Ch. 1 — The City Above the Clouds

Between breaths, the realm above and the world below aligned on a single thread.

Arata awoke to warmth.

His eyes fluttered open, vision blurred by soft radiance. For a moment, he thought he was still inside Elyon’s trial—but no, this light was gentler, not the searing blaze of battle. It danced across smooth stone walls that shimmered faintly, as though alive with hidden power.

He lay upon a bed unlike any he had known—its frame carved from white marble, sheets softer than silk, cool against his skin. Rising slowly, he pressed a hand to his chest. The ember burned steadily there, a quiet reminder that the trial had been real.

“This place—” His voice was hushed, reverent.

The chamber was vast, domed high above, its ceiling painted with constellations unfamiliar to him. The stars shimmered faintly, glowing as if they watched him from afar. Pillars of crystal supported the room, etched with runes that pulsed with golden light.

—Lore Mini-Glossary (Consolidated)—

It was about him.

The voices rose.

“He’s unstable—what if he turns? ”

“Would you rather face the hordes without him? ”

“A weapon like that should be controlled, not trusted. ”

“Controlled? You can’t control a storm. ”

The arguments tangled, fear and awe colliding like swords.

At last, she raised her voice. “Enough. ”

The chamber quieted instantly.

The governor who had shouted first sneered. “So you’d gamble our survival on a creature we don’t understand? ”

Murmurs spread, divided but subdued.

Arata leaned against the beam above, smirking faintly. “—Variable, huh? Haven’t been called that before. ”

But behind the grin, his chest tightened. Even she’s not sure. Not yet.

People noticed. They always did.

“Y-you’re him, ” she whispered. “The flame—the one who saved us. ”

But they didn’t listen. To them, he was salvation incarnate.

Then came the others.

From the edge of the crowd, a voice shouted: “Monster. ”

• (This card replaces scattered ‘Lore Notes’; later duplicates have been removed. )

• Lyriel—storm tutor; training emphasizes control over raw output.

• Selestia—sovereign/guide of Caelestia (not the demonic ‘’).

• Caelestia—the sky city. Time dilation: 1: 100 (one Earth unit ≈ one hundred in Caelestia).

• Axis Realm—threshold plane at the boundary; trials happen on obsidian arenas laced with gold veins.

The city’s leaders—commanders, governors, merchants with power in their pockets—crowded around a long steel table. Maps of the city lay scattered, marked with red ink where demons had struck. But the debate wasn’t about strategy.

Arata sat in the shadows above, perched on a steel beam near the ceiling, unseen by most. His Draconic Eyes cut through the gloom, watching every twitch of nervous hands, every bead of sweat.

One governor slammed his fist against the table. “You saw it yourselves. His eyes—those weren’t human. He’s a demon wearing a man’s skin. ”

Another shot back, “And yet that ‘demon’ killed the general our armies couldn’t touch. Without him, we’d all be ash right now. ”

At the head of the table, Aris stood silent. Her arms were folded, her expression sharp, but her eyes betrayed the weight of the moment.

Her gaze swept the council. “Arata Renji is neither savior nor curse. He is a variable—a weapon, yes, but also a man. Without him, this city would already be fallen. With him, we still stand. That is fact. ”

Aris’s eyes narrowed. “We gamble either way. But I would rather place my bet on the flame that already burned a general to ash. ”

Night draped the city in uneasy quiet. The fires from the battle had been extinguished, but the scent of smoke still lingered, heavy in the air.

Arata walked alone through the streets, crimson coat brushing against cobblestones. His katana rested at his hip, the weight of it familiar, grounding. The sunglasses hid the faint glow of his Draconic Eyes, but nothing could soften the aura he carried.

A group of civilians spotted him from across the square. For a moment, they froze. Then—hesitantly,they approached. A woman clutched a child to her chest, tears streaking her face.

Before Arata could respond, she sank to her knees. Others followed—men, women, even children,bowing low, murmuring prayers as if before a shrine.

Arata scratched the back of his neck, uneasy. “—Uh, yeah. Don’t do that. I’m not some god. Just a guy swinging a sword. ”

The kneeling flinched. Arata pivoted his head slowly.

A man stood with others at his back, faces twisted in fear and anger. “You’re no savior. I saw your eyes. You’re one of them—you just wear a different skin. ”

Another spat on the ground. “How long before you turn on us? How long before you burn this city down yourself? ”

The tension cracked like glass. The kneeling whispered louder, pleading for protection, while the accusers shouted for exile, for chains, for death.

He would not return for applause. He would return only when the city could face him without fear—or not at all.

When the verdict landed, it wasn’t thunder—it was dust settling. Exile wasn’t a path; it was a direction, and they started walking before the crowd remembered to breathe.

