The celebration died instantly, transforming from joyous revelry into deathly stillness as thousands of eyes turned skyward toward Lord Cefketa and his small army.

One of the Elders, his weathered face pale with terror, somehow mustered the courage to speak through chattering teeth.

"W-What are you doing here?!"

Lord Cefketa's gaze fixed on the trembling man like a predator selecting prey. An invisible, unspeakable force pressed down on the Elder with crushing weight. Under those burning purple draconic eyes, he struggled against the overwhelming Dragon Fear, his enhanced physiology offering no protection against the primal terror that forced him to his knees and bowed his head in submission.

"I was under the impression this was the Fury of Dreams Festival," Cefketa's voice melded seamlessly with reality itself, bypassing ears to speak directly to every soul present. "Am I not one of those Dreams? Is this celebration not made to honor my mother's ancestral brood?"

Unlike Amaterasu's voice, which had carried warmth and safety, Cefketa's words felt like claws scraping at the back of everyone's neck. The assembled crowd experienced the visceral certainty that death hovered mere inches away, that one wrong breath might trigger their annihilation. The digital fireflies scattered in panicked swarms, their programming unable to process the electromagnetic chaos radiating from the dimensional rift.

The Elder, still crushed beneath Cefketa's malevolent attention, suddenly felt a warm hand touch his shoulder. The unbearable pressure released instantly, replaced by blessed relief. Through his tears, he saw Amaterasu's small hand resting protectively on him. Mythara stepped forward to place himself between the Elder and the Dragon above.

"That's enough, Keta," Mythara said, his voice carrying its own draconic authority as he locked eyes with his rival.

"What do you want?"

"As I said, you're all here to name your new species. I think all of your new brethren should have a say. That's all." Cefketa's fanged smile promised violence beneath its casual facade.

Mythara scoffed, recognizing the manipulation immediately. Cefketa wasn't here for diplomacy—he wanted to demonstrate that while this new race of "Persequions" might be the apex of humanity, he controlled some of them.

Looking back at Amaterasu and the others, Mythara saw them nod. Without another word, he began to float upward, his form defying gravity with casual ease. All the Tiny Tots followed, each using their unique abilities to achieve flight—some rode waves of electromagnetic force, others walked on crafted platforms, and a few simply willed themselves skyward through pure mental command.

The Tiny Tots formed a loose formation facing Cefketa's group, their combined presence creating ripples in the fabric of space itself. As they scanned the newcomers, most focused intently on three figures: Sage, who rested languidly on a bed of flower petals that somehow supported her weight in midair, and The Twins, who hovered beside her through unknown means, their synchronized movements creating subtle distortions in the air around them.

From these three, the Tiny Tots sensed something deeply unsettling. A connection that felt as though it had been forcefully severed, with jagged edges that would never heal properly.

The vast majority of the other humans with Cefketa generated an entirely different sensation, one that made the Tiny Tots exchange knowing glances. These newcomers felt diminished somehow, like looking at children playing dress-up in adult clothing.

"Ah, it looks like Vo has a strict sense of hierarchy," Amaterasu observed with an amused chuckle. "I think we should refer to ourselves as the Favored."

"What do you mean?" Mythara asked, though his enhanced senses were already beginning to parse the distinctions.

"The Tiny Tots, along with The Twins, and a few others on their side, seem to have Vo's favor. Think of it as... royal bloodlines. But the vast majority of those people are just peasants." Amaterasu's soft laughter carried across the night air as she studied Cefketa's forces.

The knowledge flowed into her consciousness as naturally as breathing, answering questions the moment they formed in her mind. Even though their species as a whole was loved by Creation, there were still favorites among them—those who carried more of whatever spark had transformed them all.

It made perfect sense. Even Dragons placed enormous importance on bloodlines. Being descendants of Tiamat's Brood carried tremendous weight across multiple species. She found herself anticipating the day when being a descendant of Amaterasu would command the same respect. The thought brought another smile to her lips.

"So unfortunately, peasants have no say in political affairs," The Conductor chimed in with a smirk, "and the few that actually matter will be outvoted if they disagree."

Sage lifted her hands in graceful surrender. "I had no intention of voting against calling us Persequions. I think it fits rather well."

"We don't care," The Twins responded in perfect unison, their shared voice creating an eerie harmony.

The other Favored hidden within Cefketa's ranks remained ominously silent.

