Queen Syphon Eldia's presence filled the ruined chamber, her eyes tracing Indura's form as though measuring not just his power, but the very essence of who he had become. Her voice carried the calm weight of authority, but beneath it flowed a current of disbelief, sorrow, and accusation. "I can't feel your mana, Indura," she said, stepping closer, each word deliberate, heavy. "Are you hiding it? Concealing it from me, from yourself even?"
Indura didn't answer. He didn't know. The truth lingered between them, unspoken, a quiet tension, as her gaze bore into him, searching for the core he had hidden even from himself.
"You have taken so much," Syphon continued, her voice trembling slightly now, as though the weight of her disappointment had to escape. "Lives that are sacred, precious to this world… and yet you decide their end because you can. Because it is yours to decide. Do you even understand what that means?" She moved closer, tears slipping from her eyes in smooth, quiet streams, catching the light of the ruined room.
Indura widened his eyes, shock catching him before comprehension could settle. He had never seen her cry. Never. The sight of her tears struck something unanticipated deep inside him, a disturbance he had not accounted for.
"I am… truly disappointed," she said, voice low, controlled, but a quiet shiver of fury rippled through it. Mana gathered in her hand, coiling like a living serpent, and with a swift motion, she struck. The slap was precise, controlled, devastating, a single hand infused with the force of her conviction. It hit him across the face, and the room tore apart with the energy, sending him flying over the kingdom in a blur of motion.
He crashed in the forest beyond the kingdom, the ground cracking under the force of his impact. The trees groaned, displaced roots tearing through soil, steam rising where his body struck. Pain lanced through him, but sharper than that, was the shock, the realization of what had just happened. He looked at his hands, flexing, turning, trying to sense… anything. What had just occurred? How had she done that?
His thoughts raced in a quiet storm. Has she grown stronger? Am I weaker? Or am I still the same? No...something is not right. His mind spun, trying to make sense of the abruptness, the impossibility. He barely had time to process before she appeared in front of him, moving as if the space itself bent to her will.
"You are weaker than I expected," she said, her gaze steady, piercing, as though she had observed him for years in that moment. "Ever since my guards found you in the aftermath of the destruction, laying amidst the burning ruin… I have wondered if you are making yourself vulnerable. Do you test your limits so carelessly?" Her voice was even, but the weight behind it pressed down, as if the air itself mourned the devastation behind his name.
Indura slowly rose, limbs aching, body jolted with disbelief at the distance he had traveled from the chamber. Shock painted his expression, a slow dawning of the truth, as he examined the forest around him. What just happened? He bent slightly, studying his own hands, flexing fingers as if they might explain what had been done to him.
Syphon moved closer, and each step carried the subtle authority of her station, the weight of her grief, the patience of centuries. "What is going through your mind?" she asked softly, but with an undercurrent that made it clear—this was not just curiosity. This was a reckoning.
Indura's thoughts darted and circled. Is stronger?… or am I weaker? Did she always possess this? Or have I failed myself to notice? He struggled to reconcile the power in front of him with the being he believed himself to be. Before he could resolve anything, the world shifted beneath him, and he blinked to find himself soaring, weightless, suspended above, unable to understand the mechanics of it.
Syphon hovered behind him, serene yet terrifying, her presence a guiding gravity. "Look below," she said, her voice calm, resonant, echoing with authority. "See what has become of life at your hands."
Indura's eyes turned downward. Steam rose from the broken remains of what had once been the dwarf kingdom. The world was empty there now, only the whisper of destruction lingering in the air. She spoke quietly, measured, but every word struck like a hammer against his perception. "Are you proud of this? Do you feel any satisfaction at what you have wrought?"
"It… doesn't matter," he said lightly, brushing it off, trying to detach from the enormity of the destruction.
She allowed the statement to hang, then continued, her gaze unyielding. "And above? Who were you battling up there, in the skies, to warrant such a display? The white light, the explosion that could be seen from every corner of Varta… Just who did you face that the night sky became as bright as day?"
Indura looked upward, recalling the encounter with the Gundr. A small smile played across his lips. "Oh that… that was a guardian from the Sky Palace. They came to me right as i was in the middle of… handling the dwarf kingdom." He let the words linger, pride tinged with amusement. "They said that the sky palace would descend if I destroyed the dwarf Kingdom." Hah… well, then I'll go for them next."
Syphon's eyes widened, disbelief coursing through her features. "Do you even know what you have done? The Sky Palace is not to be mocked, Indura. They are formidable, and you… You have walked blindly into a storm you cannot hope to control. 'The One' who leads them knows all." Her tone dropped, somber and sharp, warning etched into each syllable, yet sorrowed with the impossibility of the world he had shaped.
