The three of them remained suspended inside the sphere. Their eyes closed and in a half-awake state.

After a few minutes, the three of them started screaming. Intense pain was assaulting them, feeling like thousands of needles pricking their skin.

Lenore's brows furrowed with worry, but Grey stood still. He had passed through this too.

Seeing everything go just like how it was with him, hope reignited inside him. He felt maybe a miracle really was going to happen right now.

They kept on screaming throughout the process until finally it was over. The water ball burst and the three of them fell on the floor, water splashing everywhere.

Their bodies were soaked completely. Groaning in pain, they slowly stood up.

Before Grey could check their states with his eyes of omniscience, the system notification popped up in front of him, pulling the corners of his lips into a wide grin.

[Blaze Maximus's bloodline awakened]

[Mission completion: 100%]

[Rewards unlocked]

[Map to Grimhold now available]

[Main storyline missions now active]

Grey was ecstatic. The miracle he hoped for really did happen. He then activated his eyes of omniscience to check on the three of them.

[ Blaze Maximus ]

RACE: Sunforged

BLOODLINE: Dawnbringer (Primordial)

LEVEL: 25 (EXP: 1021/ 2600)

CULTIVATION REALM: Veridian Veil

STAMINA: 32

STRENGTH: 38

INTELLIGENCE: 28

AGILITY: 34

ORIGIN SKILLS: Lord of flames (SS+), Heavenly physique (S+)

GENERAL SKILLS: Dash (B+)(Active), Aura slash (B+)(Active), Leap (C+)(Active)

"Damn! That's quite the level up. That's what you get for having a primordial bloodline." Grey chuckled. He then looked at the stats of the other two.

[ Aeron Ling ]

RACE: Dragon

BLOODLINE: Rain dragon (Earth)

LEVEL: 24 (EXP: 287/ 2500)

CULTIVATION REALM: Veridian Veil

STAMINA: 22

STRENGTH: 28

INTELLIGENCE: 21

AGILITY: 24

ORIGIN SKILLS: Water lord (A+), Dragonize (Partial) (A+)

GENERAL SKILLS: Water shield (B) (Active), Underwater breathing (C) (Active), Water blade (C+) (Active)

"He just awakened a part of his potential. The new skill is not bad. Guess it's a power up skill, enhancing his defense, strength and agility."

[ Zenon Ashborn ]

RACE: Human

BLOODLINE: Combustion spark (Heaven)

LEVEL: 24 (EXP: 287/ 2500)

CULTIVATION REALM: Veridian Veil

STAMINA: 26

STRENGTH: 31

INTELLIGENCE: 21

AGILITY: 35

ORIGIN SKILLS: Combustion aura (A+)

GENERAL SKILLS: Dash (B) (Active), Rapid shot (B+) (Active), Blast shot (A) (Active)

"All three of them have leveled up good. They're almost in the same rank as the A class now." Grey nodded in satisfaction, winning the bet seemed a bit possible now.

"Don't you dare come near me. You all smell fucking rotten." Lenore's face twisted in disgust. She pressed her nose and moved back to the distance.

Just then, the three of them realized, their whole body was covered in a black gooey substance, as all the impurities had been ejected out of their cells.

But the smell was unbearable, they themselves couldn't endure anymore, their noses shriveled from the smell.

"Wash up in the river nearby. I have some spare clothes." Grey said with a chuckle.

*****

The air in the Emerald chamber of Veridian academy was thick with focused magical energy.

The room was circular, built from polished emerald-green stone, with a massive, shimmering teleportation circle inlaid into the floor at its center, as the runes glowed with a faint, steady pulse.

Hamdal stood in the very middle of the circle, clutching a thick, leather-bound scroll. To his right stood Thorgar, and to his left was a middle-aged lady, professor Rowena Briar.

She was in a floor-length, sapphire blue robe, a slightly askew pointy hat that sat low over one eyebrow, and a gnarled oak staff that crackled with contained power.

"Are the coordinated locked, Master Borin?" Hamdal's voice was a low, powerful rumble.

From a group of half a dozen younger mages stationed around the perimeter, one replied, "Locked, headmaster! You'll be directly dropping onto the command post perimeter."

"Good. Let's not dally. Begin then."

Borin nodded as immediately, the perimeter mages, their faces grimly set, began their coordinated casting.

Their hands moved in complex patterns, weaving threads of mana together. As their incantations reached a crescendo, a unified chant, the inlaid runes of the teleportation circle flashed from a faint glow to an blinding, brilliant gold.

