The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

Imperial Asphalia Academy – Central Courtyard

The morning sun cast golden light across the cobblestone plaza, but it couldn't outshine the buzz sweeping through the academy.

Students huddled in clusters. Conversations turned frantic. Even the usually stoic upper-years murmured among themselves.

"The war… it's real…"

"I heard the Duke's estate was attacked two days ago—Ellesmere itself!"

"No way—then what about Lord Sylves?"

Just then, a messenger hawk soared overhead, its Imperial red feathers trailing like fire. It descended toward the Academy Tower, and not long after, a booming voice echoed across campus—Headmaster Gardinant's voice, carried by announcement magic.

"To all students and faculty—"

Everyone froze.

"It is with both pride and urgency that we inform you: sixth-year student and top scorer Sylves Ellesmere has graduated early, under exceptional review and direct council evaluation."

Gasps broke out. Some students even dropped their books.

"In light of the grave threat to the southern province of Ellesmere—currently under siege by Zweinston forces—Lord Sylves will now join the frontlines in defense of his homeland."

No one spoke. Not even a breath.

Across the Academy, even those who barely knew Sylves whispered his name.

"Elas's best friend… Sylves…"

"He's really going to war?"

---

Duchy of Ellesmere – Whitebark Fortress, Inner Wing

Back in the fortress, where the scent of steel and frost never left the stone halls, the news had already arrived.

"He's coming." Danise Ellesmere lowered the parchment sent from the Academy. His lips tightened with both resolve and paternal worry.

Ylva stood behind him, fingers clasped before her. "Our son… after five years…" she whispered. "Returning, not to be embraced—but to fight."

"But he comes not as a child," Danise said. "He comes as the heir of Ellesmere… and a graduate of the Empire's finest academy."

Aria entered, her face pale. "Is it true, Lady Ylva?" she asked. "The young master is headed to the battlefield?"

Ylva gave a gentle nod. "It is. But why?" Ylva broke into tears and sobs as Aria comforted her.

---

In the Capital – Noble Circles

Inside marbled halls and silk-draped salons, the nobility of Asphalia buzzed with the same reports.

"A boy of sixteen… graduated already?" a Count scoffed.

"A boy trained by Hawk Frost," a noblewoman whispered. "And said to rival him already."

Another murmured, "Heir to a duchy under siege… and he chooses the sword over the scepter. That is not weakness."

The Emperor's council chamber itself fell quiet for a moment as word of Sylves's deployment reached the throne.

Emperor Maevor Asphalia, clad in imperial navy and gold, looked out over the stained-glass windows of his court.

"So… the future of Asphalia has begun to march."

---

Back at the Academy – Dormitory Hall

Ashia stood still, hands trembling around the parchment she held.

"Going to the war…?"

Elza and Serena appeared beside her, equally pale. "He didn't even say goodbye this time." Serena added.

Elza said, "Why didn't he came to us first?"

Then Prince Elas joined them, his tone half-proud, half-worried. "Because he knew we'd try to stop him."

Ashia looked up at the golden-haired prince. "Will you go too?"

Elas gave a long breath. "Soon. But not yet. First—I'm going to make sure I catch up. He may be ahead now… but I'm not going to let him carry the burden alone."

They all stared out the window.

Toward the south.

Toward the storm that had begun to rage.

And toward the silver-blonde young man now walking into it.

Sylves, Ylva, and Aria step away from the war room for a private moment:

---

Duke's Chambers – Whitebark Fortress, Duchy of Ellesmere

The war room was thick with the scent of iron and frost. Outside, distant horns still sounded from scouting patrols, and snow had begun to drift in soft spirals beyond the high arched windows. Duke Danise Ellesmere stood beside the central map table, reviewing troop deployments with his officers and Count Renald Kestmere, when the room's atmosphere abruptly shifted.

A sharp hum cracked through the air like splitting ice.

A portal formed midair—its edges jagged with violet-black energy, humming with compressed force. Its emergence was quieter than usual, but all present froze. They could feel it—the pull of something weighty. The magic didn't roar. It pressed. Like gravity itself shifted to welcome something formidable.

From within the rift, two figures stepped out.

The first was unmistakable: Hawk Frost, his eyes half-lidded with boredom but radiating overwhelming Void presence, his coat swirling behind him like shadows given form.

But it was the second figure who drew every eye.

Sylves Ellesmere.

He stepped through the portal with quiet precision, the fold of his black robes rippling like storm-touched silk. His silver-blonde hair, once youthful and unruly, now fell in wavy layers that brushed his collar. A violet-blue crystal earring shimmered on his right ear, its chain catching the light with each stride. His face had matured—sharper jaw, broader shoulders, taller by inches—yet what struck everyone most was his gaze.

His violet eyes… no longer curious or simply refined, but commanding. Cold, piercing, and deeply knowing. The gaze of a young man who had stood too long beneath the stars and shadows.

Even the mages in the chamber felt a chill run up their spines.

Duke Danise's hand, still resting on the map, stilled.

"Sylves…" he murmured.

Sylves took another step forward, and for the briefest moment, the tension cracked.

"Father," he said, bowing slightly. Then he raised his eyes again. "I've returned."

Ylva stepped forward from the side of the chamber, her violet eyes glossy. "You've changed," she whispered.

"I had to," Sylves replied.

Danise finally approached, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "I had hoped I would see you again in times of peace, not with war at our gates."

Sylves gave a faint smile. "Peace… is what we're fighting for."

Behind him, Hawk folded his arms. "You've trained him well in the politics of speech, but not in magic. That, I took care of."

Aria, standing behind the duchess, clasped her hands to her chest as Ashia's name swirled through her mind—but she said nothing. Her eyes locked on the young man she had once watched over like a shadow. Could this truly be the same boy?

