[Days Until the Gate Opens: 21]
The storms above Elandor had changed. Where once there were natural patterns of wind and cloud, now the skies were erratic — roiling with dense pressure and unnatural turbulence. Thunder no longer sounded like a distant roll. It cracked like a war cry.
Kael stood alone within a sealed subterranean chamber buried beneath the collapsed ruins of the Arcanum's oldest sanctum. It was a space long abandoned by the city's scholars — deemed cursed, fractured by ancient experiments, warped by residual Essence.
It was perfect.
The walls bore the scars of Kael's last week — scorched gashes, collapsed ceiling beams, molten rivets burned into obsidian from failed control surges. Here, far from all eyes, he had finally ascended to Primordius.
But even that hadn't satisfied the war that raged within him.
He knelt on a shattered dais, breathing slow, his torso bare, his skin lined with faint storm-veins pulsing under his skin. Voidstream wisps flickered at the edges of his aura — barely perceptible. But they were there. His control was absolute.
"This isn't about transcending," he thought. "This is about becoming… undeniable."
The breakthrough into Primordius hadn't come in a dramatic blaze. It had crept in like a second heartbeat. One night, during meditation, his body had stopped resisting his will — and instead began to move in rhythm with it.
Not just channeling Essence. Becoming Essence.
His limbs no longer strained under pressure. His thoughts bent Flame, Storm, Kinetic, and Lightning in tandem without effort. His soul no longer rippled when he accessed Origin-tier will.
It had been quiet.
But Kael didn't celebrate.
He had sealed it away instantly — masked it beneath the shell of Ethereal nearing breakthrough. The deception had to be perfect. Arkzen was watching, and the Varnok Sovereign likely more so. He couldn't afford to tip the balance too soon.
So instead of resting… he dug deeper.
His gaze rose slowly, locking onto the far wall — a massive rune-inscribed slab meant to absorb the backwash of unstable Essence. It was still cracked from when he'd last used Storm Vault Execution without restraint.
Today, he would break it.
He exhaled once.
Then moved.
The chamber erupted.
Flame ignited beneath his heels as Kael blurred into a dash, slamming a forward Kinetic strike into the wall. The slab shook but held. He followed up with a whip of condensed Lightning, spinning mid-air into a downward punch wreathed in spiraling Storm. The force split the floor beneath him — a crater of molten lines pulsing outward.
Still not enough.
Kael launched Scorchbreak Drive mid-combo, the eruption backlashing into his own ribs. He tasted blood. Good. Pain was real. It meant he still had higher to climb.
"More."
He built momentum again, calling on Maelstrom Overdrive, but this time without proper anchor control — letting it tear through his limbs unchecked. Sparks and wind tore at his body, but he adapted mid-flow, locking the technique into a tight spiral. Every revolution of Essence within his arms sharpened, accelerated.
"Break everything. Then rebuild stronger."
The wall finally cracked — not just physically, but on a spiritual level. Kael's Essence struck so hard that his own core trembled. He could feel the edges of his potential folding inward like glass melting under divine heat.
Then — nothing.
A blankness.
Not unconsciousness. Not failure.
But suspension.
Time, pressure, gravity — it all fell away. He stood at the threshold. It was no longer a climb. It was a cliff. To move forward, he had to throw himself off it with no guarantee of catching the other side.
And he did.
His soul detonated inward.
No blinding light. No dramatic scream.
But his entire being folded into itself and then burst outward again, expanding like a collapsing star that reversed and re-formed with new gravity.
Primordius was a core — but Paragon was a force.
Kael stood — breathing, shaking, alive.
But now… something else.
The Essence of the world recoiled from him. Even the Storm Essence he once wielded with ease now revered him. It flowed toward him like loyal wolves to an alpha returned.
His Flame no longer roared — it commanded.
His Lightning no longer sparked — it awaited permission.
His Kinetic no longer followed gravity — it set gravity.
And the Voidstream? It smiled.
Kael clenched his fists, containing the pressure. Every breath now required careful calibration — the world responded to him whether he wanted it to or not. He couldn't risk showing this. Not yet.
So he folded it down.
Compressed the Paragon radiance.
Bound it within a veil of shimmering Ethereal calm.
And walked out.
That night, Kael sat quietly at the edge of the outer walls, overlooking Elandor's rooftops, the wind soft against his skin. In the distance, the city moved — unaware. Unafraid. Trusting.
They believed in the shield he had become.
He would not let them down.
"Let them think I'm just approaching Primordius," Kael whispered to the stars. "Let them watch. Let them believe."
He closed his eyes.
"And when the war begins, I'll show them."