(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they an a lot. As usual, please don’t hesitate to comnt or drop a review. ENJOY)
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Power stones people, Gim it.
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The second disappeared into the tunnel.
The cavern fell silent again.
The first stood alone.
He looked down at the pouch.
Then at the coordinates.
Then toward the distant, unseen heart of the Chronos estate.
"...The heir of Chronos," he muttered.
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It had been eight years since Orion Chronos had first t Zion.
Back then, Orion had been much smaller. Weaker. Still learning what this world demanded of him. Zion had been the man sent to retrieve him after the Ivory Incident, and the mory had never left him.
The man’s size alone had been terrifying.
Broad shoulders. A fra that looked less like sothing trained and more like sothing forged. Even then, Orion had wondered if it was pure genetics, so extre training regin, or perhaps a muscle-inducing potion. The academy didn’t offer a dedicated potion course—those fell under a separate institution within the Chronos estate—but there was a research and developnt track. From what Orion had heard from classmates in that program, potions could alter the body in ways most people underestimated.
Eight years later, Zion still looked the sa.
No—he looked even larger.
And that, more than anything, unsettled Orion.
He studied the man openly as Zion stood at the far end of the tunnel Orion had just carved through solid structure. Silver hair cropped short. White suit stretched tight across a chest that looked carved from stone. Calm eyes. Half-lidded. Assessing.
But what truly disturbed Orion wasn’t the physique.
It was the smile.
Zion hadn’t smiled last ti.
He had been direct. Efficient. Cold. A man executing an order without emotion.
Now there was a subtle curve at the corner of his mouth, as though he was... amused.
Ti changed people, Orion supposed. Eight years was a long ti.
Zion’s gaze moved slowly across the thirteen of them. He didn’t rush. Didn’t comnt. Didn’t acknowledge the ruined structure behind them or the fact that Orion had just erased a wall with Nova Bloom.
Instead, he observed.
It was clear to Orion imdiately: Zion wasn’t impressed easily—but he was impressed now.
To deliver Nova Bloom with that level of precision at fourteen years old was not normal. It was not expected. It was not sothing even most Ascendants could manage cleanly.
Zion turned back to Orion.
"It’s a pleasure to see you again, young master," he said, inclining his head in a small, formal bow.
Orion returned the gesture with a polite smile. "You too, Zion. Though we didn’t spend much ti together last ti."
Seris shifted beside him, her eyes flicking between Orion and the towering man. The question was written plainly across her face.
Who is this guy to you?
Orion noticed.
"Right, I should introdu—"
"There will be no need, young master," Zion interrupted calmly, his hands folding behind his back. "I can take it from here."
Orion paused for half a second.
Then shrugged. "Alright."
He stepped back without argunt.
That alone earned him a few subtle looks from his classmates. Orion rarely relinquished control unless he had a reason. Zion noticed that too.
The man straightened.
His presence changed instantly.
"Form up."
The command cracked through the air.
Not loud—but sharp.
All thirteen of them startled for a fraction of a second before training took over. Feet shifted. Spines straightened. Lines corrected themselves almost unconsciously.
They snapped into formation.
Perfectly.
Zion nodded once. "Good."
He began pacing slowly in front of them.
"From this mont onward, you are recruits under my command," he said evenly. "You will address as Commander whenever you speak."
He stopped in front of them.
"Am I clear?"
"Crystal!" they replied in unison.
This wasn’t unfamiliar. Group combat, leadership roles, command hierarchy—these were mandatory components of Combat Division training. Still, none of them had expected to be thrown into that structure now.
Zion continued.
"I tell you to jump—you jump. I tell you to sleep—you sleep. I tell you to run—you run."
He stopped directly in front of Galen.
"I tell you to stop," he said quietly, leaning in just enough, "you stop."
Galen flinched.
Zion straightened and turned away.
"Walk with ."
They followed imdiately.
No one spoke.
No one lagged.
They moved down a long corridor carved into the structure beyond the destroyed chamber. The walls were smooth, tallic-white, faintly humming with mana suppression fields layered so densely Orion could feel them pressing against his senses.
Zion did not speak as they walked.
Neither did anyone else.
They were trained well enough to know silence was expected.
Eventually, Zion stopped in front of two doors.
One marked BOYS.
The other GIRLS.
"Split up," he said. "Enter. Pick a uniform. Change. You have five minutes."
No hesitation.
They moved instantly.
Orion entered with the rest of the boys. They had arrived in casual clothes—it was Saturday, after all—but those were discarded quickly. The uniforms were neatly arranged.
Standard military attire.
White tops.
Silver camouflage trousers.
Grey boots.
Chronos-issued.
By the fourth minute, they were all back outside, standing in formation once more. The silver of their hair matched the uniform cleanly. The aesthetic was unmistakable.
Chronos.
Zion inspected them.
Nodded once.
And continued walking.
They followed.
The corridor opened suddenly.
Light flooded in.
They stepped onto a massive platform beneath a towering glass do. Orion’s eyes moved instantly, cataloguing what he saw.
Gadgets.
Mana-powered systems.
Seats with embedded control arrays.
Holographic panels.
Rotating sigils suspended in the air.
It looked less like a room and more like the control center of a massive machine.
The platform itself was enormous, with nurous sealed doors lining its periter. Each door radiated dormant power.
Whatever this place was—
It wasn’t small.
Zion stopped at the center.
Turned.
And finally spoke again.
"Welco," he said evenly, "to Project Jade."
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