The jungle Aster conjured bloomed wild across the battlefield—vines snapping like whips, roots rupturing stone, the air thick with humidity and glowing spores. Above it all, Duskfall's ever-familiar vibrant twilight reigned, but beneath that beauty—Astra staggered.
He crouched beneath a fragile dome of shadows, the Black Moon above him flickering like a dying ember. Blood trickled from his brow, slipping into his eye. The black-gold sand beneath him felt like quicksand. His shadows unraveled with every breath—threads failing beneath the oppressive weight of Aster's rot and rebirth.
Aster Hunt was relentless.
He fought back a blade with shadows, but he was on the ground again in the next breath—slammed against cracked stone, his body echoing with pain. Aster's short swords danced around him like vipers. One blade pressed to his throat, the other casually resting against his ribs. Her knee pinned his chest.
Blood matted his hair curly hair. His limbs screamed in protest. The crowd was a distant roar, the sky above a blur.
Not cruel. Not mocking. Curious. Intimate.
"Why do you fight, Astra?"
She didn't yell. Didn't snarl. She didn't even infuse mana in her voice. Her questions that of genuine curiosity.
"You're not bad," she said, breath hitching with exertion. "Not for someone who shouldn't even be standing on this stage."
She elbowed him in the throat—he coughed blood.
"I don't know why I'm doing this. Why I keep talking to you."
"But the moment I saw you… I had to speak. Had to see you."
"You've entertained me. The crowd. For a mere adopted pawn, you're a genius among geniuses. Two domain spells, even… You have a bright future."
Her voice trembled slightly as her eyes locked with his.
"Yet… in your eyes—I see it... You're.....you're like me."
She punched him across the face. Blood sprayed.
Shadows pulsed in response under his black moon—but they slipped between his fingers, unraveling before her rot. Still, they fought back. A blast of shadow knocked her back. She skidded but remained on her feet.
"You're hiding something."
She was upon him again—fast, lethal. A blur in the overgrown jungle of her creation. Astra barely parried. He was in full retreat, yet here she was a huntress honing in on her kill.
Another strike—his ribs.
"You're alone."
A slash across his shoulder—shallow, but brutal.
"Burdened."
A kick spun him, and he fell again, back slamming against the stone.
"But why?" she demanded. "Why fight me? Why fight Lucien? Why risk your life and push yourself like this?"
A spinning kick knocked him to the ground again.
"I didn't have a choice you see," she hissed, her breath uneven. "I was made to be Aster Hunt. The heir of Growth and Ruin. My destiny is that of divinity. My fate was carved into me before I even spoke."
She pinned him again, wrestling a blade to his throat.
"But you? You had freedom. You could've hidden your strength. Been safe. Lived as a promising Shadow scion in peace. And yet here you are—facing someone you know you can't beat."
Her blade pressed down—blood welled along his throat. as she finally infused mana into her voice, for whole arena to hear her.
"So tell me, Astra... why,why go through all those things.?"?"
The word echoed.
It struck deeper than any wound. Beneath the pain. Beneath the blood.
Her blade pressed harder, drawing blood.
Why?
Astra lay still beneath her weight, blood in his mouth, heart pounding like a war drum.
She was right after all, he really could have hidden more, not sought out Shadow, maybe even denied participating in the tournament, lived an easy life perhaps as a scion of a long forgotten house, but he has always knew deep down. that wasn't his destiny. his calling. He had longed to be more, and thus he was made more.
Yet he didn't know why the tears threatened his vision. Didn't know why the stars in his mind whispered.
But he knew one thing
He was losing.
His mind clawed through pain, slipping into his inner domain—that starlit void, his soul's sky.
There, the Star Core pulsed faintly.
it flickered and danced
Then it flared.
Not in command. Not in demand. It simply waited.
Astra reached out, embracing his star core, not from fear, but will.
The stars rejoiced.
In his inner world, stars burst to life.
A galaxy spun around the Core. Celestial rivers flowed through the cosmos of his soul. Constellations ignited like fireworks across a void without end.
This wasn't about survival.
It was about acceptance.
Astra didn't beg it.
He embraced it.
