t know if that’s a blessing. He’ll make a troublemaker out of him.’

‘I’m not so sure. I think he’ll do just fine’, she counters.

Bash notes the tenderness in his comrade’s eyes, feeling moved himself. ‘You're right.’

Suddenly, fireworks crackle above them, showering the square in blue, yellow, and pink sparks. A strange creature—a mix of rabbit and cat dressed as a whimsical jester—starts swirling around the nearby crowd. Ha! Auraq’s Alter Ego. Things are about to get lively. In a burst of pyrotechnics, the Alterer appears on a crier’s platform, dressed in her finest, most outlandish attire.

Alright, let the show begin!

High above, translucent figures unfold, massive and terrifying. On one side, the Kraken; on the other, Kaibara—two titans of nature colliding.

‘Leading the charge, Kojo rides the Leviathan as it slams into the Kraken full-force. The impact is fierce, enough to split the sea and slice the mountaintops.’

Auraq is thrilled, as more and more crowd gathers to listen. The small plaza is packed. She climbs onto a crate, surveying her audience as her Alter Ego floats lazily by her side. All eyes—wide and astonished—are locked on the animated specters Kibble is projecting above the spectators. This way, the onlookers can relive the battle, though Auraq may have embellished a few details to make it even more epic. Surely, the audience will forgive these little narrative liberties.

‘When all seemed lost, this powerful ally reignites the troops’ morale. Facing the drenched, retreating soldiers, Sigismar raises the Aegis banner high. “Turn back, champions of Asgartha, and take heart!” he shouts to anyone who will listen. “The tides are turning in our favor.” As horns blare and drums roll with an end-of-the-world clamor! “To battle! To arms, and onward, proud soldiers of Asgartha!” His griffin takes flight and dives toward the Kraken.’

The crowd cheers as the phantom image of the Paladin lunges at the giant sea beast.

‘Following him, the soldiers surge forward, a furious swell of water clashing with a human wave!’

Auraq pauses briefly, savoring the audience’s anticipation as they hold their breath.

‘Blow after blow from mighty fins against cracking tentacles… Who will triumph? Which of these ancient titans will claim victory?’

Suspense. She lets the crowd linger in expectation, then lowers her voice as if sharing a secret.

‘But sometimes, success doesn’t come from the fiercest fighters, but from the most unexpected source.’

Let them yearn a bit.

‘Sometimes, it’s the smallest threat that slips through the cracks.’

Auraq’s tone grows conspiratorial.

‘Kojo and Booda leaped off Kaibara when it crashed into the Kraken like a battering ram breaking down a fortress gate. And on the sand, stained with blood and foam, Alterer and Alter Ego prepare to strike the final blow, to sound the death knell.’

In the audience’s view, Kojo’s phantom forms a glowing sphere between his hands, spinning rapidly.

‘Putting his weight on the sand, he launches—no, catapults—himself into the air, defying physics, disregarding even gravity. He hovers above the Leviathan, already weakened by Kaibara’s attacks. As night falls, Kojo shines like a second sun. At this moment, Ra, Bela Pennu, and Helios have made him the vessel of their wrath!’

Above the rooftops, the fiery sphere descends toward the crowd, who gasp, covering their faces reflexively… but it’s just a projection, just a pantomime…

‘And as he charges at the monster like a divine spear, he yells his sentence, the judgment that will spell its doom…’

‘Go back to the abyss!’

Everyone turns, stunned, toward the voice booming through the square. At that moment, Kibble conjures a brilliant explosion, imperial and blinding, that shoots skyward like a seemingly devastating flare. Above the crowd, the massive silhouette of the Kraken begins to disintegrate like a heap of ashes…

Auraq grins broadly. The timing is impeccable, a coincidence that couldn’t be more perfect. After blinking their eyes, the spectators see Kojo’s silhouette emerging from the radiant burst of light.

‘There he is! In the flesh! I present to you: the Slayer of the Kraken, the Hero of Asgartha… the triumphant Kojo, with his fiery cheetah, the blazing Booda!’

The crowd’s cheers roll through the streets like waves.

‘You just had to show off, huh?’

As they make their way to the Asterion, Kojo glances at Gulrang with a mischievous grin that doesn’t quite hide his nerves.

‘Jealous, dear Captain?’, he teases his sister, trying to keep his cool.

She eyes the medal pinned to his uniform and snickers.

‘In your dreams, kid. Wave to the crowd and enjoy your day of glory.’

Kojo complies, less to follow his sister’s advice and more to steady himself and mask his own fretfulness. For the past few hours, he’s been sitting stiff as a board, hands clenched on his reins.

‘What you did was really brave, you know. Brave but utterly reckless, risky, and ill-advised. You’re lucky to still be alive, little brother.’

Kojo sighs and pouts.

‘I saw an opening, so I went for it.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. Headfirst, without a shred of thought’, she sighs.

Kojo just shrugs.

‘Haha, I’m a Bravos for a reason.’

‘Pff. That’s no excuse’, she scolds him. ‘Remember, I’d be the one breaking the bad news to Mom and Dad if something happened to you.’

