An enormous bellow of thunder boomed across the great seas, the gap Kirke and his most trusted retinue has been trying to traverse since childhood. The both of them, Reese and Vincent, kept their eyes peeled for any sort of change. The storm had been brewing for a while - the first time since their trip began a few years ago. It was a foreboding - a great shift in their journey. Would they find their destination?

“We’re close,” suspected Kirke, a thin, anticipating smile lining his lips. But of course, the great seas is only traversed by few specialized mercantile vessels, the juggernauts and their tight crew, trained for the arduous three-year journey across the wide seas: the only known route connecting the islands of Ambrosia, and the continent of Elysia.

Lands which rarely have any interaction with each other. Even the merchant families from Ambrosia never spare much time with the Elysians; Kirke had no clue where the culture began - but the nomadic families of Ambrosia are content with their own wars, politics, and shenanigans. Thankfully, strife and corruption isn’t yet the majority, but what’s never going to change is their aversion to non-Ambrosians.

A way of thinking that Kirke has never subscribed to. So he wished to travel; he… rented a juggernaut for himself.

Quite simply, Kirke was free from all of that since three years ago.

The juggernaut that Kirke rented was perfect: a complete stock of food, some booze, a few board games and puzzles to pick at - and it was the best in two things:

One, it can run swiftly across the ever-changing and chaotic tides of the great sea.

Two, it’s designed to overcome the oncoming storm. This storm, called the Nirvana, is a never-ending storm that complete seals any entrance towards the Ambrosian isles. It encompasses what is called the belt, in which a perpetual ravaging storm exists. It’ll bombard any unprepared vessel with giant waves, unrelenting rain and hail, and the wrath of lightning. The Nirvana is one of a type of phenomenon universally known as an arcadia, a set of space where magic reigns supreme over physical laws.

Only the ingenuity of the Naga family had provided the blessings of juggernauts, and they weren’t plenty. Kirke suspected they had a lot of resources for their juggernauts, but opted to keep that from the public.

Reese has probably got a clue - well kind of, I guess. As likely, Vincent has it figured, but he's still unsure.

But Kirke knew the now softly smiling Reese; she probably had a clue from some sort of intelligence she's happened to come across. Her short, thick brown hair rose with the wind; she brushed them behind her ears. Reese’s downturned-shaped blue eyes caught Kirke’s accusing gaze. She playfully stuck out a tongue. But beneath her small frame and short height, a maturity can be seen in her eyes, even as she poked fun at Kirke. “Whatever you’re wondering, the answer’s no, I'm not telling,” she teased, her tone soft but firm.

Kirke shrugged and chortled.

Reese wore a battle-suit, a synthetic flexible metal that had a matte finish. They were tailor-made, created using the malleable metal Ascite. It was a sturdier but flexible alternative to steel that allowed more freedom and ease-of-movement, as well as being magically malleable, too; they allowed much more integrity and quantity in terms of enchantments and inscriptions. Reese had a pink, chiffon scarf around her neck, which she clutched unto with her right hand. It was a habit of hers.

The wood creaked under the shifting weight of the boat, and the undulating currents stopped at nothing. Kirke had no fear, however, while a slight giddy threatened to erupt from Reese. “It’s about time,” Vincent’s silvery voice prompted Kirke to attention. He looked towards the horizon and was hazed by the flashing lights brought upon hundreds of forked lightning.

“Do it,” Kirke’s tone was imperative.

Vincent stepped forward, his long, black hair flowed as he stepped casually in front of Kirke. He was a head taller than Kirke, but he slightly bowed his head before he passed him. Kirke nodded in acknowledgment. Vincent wore the same battle-suit as Reese did, but fashioned it with a white sash full of pre-made inscriptions of his own make. Tiny letters, symbols, and numbers were littered on small pieces of paper attached on it.

Vincent was a pale man with a slightly long face. His sharp, blue eyes studied the lightning strikes, as if he meant to count them. His head turned to Reese for a brief moment, who simply stared on. She was ready.

As the ship was about to meet head on with the storm, Vincent tore two pieces of paper from his sash. He threw them upwards, and they zoomed past the tumultuous wind with ease, stiff from end to end. They stopped in the middle of the rain of lightning, spaced a few feet apart. A white circle emanated from the ends of the papers, and slowly, like small branches sprouting in unreal time, various lines formed from the edges of the circle and intersected, creating an array that shined with a bright, white light.

Reese jumped up; as high as the spell array. They were in the middle of the storm now.