His fingers twitched.
His shadows stirred.
His mana pulsed.
Above the vast skies in his inner domain, his very soul, a second sun began to form
A second mana core, a mythical core. His mythical core
Astra with blood in his mouth, eyes glazed with starlight, whispered—
"…You....you think I wanted this?"
Aster blinked as she sensed the profound change within him.
"You think I wanted to wake up every day feeling like the world was holding its breath, waiting to snuff me out? You think I wanted to climb from the sewers and scum, just to play pretend with nobles who'd kill me if they knew who I really was,?"
"I wish I could've hidden. I wish I could've been lazy. I wish I wasn't burdened.Even now I wish I didnt have these feelings."
His breath caught, new strength flooded his body. He shoved her back—finally—and staggered to his feet.
His shadow coiled.
The Black Moon above shuddered, as if startled by his voice.
"But I'm not just surviving anymore."
He began to almost glow, an etherial glow, he was ascending to a squire, the crowd was silent. they sensed the change, the starlight above pierced the twilight skies.
Astras violet eyes ignited.
"I longed for this. When all I could see from the outskirts was twilight, I dreamed of stars. I craved power—not because I had to—but because I wanted it, Why not be great? see how far I can go, how big I can become?."
Aster stepped back. The jungle warped around her. Her instincts screamed at her.
"What a marvel it is," Astra whispered, "to truly live. You know, this last week? It's the most alive I've ever felt."
His smile was broken. Beautiful. Real.
"So now that I have a chance—even a sliver—of touching that sky…"
mana pulsed across the whole battlefield
"…I'll take it. With everything I have."
The Black Moon above Astra flared—and then it cracked.
Light spilled from it—not silver, not violet—but an eerie dim white. like the corona of the sun during a total eclipse as it remade itself.
Celestial mana flooded into the battlefield, bleeding into his domain. combining with the Black moon.
"What's so wrong with wanting to see how great I can become?"
His shadow flared with each word, his steps forward echoing across the broken arena.
"What's so wrong with welcoming the burden?"
The small dome of his domain twisted—deepened—expanded to the entire arena.The arena became shadowed by the black moon..no the Black Star. A field of stars formed above—twinkling, ghostly, terrible. Stars blinked into existence. Nebulae curled like paint in water. The air itself became starlight-drenched.
"To be a star, I must burn. And burn I will."
His voice indued with his will and mana, it carried across the battlefield, and across every realm to the billions watching this final.
"I hid because I had no one. I lived in the dark because it was safe. Because the light burned. Because the shadows don't ask questions."
"But I am done hiding."
The star pulsed above him—his domain evolving before the world's eyes.
"I am Astra Noctis. The last heir of the Night and the Stars."
He raised his hand and pointed it directly at the Black Star and from the heavens, threads of black and silver light wove down like rain combating the decay and rot, rebirth and growth of Aster hunt. he used no enchants, no declarations, just will.
"This… is my Black Star."
"Born of burden. Forged in shadow. Crowned in starlight. And chosen...chosen by me."
His aura was vast, in his domain, Tier two mana flooded the battlefield. Not from ambient mana no. But from his ascension, Astra was now a genuine rank two all it took, was for him to truly embrace himself his purpose and his burden. This match was over, he had lost...but he had won and ascended.
he was no longer a mighty river of shadows. No
his presence now was like the feeling one got when watching a the distant sky from across a quiet sea, a distant star filling the many spectors around the arena and the realms with a feeling of awe, the beauty of house Nights unique magic, was cast across the sky of Duskfall again after many millennia.
Astras presence, was as heavy as a mountainside.
The words—his will—rang across Duskfall, across all the realms. The crowd, the commentators, the billions watching—all silent and stunned.
Until.
A scream.
Then hundreds of thousands. The whole arena
"He created a domain evolution… without a chant…"
"That's not possible—"
"Rank two ascension? and this level of reaction from mana....:Legendary....My...mythical...?"
"House Night?!"
"Stars...my gods...it all makes sense now
In the royal galleries, the high houses exchanged glances. They understood.
They all knew the storm that was brewing.....this age of peace...was about to be over. War was looming.