"Well, I do!" A middle-aged Greek man among the newcomers stepped forward, his voice booming with enough force to shake the air itself. Despite his considerable power, the Tiny Tots could sense immediately that he lacked the deeper transformation that marked the Favored. "I will not be looked down upon and belittled by some young girl barely half my age!"

"That's odd," Amaterasu said, leaning toward Mythara with theatrical confusion.

"What is?" Mythara asked, already beginning to grin.

"I thought your father was the only one who could make corpses talk." Her devilish smile widened as Mythara started to chuckle.

The man opened his mouth to shout again. But one of the tiny flames from Amaterasu's earlier display—still drifting through the air like celestial snow—landed gently on his outstretched arm. He looked down at the innocent-seeming fire, feeling only gentle warmth against his skin.

Then he gasped, his eyes widening in sudden, terrible understanding.

In a flash that lasted less than a heartbeat, the tiny flame engulfed his entire body. The fire burned without heat, consumed without smoke, and extinguished without sound, leaving only falling ash that scattered in the night breeze like grey snow.

The Tiny Tots observed the execution with blank expressions, as if they'd witnessed nothing more significant than a leaf falling from a tree. The cocky smiles on Cefketa's remaining humans faltered and died. Several began looking at the falling flames with newfound terror, pressing closer together as they realized they were surrounded by weapons disguised as beauty.

Sage rolled her eyes at the loudmouth's predictable demise, while The Twins began snickering to themselves.

"I told you he was going to be the first to die. Pay up," Roisin said, poking her brother in the ribs with her elbow.

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"Yeah, yeah, I'll send your money... later," Zidane replied, knowing full well his sister was already laughing because she understood he had no intention of paying.

Amaterasu had learned from watching Lord Cefketa and Mythara in action. If she was going to lead, she needed to demonstrate that she possessed the power suited for her position. She would not be a figurehead propped up by Shango and The Conductor—she would be a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

Cefketa studied the falling ash with casual interest before turning his attention to the drifting flames around them. He extended his hand, allowing several of the tiny fires to settle into his palm like luminous butterflies.

"What do you call it?" he asked, watching the flames dance across his skin without burning him.

"The System is called Celestial Snow," Amaterasu answered.

"Celestial Snow? Beautiful name. I'll look forward to seeing it completed." The flames in Cefketa's hand simply vanished—not extinguished, but devoured by some unseen force that left no trace of their existence.

Though Amaterasu's expression remained perfectly composed, she was utterly shocked. Those flames had simply ceased to exist, and she had no idea how he'd accomplished it. Worse, Cefketa had deduced that her System remained incomplete with just a casual glance. The fact that he could not only analyze but destroy her creation so effortlessly was deeply unsettling. Cefketa noticed her masterful composure and nodded approvingly.

"So if there are no more objections," Amaterasu announced, her voice carrying across the silent gathering, "our species will henceforth be known as Persequions."

"Now that's out of the way," Mythara said, floating forward until only a few meters separated him from his rival, "how about you tell us why you're really here?"

The two young Dragons faced each other in the night sky, and deathly silence fell over the entire festival once again. The assembled crowd, despite their excitement about becoming Persequions, understood they weren't ready to witness a clash between two bona fide Dragons, regardless of their apparent youth. The pressure radiating from both figures made breathing difficult for those below.

"Hehe... fine. I'll cut straight to the point." Cefketa chuckled, "We accept your suggestion."

"What?" Mythara wasn't certain he'd heard correctly.

"You heard me. We accept your suggestion. The Nine Seats will meet with the U.N." Cefketa paused, savoring the moment. "However..."

"However, what?" Mythara demanded.

"It seems you'll have a lot to discuss among yourselves first. I don't know how they'll feel about dealing with two new nations." Cefketa's laughter grew more pronounced as Mythara rolled his eyes and looked back at the other Tiny Tots.

"Right." The whole nation concept had been entirely their idea, not his. He was simply trying to make the best of the situation he found himself navigating.

While Mythara sorted through his thoughts, Cefketa's voice echoed directly into his mind, bypassing his ears entirely.

"You're already losing control of them, Mythara. As soon as they realize they don't need you, they'll start seeing you as a threat."

"Maybe," Mythara responded without hesitation, his mental voice steady. "But this is the path I've chosen, and I don't plan on changing it."

