Floor panels beneath Ardyn's boots hummed with a steady pulse—each beat a quiet reminder that the Skytrain didn't ride rails, but hovered above them.
Stretching between Corith and Virellan, a series of massive, gleaming steel tubes cut through the clouds like the bones of a forgotten titan. The Skytrain hovered within the tube, held aloft by invisible forces that pulsed beneath its hull.
Ardyn leaned closer to the glass, watching the way the mist peeled back around the tube's curve. The wind up here didn't roar; it whispered, skimming the metal with delicate precision. Somewhere far behind them, Corith's jagged cliffs were already fading from view. And ahead—still a silhouette on the horizon—Virellan loomed larger with every second.
Just as the silhouette of Virellan began to sharpen against the sky, the Skytrain dipped gently and veered toward a massive, open tunnel carved into the underbelly of the isle. Its mouth yawned wide—an industrial cavern framed by steel ribs and anchor pylons, half-swallowed by mist.
As they entered, sunlight gave way to shadow. The brightness outside dimmed, replaced by a quiet cascade of soft, ambient lights embedded in the tunnel walls. They glowed in slow pulses—washing the cabin in a muted calm. The air grew denser. Quieter. It was like sinking into the breath of something ancient and mechanical.
The floor's hum deepened into a low, thrumming pressure. His chest tightened—not from fear, but from the sudden lift beneath them. The Skytrain was ascending, fast. Not jerking or shaking, just rising, smooth and constant, as if caught in the hand of some unseen giant drawing it upward through the heart of the isle.
Light returned in a sudden burst.
They shot out of the tunnel and into open sky once more—only now they were far above the lower districts. Virellan stretched out before them in a glittering sprawl: towers and skybridges crisscrossing the air, markets built into terraces, traffic flowing through layered lanes in elegant loops. Giant banners streamed from floating pylons, each bearing insignias of Caldrith Vale Cirran team and Skytest sponsors. Engines blurred into a constant buzz, and from this high, the whole city looked like it was breathing.
And there—anchored to the very peak of Virellan's highest platform—loomed the Sky Arena.
It was impossible to miss. A colossal structure of ringed terraces and floating wings, tethered by glowing support arms to the main core. Its central dome shimmered like a stormglass, reflecting the sun in sharp, golden flares.
A few minutes later, the Skytrain's momentum softened into a slow glide. The hum beneath Ardyn's boots shifted—no longer pulsing, but settling, like an exhale. With a soft chime, the train came to a halt.
The doors opened with a crisp, pressurized hiss followed by a low thunk as the gangplanks extended. Cool, recycled air brushed past Ardyn's face, carrying with it a sterile scent laced with something faintly floral. A voice—polite and practiced—echoed through the cabin.
"Platform G-9, Skyhall Central. Orientation teams, please proceed to designated reception bays."
A uniformed guide stood just outside the exit, a narrow light strip running down the length of her coat. She gave them a nod, then gestured smoothly toward the platform ahead.
"Windmere delegation, this way please."
As Ardyn stepped out with the others, he realized they hadn't just arrived at the Sky Arena—they were already inside it.
The platform opened into a towering atrium layered with glass and steel walkways, all orbiting the arena's inner core. Above them, translucent skylights filtered in gold-tinged sunlight, casting fractured beams across the polished floors. Drones buzzed quietly overhead, filming arrivals from discreet angles. Giant digital banners unfurled across the far wall, displaying team logos and countdowns to the opening match.
Clusters of staff, organizers, and other early arrivals dotted the upper walkways, most dressed in matching color codes for different isles. Some looked over idly. Others paused. A few pointed.
Ardyn caught whispers just ahead—a pair of young women paused at the railing, squinting down at them. One of them leaned closer to her friend.
"Wait… is that Kael from Windmere? The Prodigy?"
Kael didn't flinch. He kept his eyes forward, posture crisp as ever, like the attention didn't touch him. But Ardyn noticed Ava gave a sly glance his way.
More voices followed—soft murmurs, raised brows. Some were amused.
Ardyn adjusted his grip on his shoulder strap, heart drumming a little faster. The Sky Arena had eyes everywhere—and now, they were all looking.
They followed the guide down a corridor that curved upward, glass walls revealing slanted views of the city beyond. A final turn brought them into the Orientation Hall—and it was nothing like Ardyn expected.
The place wasn't a private briefing room. It was a show.
The hall was massive—open to the upper tiers of the arena, ringed with balconies where spectators gathered in clusters, cheering or leaning over railings for a better look. Spotlights cut through thin trails of mist overhead, catching on shimmering banners suspended in the air. At the far end of the chamber, a wide elevated platform curved like a stage, currently empty but pulsing with light.
Teams had already begun to gather.
One group stood near the far left—broad-shouldered, clad in deep, slate-gray uniforms with rugged cuts and reinforced plating across their arms and boots. The emblem of a winged crest was stamped across their backs in matte bronze. Draymoor. Even at rest, they looked like they were built to crash through storms.
