A few minutes later, Valerius returned to where his siblings waited with Eliana and Maloi. He waved as he approached. “Hey, guys. Found more teammates.”

  He gestured casually. “This is Glover, and this is… uh…”

  “Sydney,” the woman said, her tone clipped.

  “Yes—Sydney.” Valerius corrected himself with a smirk.

  Ziraiah stepped forward, her height casting a shadow over the Leporid and Aurellian. “Nice to meet you.”

  Glover tilted his head back to stare at her. “Since when are Aurellians this big?”

  Eliana shook her head. “She’s not Aurellian. She’s an Elvhein.”

  “Never heard of Elvheins,” Glover muttered, ears twitching. “So many races in this world.”

  Before long, Irisa returned, two more figures trailing behind her. Their presence was sharp, their auras undeniable.

  Valerius leaned toward Eryndor and whispered, “She’s the one I told you about.”

  Eryndor’s icy hand flexed, his cold eyes never leaving Irisa. “I see.”

  Valerius glanced at Eryndor and Ziraiah, then tilted his chin toward the silver-haired woman.

  “That’s Irisa.”

  Ziraiah’s eyes widened. “Ooo, she’s as tall as me. What race is she?”

  Valerius narrowed his gaze. “She looks Aurellian.”

  Ziraiah scoffed, crossing her arms. “She’s definitely not. One, none of them are that big. And two, none of them have silver hair.”

  Valerius arched a brow. “And how exactly do you know that?”

  “Val,” Ziraiah said flatly, “we lived in Donesria, an Aurellian country. Went to an Aurellian school. Studied Aurellian books. Ate Aurellian food. I think I’d know—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” Valerius cut her off, rolling his eyes.

  Irisa stepped forward with two figures at her side: a towering Dragoon, and… a baby.

  The Dragoon loomed at ten feet tall, red skin, muscles rippling like hammered steel. But all eyes drifted to the smaller figure waddling beside him.

  The child couldn’t have been more than a year old. Four feet, five inches tall. White woolly curls. Golden eyes that gleamed with a strange mischief. Light brown skin that caught the sun. He wore tiny yellow boots and a white-and-yellow biker jacket that somehow made him look both ridiculous and… cool. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.

  And the way he walked—smirking, chin lifted, blade twice his size balanced lazily across his shoulder—made every jaw drop.

  Valerius’s mouth parted.

  Eryndor’s icy composure cracked as he muttered, “This world possesses an inexhaustible capacity to astonish.”

  The baby pushed his shades higher on his nose, stopped in front of the group, and spoke.

  But it wasn’t the lisp of a child.

  It was the deep, gravelly drawl of a man, rich with Jamaican cadence:

  “Alright… so you deh chumps I’ll be workin’ with, eh? Hm. Aight.” He nodded slowly. “I like what I see. Call me… Mr. Baby.”

  Valerius blinked, then turned sharply to Irisa.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Irisa folded her arms, calm as ever. “That’s our tenth teammate.”

  Valerius raised his brows.

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Irisa added, her voice carrying quiet steel. “The fact that he’s here on this island—without a single scratch—should tell you enough about his capability.”

  Ziraiah stared, still dumbfounded. “A talking baby with the voice of a grown man. This world is seriously messed up.”

  From the side, Eliana’s lips curved faintly. Good thing I chose to explore the world… or I would’ve missed a sight like this.

  Aloud, she said, “I think we should reintroduce ourselves to the newcomers.”

  They did.

  The Dragoon inclined his head. “I am Pumperio.”

  Eliana stepped forward next, her voice steady. “We need to know each other’s abilities if we’re going to pull this off. I’ll go first. I am a Combat Mage—plant, wind, and light magic.”

  Pumperio’s eyes widened. “Three attributes? My goodness…”

  Sydney whistled. “Wow. That’s impressive. And a Combat Mage on top of that? You’re really something.”

  Eliana offered a modest smile. “Maloi, your turn.”

  Maloi pushed a hand through her hair. “I’m also a Combat Mage. I use ice magic.”

  Pumperio nodded. “I suppose I’ll go next. I’m an Augmenter.”