Indura only smirked, the faint shadow of his amusement crossing over the devastation, as though defiance itself could hold the weight of reality at bay.
Syphon's expression softened for a fraction of a heartbeat, and then she snapped her fingers. In a blink, they disappeared, the air shifted, and they were back in the castle chamber. Stone and timber healed seamlessly under her magic, the walls solid as though nothing had been broken. The quiet aftermath was perfect, yet the tension hung thick, a reminder of the events that had just transpired.
Indura's eyes flicked toward her, measuring, calculating, his mind spinning as he considered the scale of what had just occurred. Her warning, her tears, her power… all of it pressed into his consciousness, a weight he could not dismiss.
Syphon's gaze held steady, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and calculated concern. "Do you understand the magnitude of what you have done, Indura?" she asked, her voice low, deliberate, but carrying a sharp undertone that made it impossible to dismiss. "The destruction you left behind… it is nothing compared to what could befall you if the Sky Palace learns of this. You may have underestimated the world you live in."
Indura tilted his head slightly, trying to read her tone, trying to gauge the seriousness behind the calm she projected.
She speaks as if warning me of a storm I cannot feel yet…
"The Sky Palace is not a myth," she continued, pacing slowly, each step deliberate, echoing softly through the chamber. "Three thousand years ago, Varta teetered on the edge of annihilation. Forces of darkness, sent from beyond our world, poured into Varta. They ravaged our lands, corrupted life, and extinguished hope. The elves, humans, dwarves, even the primal tribes—they fought with everything they had. But it was not enough. We almost lost."
Indura listened, the weight of history settling in his mind. Almost lost… so even they were not invincible.
"Then they came," Syphon said, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper, "the Sky Palace army. Descending from the heavens, shining with brilliance beyond comprehension, led by the one who is known to all as 'The Light of Dawn'. He is not a man, not a warrior, not a mage… he is omnipotent, as bright as the sun itself. Nothing can compare to him. His mere presence turns battlefields into radiance, and his sword, his judgment, falls as if the world itself wills it." She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. "With him, the tide of war shifted. The dark forces were wiped from existence almost instantly. Life in Varta was spared because of him."
Indura's thoughts churned as he pictured the magnitude of such a being. A single immortal capable of ending what armies could not.
Syphon's eyes narrowed, her voice regaining sharpness. "The Sky Palace is not just a single being. Their warriors are among the highest ranks in existence. Some hold the title 'Sword of the World,' cutting through armies with a single stroke. Others, the 'Shield of the World,' can withstand annihilation without faltering. And the 'Hammer of the World'—those who bring destruction as though bending reality itself to their will. Above them, the Asura, three exist in all the palace, each transcending comprehension, embodying fury and judgment. And at the pinnacle stands the Light of Dawn, the Immortal Sky General."
Indura's lips curved into a slow, amused smirk. "The one I faced in the sky… he was a Sword of the World," he said. "Formidable. He nearly shattered me. I had to be careful."
Syphon's expression did not falter, but the calm in her voice hardened. "Do you understand now?" she asked, stepping closer, her hand reaching toward him, hovering just above his chest. "What could come for you. Life in Varta is sacred, yet so often misused. You wield it, you take it as though it is yours to claim. But the forces that guard life… they do not forgive."
Her hand pressed lightly against him, tracing faint lines over his chest, over areas where mana should have surged but did not. "Your mana…" she said, almost in disbelief, "it is… gone. Burnt out. There is nothing left to draw upon, nothing that your body can even access. And yet you live." Her touch moved slowly, carefully, as if reading the map of destruction within him. "Internal injuries, grave ones, carved by divinity itself, linger where mana cannot reach. You have been struck… deeply. The traces of divine energy left fragments of ruin inside you. Broken threads of your core remain, unstable. How… how are you even alive?"
Indura looked down, silent, hands trembling slightly as he tried to sense anything of his power. She knows… she can feel what I cannot. She can read the fractures I don't even understand myself…
Syphon withdrew her hand slightly, studying him with unflinching intensity. "You walk as if untouched, but every step carries the weight of what has been done to your own body. You are vulnerable, Indura. Not because you are weak, but because the world you have challenged has marked you. The Sky Palace will know of this, and the higher ranks will sense it. And the Light of Dawn…" Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowing as she let the name hang between them. "He will notice. You cannot hide from them, and you cannot fight what you have invited."