To the right, a sharp line of figures in sleek black stood with arms crossed, posture too perfect to be casual. Caldrith Vale. Their uniforms gleamed with polished detail—silver-threaded seams, custom visors tucked into their belts, and a cold, mechanical precision in how they didn't look around—they surveyed.
As the Windmere team stepped into view, one of the Caldrith Vale Cirrans turned. A slow, deliberate look. Then a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Well, look at this," he said, voice loud enough to carry over the low ambient noise. "Didn't realize Windmere still made it to the Skytest."
A few of his teammates chuckled—dry, rehearsed. Not a joke, just a reminder: We see you. We're already above you.
Sedge shifted beside Ardyn, a sharp breath already halfway to words. But a firm hand landed on his shoulder—Captain Seris. One small shake of the head. His expression calm, almost unreadable.
Sedge swallowed whatever he was about to say and straightened, jaw tight.
They settled along a curved row of benches near the lower end of the hall, just under a streaming banner. From here, the entire platform fanned out above them—multiple levels with open galleries, walls alive with shifting displays, and small clusters of spectators taking early seats behind a low barricade.
Pimri tilted his head subtly toward the left. "Black team—Caldrith Vale. One of the regulars in the finals."
He then snapped his chin toward the right. "Gray's Draymoor. That team's all muscle and shields. Half their roster's Windguards, I bet."
Doma crossed his arms, eyes scanning the space. "Four teams are gathering today, as Captain said. We're still missing one."
"Orriven," Ava added, her voice steady. "And… they're arriving."
She pointed toward the upper entrance just as the last team stepped into view. Their uniforms carried a muted green tone—sleek and streamlined, stitched with silver accents that caught the light. They walked with quiet confidence, their presence sharp and unspoken.
But Ardyn wasn't looking at their stance or color patterns.
Not really.
His eyes caught on one of them instantly—a girl near the center. Her dark hair shimmered beneath the skylights, streaked with hints of red, green, and blue. It wasn't just the colors.
It was her.
The same girl from the fountain plaza in Corith.
Ardyn's eyes widened.
He knew exactly where this was heading. A wave of recognition swept through him, sharp and undeniable. Instinctively, he tried to dip his head, to shrink back a little—but it was too late.
Their eyes met.
She blinked, clearly just as surprised as he was—if not more. For a second, her brows lifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. Then it settled into something else. Something like disbelief… and a smile.
As the Orriven team moved closer toward their designated space, she broke off for a moment and walked straight to him. Ardyn felt every gaze from his own team shift in her direction as she came to a stop just a few feet away, arms crossing over her chest.
"Can't believe it," she said, a smirk curling at the edge of her lips. "Splash Boy is a Cirran?"
That did it. The entire Windmere team turned toward Ardyn in sync, like someone had flipped a switch.
"Ardyn, right?" she added, cocking her head slightly.
He nodded—awkward, frozen, barely breathing. His mouth opened for a reply, but his mind scrambled too fast to form words. He couldn't even remember her name.
She gave him one last amused look, then turned and rejoined her team without another word.
Pimri leaned in, half-laughing. "What was that, man?"
Ardyn scratched the back of his head, still staring at where she'd gone.
"Long story…"
"You know Mirae Rinaka?" Ava asked, eyes still tracking the Orriven team. "She's one of the fastest Skyrunners out there. They call her the Ballerina."
"Not really," Ardyn muttered. "I met her in Corith. Long story short… I accidentally splashed her with water." He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Thus the Splash Boy."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Pimri snorted. Doma barked a laugh. Even Kael cracked a grin.
"Splash Boy," Pimri repeated, wheezing. "Oh man, that's sticking."
Captain Seris gave a rare, amused exhale through his nose.
"Cirran legacy right there," Sedge teased, nudging Ardyn's arm.
A few minutes passed before a uniformed coordinator—dressed in a streamlined coat lined with glowing seams—stepped into the center of the hall and raised a hand.
"Cirran teams, please follow me."
The murmur of the crowd quieted as the teams fell into formation, following her lead. The wide hall opened into a stage platform flanked by twin stairwells. The Windmere team was guided to the left side of the stage, opposite Draymoor, while Orriven and Caldrith Vale were led to the right. Wide pillars arched over the arena, and more people had gathered now, crowding the upper terraces and balconies. Drones zipped overhead like lazy fireflies, capturing every angle.
A low hum rose from beneath the floor.
Lights dimmed.
Then—like the start of something vast and ceremonial—a resounding chord rang out through the space, followed by layered, ascending notes. Music filled the hall, slow and swelling, and the crowd responded instantly. Cheers erupted. Flags waved. Spotlights danced across the walls as a wide central screen flared to life above the stage.
Scenes from the previous year's Skytest blasted across it—blurs of flight, streaks of wind-light, close shaves and roaring dives. Echoes of crowd screams from those past matches bled into the present ones.
A figure emerged on the stage.
He walked with practiced ease, half-dramatic, half-magnetic, wearing a fitted dark coat with silver clasps and a long teal sash that trailed behind him. He raised a hand to the cheering crowd, and a thin crystal mic near his collar picked up his voice and projected it through the hall in perfect clarity.
