The Laughing Tiger Tavern, nestled in Eryndor's vibrant heart, was far more than a nightly gathering spot.
Soft light emanated from floating crystals—low-intensity enchantments lazily spinning above tables. Their amber and lavender hues painted patrons' faces with subtle, welcoming warmth.
The air hung thick with the scent of mead, grilled meat, and rare spices. The clatter of tankards and hoarse voices singing folk songs filled the space with life, while in the background, the distant echo of a lute being tuned by a dreamy bard lingered.
At the central round table, ancient carvings marking its surface, sat Rick and Cirius.
Their simple linen clothes—stained with dirt, sweat, and freedom—betrayed no status. Yet their aura was undeniable. Even in plain attire, they carried the latent tension of contained colossal forces, like legendary swords sheathed in common scabbards.
Rick slammed his tankard against the wood, laughing through half-closed eyes as he leaned back—balancing drunkenness and the raw joy of being alive.
"You've got a dragon shoved up your ass" he exclaimed, roaring with laughter. "How'd you get so damn strong? What's the secret?"
Cirius smiled like an unsolvable enigma. His gold eyes reflected the hearthlight like captive suns.
"Destiny chose me Rick. I'm this world's final boss. Accept it"
The reply triggered another laugh, louder than the first. Rick nearly toppled from his chair, clutching his stomach and infecting a nearby table of young soldiers with contagious mirth.
The joy was real. The camaraderie, genuine.
Rick raised his tankard once more in a toast.
"To the monsters who tried to break us... and those who'll try"
Cirius mirrored the gesture, eyes narrowing.
"And to us—who'll remind them why mortals should be feared"
Between gulps and jabs, they shared a bond forged in battle yet tempered by something rarer: mutual respect. They knew their growth meant not just power, but responsibility. Destiny's gears already encircled them, even as they joked of dragons and Qi pastries.
Patrons whispered upon recognizing them. An old cultivator in worn robes murmured, "They're the sparks of a new age"—and none disagreed.
Cirius set down his tankard, tracing the table's carved edges. His gaze wandered the tavern, serene.
"Sometimes I think we should vanish for months. Train. Meditate. Or just wander. But... something always pulls us back doesn't it?"
Rick nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. His playful tone vanished.
"'Those who carry the fire cannot drop the torch'"
"'Even when it burns'" Cirius whispered in reply.
Both fell silent, listening to the lute's soft melody. Time seemed to suspend around them.
Meanwhile, Far from City Lights...
In a forgotten corner of the world—where maps dissolved into blankness and winds whispered ancient secrets—lay the forest.
At its deepest heart, beneath a tree whose trunk gleamed with silver threads, sat Kaelion Desthiran.
He meditated in lotus position atop moss-covered stone, his body like crystal and wind. Silent. Still. Yet brimming with raw, infinite energy. The tree's roots coiled beneath his feet as if supporting him. Nature held its breath.
Mist-forged butterflies perched on his shoulders. A white deer lay beside him. Leaves danced gently in windless air.
Kaelion meditated to understand the world.
When his ice-blue eyes opened briefly, they reflected more than sky—possible futures, unrealized destinies, choices yet unmade. He saw fate's flow like a visible river.
'All wish to bend the future' he mused, serene. 'But few accept the price of knowing what comes'
The forest breathed with him. His home—crafted from living stone and blossoming wood—stood camouflaged behind him, etched with protection runes, silence circles, and anti-disturbance charms.
Kaelion chose voluntary exile not from arrogance, but clarity. His presence altered events. His knowledge could shift civilizations. So he remained silent.
The River of Destiny whispered. And Kaelion listened.
The Reborn City
While laughter and toasts echoed through the capital's taverns, another sound spread through Eryndor's streets—rebuilding.
Hammers struck in time with workers' chants. Children darted through rebuilt markets. Priests traced protective runes on doorways with silent prayers.
Since Emperor Orion's Rejuvenation Ritual, the empire itself seemed rewoven with threads of hope. A veil had lifted from its people's eyes—revealing the awaiting future with startling clarity.
Generations raised in ancestral shadows now raised banners with pride. New talents emerged among revitalized youth—gifts once seen only by century. Children awakened abilities early, forcing Celestial Academy masters to rewrite their teachings.
Squares grew crowded. Cultivators taught open-air meditation. Vendors sold spirit-fruit, blessed charms, and ancient scrolls like sweets.
And beneath this quiet revolution lingered something else—a subtle perfume of eternity. As if the empire breathed anew. As if Eryndor was finally more than hope.
It was a civilization reborn.
'This is no longer the city I once feared to lose' thought an old councilor watching crowds from a temple balcony. 'It's the world's new seed'
On the southern coast, where cliffs curved over the sea like slumbering colossi, a small town rested between salt and silence. Here, far from politics and armor, Orion found peace.
Seated under a rustic driftwood pergola, he watched the ocean beside Lyra. Salt-breeze stirred his cloak's golden threads. His eyes held only the tide's ebb and flow.
His coffee cooled slowly. Bitter aroma mingled with gull-cries and waves crashing on stone. Lyra gazed at the horizon, a closed book in her lap.
Here, suspended between realms, the emperor seemed just a man.
Until the world paused.
『DING』
Lyra looked up. Orion's fingers tightened around his cup.
『Eryndor Empire confirmed: Stable Ascension』
『Innate Realm Cultivators: 1,547』
『Active Prodigies: 300』
『...』
『Rewards Granted...』
The air shifted. The pergola trembled faintly. The sky seemed to peel back, revealing light not of the sun.
『Rewards Conferred』
『• Legendary Title: Eternal Emperor
• Divine Ability: Absolute Authority
• Celestial Artifact: Imperial Core Celestial Crown
• Rare Item: Eternal Dragon Core
• Special Power: Blessing of Infinite Prosperity
• Passive Skill: Omnipotent Ruler's Vision
• Divine Resource: Governance Crystal Nexus
• Army Bonus: Army of Eternal Light
• Special Item: Universal Destiny Map』
Reality itself acknowledged Eryndor not as a kingdom—but as the world's future throne.
Orion remained silent. His eyes fixed on the horizon where sea met sky at an impossible point. He absorbed the moment like a warrior breathing after a long battle—knowing more would come, yet savoring this victory.
Lyra touched his hand gently.
"What was that?" she asked.
He smiled—not his public, ceremonial smile, but a quiet, almost sorrowful one. Like watching a child's first step toward a long journey.
"Destiny still smiles upon us" he murmured, softer than wind. "Eryndor has only begun to awaken"
For a suspended moment, they remained. The sea deepened. The sky heightened. Time slowed.
And the world... shrank.
The breeze carried hidden meaning, as if stars witnessed and recorded it:
The empire had begun touching infinity.