Indura met her gaze, a faint smirk tracing his lips. He could feel the heat of her presence, the depth of her understanding, and yet he could not fully grasp it. She sees what I cannot. She knows the storm I might face, and yet she speaks as if it is already decided…
Syphon's hand fell to her side, but the tension did not leave her. "This is what comes from disregarding the sanctity of life, from testing forces beyond comprehension. You cannot claim ignorance now, Indura. You are alive… but at what cost, and for how long?"
Indura remained silent, absorbing her words, the weight of history, of the Sky Palace, of the Light of Dawn, pressing upon him. Every instinct, every thought, told him this was a reckoning unlike any he had faced.
Syphon stepped back slightly, her voice softening, yet carrying the finality of warning. "The world is vast, Indura. Life is fragile. Powers you do not understand will come for you. And the moment they do… I pray you remember what it means to live, what it means to be challenged, and what it means to respect the forces you believe you can control."
Indura's gaze fell to his hands, fingers flexing, flexing again, as if he could will them back into something more. "Can… can my core be fixed?" he asked finally, voice low, cautious, almost hesitant. The question felt heavy, almost foolish, even to himself.
Syphon's eyes softened for a moment, tracing the faint outlines of his body. "Every being in Varta is born with a mana core," she said, almost philosophically, "it is how one learns to manipulate, to grow, to progress with mana over time. But it is also vulnerable. Fragile in ways most never consider." Her gaze sharpened as it settled on him. "Indura… yours is not of this world. Not of this realm, not of this ecosystem. What resides within you… It is alien to the rules we know. To restore it, you cannot rely on even the masters, or the Grandmasters. Not a single one. They are limited to this world, to its currents, to its life. You… you are something else entirely. You must return to where you came from, or seek a power beyond us, higher than anything we can offer."
Indura's thoughts churned. Return to where I came from… seek a higher power… there's no roadmap for this, but perhaps… He looked at her sharply, trying to read the weight in her eyes, trying to measure how serious she was.
"What the Sword of the World said," he murmured, almost to himself, "before we clashed… he called this place I belong 'Chaos.' He said there are others… dragons, like me, over there." His eyes narrowed as he considered it. "A world of my kind. Others waiting."
Syphon blinked, surprise flickering across her face, her voice dropping low. "Chaos… I've heard the name," she said cautiously. "Not much. It is a realm of battle, ruin, where survival is an art no one can master fully. Beings there… they are on another level compared to Varta. Everything we know here, every rank, every law… it barely scratches their existence." Her fingers flexed unconsciously as she paused, as if caught between speaking and withholding. "I… I remember something, someone… a traveler from another world crossed here once. But—" She hesitated, and the silence thickened, leaving Indura keenly aware of it.
She knows about Chaos… she knows more than she says, Indura thought, a flicker of intrigue igniting in his chest. If she knows, there's more in Varta that hasn't touched me yet… this world is deeper than I imagined.
"I see," he said, voice low, deliberate, leaning back slightly. "So… without my mana, I'm still strong. I could hold my own."
Syphon cut him off sharply, her voice crisp, unwavering. "No. You are not as strong as you think. Not anymore. The fragments of divinity within you… They are not only cutting off your mana, but they are limiting your strength. You have been reduced, Indura. Drastically. You are at best ten percent of what you once were."
Indura froze, leaning back further, eyes widening as the realization sank in. "Ten… percent?" he muttered, disbelief dripping from his voice. Impossible… I've felt something odd. Even now, with no mana, with my core shattered… i knew something was wrong. The slap from Syphon earlier… it pushed me back with ease. Normally, I am a wall… a great wall. But now… that wall… it has been shattered. Only the foundations remain.
Syphon stepped closer, voice softening slightly, a hint of something almost maternal in her tone. "There is a chance. A way to restore at least a portion of your strength." Her eyes met his, sharp and assessing. "But it will not be easy. And it will come with a condition."
Indura's jaw tightened. He leaned back, unease creeping in, sensing the weight behind her words. A condition… I should not like the sound of that… Yet, curiosity, the spark that had carried him through countless battles, flared. "What is it?" he asked, voice measured, though the tension in his chest twisted.
Syphon's lips curved in a brief, fleeting smile, and she turned, gesturing for him to follow. "Come," she said softly, the weight of authority in her step. "Walk outside with me. I want you to see someone… my husband. He will explain more."
Indura hesitated a moment, thoughts racing. Husband…? There is more here. I can feel it. Whatever strength remains, whatever knowledge awaits… this is only the beginning.
He followed, stepping carefully, eyes tracing her every movement, aware that even in her calm, there was power enough to break worlds. The air shifted subtly around them as they moved, charged with unspoken history, unspoken warning, and the quiet hum of forces he had yet to comprehend.