The air was thinner here.
Far from the crowded streets and rising towers of Lumisgrave, a silent breeze swept across the stone trail that curved toward the Mythic Base — a tall, clean structure of slate-black stone nestled quietly near the distant cliffs.
Arslan stood at the gate.
He didn't say a word.
The place didn't impress him, nor did it threaten. It was simply… unfamiliar. The symbol above the archway marked it clearly:
> "MYTHIC BASE – FORGED FOR THE UNDEFINABLE"
He took a step forward. Then another. His boots tapped against the polished stone as he entered the grand hall.
Inside, the base was quiet — too quiet.
High ceilings curved into thick wooden beams. A crystal chandelier glowed dimly above, casting faint shadows across the wide chamber. Dark blue and charcoal rugs softened the ground beneath his feet. There were seating areas along the walls — velvet chairs and circular tables, empty now. A warm fire cracked lazily in a side hearth, but no one sat near it.
Arslan looked up once, then lowered his gaze again.
> "So this is where they've placed me," he thought.
"Ahhhh....Finally, I got my first house"
He turned toward the long corridor.
Just as he moved, he passed by two figures in muted conversation near the stairwell.
A tall man with silver eyes nodded respectfully as he noticed Arslan.
> "You just arrived too?" he asked gently.
"I'm Vaelith. Healer."
Arslan gave a brief nod.
> "Arslan."
Before Vaelith could ask anything further, a girl with a long silver-pink braid glanced over. Her sharp eyes analyzed Arslan like a puzzle.
> "He's one of the quiet ones," she said to Arslan..
"Hey sweetheart, I'm Nirela"
Arslan's gaze lingered on her for a moment. Calm, unreadable.
> "I'm tired ..I have to take some rest...bye," he said plainly, then turned and walked past.
Vaelith watched him go with a light smile.
> "Then we'll speak when you're ready."
---
At the far end of the hall, a spiral staircase curved gently upward. A quiet glow shimmered along the edges — leading him to the second level.
A carved sign read:
> "Personal Quarters – Rank: Mythic"
He turned left.
Door after door passed by him — each identical in build, but marked with faint glowing runes that responded to only one name.
And then —
He stopped.
His name glowed dimly on the surface:
"ARSLAN"
He didn't hesitate. He pushed the door open.
The room was medium-sized — more spacious than he expected.
The walls were made of polished gray stone with soft lines etched into them, like a calm current frozen in time. On one side stood a wide bed with dark-gray bedding, the covers detailed with subtle silver embroidery — sharp and clean, matching the design of his powers. Above the bed, a wall-mounted crystal lamp gave off a cold bluish light that didn't hurt his eyes.
To the right, a small window opened outward, showing a view of the cliffs and distant sky. Thin energy barriers shimmered faintly outside — defensive, but quiet.
In the far corner stood a bookshelf, half-filled with ancient manuals and training scrolls. Next to it, a metallic locker and corner wardrobe — both sealed but waiting.
Arslan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
His fingers slowly brushed over the blanket. Cool to the touch. Neatly folded. No dust.
He sat on the edge of the bed — stiff at first. Then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands loose, his dark hoodie shifting slightly as he exhaled.
"The interior is quiet well, far better than outside structure"..he whispered.
He looked at his hands — a faint pulse of black energy sparked between his fingers.
> "Maybe Mythic is the place they put the ones they don't understand."
He turned his eyes to the lamp, letting the soft blue glow rest on his face.
For the first time since the announcement, he felt… not peace, but pause.
A space without noise.
A room that was his.
Not to hide — but to think.
He stood again and walked toward the window.
The sky was turning violet. The Bound Threshold was barely visible far off… but its chains always caught the eye.
Arslan stared in silence.
And for just a breath —
He allowed himself to feel tired.