"Is this the right choice " Astra was pretty sure that this is what those angels had wanted, the dots were connecting, the many coincidences, the positioning of his ascension. "
Astra saw the strings now. The game. The plot. The threads moving this entire week.
"Of course," he thought, bitterly. "This is what they wanted. Dune, Shadow, Dusk—maybe even Dawn."
"Those bastards want a show huh.....let me give them one." Astras mind was made up as he saw part of the picture, the plot of this week and his destiny finally connecting, it made sense. He had been used as a pawn through and through.
.....
House Dusk Viewing Room
The room was built like a cathedral to twilight, cloaked in endless shades of night. Candles floated mid-air, casting flickering indigo flames that pulsed like heartbeat rhythms in tune with the arena's unfolding chaos. Above, a cracked obsidian dome mimicked a starless sky, swirling with illusions of dying stars and collapsing suns. On the far wall, a projection of the battlefield shimmered like a living painting—raw, dangerous, mesmerizing.
A tall and imperious woman sat, her presence like a shadow draped over the world, its edges brushing against reality itself. Cascading strands of blackened violet hair shimmered under the dim light, shifting between shadow and amethyst with every subtle movement. Her eyes, dark as the void yet kissed with an otherworldly orange radiance, held the depth of centuries—pools of unseen knowledge and power absolute. The air around her carried an intoxicating weight, not oppressive but inevitable, as though the world itself bent slightly in deference to her existence.
A low, chilling laugh escaped her lips. "Hahahah…" she mused, the sound wrapping around the room like silk and smoke. She gazed across the battlefield hidden in her viewing screen, her expression unreadable. "So this is how House Shadow wants to play their cards… how bold."
The man beside her exhaled, his light gray hair ruffled slightly as though the weight of unseen forces pressed against him. His eyes, the color of velvet twilight, were narrowed in thought. His battle-worn form radiated quiet strength.
"Well, we expected this," said the commander of dusk, lifting a goblet filled with wine as dark as midnight. "They had to reveal that despicable kid one day or another, plans within plans.
A distant rumble echoed from the arena, felt even here—more emotional than physical. The crowd's tension, the breaking of expectations, the tilt of fate itself—all of it seethed in the air like lightning before the storm.
...
House Shadow Viewing Room
The observation chamber of House Shadow was carved from obsidian and blackglass, its cathedral-high ceilings draped in flowing banners of midnight silk. Enchanted sconces flickered with restrained shadowflame, casting violet light and long, twisting silhouettes across the polished stone. Along the walls, ancient sigils hummed faintly, preserving a silence that felt sacred.
The Bishop Alistair smiled as he watched it unfold, one leg crossed over the other. The boy was too smart for his own good. Too talented. Dangerous. Just the way Shadow liked its champions.
Beside him, Vesper stood frozen, eyes wide. "I...knew he was hiding something," he muttered, a low laugh escaping his lips, stunned and strangely proud. "But this? Gods, what a bastard."
Velora's lips parted, eyes glazed with wonder. "How... pretty," she murmured, not even looking at the battlefield, but up—where the stars had begun to ripple and spin.
Lance, Sybil, Erik all watched shocked.
Above them in the higher end of the room, seated high in ethereal thrones, the angels of Shadow watched without a word. They were smiling. The die was cast. There was no turning back now. House Dusk would not let this insult pass. House Dawn would not ignore it. Hunt will continue their pursuit.
And that… was the point. a perfect excuse, for war.
....
Somewhere Far in the Desert
Night blanketed the desert in quiet reverence. The sky was clear, a thousand stars twinkling like mischievous spirits. Sand dunes rose and fell like the breathing of a giant slumbering beneath the earth.
Lucein stood alone on a stone platform built generations ago, now half-buried by time. His long coat fluttered as the wind hissed around him, hot and dry. A projection of the arena hovered before him, framed in starlight.
He watched in disbelief, silent, until his brow furrowed.
He had lost—to a rival house his own grandfather had eradicated. A ghost. A child. Worse, the boy had barely used the stars against him. Barely tapped into the depths Lucein had thought only he could wield.
Disappointment coursed through him like fire.
