Blackout Ascension: Return of Primordial Heir-Chapter 55: Partial Eclipse [4]

In the relief of chaos a voice lingering across the plaza.

"Kairos!"

Seyana’s voice broke through the painful silence in his ears. She walked across the balcony, dropping to her knees beside him on the hard stone. She didn’t care about the dirt or the ash ruining her beautiful crimson dress. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him tight against her.

"I’ve got you," Seyana whispered, her voice trembling. "You are safe. Just breathe."

Kairos leaned his heavy head against her shoulder. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady, comforting beat of her heart. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably. The adrenaline that had kept him moving during the frozen seconds of the Dominion was completely gone, leaving nothing but a hollow, agonizing ache in his bones. He could feel his muscles twitching in protest. But as he rested there, the agonizing pain in his chest slowly began to fade. The natural mana in the air finally rushed back into his lungs, replenishing his drained life force. He was alive. He had actually survived.

Across the balcony, Terravarous pushed himself up from the ground. The giant grunted as the deep cut on his back stung in the cool wind, but he ignored the pain with the stubborn pride of a Royal General. He looked around the clear balcony, his dark eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at the piles of gray ash scattered across the stone. "They are gone. All of them."

Velanor Banner sat up, rubbing his bruised chest. The earth mage looked at Kairos, who was still catching his breath in Seyana’s arms. Velanor offered a look of pure respect, entirely dropping his usual cocky smirk. "Remind me never to make you angry, Kairos. I didn’t even see you move. One second they were there, and the next, they were just dust."

At the back of the balcony, Luna fell sideways onto the stone. The terrifying silver light in his eyes flickered, fighting to stay lit for a fraction of a second before it died, fading back to his pale gray. He instantly shut the Cosmic Lock in his soul. The sensation of the golden chain sealing tight was trembling. It felt like a massive iron vault slamming shut inside his chest, vehemently cutting off the flow of infinite mana. The sudden absence of that god-like power left him feeling incredibly fragile, as if a strong gust of wind could break his bones.

Luna curled inward, shivering from the extreme psychic exhaustion. Soltheia pulled his head into her lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She was crying, tears streaming down her face, lingering her hand to rub the streaming tears on her face, and she wiped the blood from his nose and ears with the hem of her blue dress.

"You did it," Soltheia sobbed quietly, pressing her forehead against his. Her voice was thick with a mixture of pure terror and immense relief. "You saved us. Please, Luna... don’t ever do that again. I thought I was going to lose you."

​Luna managed a weak, tired smirk. His pale hand trembled as he reached up and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. "I told you... I hate doing extra work. Opening ancient cosmic seals is definitely not in my daily schedule. I think I am going to sleep for a week."

Catherine stood near the edge of the balcony. The cold, focused young princess of Sylphyros looked at the young Generals resting on the stone platform. They were battered, bleeding, and exhausted beyond measure. Their clothes were torn and stained with blood and ash. But they had held the line against an impossible nightmare. They had protected her sister when the rest of the world failed. Catherine didn’t say a word, but she offered them a silent, deeply respectful bow, acknowledging them not just as nobles, but as true warriors.

****

Down in the plaza, the iron boots of the Solaris Royal Guard finally thudded through the cobblestone streets. Hundreds of armed soldiers rumbled into the square. They raised their spears, shouting orders to secure the panicked civilians. Torches glanced to life, pushing back the lingering shadows of the attack and washing the ruined festival in flickering orange light.

A squad of elite guards, led by a battle-scarred Captain, spotted the young royals on the elevated stone platform. They rushed up the stone steps, their weapons drawn and ready for a fight that was already over.

"Princess Seyana!" the Captain yelled, dropping to one knee the moment he saw the royal blood scattered on the floor. His eyes widened as he noticed the piles of corrupted ash. "Forgive our delay! The dark barrier prevented us from entering the district. Our magic could not pierce it. Are you injured?"

​"I am fine, Captain," Seyana said. She stood up, gently helping Kairos to his feet and letting him lean his weight on her arm. She changed instantly from a worried friend into the Crown Princess of Solaris. Her amber eyes were commanding, leaving no room for argument. "But my Generals are severely wounded. I need royal carriages brought here immediately, and summon the High Healers to the palace infirmary before we arrive."

"Right away, Your Highness," the Captain nodded, yelling strict orders at his men to clear a path.

The walk down from the balcony was slow and painful. Terravarous had to lean on Velanor for support. Ignis complained with every single step, clutching his broken ribs and muttering about how much he hated shadow magic. Kairos kept one hand resting firmly on the hilt of Asteria, using the sheathed sword almost like a walking cane. His legs felt terrible, shaking with every step.

They walked through the ruined festival square. The beautiful paper lanterns were gone, replaced by gray ash and shattered wooden stalls. The civilians watched them pass in awe and silence. They had seen those monsters. They knew these young nobles had just saved their lives.

When the royal carriages arrived, they climbed inside and left the ruined Golden Bazaar behind.

The ride back to the Solaris Palace was quiet. Nobody cracked a joke. Nobody bragged about their strength. They had survived the first real battle of the Great War, but the reality of the threat weighed on all of them. They had seen the enemy, and they knew the shadows were far more dangerous than any dungeon beast.

They finally reached the safety of the palace walls. The High Healers were waiting in the courtyard, rushing forward with shimmering green magic to mend their broken bones and heal their deep cuts.

Kairos sat on a soft hospital bed, letting a healer wrap his bruised wrists. He looked at his friends resting in the beds around him. They were safe. They had won the night.

****

But high above the cheering crowds and the rushing soldiers, far out of sight, someone else was watching them.

On the very edge of the tallest clock tower overlooking the Golden Bazaar, Librarian Jovian stood cloaked in the shadows. The old man was not holding his simple sweeping broom. He stood there silent and the rotting book bound in black iron chains hovered in the air beside him. The title, Fallen, faintly thumped with a cursed energy in his weathered hands.

Jovian looked down at the empty stone balcony far below. His eyes cut through the distance, focusing on the spot where Kairos and Luna had stood.

The grumpy, ordinary janitor facade was completely gone. His expression looked like a burdened man with a profound sorrow that predated the modern kingdoms. He looked tired, like a man who had carried the weight of the sky for far too long.

He watched the last traces of the black mist fade into the night wind, carrying the ash of the fallen knights away into the endless dark.

"So, the seals are cracking," Jovian whispered, his raspy voice carrying a haunting weight, lost to the passing breeze, "and the boy commands the clock just as the prophecy foretold."

Jovian slowly turned his gaze away from the ruined street. He looked out toward the distant, jagged mountains at the far edge of the continent, where the shadows never gazed. He reached up and tightened his gnarled grip on the cursed book.

His gaze was entirely knowing. He knew what the sudden, brutal attack on the festival meant. The ancient enemy wasn’t just blindly striking; it was testing the power of the new generation. The long, peaceful era of the fragile mortal kingdoms had finally come to a brutal end.

"Your scouts are dead, but your army grows," Jovian murmured, stepping backward into the shade of the clock tower, his gray robes blending with the dark. He offered one last whisper to the night sky, a question blaming directly at a ghost that refused to stay buried.

"Why are you rising again... Fallen Monarch?"

The old librarian vanished into the darkness without a single trace, leaving the young Generals to their earnest, hard-fought victory. They had bravely won the night, but the real nightmare was just beginning.