Arata stood in the middle, silent. His let the corner of his mouth quirk was gone, replaced with something heavier—something almost tired.

He lifted a hand to adjust his shades, his voice low but cutting. “—You’re all half right. ”

The crowd froze.

“I’m not human anymore. That much’s true. And yeah—I scare the hell out of you. ” His Draconic Eyes flared faintly behind the glasses, crimson light leaking through. “But here’s the thing—I’m the monster on your side. ”

The words hung heavy.

Some backed away in fear. Others bowed deeper in reverence. And still others cursed louder, calling him a liar, a devil, a curse.

Arata let the breath go, turning away. “—Believe what you want. I’ll fight either way. ”

The base was quiet when Arata returned. Too quiet. The guards at the gate saluted stiffly but didn’t meet his eyes. Inside, whispers followed him down the halls like shadows.

When he reached his quarters, the door was already open. Commander Aris waited inside.

She stood by the window, arms folded, the city’s faint glow spilling across her uniform. Her expression was calm, but her eyes—sharp and heavy,didn’t leave him as he entered.

Arata leaned against the doorframe, smirking faintly. “You planning to ambush me, or is this just a friendly house call? ”

Aris didn’t move. “I heard what happened in the streets. ”

Arata’s thin smile faded. “—Figures word travels fast. ”

She stepped closer, her boots clicking softly against the floor. “Half the city kneels to you as a savior. The other half wants you gone—or dead. You’re tearing our unity apart just by existing. ”

Arata crossed his arms, his voice low. “I didn’t ask for worship. And I sure as hell didn’t ask for fear. I just—fight. ”

Aris’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not enough. People see your power, but they don’t see control. And neither do I. ”

The words cut deeper than steel.

Arata’s jaw tightened. “—You think I’ll lose it. That I’ll burn this place down like the demons would. ”

Her silence was answer enough.

For a long moment, the room was heavy with unspoken tension. Then Aris stepped even closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“If you can’t control the fire inside you, Arata—I will put you down myself. ”

With his Draconic Eyes, flared faintly behind the shades, crimson light leaking out. For a heartbeat, the air between them burned with heat and defiance.

Then Arata chuckled, though it was rough, almost bitter. “—You sound just like Kael. ”

Aris blinked, caught off guard. “Kael? ”

He shook his head, pushing off the wall. “Forget it. Just—trust me on this,I won’t lose it. I can’t afford to. ”

Aris studied him, her expression unreadable. At last, she shifted toward the door.

“See that you don’t, ” she said. Then she left, her footsteps fading into silence.

Arata sank onto the cot, running a hand through his silver hair. The room felt colder than before.

Far beyond the walls of the city, in the carcass of a fallen metropolis, black fire burned.

The ruins were silent save for the hiss of molten stone and the whispers of things that had no mouths. At the center of the wreckage, three figures stood within the flame—demon generals, cloaked in shadow and power.

One towered with wings of bone, his voice deep enough to rattle stone. “The flame has slain one of us. He is dangerous. ”

Another, slender and cloaked in serpentine coils, laughed softly. “Dangerous, yes. But look closer. The humans already fear him. They whisper of his eyes, his inhuman fire. Their unity cracks. ”

The third, tall and regal with horns like a crown, stepped forward. His golden eyes gleamed with cunning. “Then we will not need to break him with strength. We will break him with fear. ”

The winged general snarled. “Explain. ”

The Crowned Demon let out a small, lopsided smile, raising a clawed hand. Images rippled through the fire—humans kneeling to Arata in worship, others spitting curses, soldiers whispering in doubt.

“Humans are fragile, ” he said smoothly. “When they fear, they destroy what they do not understand. All we must do—is feed that fear. Let them see the flame as a monster, not a savior. Let them turn on him themselves. ”

The serpent coiled tighter, laughter hissing. “Divide them. Isolate him. And when he stands alone—”

“—We strike, ” finished the crowned one.

The black fire roared higher, their shadows stretching across the ruins like blades.

Arata dreamed of fire.

Not the clean blaze of battle, but wildfire—uncontrolled, devouring. He saw the city burning, soldiers screaming, children crying his name with terror in their eyes. In the reflection of shattered glass, he saw his own face—fangs bared, Draconic Eyes glowing crimson, indistinguishable from the demons he fought.

He jerked awake, sweat beading his brow. His chest rose and fell like he had run a hundred battles in his sleep. The faint ember glow of his eyes dimmed as he let a slow breath go slowly.

“—Figures. Even my nightmares are over the top. ”

Before he could stand, the door hissed open. Two soldiers entered, tense and stiff. Neither met his gaze.