‘Same goes for you, Gul. If you’d been on the beach with the others…’

‘I know. That’s why we have to be careful, you and me. It’s already hard enough on them with both of us enlisted.’

Kojo feels his shoulders slump.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’

Gul punches him on the shoulder.

‘Ow! Why’d you do that?’, he protests, rubbing his arm.

‘For your foolishness, you airhead. Next time, think for two seconds before you act.’

Gulrang snaps her reins and trots her horse toward the Aegis contingent. Kojo knew, deep down, that she was right. But in the heat of the moment, his instincts had urged him to take a chance. He turns and watches the procession. Behind him, the cohort advances along the Via Hisarya, greeted by the cheers of the crowd.

This time, they had managed to return to Asgartha to celebrate their victory over the Kraken. But after months of travel, turning back would no longer be an option. They all had to make the most of these celebrations while they still could.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Afanas watching him. It was thanks to him that he was here today, in the place of honor. Kojo nods at him, hoping that’s enough of a thank you for the Mage. He sees Afanas nod back, then lets his gaze drift up to the heights of the Asterion.

Afanas has no heart for all these festivities, feeling completely out of place within this so-called honor guard. All he truly wishes is for the day to end, so he can pay his respects to the families of the fallen and visit Matera’s grave, though it remained tragically empty.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see her face before it faded and turned to ashes. Her death was profoundly unjust. She had been so young, with her whole life ahead of her. He was old and waning, his own journey’s end looming ever closer... and yet he was still here, and she was gone. And it was largely his fault.

Had he not allowed himself to be distracted, he might have been able to protect her. But for a few seconds, vengeance had felt more important than his former Disciple’s survival. As the trumpets blare, Afanas clenches his teeth. The worst part was, he wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t make the same mistake again in the future.

Senka.

All of a sudden, he finds himself soaring high above the bay and rooftops of the capital, borne by the winds, his feathers brushing the clouds. Ahead, the Muir Concordia sparkles with a thousand lights where the sun’s rays pierce through the clouds. Bands of sand snake between pools of water, where wading birds and members of the Shellers’ Guild dredge the silt in search of clams, razor clams, or sea almonds.

A light drizzle begins to whip against his face and mask, seeping through his diaphanous form, leaving iridescent mists in its wake.

Senka makes a wide arc before diving toward the Asterion, gliding over the Basileus’ palace. The night bird weaves between the towers, wings stretched to catch the breezes, adjusting its course and lift to ride the lagoon’s currents.

Below, Afanas sees a few figures on a large terrace overlooking the palace gardens, dressed in sumptuous ceremonial robes. On the eve of Avkan’s abdication, the dance of political maneuvers is in full swing, complete with matchmakers and advantageous unions waiting to be made.

‘Still to be decided is who will handle the interim’, murmurs Temesgen.

Waru tugs at his mustache, then shrugs dismissively.

‘I’ll leave that privilege to the younger generation. I’ve had my time, just as Avkan has had his. Let the old folks rest a bit, will you?’

Temesgen rolls his eyes.

‘You have an odd idea of rest, dear Waru. Facing the Tumult isn't exactly what I picture as a well-earned retirement.’

‘Believe me, stepping back from the political scene will be a welcome reprieve, no matter what.’

‘But with Avkan sidelined, now would be the time to counterattack.’

‘We’ve lost that battle. The Rediscovery Endeavor is underway. We’d gain nothing by undoing what’s already been set in motion. It would actually be... counterproductive for everyone.’

Temesgen gives him a look of mild suspicion.

‘So, now that you're part of an Exalt, you're supporting your rival's grand project... Have you changed sides, my friend?’

Waru turns to him, looking serious.

‘My loyalty has always been to the people of Asgartha. They are whom I pledged to serve, not my ambition or personal gain.’

He places a hand on his colleague’s shoulder.

‘Tearing down everything that’s been built over the past thirty years? How would that serve the people's interests?’

Temesgen stays silent for a few seconds, pondering the question.

‘So, in your view, Avkan’s successor should be someone neutral?’

‘Yes, someone who doesn’t view the Rediscovery Endeavor with reluctance, but isn’t entirely devoted to its cause either.’

‘Someone realistic.’

‘Precisely’, confirms Waru.

‘Visala? Maybe Hamza? Hoyt?’

Waru shakes his head.

‘Too much baggage. We need a new face.’

‘Hmm’, Temesgen sighs. ‘It’s no small task. An overseer of sorts?’

‘No, someone who can inspire people, someone who can maintain harmony.’

Temesgen stifles a laugh.

‘A Muna, then?’

‘Why not.’

Waru sees the shock on Temesgen's face.

‘That was meant as a joke.’

‘I know’, replies the old politician. ‘But it’s not a bad idea, actually. We’d need a mediator, someone capable of fostering stability in Asgartha. And who better than a Muna to align with that goal?’

Temesgen turns toward the horizon, clearly taken aback.

‘Qualified candidates will be few.’

‘I know you, Tem. You probably already have names in mind.’

‘Perhaps I do.’