  “I’m very good at combat,” Irisa said simply.

  Mr. Baby turned his head toward her, shades glinting.

  “Wha’ di hell dat even mean, hm? Ain’t we all good at combat if we standin’ here?”

  The group chuckled uneasily.

  “Anyway,” Mr. Baby went on, smirking, “my ability… I call it Snatch an’ Pile.”

  Ziraiah tilted her head. “What?”

  He opened his palm. And suddenly, in his hand, was Ziraiah’s bra.

  Her eyes went wide. “You—YOU ASSHOLE!”

  Valerius grabbed her arm before she lunged. “Calm down. Calm down.”

  Mr. Baby tossed the bra lazily back at her, his grin widening. Then he nodded toward Glover.

  “Gets dem every time.”

  Ziraiah snatched her bra back, glaring daggers.

  Sydney’s fists erupted into flames. “This is my power.”

  “And I control her,” Glover said with a laugh.

  Sydney’s head whipped toward him, fire crackling. “Say that again.”

  “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that!” Glover raised his hands. “I control flames. Relax.” Then he jabbed a finger toward Irisa. “And she’s literally flames herself, hahahaha!”

  He burst into laughter, then thrust his hand through Sydney’s shoulder again and again, his hand passing harmlessly through her body.

  “Look at this! I’m passin’ right through her!”

  Sydney clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe. Hold it in, Sydney. If you attack, you’ll be disqualified.

  “Is that a Seed ability?” Maloi asked, brows furrowed.

  “’Course it is,” Mr. Baby said, smirking. “What else y’tink it is?”

  Valerius spoke up. “I can summon spirits.”

  Mr. Baby gave a curt nod. “Ok.”

  Eliana frowned. “How? You can’t even use magic.”

  “I don’t need to,” Valerius replied.

  Irisa’s eyes narrowed slightly. So… that’s what his Seed can do.

  “Spirit beasts aren’t going to be much help,” Glover said dismissively. “Those things are weak.”

  Valerius’s lips curled into a quiet smile.

  “Oh… I can summon a lot more than beasts.”

  Ziraiah pointed toward her brother with a mischievous grin.

  “The two of us are also Combat Mages.”

  The others waited, expectant. Eliana broke the silence.

  “And your attributes?”

  Ziraiah tapped her chin. “Weeell…”

  She raised her right hand, all five fingers extended—

  —but before she could continue, Eryndor’s voice slipped into her mind, cool and sharp through thought transmission:

  > “It is profoundly unwise to unveil the entirety of one’s hand.”

  Her eyes flicked to him, and she slowly curled her fingers down, leaving only her index finger extended. A crackling spark of lightning danced above it, hissing in the air.

  Irisa’s lips curved faintly. “Lightning. One of the most dangerous elements. Not bad.”

  All eyes shifted to Eryndor.

  He didn’t speak. He simply withdrew his hand from his coat—revealing the crystalline limb of solid ice. Frost crept along his sleeve, glimmering in the light.

  Before anyone could react further, Balling’s booming voice echoed across the sky.

  >“Okay, okay, my little sugar mangoes! Enough with the chit-chats and the showing off of the shiny powers, yes? Hmhmhm!” He wagged a finger at the crowd. “You are not here to make girlfriends, boyfriends, or frenemies — you are here to suuuuuurvive!”

  He spun dramatically, cloak (that was far too big for him) flapping as if the wind was obeying his ego.

  “And now… the moment you have been waiting for! The great, the spectacular, the very dangerous… Phase Four!”

  The sky thundered, and flags began to descend like falling stars.

  Eryndor’s eyes narrowed. Without a word, he stepped forward. His coat swayed in the wind, his ice-forged arm gleaming. Every gaze followed him as he extended his hand upward.

  The white flag touched his palm—

  —and instantly glowed.

  Eryndor’s body trembled. His veins bulged against his neck, sweat beading his brow. The weight pressing down on him was no ordinary burden; it was as if the flag itself carried the authority of the heavens.

  The surface shimmered. A green sigil began weaving across the fabric.

  Valerius’s eyes widened. “Is that—”

  Ziraiah’s breath caught. “Yes… our family crest.”