“Renji Arata, ” one said formally. “The council has convened. A vote is to be held regarding your—continued presence in the city. ”

Arata raised a brow, leaning back against the cot. “—My presence. That’s a fancy way of saying ‘keep him or kill him. ’”

Neither soldier replied.

He gave a faint smirk faintly, sliding his sunglasses into place. “Alright then. Let’s go see if I’m humanity’s last hope—or its next execution. ”

They escorted him through the base. Whispers followed everywhere he passed—soldiers stiffening, workers stepping aside, civilians staring from behind barricades. Some bowed their heads in reverence. Others spat curses under their breath.

The Council Chamber doors loomed ahead, heavy and reinforced. Behind them, voices already clashed, sharp and heated.

Arata rolled his shoulders, crimson coat shifting. “—Guess the verdict’s waiting. ”

The doors opened.

Every gaze angled to him. Some with awe. Some with fear. Some with hate.

The Council Chamber was a storm of voices.

Governors, generals, and merchants filled the long steel table, their words sharp as blades. Some leaned forward, fists pounding in fury, while others shouted over one another, spittle flying.

“He’s a demon in disguise. ”

“He saved us from annihilation. ”

“His eyes prove what he really is. ”

“Without him, the general would have slaughtered us all. ”

The chaos only quieted when Arata entered.

He strode across the chamber with slow, deliberate steps, crimson coat flaring with each movement. His sunglasses hid the crimson-white blaze beneath, but the weight of his presence silenced arguments mid-breath. He stopped at the center, resting a hand on his katana.

“Well, ” he drawled, a tight half-smile tugging at his lips, “glad to see you’re all so lively. Nothing like a good shouting match about whether to keep me or cut me. ”

Murmurs rippled. Some glared at him with open hatred. Others avoided his gaze entirely.

At the head of the table, Commander Aris stood. Her eyes were sharp, her expression unreadable. “Renji Arata. You are here to answer for the fear and division your presence has caused. Speak, if you have anything to say. ”

The room waited.

Arata tilted his head, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable. Then the corner of his mouth quirked faded into something sharper.

“—You’re right. I’m not human anymore. ”

Gasps echoed. Several council members slammed fists against the table.

“But here’s the part you keep skipping—” His voice rose, steady and fierce. “I’m not a demon either. I bleed. I burn. And yeah, I scare the hell out of you. But every scar on my body, every drop of blood I’ve spilled—was for this city. ”

He stepped forward, his voice cutting like steel.

“You want to fear me? Fine. Fear me. But remember this—when the demons come, it won’t be your guns, your walls, or your politics that stop them. It’ll be me, standing in the dirt, cutting them down while you argue in here. ”

The chamber was silent.

Arata’s Draconic Eyes glowed faintly behind the shades, crimson light seeping through as he leaned closer to the table.

“So go ahead. Vote. Decide whether to keep me—or throw me out. Just remember—when the next general comes knocking, you’d better hope you’ve got something stronger than sharp words to stop him. ”

He leaned back, thin smile returning faintly, and folded his arms.

The chamber was dead quiet. Even his harshest critics couldn’t speak.

At last, Aris’s voice broke the silence. “—The vote will proceed. ”

The chamber was suffocating with silence.

Council members shifted uneasily, quills scratching on parchment as votes were cast. Some hands trembled, others slammed their marks with fury. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

Arata stood in the center, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind his shades. His flame burned steady, but inside, he already knew—the verdict mattered less than the division it revealed.

At last, the tally was complete.

Aris’s voice rang out, cold and sharp: “By majority vote—Renji Arata will remain within the city, under command oversight. ”

A wave of murmurs swept the chamber. Relief from some. Outrage from others. The split was almost even.

Arata let out a small, lopsided smile faintly. “—Looks like I get to keep my room. ”

The governor who had shouted loudest before slammed his fist on the table. “This is madness. You doom us all by trusting him. ”

Aris cut him off with a glare sharp enough to silence. “Enough. The decision is final. ”

The council dissolved into mutters and glares, but the choice was sealed.

Arata angled toward the doors, crimson coat trailing, his gave a faint smirk fading as his thoughts darkened. Barely. They barely kept me in. Next time, it could go the other way.

As he left the chamber, whispers followed him like shadows.

“Monster—”

“Savior—”

“Demon—”

“Hope—”

Each word was a brand, burned into his back as he walked.

Outside, Arata tilted his head to the sky. His Draconic Eyes flickered crimson behind the glasses. “—Fractured already. Exactly what they want. ”

Far beyond the walls, in the ruins, the Crowned Demon smiled within the black flame.

“The humans chose to keep their weapon, ” he murmured, voice dripping with venom. “Good. Let him burn for them—until they burn him themselves. ”

The fire roared higher.

The game had only just begun.