"Sky Isles of Lioratheia!"
The crowd roared louder.
"Welcome to this year's Skytest Preliminary!"
The screens behind him flared, flames arcing into wings across the borders.
"As you all know, the preliminaries are being held here in mighty Caldrith Vale. And we are thrilled—absolutely thrilled—to introduce our first contenders!"
"First team—from the far eastern isles, home of windswept ridges and mirrored pools—Orriven!"
The crowd erupted as the Orriven team stepped forward with practiced precision, heads held high. Their green-toned uniforms glinted beneath the overhead lights. The screen split to show their profiles—portraits, positions, stats, and years of experience rippling in sequence.
Ardyn watched Mirae step up with her team, composed but confident. Even now, her signature streaked hair shimmered like a burst of color amidst Orriven's deep green uniforms.
"Second team, from the northern heights—rugged, grounded, and fierce in defense—Draymoor!"
A thunderous reaction followed as the Draymoor squad marched forward. Grey-draped and solid-built, many of them bore armor-like shoulder plating. Again, the screen reacted—profiles, data, and wind trails looping behind their stats.
"Third team—from the southern isles, known for their grit and heart—Windmere!"
The Windmere team stepped into the light.
Ardyn kept his posture even, but his pulse tapped like a drumline. Cheers followed—not as loud, but still spirited. The screen displayed their profiles one by one, and he caught his own image ripple past—Ardyn Cale, Skyrunner—accompanied by a looping capture from his trial flight in Veltridge.
"Not bad," Pimri muttered behind a grin.
"And last—but never least—"
Even before the announcer finished, the crowd's volume doubled.
"Hailing from your home, and a team that's no stranger to the finals… Caldrith Vale!"
A sharp blast of music followed as the home team strode into view, black-and-silver uniforms catching every gleam of light. Their profiles exploded across the screen in a dramatic flash—faster, more polished, their reputations already known.
The roar was deafening.
As the noise slowly faded, the announcer raised both arms again, voice booming through the still-lingering cheers.
"This year, the preliminaries are unfolding here in the mighty isles of Caldrith Vale—and we're starting strong with a bracket format. Four teams. Two matches. One final."
The screen split, revealing a glowing four-team bracket that rotated into place. Above it, bold text shimmered into view:
Bracket One – Preliminary Round.
Windmere versus Caldrith Vale.
Orriven versus Draymoor.
The crowd reaction was instant—gasps, whoops, and a surge of murmurs that echoed through the hall. Some shouted in disbelief. Others roared in support. Caldrith Vale's supporters erupted into thunderous chants, their voices shaking the floor with hometown pride.
"Winners of these matches," the announcer continued, "will face off in the bracket final—where only one team earns the right to represent the Cirran Isles in the Skytest Finals!"
"This is..." he swept a hand toward the sky above.
"Skytest!"
The crowd burst into thunder. Lights exploded across the dome. The music returned in a storm of brass and percussion. Flags waved. Drones swirled overhead.
All four teams bowed in unison before stepping down from the stage alongside the announcer. As they left, the massive screens dissolved into a stream of fireworks visuals and swirling clouds.
A group of performers—dancers with wing-shaped cloaks and wind-glider gear—sprinted onto the open floor as the intermission began.
As the teams descended from the stage, the crowd still buzzing from the announcements, Windmere team hadn't taken more than a few strides before the same Caldrith Vale player who'd mocked them earlier veered across their path.
"I think we already know who gets eliminated," he said, voice smooth with arrogance, cutting just loud enough to be heard.
Sedge clenched his jaw, but before he could snap back, Ardyn beat him to it.
"Don't be too confident," Ardyn said coolly. "Law of gravity states—what goes up must come down."
A few bystanders let out drawn breaths. From the side, Caldrith Vale's other members echoed with mocking "Oohs," grinning and elbowing each other.
The player's smirk faded. He turned on his heel and strode back toward Ardyn, gaze narrowing as he sized him up from boots to brow.
"Who are you, novice?"
Before Ardyn could answer, a voice snapped like a whip beside him.
"Ardyn Cale," Kael said, his tone sharp with pride. "Synced with his Aerolith in one try."
That did it.
Several heads turned from nearby teams. A few people in organizer badges paused mid-conversation, eyebrows lifting. A pair of media drones hovering at a distance swerved slightly, angling lenses toward Windmere's group. Soft murmurs rippled out—unmistakable surprise.
A voice whispered from the press bench, just loud enough: "Did he say one try?"
The Caldrith Vale player blinked, caught between disbelief and irritation. But before any reply could come, two figures stepped forward.
Captain Seris, calm but firm, planted himself just between Ardyn and the Caldrith player. Across from him, Caldrith Vale's captain moved with the same precision, placing a hand on his teammate's shoulder with a look that said enough.
"Let's keep this clean," Caldrith Vale's captain said quietly, meeting the other Seris' eyes. "We'll settle it in the skies."
Ardyn exhaled only once the teams split paths, his pulse still tapping behind his ears. He hadn't planned to say anything. But now… Everyone knew his name.