Chapter 28

Artificial starlight spills through a translucent dome as Kalt XVIII walks beside Asche Ace Kyezhen. There’s a calm between them—rare, but not unfamiliar. Kalt breaks the silence first.

Kalt XVIII
Your affinity. I’ve been wondering since I saw the way you moved during that drill earlier.
What is it?

Asche Ace Kyezhen
(calmly, hands in pockets)
I’m a neutral type being.
No single elemental alignment.
Which means... I’ve achieved complete mastery over all basic and intermediate-level affinities.

Kalt XVIII
(surprised)
All of them?

Asche
(nods slowly)
Fire. Water. Wind. Earth. Ice. Light. Darkness. Mist. Sound. Lightning. Lava. Star. All of them.
Each one took decades to learn, centuries to refine.
That’s why I lead the Dark Opaline Guard.
We’re not about raw power—we’re about adaptability. Strategy. Depth.

Kalt XVIII
So you’re a jack of all trades.

Asche
(smiling faintly)
Master of most.
But the title “Arcana Master” isn’t something they give out for being average.

Kalt XVIII
(looks around)
And your legendary weapon... Where is it?

Asche
(pauses, eyes glinting with amusement)
Do you really want to see it?

Kalt XVIII
(serious)
You captains all have weapons that hum with power. I can feel them. Yours... it’s quiet. Like it’s asleep.

Asche
(chuckles)
That’s because it is.

He stops walking. Slowly, Asche reaches a hand toward his own chest. His fingers pass through the fabric of his uniform and into his sternum, as if plunging into water. A dim, violet rune begins to glow beneath his palm.

Asche
My affinity may be neutral. But this?
This is my truth.

The rune expands, forming an intricate seal over his torso. With a quiet pull, he extracts a blade—not summoned, but drawn out of his very essence. The sword that emerges gleams with shifting runic patterns, its frame elegantly curved, and reminiscent of Alto’s Hollow Empyrean, though its core pulses with radiant serenity rather than starbound chaos.

Asche
(softly)
Agradable—the Pleasant Rune.
A blade forged not from steel or star... but clarity. Balance.

Kalt XVIII
(staring)
It... feels warm. But sharp. Like it's holding its breath.

Asche
(smirks)
That’s the thing about runes. They don’t shout.
They wait.
And when they move... they end wars before they begin.

Asche lets the blade hover mid-air, then gently claps his hand. The weapon collapses into golden runes and vanishes back into his chest. He keeps walking.

Asche
But let’s hope I don’t need to unsheathe it again anytime soon.
It doesn’t like messes.

Kalt trails after him, eyes still lingering where the sword had floated.