AK : RISING MYTHIC

The Zenith Base was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Towering crystalline spires curved elegantly into the sky, glowing softly with etherlight veins running through their cores. The open courtyard was vast, paved with marble tiles that shimmered under the sun like liquid glass. Ethereal trees lined the edges, their translucent leaves gently swaying in an unseen wind. The air itself hummed with power—this was a place where strength resided.

When the Mythic members arrived, they were met with the stern gazes of dozens of Echelon Knights—Alpha, Omega, Apex, and Zenith ranks stood in scattered formations. Some were sparring, others simply watching. At the center stood six figures that immediately drew the eye—Zeniths, the elite of the elite.

One of them, Tyrus Molren, stepped forward. Broad-shouldered and radiating heat, he smirked.

"Welcome, all of you with your… useless powers."

Laughter followed from a few of the other Echelons. The air instantly tensed.

Nirela Quen stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "You should respect everyone. Not everyone here is as powerful as you, but all of us have earned our place."

Another Mythic chimed in, his voice unwavering. "If we're so useless, why are we standing among you now?"

Vira Lysaria chuckled, brushing her ivy-green hair back. Her golden eyes gleamed with mockery. "Oooh, little baby got angry. The ones who can't control their power now want to teach us about respect? You're just a single slash away from irrelevance."

That struck a nerve.

Ravik Durn clenched his fists, veins bulging. "We're only here because Julius ordered us. Trust me, no one came to admire your bitch face."

Gasps and murmurs spread across the courtyard.

Tyrus's eyes narrowed, volcanic energy crackling around him. "You've got guts. Now let's see if you've got bones to match."

With a sudden burst, he hurled a fireball toward the Mythics.

It struck—just lightly—against Nirela's side. She stumbled back, shocked.

Before anyone could react further, a voice rang out.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Arslan stepped forward, eyes calm, expression unreadable. The crowd parted.

Tyrus turned, surprised. "Son of a bitch, you think you'll stop me?"

Arslan walked toward him with slow, purposeful steps. "Now I think… you've crossed your limits."

Tyrus unleashed another fiery blast, larger this time. It ripped through the air like a meteor.

In one smooth motion, Arslan raised his hand, dark energy forming instantly.

FWOOM.

A dark shield manifested—thick, consuming, and solid. The fireball shattered against it, useless.

Gasps erupted.

"He absorbed that?" someone whispered.

But Arslan wasn't done. "My turn."

Kar'Thael's voice whispered within him, amused. "Show them, vessel. Let them feel the storm."

Dark Bow ignited in his grip.

Shadow Blades spiraled into form, electricity coursing over their surface.

Black Halo surged, pulsing out in a rippling aura.

Then, Phantom Rift warped behind him, distorting the space like ink dropped in water.

It was his First Combination Skill—fully activated.

The courtyard fell silent.

Even Kaelen's eyes widened. "That energy… that formation… what is that?"

Tyrus grunted and launched another fireball—no, three this time—clustered and spinning.

CRACK.

BOOM.

WHHHMM.

Each one hit Arslan's shield, the force denting the ground. Yet Arslan stood unfazed, his eyes locked.

Then, he moved.

A surge forward—arrows of dark energy zipped through the air, slamming into the ground near Tyrus and detonating with sharp precision.

Tyrus jumped back, shielding himself, but Arslan was already closing the gap. He slashed with a Shadow Blade, then vanished, reappearing behind him via the Rift.

More fireballs launched from Tyrus's gauntlets in a panic, a barrage of ten, then fifteen—

WHOMP—CLASH—BLAST.

Arslan's shield absorbed most. He spun, kicked through smoke, and launched another arrow.

The crowd was stunned.

Even the Zeniths went quiet.

Kaelen, mouth slightly open, whispered, "That's not just raw power… that's synergy. He's already mastered combination forms?"

Vira looked on with disdain fading to intrigue.

Julius arrived, eyes observing with curiosity. He whispered to a council member nearby, "That boy… he's growing too fast."

Back in the courtyard, Arslan finally halted, dark aura retracting.

Kaelen stepped forward. "Arslan, stop. Please. I apologize for their mistake. We're here for collaboration."

Arslan deactivated his powers. The air felt lighter.

"I hope your teammates will agree… and not interfere again."

Kaelen nodded. "They will."

The Mythic members—silent until now—were visibly proud.

Vaelith said under his breath, "That's our Arslan."

Seris smirked, "He just wiped the floor with a Zenith's pride."

Elyra murmured, "I've never seen anything like that."

Arslan walked to Nirela, who was still a bit shaken.

He lowered his voice. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him and gave a soft smile. "Now… it's better."

Then, without another word, he stepped back among his group.

The courtyard remained quiet—for now.

But everyone, Echelon or not, had seen something they wouldn't forget.

And Arslan's shadow… just grew longer.