The northern city of HighSpire was no stranger to war.
Forged from froststeel and old oaths, it stood tall as the spearpoint of the Silver Frost Coalition—one of the first walls against invading horrors beyond the great Ice Line. Its people were hardened, proud, and impossibly difficult to impress.
They had seen giants fall. They had seen skies burn. They had even seen a dragon skeleton unearthed in the eastern trench and immediately turned into a liquor shelf by the local pub.
So when word spread that the city's elite, the Archon, the Artifact Squad, and the Order Control Squad, had been toyed with by a trio of unknown lunatics—
—well, reactions were mixed.
Residential Block 7 – Rooftop Laundry Line
"You see how pretty that fox was?""She ain't pretty, she's terrifying. My little brother started crying when she looked at him from the projection screen."
"Did you cry too?"
"Shut up."
"But seriously—'SpankGodAss Faction'? What the hell is that?"
"No idea. My uncle thinks it's a cult."
"My dad says it's performance art."
"My grandma says it's the second coming of a Demon King."
"Your grandma also thinks the moon is hollow and full of rabbits."
"…She's never been wrong."
Northern Gate Market – Midday
"I still think it was staged," an old butcher muttered, sharpening his cleaver on a bone. "You telling me three freaks took on the Archon and lived?"
His apprentice leaned in and whisper. "My cousin was there. Said he saw it with his own eyes. Said one of them pulled a frying pan out of nowhere, and the fox next to him started glowing—like, divine glowing. Then the white-haired guy kicked a flying sword out of the sky and laughed."
The butcher scoffed. "People laugh when they're insane."
"Butcher, he made the Artifact Squad retreat."
The cleaver stopped.
"…Shit."
This is no false alarm. Illusion-based spark users are incredibly rare, especially those who can wield their power to break an artifact's resistance. Raw power alone isn't what scares us; for over 20 years, thanks to our guardian artifacts, the city has faced more than two million undead and suffered only minor damage in the absence of sir Archon. Even in those battles, powerful illusion users couldn't bypass the artifacts' protection. But now, someone can bypass that resistance and act directly on the artifact controller? That's terrifying
Military Quarter – Officer Debrief Room
Lieutenant Rynn glanced at the classified reports again. Her brow twitched.
"All three opponents showed multi-layered Spark mastery," she muttered. "Illusion-class Genesis Spark confirmed. One Prime Spark activation. Unclear spark resonance source from white-haired male—possible Genesis. Or worse ..."
Captain Belric paced. "We have command records of past EX-ranked threats. Usually one-man disasters with narrow focus or consistent element use. These three? they are one man army like sir Archon."
"They also escaped mid-lockdown," Rynn added.
"In full cryo-suppression field. With teleport scramblers active. During a city-wide resonance clampdown."
"Ahlalala... how terrible. We're facing another potential God of War uprising, and this time it's not a friendly one. What's worse, it's a team, not an individual. I suppose the Council will dispatch the Thirteen—perhaps the Fourth, given she oversees northern EX-rank threats.
However, that's not my main concern. The real headache is those beasts. Our intel shows their elite espionage team is planning something. The potential God of War has clearly cornered them, leaving them no choice but to act. Make sure OCS is on high alert and stays in position. The battle here doesn't concern them."
Tavern, Lower East Side – Gossip Table
"...They say the spear the drunk guy used was made from thirteen rare treasures."
"Thirteen? What's it do?"
"Don't know. It vibrates weirdly and glows pink."
"…What the hell kinda treasure is that?"
"Legendary, obviously."
Another woman leaned in. "Did you see the white-haired guy smile when the Archon threatened him? Like he wasn't scared at all."
"Probably didn't understand what 'Archon' meant."
Archon — the highest embodiment of combat power within the Silver Frost Coalition.
A title bestowed upon those who stand at the very apex of civilization—warriors who have transcended mortal limits and become symbols of dominance and survival. From the founding era, when there were only six, their number has now grown to eight, each assigned to govern and protect a strategic city or region.
They are not politicians. They are the Coalition's Gods of War.
Each Archon is immortal.Each possesses power equivalent to a living natural disaster.And each is feared not merely for their strength—but because they struggle to control it.
When an Archon fights seriously, the land itself suffers.
