"What are they doing in that family? They train like dogs," she said, her voice laced with astonishment—and something darker.
Elara glanced at her, then at Ryuji. "It's different," she said quietly.
Leonardo, a shallow cut bleeding where Takashiro's blade had kissed his skin, asked about the families. It wasn't curiosity—it was survival. He needed to map the terrain of power.
As they breached the cloud layer, reality itself began to unravel. The familiar azure sky dissolved into an infinite void—darkness pierced by scintillating points of light.
Hector's voice wasn't merely descriptive; it was incantatory. He made space feel alive, immense, intimate.
"In this boundless expanse," he intoned, "timelessness becomes tangible."
This wasn't a place to conquer—it was a mystery to witness.
Below them, the city curved along the city's horizon—swirling clouds and deep blue oceans. It no longer resembled a world. It was an artifact: a delicate orb suspended in unfathomable darkness. Beautiful. Fragile. Terrifying.
The stars didn't look distant anymore. They burned—beacons of the realm's breath.
The lift came to a stop. Silence settled, strained and expectant.
Then, applause erupted.
Hector bowed.
The first figure through the door was a walking contradiction. Medieval armor clanked beneath a gray hoodie, worn over baggy pants and modern sneakers. A massive shield hung across his back like an accessory.
He gave a single word in greeting. "Yo."
Without missing a beat, he continued walking beside the man Leonardo assumed was their guide.
Leonardo's own "Hey" slipped out—half confusion, half revelation. This man had just shown him something important:
Even in this strange new world, he could still be himself.
He just had to merge both halves.