Sylves glanced toward her briefly and gave a nod—subtle, but respectful. She bowed in return.

Danise stepped back, his voice firm again. "Come, both of you. The war room has waited for your return. We have much to show you, and too little time."

Sylves gave a final glance toward the glowing portal behind him as it faded to nothingness.

He was home.

But it was not the same home he had left.

And he was no longer the same son who had left it.

Duchess's Chambers – Whitebark Fortress

The moment they stepped away from the war table, Sylves glanced back at his father, who gave a silent nod. No words were needed between a duke and his heir—not now. Hawk remained behind, already conversing with Count Kestmere.

As Sylves turned and walked beside his mother, he could sense it—the quiet restraint in her steps, the tightness in her fingers, the way her shoulders held grace but not ease. She had not truly looked at him. Not yet.

Behind them, Aria followed in silence, her presence as gentle and constant as snowfall. She carried no tray or teapot today—only concern.

The corridor was quiet, lined with flickering wall sconces and portraits of Ellesmere lineage long passed. The door to the Duchess's chamber opened with a soft creak, and they stepped inside.

Ylva moved first. She walked to the tall windows where pale morning light bled through the veil of snow beyond. She stood still, her back to them, her silver-blonde hair gleaming like frost under the light.

Aria closed the door quietly behind them. Sylves waited a moment, watching his mother's posture—composed, elegant, still.

Too still.

He stepped forward. "Mother."

Only then did she speak. "Five years… and the first thing you say is 'I've returned.'" Her voice was even, but faintly brittle—like porcelain under pressure.

Sylves lowered his gaze. "I couldn't afford weakness, not even in words."

She turned.

And for the first time, Ylva looked at her son—truly looked.

The violet eyes she had given him shimmered now with something more fragile than pride. Emotion swelled quietly in them, as if threatening to break a dam that had held firm for too long.

Sylves stepped forward, one hand clenching softly at his side. "I saw it in your eyes, back there… You were holding back."

Ylva didn't deny it.

She walked toward him slowly, studying the sharpness in his features, the power humming just beneath his skin. "You left as my little boy… and returned as something the world should fear."

"I didn't choose that path lightly."

"No," she whispered, "I know you didn't."

And then, she reached up and cupped his face with both hands. The gloves she wore—pure white and lined with fur—framed his jaw as if trying to memorize the man he had become. Her thumbs brushed against his cheeks, and finally, she smiled.

"My Silver…" she said, using the childhood name only she had the right to speak.

Sylves's voice wavered. "I missed you, Mother."

"I missed you more than the sun in winter."

Behind them, Aria remained still, her expression unreadable. But her eyes softened.

Sylves looked past his mother to her. "Aria," he said gently, "thank you—for staying by her side."

"I always will, young master," Aria replied, her voice quiet but steady.

Sylves added, "And rest assured, Ashia is healthier than she ever was... I think sheight have gained a little weight."

Aria's eyes lit up on hearing her daughter's name and laughed a little on Sylves's explanation. "Maids dint look good if they gain weight..."

Ylva released her son slowly and took a breath. "Go now. Your father needs you. This duchy needs you."

"I'll return to you safe," Sylves promised.

Ylva nodded. "And when you do… I'll embrace you not as a mother welcoming back her son—but as a duchess honoring her duke."

They exchanged one last look—mother and son, duchess and heir.

Then Sylves turned and left.

And finally, Ylva let a single tear fall… only when he could no longer see it.

---

War Room – Whitebark Fortress

Sylves stood silently before the war table, his violet eyes locked on the glowing map. The light of the glyphs reflected sharply in his gaze, but his mind was already ten steps beyond what lay before him.

Then, he spoke—his voice calm and low

"Father… have you ever played chess?"

Duke Danise turned his head, mildly surprised by the question. "Of course I have. But what relevance does that have now?"

Sylves didn't shift his gaze. "Then tell me—what's the best way to win the game?"

Danise crossed his arms. "You crush the enemy's pieces one by one, break their structure, then reach the king."

A third voice answered from the back—rough and cold.

"You don't win chess by crushing," Hawk said, stepping forward, arms lazily crossed. "You win by checkmate. You sneak past the defenses… and strike where it ends."

Danise raised a brow. "Sneak? That's not how war is fought."

Sylves's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "Exactly. That's why I will not fight this war the traditional way. If we want to end this without letting more blood spill onto our soil… I'll need to sniff out their king—and claim his head."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Officers exchanged glances. Even the warding flames seemed to still.

Then—laughter. Low and gruff, erupting from Duke Danise's chest. "Hah… What has that damned Hawk turned you into?" His laugh faded into a more sober tone. "But… you realize how dangerous that path is."

"I do," Sylves said, unwavering. "But it's a path I've prepared for. Please leave this task to me. I'll infiltrate and sever their command. While I move, Mr. Hawk will oversee the field."

"Why me?!" Hawk barked suddenly, a spark of dramatic protest in his voice. "What happened to me being a lone wolf, living free, not babysitting an army—?!"

Sylves turned to him with a faint grin. "Because I trust no one else to hold the line while I disappear. If I'm going to vanish into the shadows, I'll need the strongest man in the Empire standing where the enemy can see him."

Hawk groaned. "Tch… I knew training you was going to backfire someday. Fine. I'll hold your war for you."

Sylves turned back to the map, fingers hovering over enemy routes and shaded borders. "Then it's decided."

He tapped a specific point near the Eira Ridge—deep in enemy territory.

"Infiltration begins the night after tomorrow. Let them believe we're bracing for another siege. I'll be gone by then."

Duke Danise looked at his son—no longer just his heir, but a weapon sharpened in secrecy, now drawn for the first time.

He gave a short nod. "Then may the gods favor your blade, Sylves Ellesmere."

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