The bells of Aerith's Spine tolled across the twilight sky, and silence followed. The wind grew still. From the elevated Royal Platform, King Farhan stepped forward, cloaked in dark royal violet, the silver trim of his mantle gleaming faintly beneath the dimming sun. His gaze swept over the sea of thousands — citizens, warriors, council leaders, and newly ranked participants — all waiting.
He raised his chain-forged hand. It shimmered as it shifted briefly back into flesh. Then he began.
> "People of Lumisgrave… and all the lands beyond," he said, voice calm but thunderous. "You have endured. You have awakened. You have answered the call."
The crowd leaned closer, every breath held.
> "But this is not the end of the trial. It is only the beginning."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly — as if he could see beyond this moment, to what awaited them all in the shadows.
> "We stand at the edge of something we do not yet understand. The strange phenomena, the voices, the awakenings — they were not without purpose. Something is coming. And we must be ready."
A faint murmur spread through the arena. Faces turned solemn. Fear, yes — but also a flicker of something greater: resolve.
> "I did not prepare you for glory," the King continued, lifting his hand to the sky.
"I prepared you for the pride and protection of our city. Of our people. Of every child who watched from afar hoping to understand the change inside them."
The words settled over the arena like a warm shield.
> "And to those who did not pass — do not despair. This is not your only chance."
He turned to face the unranked crowd, those whose powers had failed them or had yet to awaken.
> "A year from today, we shall open P.R.I.M.E. again. New recruitments will begin. A new set of trials. This is not the rise of a few — it is the awakening of an era. And all of you have a place in it."
Applause erupted. Soft at first — then swelling like thunder through the arena.
Then, the King turned toward the ranked participants — standing in disciplined rows, marked now with glowing insignias of their ranks: Alpha, Omega, Mythic, Apex, and the Zeniths.
> "To those who stood, endured, and proved their might and control," he said with pride in his voice,
"From this day forward, you shall no longer be known as contestants…"
> "You shall be known as our Echelon Knights — protectors of the realm, pioneers of this new age, and the shield that shall meet whatever comes from beyond the horizon."
The moment struck like a wave of fire. Cries of celebration echoed from the stands. Children shouted the name:
> "Echelon Knights! Echelon Knights!"
Fathers clutched their sons. Mothers whispered blessings to the sky. The first generation had been born — not of kings and bloodlines, but of courage, power, and soul.
But King Farhan was not finished.
He held up a scroll in his hand — sealed with a symbol none had seen before.
> "And now… for the surprise."
He unrolled it with ceremonial grace. The magic script glowed gold in the air.
> "Each ranked member — from Alpha to Zenith — will be assigned a Base. These Bases are constructed of energy, purpose, and reflection of your growth. Some will float in the skies. Some will rise from the depths. Some are embedded in stone or water or light…"
Eyes widened.
> "These Bases shall be your sanctuaries. Your training grounds. Your homes. They will evolve with you… as your rank does."
The crowd gasped. Even the ranked members looked among each other, shocked.
> "This is not just the founding of an order," the King finished, his voice like tempered steel,
"This is the shaping of destiny."
He stepped back.
The drums of Aerith's Spine sounded once more.
And the Echelon Knights, now marked, now named, now seen… stood tall beneath the fading sun — guardians of a world that had just begun to change.