His very first step through the barrier was something even further beyond monumental.

The entire world around him rippled in the wake of his strides. He began to pick up speed with full, reckless abandon.

Kyoya's steps quickened to a sprint as he broke through the woodland surrounding the homestead. The treeline transitioned into vast, rolling hills, with an enormous tree standing lone and proud in its center. Arione's Oak, the undisputed monarch of Arione Valley, stood hundreds of feet wide and hundreds more tall, but it was right in his path...

...and, to some extent, seemed to consider itself an obstacle—a challenger, even.

Kyoya never had any intention of slowing down, though; he fancied himself a champion, after all.

His feet took on a downward tilt upon cresting the slope, almost vertical. With a leap some five feet into the air, he locked on to a spot and rocketed back down.

Kyoya hit the ground fast, positioning himself angled down the slope so that he had a hand behind him to steer and one foot further extended than the other for raw speed. The ground was less solid than he'd anticipated, making sliding down even more of a breeze.

He slipped around and banked off of trees, dodging low-lying branches and scattered bushes with expert precision. Eventually finding himself on slightly more level ground, the boy altered his position and stood up to run.

He dipped through a slew of obstacles, including his fair share of peaceful wildlife and overgrown flora, then made it to the bottom of the slope and took on a full sprint. The gargantuan tree trunk stood only a few more seconds of dashing before him.

Kyoya kept running, picking up even more speed as he approached it's base. Once mere feet from the tree, he drove one foot into the ground and launched up its side, staying just balanced enough to plant both and keep running—only this time, it was up the gigantic grooves between its slabs of bark.

Multiple times, he nearly lost footing and plummeted into freefall, but was able to maintain himself and keep dashing upward. Some hundred feet up, Kyoya's momentum finally dwindled, and he had to swiftly jump to the nearest level branch.

He did so with moderate success, landing a bit awkwardly on his behind, though landing nonetheless. Kyoya gave out handshakes to the clouds as he looked dead ahead, spying none other than Altaire's outer entries.

Wagons, carriages, and even people moving by foot came in and out by the hundreds, as well as low-flying airships and aerial mounts making their rounds. The boy found it nothing short of impossible to attribute this to anything but Reika having been right on the mark when describing the Festival.

Rugged bark tickled his back once he leaned with a leisurely sigh, crossing his arms in newly gained comfort. The plain around him still stretched a couple miles forward, only able to make out the fabled dragon-horned entryway upon the horizon. He felt a pang of sympathy for those who had to walk, but the unmistakable pep in the masses' steps was a fine way to ease it.

After a little while of stationary sightseeing, a small commotion seemed to come about a few of the travelers that were passing below the branch on which he'd stood. Though, upon looking down, he noticed it to actually be a young boy pointing up and waving at him. After who appeared to be his mother and father found where he was looking and offered a similar greeting, they shouted something he couldn't quite hear, yet it still seemed warm—reassuring, even.

After this, they continued about their way on the path to Altaire.

The first contact since starting the search for his own fate, and he already felt welcome.

The Miscreant at least knew he wouldn't cover ground standing still, though. It'd take plenty more than he could feasibly jump, and he grimaced at the thought of walking, so Kyoya thought up a different approach.

He took a series of strides back, springing hard off his right foot, and throwing another condensed fireball directly ahead of him. He was shooting for a 45-degree leap, mostly meeting his mark. The charge's detonation went off just before he could start falling.

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Despite the projectile being no larger than a small ball, compacted energy within the core gave for a much stronger blast than would seem. Even he hadn't quite expected to be flung so far from his point of origin, but after finally being able to open his eyes without wind tearing them apart, the boy found that he'd flown just under the intended mark, now standing only a few minutes' walk from his destination.

"Definitely better than expected," he said to no one in particular, being sure that no real attention was drawn. No eyes were planted in his direction, so the boy deemed that proof enough. Now, the gateway was in plain sight, and the air around him was flaring to life from the roars of the festival.