  The same trial unfolded for nine others across the battlefield, each flag bearing a different crest unique to its chosen bearer.

  And then—

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  A voice whispered directly into Eryndor’s mind, one only he could hear:

  > “For holding firm against my might... I proclaim you, Leader.”

  A surge of wind burst outward, rippling the air.

  Eliana’s eyes darted between them. “What? He’s the leader?”

  Valerius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did that elegant ass know all along?”

  Ziraiah smirked. “That’s Eryndor for you.”

  The flag’s glow faded. Eryndor lowered it, his icy hand gripping the cloth firmly.

  Balling’s voice boomed again, dripping with smugness.

  >“Ooopsie-daisy! Did I forget to say a teeny-weeny little detail? Hmhmhm!” He pinched his fingers together dramatically. “Not just anyone can grab those shiny-shiny flags. No no no! If the poor little puppet you sent forward could not handle the pressure—POOF! Your whole team goes bye-bye, eliminated instantly! HAHAHAHA!”

  A man from the crowd roared, veins bulging. “What?! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

  Balling clutched his chest, eyes wide, then burst into fake laughter. “Ahhh, you silly mango. I just said—I forgot! My brain is very busy, yes? Thinking about coconuts, thinking about dancing, thinking about how FABULOUS I am. Hmhmhm!”

  A woman shrieked furiously, “How could you forget something like that?!”

  Balling slapped his thighs, bent forward, then pointed straight at her with a grin too wide.

  “Then come fight me, eh? Come, come, take your best shot!” He spun slowly, arms spread, gaze scanning the silent crowd. “No one? No one? Hahhh! Exactly what I thought. All bark, no bite. Delicious!”

  Then he snapped upright, raising both hands to the sky as though commanding an orchestra.

  “Now listen very, very closely, my little murder-ducklings! Each team will be given a fortress—ooooh, fancy castle time! Your flag will sleep in there all cozy-cozy… until some nasty little thieves come and snatch it away! Protect it like your life, or your underwear, or your favorite snack—because once it’s gone… ahhh, you cry, you die, you go bye-bye! Juat kidding, you can always try to get it back.”

  His laughter thundered. “NOW—TO YOUR STATIONS!”

  The ground rumbled violently. With a deafening crack, four walls erupted around each group, enclosing them in light. The earth swallowed them whole, dragging them away.

  Valerius stumbled, shouting over the quake. “So, Eryndor, did you know this was going to happen?”

  “Perhaps,” Eryndor said simply, his calm unbroken.

  The ground bucked again—and suddenly they were launched into the sky. Screams erupted as the fortress beneath them came into view: a colossal stronghold rising from the heart of a vast lake, its towers glistening in the sunlight.

  Valerius whistled. “Ooh. Not bad. The castle’s kinda nice.”

  Without hesitation, Eryndor extended his ice-forged arm. Ten vast bridges of ice shot outward from the air, arching and curling like frozen serpents until they reached the fortress.

  “Move,” he commanded.

  One by one, they slid along the slick paths of frost, the curves twisting and spiraling through the sky. Their feet found grip as if the ice itself carried them.

  They landed within the fortress walls. Stone towers loomed high above, banners whipping in the wind. The scent of water and moss filled the air.

  Ziraiah ran her hand across the wall. “This place reminds me of the great castle in the Beniek Ruins.”

  Valerius shook his head. “That one was way bigger.”

  Eryndor’s gaze swept the battlements. His tone was cold and commanding.

  “Gather close. We must orchestrate a stratagem.”

  They all gathered around and crouched low in a circle. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of Sydney’s flames still lingering on her fingertips. Then Eryndor’s cold voice cut through:

  Eryndor’s tone sharpened, each word delivered with the gravity of command.

  “Attend closely. To endure this phase, discipline and precision are paramount. Chaos will yield only ruin.”

  He raised his crystalline hand of ice, its fingers flexing with the exactitude of a general moving pieces upon a battlefield.

  “Valerius, Irisa, Mr. Baby—you three shall form the spearhead of our assault. Valerius, your might is without equal. Irisa… you rival him, if not eclipse him. And Mr. Baby—your faculty to snatch will prove indispensable in seizing the enemy’s banners. United, you will carve a path through and secure our triumph.”

