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Yet, across the bridge that looked down on the silent clouds, a man walked. He wore a tattered, dirtied cloak that was once white, now old and worn to a dark brown as it fluttered in the high-altitude winds.

“–” The figure was silent as he trudged forward.

It wasn’t natural weather that occurred throughout the length of the cracked, swaying bridge of arhaic stone, but a supernatural barrier in itself, meant to wane those who dared cross its path and thin out visitors.

This wind howled like a bellowing warning, rumbling the stone steps that the man walked on and violently swingers the bridge itself side-to-side, though none of it made the enigmatic man flinch.

The further he traversed the lengthy bridge, which stretched on for leagues across the roaring skies, the more intense the weather became as soon clouds began to swirl around the structure.

Not a single step the man took was disturbed; on his path, he was unimpeded as he traversed the roaring thunder and bolts of lightning that nipped at the bridge.

To the man who crossed the mythical bridge, it was nothing more than theatrics; the barking of a dog that would not bite.

“–“

Stopping at the end of the stone bridge, the summit of the ominous mountain was reached: gates of quartz stood before a valley carved atop the colossal structure of natural rock, gated by clouds.

In the center of the valley atop the mountain’s summit, a swirl of cloud and winds served as a ladder, leading upward towards a fortress levitating in the sky with a divine presence.

As he stepped onto the rock valley, the man immediately found himself coming to a stop–

“Halt. You’re trespassing on the domain of Lord Aelor.”

A commanding voice spoke sternly from above, bringing the cloaked nomad’s gaze upward towards a man dressed in a spotless, white uniform with silver hair that subtly flowed in the wind.

“State your name, outlander,” the light-dressed figure demanded with his hands behind his back, hovering above the visitor.

[“‘The Sentinels of Aelor’–I doubt anybody in this world knows of their origin besides Aelor himself. While they may look human at a glance, through a prolonged look, you may find yourself instead looking upon a divine being. In some scripture, they’re called ‘angels’, and in some ‘executioners’–while they’re often thought to be myth due to their uninvolvement with the world, if a Sentinel does happen to be seen…it is an augury of destruction, no doubt.”]

The figure stopped, removing his hood as his shaggy, dark-brown hair was tugged by the roaring wind along with his scruffy beard. He looked to be no older than his early thirties, though his pale-blue eyes held a different truth of his age in them.

“I am Bastian. I arrived here to visit your lord. I have matters that take immediate priority with him,” the bearded nomad said, “That is, I know of the hostilities he’s taken towards the ‘Otherworld Hearts’.”

The name given caused the silver-haired Sentinel’s eyebrow to twitch as his chromatic irises widened slightly, “Bastian?…I see. Otherworlders are a threat to Arcadius’ balance. You are foreign aspects that do not factor into the natural ecosystem of power.”

From the tone taken by the Sentinel of the illustrious fortress in the sky, the man sighed to himself, reaching beneath his cloak as he gripped onto a sheathed handle beneath.

“So, that’s how it is, then? It seems I have more to discuss with Aelor than I initially thought,” Bastian mumbled to himself.

Just as Bastian unsheathed the longsword sheathed at his hip, he swiped it forward as the silver-haired Sentinel before him already unleashed a blast of sparkling light towards his position.

In that instant, the blade wielded in Bastian’s grip, lacking in special glamor, shined with a golden radiance for a moment, slicing through the assault of light.

“You’re Dorado, right? I’ve met you before. You know I am not an enemy of your lord–stand down,” Bastian demanded, holding his sword to the side as its golden glow vanished.

The pale-skinned, chromatic eyed man lowered from his levitating state as he landed on the ground across from Bastian, narrowing his gaze on the visitor.

“I know well who you are, Seraphheart. It is because of that, I must eliminate you–here and now, as you have been deemed a threat to balance,” Dorado said, summoning an ethereal blade into his grip.

Bastian sighed as his expression remained unfazed, “…Then so be it. I was hoping things would go smoothly, but this wasn’t exactly unaccounted for, either. You lot tend to be difficult.”

Manifesting from a brief flash of golden light, bringing forth a divine warmth, Bastian conjured gold-and-silver gauntlets around his arms, etched with lavish grooves. Though it only covered from his hands to his forearms, the gauntlets provided a powerful aura felt through a sublime warmth, radiating around the bearded nomad.

[Seraphheart System Activated]

[Current Stage: 1/10 | Holy Soldier]

Just as he set his focused gaze forward, the silver-haired Sentinel vanished in a blur before instantaneously reappearing before the man, already lashing his light-forged blade forward.

It was all perceived by Bastian, who blocked the strike and repelled the Sentinel, initiating a clash of mystical blades as the bright, white light wielded by Dorado collided with the golden-clad sword in Bastian’s grip.

As Dorado flipped back, he swiped his light-formed weapon through the air, summoning countless arrays of oppressive energy that cleanly burned through the air into a maze of lasers, surrounding Bastian in an instant.