Entire regions can freeze, burn, collapse, or be warped under the weight of their Spark. Their battles are rarely clean, and one-on-one precision duels are not their specialty. They are siege weapons in human form. City guardians. Civilization deterrents.
You don't send an Archon to negotiate.You deploy one when a world needs reminding that the Silver Frost still stands.
Because when one of them moves—a capital shakes.
Somewhere in the middle of no where.....
Gale woke up to the smell of something burning.
He blinked. Then blinked again. His body screamed with pain—deep, bone-splitting pain. His nerves lit up like they were hosting a fireworks competition. Something throbbed near his ribs. Something else buzzed behind his right eye. He was lying on something soft, maybe a bed, maybe a rock. It didn't matter.
He tried to sit up.
A hand immediately pushed him back down.
"Don't. You'll open that spine again," said a familiar voice.
Gale squinted up at the speaker, catching sight of wild white hair, a rugged jawline, and eyes that glowed faintly with residual energy.
"Rune…" Gale croaked. "You're ugly in daylight."
Rune snorted. "You should see yourself. You look like mashed potato that learned how to breathe."
"Thanks. I strive for culinary excellence."
"Your organs are rearranged. Do you know that?"
Gale blinked. "Like... artistically?"
"No. Like a beginner alchemist fused your lungs into your kidneys and called it a day."
"...Nice."
Rune handed him a cup. "Drink this. You'll hate it. It works."
Gale took a sip and nearly died again. "What the hell is this? Liquid plague?"
"My own brew. Healing stimulant mixed with mountain rum and weird root that I have no idea. A bit of snowworm venom to keep you from passing out."
Gale is specchless "...Are you sure this gonna keep me alive?."
Rune grinned. "Eh. Maybe. Fifty-fifty."
Gale coughed. The pain flared again. "Where… where are we?"
"Abandoned smuggler outpost. Middle of nowhere. Three days from HighSpire. The fox dragged your near-dead ass here."
Gale turned his head weakly.
Flicker was curled in the corner of the room on top of a pile of warm blankets, her tails rising and falling slowly. Her silver-white fur shimmered faintly in the low light, and the remnants of her illusion still clung to the edges of her body like sparks of mist.
She opened one eye, stared at him, and went back to sleep.
"She hasn't talked to me once," Rune whispered. "I think she's judging me."
"She judges everyone," Gale mumbled. "It's how she says she loves you."
"Is biting also a form of love?"
"Yes."
"Damn. That's hot."
"Don't be weird."
Rune poured himself a cup of his own hellbrew and sat beside the bed. "You were out for two days. Thought you might actually kick it."
"And yet… I live."
"Barely. You pushed too hard. That 'Super Spark' thing of yours nearly fried you alive. Your Spark flow went into meltdown. Not even OCS looked that beat up afterward."
"Worth it," Gale muttered.
Rune stared at him. "You're insane."
Gale gave him a bloody grin. "Thank you."
Rune sipped his drink. "So… what now?"
Silence. The question hung between them like a stone.
After a long pause, Gale exhaled. "Now, we start for real. I've got a name. I've got a team. We just made the biggest mess on the northern continent and lived to joke about it."
Rune's eyebrow twitched. "So the goal is... what? Save the world?"
"Something like that."
Rune leaned back. "You know, I only joined because I was too drunk to care."
"And now?"
Rune shrugged. "Now I'm sober enough to regret it."
Flicker snorted from her nest.
Gale closed his eyes, letting the energy surge through him. It brought a small measure of relief. It wasn't that he didn't want to use healing type to recover; he simply couldn't, at least not until his energy reserves reached a safe level. Archons were no joke.
Normally, Gale paid little mind to injuries; he could recover even from severed limbs. But attacks from Archons were a different beast entirely. Their blows carried a resonance, an advanced form of energy usage that kept their destructive power alive and potent long after the initial impact. This resonance constantly suppressed his own energy, making it incredibly difficult to recover. If he couldn't replenish his energy, the resonance couldn't be removed, trapping him in an endless, fatal loop.
His only options were constant external aid, specific items, or an exceptionally powerful natural recovery that could overwhelm the resonance. Relying purely on natural recovery to overcome an Archon's resonance attack was almost impossible for most—but not for Gale. His energy was nearly back to a safe level after three days of rest. Too bad he'd been messing around and forgotten to brew some recovery potions. Otherwise, he wouldn't be in such an embarrassing predicament.