  Valerius gave a curt nod. Irisa smirked faintly. Mr. Baby puffed his little chest, smirking beneath his shades.

  “Good.” His gaze swept onward, cold and deliberate. “Pumperio, Maloi—you will shadow the vanguard. Your task is to reinforce their advance, suppress retaliation, and ensure they are not encircled nor overrun. As for the rest—we remain stationed here. This bastion is our lifeline. It must withstand any onslaught.”

  Glover raised his hand, a grin tugging at his lips. “I can handle that. I’m a Bravo user—let me fortify this entire place.”

  Eryndor inclined his head with measured authority.

  “Proceed.” His gaze shifted to Sydney, sharp and unyielding.

  “You—your conflagration shall form our foremost bulwark. Wreathe the fortress in flame. Let no adversary approach without immolation as the price.”

  Sydney gritted her teeth, but her eyes gleamed with pride. “Consider it done.”

  Eryndor’s gaze settled upon Eliana, his tone edged with solemn command.

  “And you, princess—what puissance shall you bestow?”

  Eliana smiled softly, lifting her hand. A colossal guardian of radiant light surged into being, towering above the fortress. “I have more than one of these. They are powerful enough to match Bravo users blow for blow.”

  Valerius tilted his head up, astonished. “It’s… so much bigger now.”

  Eryndor’s tone remained glacial, every word measured.

  “Excellent. Keep them in reserve. They shall be unleashed only when our fortifications are breached.”

  Finally, he looked to Ziraiah. “You shall remain at my side.”

  Ziraiah cocked her head, smirking. “Wow… really thorough, aren’t you?”

  Eryndor’s gaze sharpened, his tone edged with gravity.

  “Tell me—have you ever contended with a Bravo user?”

  “Yes.”

  Eryndor’s tone deepened, grave as stone.

  “Then you comprehend. Their peril is absolute. One sundered my most puissant spell and claimed my arm in the very same breath. Valerius apprised me you yourself nearly perished to their might. And among the contenders who yet remain, the greater portion are Bravo users. You must never—never—permit your vigilance to wane.”

  The sheer weight of his words stilled the company into silence.

  Rising to his full height, his cloak stirred faintly as his voice fell cold as frost.

  “Bravo users possess preternatural senses. Which necessitates that we, who wield magecraft, must have our searches ceaselessly cast. Ziraiah. Sydney. Fortify the fortress—barricade it without delay.”

  Without hesitation, Ziraiah thrust a beam of light into the sky. A shimmering dome spread out, sealing the fortress like a radiant shield. Sydney flew to the lake’s edge using her flames as propulsion, slamming her palms down. A roaring wall of flame erupted, spreading across the water until the entire lake was crowned in a blazing dome.

  From the castle’s heart, Maloi lifted both arms. A towering wall of ice—five hundred meters high—rose around the lake’s circumference, gleaming like a frozen citadel. The lake stretched sixty kilometers across, perfectly round, with the fortress at its center like a jewel.

  Then Ziraiah stomped her foot into the ground. From forty kilometers out, diamond walls burst from the water, rising in a vast ring. They soared four kilometers high, glittering, studded with long crystalline spikes.

  Eliana’s jaw fell open. “Wait… you can use earth magic too?”

  Ziraiah smirked. “Yeah.”

  Inside the fortress, Glover slammed his foot down. The entire structure shuddered—then stabilized, fortified. Even Sydney’s flames and Ziraiah’s diamond walls hardened under his Bravo reinforcement.

  “I’ve never stretched my fortis this far before. No one’s getting through this without a war.”

  At the lake’s edge, outside the blazing barrier, the attack force assembled. Valerius stood tall at their head.

  “You ready, attack team?”

  Mr. Baby grinned wide, adjusting his shades.

  “Born ready, mi tell yuh dat.”

  The flames crackled. The ice walls gleamed. The diamond spikes towered. At the center, Eryndor sat upon the stone throne with the flag in hand, Ziraiah standing like a sentinel at his side. Their fortress had become a fortress of legends.

  To be continued…