A sustained, high-pitched whine filled the chamber. Blue-white energy surged up from the floor, engulfing the three figures. The air warped and shimmered violently around them.

Just as the mages finished their final words, with a deafening crack and a final, blinding flash of golden-white light. Hmadal, Thorgar and Rowena vanished.

*****

Hundreds of miles away, the landscape was a churned, muddy devastation. Under a sky permanently stained a sickly, twilight purple by the lingering influence of the enemy, an immense military encampment sprawled across the flat plains.

Hundreds of tents, pitched hastily and reinforced with magic shield set up with artifacts, dotted the area.

Guards patrolled with tired determination, and the deep, throbbing sound of distant battle, the rhythmic, monstrous roars of the eclipse beasts shook the ground constantly.

This was the beating heart of the war, the frontlines.

In a cleared space adjacent to a cluster of command tents, a small, hastily drawn runic circle was marked into the earth.

Suddenly, without warning, the air above the circle ripped open. A blindingly intense pillar of light erupted from the ground and shot up into the desolate sky.

The light was so bright, it cast harsh shadows even under the dim, hostile sky, and a tremendous wave of heat and displaced air radiated outwards, snapping tent flaps and kicking up dust.

The eruption lasted only a moment, then instantly collapsed inward.

Where the pillar of light had been, Hamdal, Thorgar and Rowena appeared. They stood blinking, coughing slightly from the smoke as the harsh, smoky air of the battlefield camp immediately assaulted their senses.

Before the light of the teleportation pillar fully faded, a tall, powerfully-built woman in a polished steel breastplate and a mud-splattered crimson cloak was striding towards them.

She was the commander of this army, Lyra Valerius, her face a mask of exhaustion and iron resolve.

"Headmaster, professor Thorgar and professor Rowena. Welcome to the frontlines." Lyra's voice was surprisingly calm, carrying over the clamor of the camp.

"I regret the urgency of your arrival, but the matter was not something that could be pushed for later. Please follow me."

Hamdal nodded gravely. Lyra spun on her heel, leading them at a brisk march past bewildered soldiers and tired supply runners.

"They went on a scouting mission on their own. From what he has said, they had reached almost the gates of the palace. But when they returned, one of them was on death's door and the other came with bloodied wounds all over."

She guided them away from the main thoroughfare, past supply crates and a line of medics, towards a small. Reinforced tent nestled against the outer earthworks, a place clearly meant for privacy.

"They had returned just a few hours ago." Lyra explained as she pulled back the thick canvas flap.

Inside, the tent was dim and smelled strongly of disinfectant and old herbs. Two cots lay side-by-side.

On the first cot lay a man, in his late thirties, his face pale and slick with sweat. His chest and abdomen were wrapped in thick, blood-stained bandages, and his breathing was shallow and ragged.

He was Verlan, lying unconscious, lost in deep, alarming slumber.

The three of them gravitated towards him. Rowena's eyes flashed for a second as she took a good look at Verlan's wound. "The corruption…it's already deep. It's stopping the wound from healing quickly." She murmured.

The tip of her staff glowed with a soothing white light as white threads of mana flowed out from it, encasing Verlan inside a cocoon-like structure.

However, it was the occupant of the second cot that held Hamdal's immediate attention.

Propped up against a rolled blanket, chewing slowly and deliberately on a piece of dried meat, was a man in his forties, with sharp, intense eyes. He seemed too calm for the hell he must have just escaped.

His boots were scuffed, his leather coat was torn, and across his lap rested the object of his renown, heavy and customized, double-barreled shotguns, the Dragontooth.

He was Storm, Storm Ashborn, the hero.

"Headmaster." Storm said, his voice flat and dry. He gestured with his chin to Verlan on the next cot. "I almost lost him today headmaster."

"And people call me a hero!" Storm chuckled mockingly at himself. "We couldn't even land a single scratch. He swatted my ultimate like it was nothing."

Ther three of them were taken aback. Storm was the strongest individual in the assets of the unified race. His ultimate, that turned the Obscurity sovereign into dust did nothing to the one he was speaking about, then this matter was grave, far dangerous than they ever imagined.

"What was it?" Zarnak asked, his voice a bit shaky.

"Umbral Harbinger. The one that appeared in the frontlines that time."

"And believe me when I say this headmaster. He's not the strongest within their ranks. I felt a few pressures far dreary and suffocating then him from within the palace." Storm said gravely.

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