His aura flared—and suddenly, the stars dimmed. A false sun burst into being above him, bright and commanding, casting the surrounding desert into harsh daylight. Birds startled from their roosts. The sand trembled beneath divine heat.
The night was over. For now.
.....
House Dawn Viewing Room
The chamber was sculpted from daylight itself. Light somehow cascaded through invisible windows, golden beams coalescing into columns, walls, and hovering steps that led to no end. Incense of crushed citrine and white poppy filled the air, thick and divine, making every breath feel like a sacrament.
At the highest perch sat a figure clad in robes of molten gold. Her skin was pale as sunlight on snow, her long hair a cascade of white fire that refused to be still. Her eyes, glowing like twin suns, narrowed as she observed the unfolding scene—silent and unreadable.
"How....interesting, so that's the heir of Night."
The saints and other angles all stared onto the battlefield at Astra
"He cannot be allowed to rise, not after the talent he showed, Night will rein again if hes allowed to ascend." spoke a figure draped in white robes, with dawned with a golden crown. he had a necklace of the sun on his neck of the highest quality gold.
"What a ploy, guess its that time" The women spoke annoyed
....
House Hunt Viewing room
The grand chamber of House Hunt's viewing room was as cold and calculating as the family it belonged to. High, vaulted ceilings of marble, towering windows, and a sense of oppressive silence filled the air as the members of House Hunt gathered to observe the spectacle unfolding before them. Above, the starlit projection of the arena flickered, but beneath the surface of the polished stone floors, a storm of thoughts raged.
The elven male angel stood at the forefront, his posture rigid and dignified. His golden eyes, gleaming with unspoken judgment, tracked every move in the arena. His face was hardened, his features sharp like the blade of a sword, and the aura of power surrounding him seemed to absorb the very light in the room. He didn't flinch; his gaze never wavered from Astra's growing display of power.
"I still can't believe we left a survivor of our hunt," he muttered darkly. His voice was a low, controlled murmur, but there was a heaviness in his words—an undeniable edge to his anger. "A survivor... and now this. How disgraceful."
The female angel beside him mirrored his stillness, but there was an elegance to her quiet presence. Her violet eyes—intensely focused and sharp—watched the projection with a cool detachment that only betrayed the slightest flicker of something deeper: curiosity. She studied Astra closely, her attention unwavering as the battle shifted.
"isn't it ironic, he reveals him self to us, as he beats dawns promised prince while he was under his own sun, and now faces off our most promising princess, revealing himself now," she whispered, barely audible, her voice low but laced with realization and humour. "Hes not just as some lost child of House Shadow no. He's showing us the truth of who he is. Astra Noctis. He's no longer hiding in the shadows."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and the male angel gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. His gaze turned hard again, but this time it was tinged with an acknowledgment of the boy's audacity.
"The heir of House Night..." he spat the words with a touch of disdain. "Ive been dreading this ever since he realized his fate, I knew this day would come, but to see him step out of the shadows—this Astra Noctis— it displeases me greatly."
The female angel exhaled, as though disappointed yet intrigued. "What's the plan now? This changes things. Astra Noctis will be known by the realms. This power, this reveal... it will make him a target for more than just us, no doubt Shadows plan"
The male angel's golden eyes flickered to her. "And we should have ended him when we had the chance. If Shadow's puppet has been keeping him alive this long, it's far too late now, no need to regret it."
The woman's lips curled into a tight, cynical smile. "You really didn't think that he would stay hidden forever, did you? That boy, that Astra Noctis, has the blood of House Night coursing through him the blood of Noctis and Umbra at that. He's the last of the true bloodline he also inherits both the Shadows and Stars. Now... now he's ready to claim it."
She turned her gaze back to the projection, the faintest trace of calculation in her expression. "And if he's as powerful as it seems, then perhaps we'll need to re-evaluate our approach."
The male angel clenched his fists, frustrated, but resolute. "The heir of House Night. The boy who survived our hunt. Now this..." He shook his head slowly, as though trying to make sense of the situation. "This cannot stand."
...
Arena Battleground
Aster should have felt humiliated.
astra had called her out—in front of everyone. Her house. The realms.But all Aster felt was… clarity.
