Boreas staggered, once the embodiment of the unyielding North Wind, now faltering under the relentless teamwork of the companions. With unwavering resolve, Star imbued her sword with the Light element, its brilliance piercing through the raging storm around them. She lunged forward, unleashing a decisive strike that shattered Boreas’s icy armor in a burst of frost and radiance. The blizzard ceased, leaving behind an ear-splitting silence as the Aeon knelt before them, his icy-blue eyes glowing with pride.

“You have proven yourselves,” Boreas said, his deep, resonant voice carrying the weight of finality. “You are worthy to carry the light of Atlantia. Take this sword, Star Rosalind, and fulfill your destiny.”

Star stepped forward cautiously, her gaze fixed on a massive shard of ice at Boreas’s feet. Encased within was an extraordinary blade—its golden edge gleaming even in the chamber’s dim light. The hilt was shaped like a star, and the sword seemed to hum, as if it were singing to her alone. With trembling hands, she reached out and gently grasped the hilt.

The moment her fingers touched it, the sword responded to her soul. The ice melted instantly, and the blade rose effortlessly into her hands. Star gasped—in spite of its size, the weapon felt as light as a feather.

Behind her, Siegfried, Friedrich, Klara, and Kevin stood in awe. The weight of what they had just witnessed settled heavily on them. Klara whispered, barely believing her own words, “She really is the one chosen by the Seven Heavens…”

Boreas gazed at Star with a proud smile. “You now hold the sword of Alioth Castor, the hero of Atlantia,” he said solemnly. “This sword, once used to save the world, has found its heir in you, Star Rosalind. I brought it back here from the battlefield—the place now known as the Valkyrie Valley—where the Great War met its bitter end.”

“Wait,” Klara interjected, her curiosity overtaking her restraint. “If you brought the sword back… then where is Alioth now?”

Boreas let out a long breath, the chill of it visible in the air. “The poor boy slumbers somewhere in Chandrapura. He made me swear never to reveal where. Classic Alioth—always keeping secrets about the things he thought were unimportant.” He chuckled softly, but there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice. “If only he understood how much Atlantia needed him, perhaps he would’ve chosen to sleep in a king’s palace rather than some forgotten place.”

“Alioth didn’t fall asleep by choice,” Boreas continued, his tone now filled with reverence. “The Great War left scars far deeper than any on the land—it nearly cost him his life. For forty days and forty nights, he fought Nibelung without rest. The power he wielded was immense… but it came at a steep price. His body was all but destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Star echoed, disbelief in her voice.

Boreas nodded gravely. “He pushed his Gnosis far beyond its limits. The sword in your hand—his sword—is a relic of Hope, a power granted to him by his mother, Aeon of Hope. But even the child of an Aeon is not invincible. Alioth sleeps in secret, hidden from the world he gave everything to protect. I do not know where he rests. That was his wish. ‘The world no longer needs me, Boreas,’ he told me. But I fear the world has never needed him more than it does now.”

Friedrich frowned. “How could someone like him—a legendary hero—not realize how vital he was to Atlantia?”

Boreas’s expression softened. “Alioth knew… but he always refused to be revered. To him, saving Atlantia wasn’t something to be praised. It was simply his duty.”

As the others absorbed Boreas’s words, Star stood motionless, her hand resting on the golden hilt. Her thoughts raced, clouded by doubt. Boreas sensed her uncertainty and leaned in slightly. “Star,” he said, his tone gentle but curious, “is something troubling you?”

Star looked up at him, her voice steady, yet tinged with uncertainty. “If it was Alioth’s duty to save the world… then what is the duty of the Aeons? Why didn’t you help the people of Frostholm when they were attacked by the Abyss centuries ago?”

Her words struck like a blast of cold wind. Boreas’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the proud Aeon looked stunned. Slowly, he stood and bowed his head, his voice full of regret.

“The Law of Abraxas,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“Abraxas, the Aeon of Order and the creator of the universe, forbade us Aeons from interfering in human affairs. Our purpose is to guide humanity through the gift of Gnosis—not to shape their fate. Few know of this law, and fewer still are meant to understand it.”

Star’s expression hardened. “So you just watched while people suffered?”

Boreas inhaled deeply. “Not just I, Star. None of us—Vayu, Telluria, not even Kazegami—were allowed to intervene. Only the Seven Fundamental Aeons, such as Thanoptes, the Aeon of Death, are permitted to act when the balance of existence itself is threatened. It was Thanoptes who punished Yajuj and Majuj in Al-Jannah when they sought to destroy the world.”

Klara tilted her head slightly, her voice now more contemplative than accusatory. “So that’s why the Seven Heavens send heroes instead… to do what you cannot.”

Boreas nodded solemnly. “Exactly. That is why Alioth was chosen. And now, Star, that same duty falls to you.”

The chamber grew colder. Boreas’s gaze held hers—gentle, but unyielding.

“That same duty falls to you.”

A spark of light flared within the sword’s core, pulsing like a heartbeat.

And far beyond the mountain, something ancient stirred in the dark.