It was even therapeutic, in some way or another. Kyoya didn't take his time making way toward the entrance, a quick but steady one-two power-walk getting him past that home stretch.

He took a few moments to examine the magnificent, age-old dragon horns that gave Altaire's gate it's signature flair. The stark lack of a single nick or fray on the shimmering ivory suggested immeasurable resilience to any form of field wear.

They were several times longer than he was tall, thicker than a dozen tree stumps, and harder than solid stone. A vicious curve, similar to a bull's hallmark goring horns, sent a brutally sharp point skyward. Should they have been tall enough to reach the sky, they wouldn't even have to try to pierce it—after all, the clouds at least had common sense; they'd scatter just fine on their own.

After reaching that suitable conclusion of thought, Kyoya's next objective was to get through the gate. Sentry guards toting burly, motley brown Tracker Hounds stood watch across from each other, one at either horn's front. What they checked for was a mystery entirely, though, as there were no common traits in those that were allowed through.

In fact, he hadn't even noticed anyone get turned away.

There didn't seem to be any sort of consistency in the apparent class or occupation of visitor, either. Without any means of further assessing the oddity, he simply walked forward, but he was forced to a halt as the right guard's arm almost instantly rose to block his path.

Kyoya stumbled backward and caught himself, quickly regaining his footing.

"Hey! What gives!" He shot, his breathing briefly deepening from having the air blown clean out of his lungs.

"The Grandeur has been instructed to obstruct the entry of any potentially dangerous individuals from entry. Please do not misunderstand: this is not an attack on your person—we merely need to confirm that you are not of known hostile origin."

A tired slur coated that claim, almost as though this man was blackout drunk, bordering falling asleep, or both. Kyoya figured he either didn't want to be there, or at least didn't care enough to sound as though his duties meant much.

One stood to his left, the other right in front of him.

Both wore silvery armor, swords in scabbards and shields on their backs, knight helmets concealing whatever face lay beneath their metallic exoskeletons. Neither of the guards really stood taller than the boy, but their bulk was comparable to that of Arione's Oak. With Tracker Hounds at their heels, he settled on the reality that any confrontation wouldn't be his smartest option.

"Okay, fine, I guess..." Kyoya groaned. He moved from the line and stood a few feet away from the guard, who continued aimlessly staring down the endless single-file wave of travelers.

At first, he paid it no difference, attributing it to bad luck, or maybe a mix-up somewhere. But, after nearly five minutes had passed without the man so much as acknowledging his being there, the boy quickly grew impatient.

"Hello?" He waved a hand in front of the helmet.

No response was offered.

Now more bewildered than upset, the Miscreant tapped lightly on the back of the chest plate. He nearly fell when the man whipped around to face him without so much as making a sound.

"Young man, I assure you that your issue will be resolved in a timely manner. For now, please wait," that same scratchy voice echoed from inside.

"Right, right. I think I'll actually just take a rain check on the whole festival bit, no worries."

"On behalf of his highness, I apologize for the inconvenience. Please do return next year, there shouldn't be any problems then. As it stands, we're currently on alert due to a threat issued by an unknown bunch of ruffians claiming the intention to summon Demons during the festival. If I may suggest, it's likely wiser to not attend this year for that reason alone. Unfortunately, we can't offer much to deter the greater public."

"Yeesh, that is pretty tough." Kyoya nodded in mock understanding. "Well, good luck with what you've got goin' here." The boy turned to offer a parting wave, hands going straight to his pockets afterward.

Of course, there was no way he'd just up and leave, especially now that his interest was piqued. After sighting a small-ish thicket of trees and other cover, the boy spared no time in finding somewhere he couldn't be seen from the gate.

He sat cross-legged at the base of a tree, adopting a trademark thinking pose. There was no telling how long he of all people would take to formulate a plan of any degree, but the beginning of that process was soon cut short.