“Conduit, Lightning…” her eyes glowed purple as her body released particles of the same lavender hue. The particles disappeared into nothingness as they drifted upwards, but the circle formed by the inscriptions shook with engaging power. Kirke’s eyes were glued to the scene, as his body felt the pressure exuded by Reese’s magical manifestation.

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And with such integrity. The both of them, actually.

The bellows of thunder continued on into the night, but the ship passed by peacefully as the zaps of lightning were attracted by the rod… circle of mana.

It was the teamwork he was so proud of when it came to his Vincent and Reese. Their solution was simple. The first problem was creating an actual conduit, to manifest a spell-object that could embody that aspect. Then, there was the longevity - it should take enough beating and be mana efficient until they passed Nirvana.

When it came to Reese, it was up to her to actually make the circle a conduit. Sure, Vincent could have inscribed a similar function - but the efficiency and effectiveness would not have been up to par with the combination of them both. Their ship was basically unscathed, save for the damage done by the sheer length of the journey.

“I guess you both pass the test!” Kirke exclaimed, his grin from ear to ear. Vincent snuck a personal clasp of victory, and Kirke was content to leave him to himself. Reese however, was in a more celebratory mood. Pleased with herself as she reminisced for a bit, then looked Vincent in the eye. He nodded.

They stood in front of Kirke and was about to kneel, until Kirke stopped the both of them. “There’s no need to do that,” he urged, not really a believer in authority - but they chose this. He also believed in choices, and if its in Kirke’s power, and not against his will or beliefs, he is not against doing what he can to provide for these choices.

“Thus forth, you are now dubbed legion, for you are one that are many - masters of magic,” The air rumbled and a comforting chill wrapped around their bodies, chilling them except for Kirke. “So what does the many seek in reward?” The environment stilled, even the ship’s rocking and the waves stopped in patience.

“To call you Master,” their voices resounded in cadence. Kirke sighed. “Are you sure?” as if in mocking, the world began to move once more; Kirke scratched his head. There was no response apart from their eyes - resolute, loyal and faithful. There was no other way to do it, Kirke decided: he had to hold dear the trust he’s been given.

“Ah, well, sure I guess,” Kirke never wanted his own Legion, or subordinates even, to begin with. But then again, maybe they’re not subordinate; they’re just believing in the same dream as he did. He thanked them for their support, and extended his hand. They took his hand, and Kirke could feel the Fate of the both of them change right at that second.

“Now I get to call you Master,” Reese spoke meekly, but her voice still cut through despite the brushing of the wind past their ears. “And you don’t get to say no,” she smirked victoriously. “Guess that goes the same for me too,” Vincent nudged apologetically, though there was a hint of amusement hidden in there.

“Well, it’s fitting, don’t you think?” asked Reese as the rays of the sun hampered her vision; she blocked it with a well-placed hand. “What better way to test your aides than by overcoming a calamity-type arcadia,” she placed a hand on her hip, her confidence now starting to show.

“There was bound to be some kind of test like that, I’d figured it a long ago,” Vincent added. He coughed. “I found out when I first volunteered to become your aide. I passed that test simply based on that knowledge alone,” he proclaimed as a melancholy overtook Vincent’s expression for a brief moment. “I had no doubts of the peril I was to face, so the answer was simple.”

"Why didn't you say that you had an impression?" Kirke asked, truly curious. "I was afraid I'd be wrong," Vincent revealed.

Kirke simply smiled fondly. He remembered Vincent’s answer.

“Challenge is a choice I take,” Kirke parroted as he recalled. "Don't you think that you're not really challenging if you don't do things head on?" Kirke asked. Vincent snickered. “Now that I think about it - the quote sounds bland anyway,” Reese commented as she laughed. Vincent chuckled in return, although there was a slight shake in there that Kirke didn’t know how to take. Though, he simply moved on. It was fine since though Vincent says he's afraid, he's not afraid to let that fear show. It was a trait that Kirke appreciated - the eyes say more than words, he's learned.

“Then I too, accept that challenge,” Kirke swore. “To bring new sights,” he looked at both of them, “I’ll lead you to each. Be my guides,” he requested solemnly. In his legion’s eyes, they saw a new fire.

The skies were soon clear, and though the thunder still call out from behind them, in front lay a word of possibility for Kirke. The lands across the horizon were thick with vegetation, it seems; from this distance, if the trees were already this big, it’d be gigantic once they reached it.

The first willing travelers of Ambrosia has just seen the first few acres of soil they’ve seen in three years. Kirke’s excitement and longing grew in his heart as he thought of people, cultures, food and events that’ll take place. He’s decided to be himself this time; to not be bound by rules.

It’s this spirit that would forever alter the history of Elysia.