Aster had always hated how she was treated, as some weapon, the eyes of everyone who saw her, the genius perfect prodigy the start of a legend. The expectations the loneliness.
Astra's words hit something buried deep in her. Something she had refused to name. That ugly, precious thing she always tried to hide: the love she had for this. Not for duty. Not for honor. But for the magic, the thrill of it pulsing through her veins, the symphony of rot and life, death and bloom.
Why not be great for her own sake?
it was simple and kinda stupid.
but seriously why not.
Her breath hitched. Her lips curled, soft and deliberate.
"I understand."
The bishop froze mid-motion, fingers only inches from signaling the end of the match. But it was too late now.
Something in her broke—no, transformed.
The jungle around her surged in response, vines hissing and twisting with sudden hunger turning from brown to a creepy white. Rot crept up bark and branches with reverent grace, not consuming, but fusing. Mana churned like a storm held still.
Aster's heart thundered.
"You're right."
She looked up, her beautiful hetorchromic eyes no longer lonely or hollow—but alight with something defiant, something wild.
"Why not?"
Then a wave.
The hundreds of thousands seated in the coliseum leaned forward as one. Nobles dropped their wine. The crowd went berserk. Even the high-seated lords of the Houses paused, eyes wide with disbelief and... respect.
From the balconies of House Dusk, sharp laughter rang from the Matriarch. From the spires of House Dawn, the silence was a storm waiting to break. House Hunt simply smiled.
In the streets of Duskfall, where the battle was projected sky-high for the common people, chants turned into stunned awe. Children pointed. Elders whispered, some cheered Others laughed in disbelief.
"Not one, but two back to back Rank Two ascensions... in the middle of the finals?"
"A World Tree…"
"No, look at the rot—she's fusing domains—two affinities! What the hell is she?! This is Aster hunts rumored true domain spell?!"
Above it all, a single truth echoed in every mind watching:
Aster Hunt was really the genius of Alfhiem, She faced adversity and instead of taking her easy win, she ascended as well.
The wave of mana erupted
Astra felt it before he saw it.
A shift in pressure. A sudden hush from the stars above—as though even they were watching her.
His starlight dimmed, warped slightly, the atmosphere bleeding into something denser, thicker. Corrupted—but not grotesque. Almost sacred, in its own terrifying way.
Astra's pupils narrowed.
"No fucking way."
Rot and rebirth exploded around her. The arena trembled as ambient mana was pulled violently into her form, her soul, her very roots. The canopy above quaked, then rose, reshaping into something greater—grander.
A tree.
But not any tree.
A World Tree of ruin and bloom. Uncanny white bark streaked with veins of black decay. And at its apex: a crown of red leaves, blood-hued and burning like autumn fire. it dripped multicolored plumes of rot and decay.
She was… ascending. Forming her second core. No doubt, legendary or mythical.
Not because she must. Not because her House commanded it. But because she wanted to.
"This is also my declaration," she said, her voice like thunder whispered through leaves. "Oh Astra Noctis of House Night…"
The ground cracked as Asters aura expanded, swallowing the arena floor with its roots.
"I will win. Not because I must…"
Her hand lifted, and with it, the Tree of Ruin bent, groaned, and breathed.
"…but because I want to."
And with that, her Rank Two aura exploded outward—its bloom rotten and radiant, her mana pure and corrupted all at once. The domain of the tree surged forward to clash with the falling starlight.
Astra couldn't help but grin.
Not out of arrogance. But out of respect.
She wasn't a weapon anymore. She wasn't Alfhiems prodigy or her houses golden soldier.
She was her own force now.
And Astra?
He couldn't help but welcome her to the storm.
The Blackstar above shimmered proudly, though its edges buckled against the pressure of the tree. The heavens and earth had collided.
The crowd couldn't believe their eyes.
The bishop stared from his corner of the sky, untouched by mana and spells, he smiled faintly. The light from the stars caught in his glasses.
"Three minutes," his voice rang like a bell, echoing across the ruins of the battlefield. "Fight."
And just like that—
The final part of their duel had begun.