Just then, the bells of the Asterion begin to ring. Startled by the sudden clamor, flocks of pigeons and chattering martengales burst skyward. Waru pats his friend on the back, motioning for him to descend the steps toward the basilican amphitheater. Suddenly, he’s jostled, and grabs the railing to steady himself.

‘Sorry!’, yells Rin, racing down the steps.

She bounces up and grabs the balustrade overlooking the stands, eyes wide with excitement.

Look, Kiddo! See all those people?

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd: the tightly packed, colorful assembly, the central dais with its angular but elegant design… She takes it all in with her senses—the steady hum of conversations, the vibrant colors, the smell of roasting corn somewhere nearby… But her Alter Ego seems totally uninterested in this urban scene. She’s opted to stay in a garden on the edge of the Asterion rather than attend the festivities.

You’re such a buzzkill, sometimes!

She dashes around the arena’s perimeter, weaving between clustered spectators to find the best spot. But all the seats seem taken, unless... With a deft bit of Alteration, she conjures a climbing plant, which snakes around a tall column. Once the vine reaches the top and blossoms with white flowers along its length, she scrambles up it like a little monkey. Perched up high, she’ll have a perfect view of the procession and celebrations.

‘Hey! Can I climb up, too?’

Rin turns to see a boy her age looking up at her. She smiles and nods enthusiastically.

‘Of course! Go ahead, climb up!’

Once he reaches her level, she offers him a hand to help him onto the perch.

‘I wish I could do Alteration, too. You’re a Muna, right?’, he asks, catching his breath.

She nods.

‘My name’s Rin.’

‘And I’m Jalang. Thanks for letting me up here.’

Rin grins mischievously.

‘No problem, Jalang! Do you live around here?’

‘Yeah, just down the way in the Fosa District’, he says, pulling a bag of caramel peanuts from his pocket.

‘Want some?’

Rin immediately plunges her hand into the bag and grabs a small handful of caramel-coated seeds, popping one in her mouth before shoving the rest in. Generously, she shares the taste with Orchid, who clicks its mandibles.

‘Isn’t it amazing? We actually beat the Kraken! I would’ve loved to see it! And Kojo taking it down piece by piece!’

Rin makes a face.

‘I dunno. Maybe we could’ve talked with it. Like Niavhe did with Kaibara.’

The boy shakes his head.

‘There was nothing else to do but fight. It destroyed an entire province. It got exactly what it deserved.’

Rin looks down, seized by a wave of sadness. Jalang seems to notice.

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you’, he says apologetically, looking sheepish.

Rin brushes off the dark thoughts and smiles at him again.

‘You’d be a Bravos, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, like Kojo. Or maybe an Ordis, to protect Asgartha!’

Rin laughs.

‘We’ll count on you while we’re far away.’

Jalang’s eyes widen.

‘Huh? You’re part of the Expeditionary Corps?’

But before she can respond, bugles begin to blare across the plaza, trumpeting in full force. The amphitheater doors open, letting in the procession she should have been part of. Standing, she waves to them, and Jalang joins her, waving enthusiastically.

Kojo greets the crowd, swallowing nervously. He should be used to this by now, after so many Altrun matches. But none of his races had ever gathered such a massive audience. During the finals, his team must have felt that same mix of thrill and discomfort. They must have experienced what he was feeling now—stage fright, stress, a dizzying unease.

‘Stand tall; this is your moment, hero.’

Gul elbows him in the ribs to nudge him forward. Kojo takes a few steps, suddenly feeling desperately alone in front of the dais. Booda’s nose nudges his knee.

Alright, not completely alone. I know you're here.

The big cat presses its nose into his palm, as if to reassure him. Beyond the steep steps, he sees the stately figure of the Basileus, holding the victors’ laurel: the Carnelian Crown. Kojo swallows. It’s the highest honor in Asgartha, worn before him by illustrious champions and explorers of old, from Abelen Sundström to Aroro Niski... He places a tentative foot on the first step, his heart pounding in his chest. Is he truly worthy to wear it? Does he deserve to be standing here?

A voice nearby calls out, almost making him jump. Turning toward the stands, he sees Carmela proudly raising her fist. Beside her, Uju is whistling at the top of her lungs, while Cathal teases him with a sly, mocking grin. But it’s Gault he’s really looking at. Gault places a hand on his heart, gazing at Kojo with warmth, as if to encourage him. They’re all here, his friends from the Jusaka Blaze...

Buoyed by their presence, Kojo climbs the stairs leading to the Basileus with renewed determination. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d be in the ruler's presence. Never, ever had he thought he’d receive this honor. And yet... Avkan ruun-Heshkari, the great architect of the Rediscovery Endeavor, stands before him, and thousands of voices are chanting his name…

The smile from the ruler radiates kindness and pride. Kojo kneels respectfully, his heart racing. Eyes closed, he waits until he feels the circle of the crown gently placed upon his head.

Am I truly worthy?

Booda suddenly lets out a roar, echoed by the crowd as they cheer. Confetti and streamers rain down from the stands everywhere around him…