He had already felt the growing distance between himself and the other Tiny Tots ever since their transformation. The only one who still felt close to him was Amaterasu, and even that connection was beginning to feel... off. Different in ways he couldn't quite define.

Seeing the determination mixed with confusion in Mythara's eyes, Cefketa simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Fair enough. Take this." He tossed what looked like an ornate token toward Mythara, who snatched it from the air with supernatural reflexes.

"What is this?" Mythara examined the device, noting intricate engravings that seemed to shift and move across its surface.

"It's a communication device we created," Zidane explained with obvious pride. "No matter where you are—on Earth, off Earth, in separate spaces of reality—as long as the other party has one, you can contact them instantly."

"When you're ready for us, just send a word. We'll be there." Cefketa started chuckling again, a sound like distant thunder. "Make sure they're ready for us."

He gave one final, appraising look at the Tiny Tots and sighed deeply before turning around. The sky split open once more, revealing a portal to what appeared to be Firmatha Sangaur.

One of the Persequions who had arrived with Cefketa, her courage finally overcoming her fear, called out: "Lord Cefketa, are we leaving just like that? She killed one of us."

Cefketa's eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked over at the young Arabic woman who had spoken. Issa's shoulders slumped under his withering gaze. But she strengthened herself to maintain eye contact, wanting to demonstrate loyalty without appearing weak.

"Abrax," Cefketa said without looking away from Issa, "please remind Issa what I told you all to do when we came here."

A Nubian Egyptian man stepped forward from behind Cefketa, and Amaterasu's eyes immediately narrowed as she studied him. He was unquestionably one of the Favored—not only that, but he radiated an unmistakable regal bearing that separated him even from most of the Tiny Tots. His presence was so commanding that it made the air around him seem denser.

Standing several inches taller than Cefketa's already impressive height, Abrax possessed deep brown eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom. When he spoke, his voice carried both serenity and irresistible power.

"Sir, your orders were to stand here and look pretty. The fool couldn't even follow those simple instructions. If anything, we should be thanking her." Abrax looked toward Amaterasu and nodded respectfully, his gaze lingering longer than he had intended before he cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

"To be fair," Cefketa said with dark humor, "he wasn't much to look at. So it's my fault for giving him an assignment outside his skill range."

"Is there anything else you need to get off your chest, Issa?" Cefketa asked.

"No... sorry," Issa lowered her head in submission.

"Don't be sorry, be better. It's fine." Cefketa motioned toward the portal, instructing them all to proceed through the split in reality.

Before Abrax stepped through, he looked back at Amaterasu one last time. The Celestial Snow continued falling around her like a crown of stars, and he felt an irresistible draw toward her that defied explanation. Then his eyes locked with Mythara's, but Mythara didn't even spare him a glance, clealry seeing him as unworthy of his concern. However, his eyes locked with The Conductor and time seemed to stop as unspoken words were communicated clearly between the two young powers. The message was unmistakable: rivalry, recognition, and warning all compressed into a single moment of understanding.

"Tsk..." Abrax scoffed before walking through the dimensional rift.

"See you guys later," Sage called out cheerfully. "I can't wait to see the progress you've made." She floated through the portal with languid grace, followed by The Twins, who giggled to themselves like children sharing a private joke.

The Tiny Tots found Abrax imposing in a way that reminded them of Amaterasu. But instead of warmth and comfort, they felt pressure weighing on their chests when they looked at him. With Sage and The Twins, however, there remained that strange dissonance—as if they existed slightly outside the rules being established for their species, observers rather than participants.

When Amaterasu had eliminated the loudmouth, everyone had felt infinitely confident about their future. As more layers of complexity revealed themselves, things remained just as uncertain as they had been before their transformation.

"Zac!" Selistar called out desperately before the portal could close completely.

Cefketa stopped and turned to face his former friend. He looked at Selistar standing beside Leonie and Seren—a perverted mirror of the family he could have had—and let out a frustrated sigh. Selistar had everything Cefketa had lost, and yet Cefketa could crush him like an insect if he chose to. The bitter irony wasn't lost on him.

Closing his eyes, Cefketa fondled the pendant of his necklace—a small piece of his old life he still carried.

"You guys look good," he said simply.

Selistar wanted to apologize once again, but knew it would accomplish nothing. He couldn't change what had happened, nor could he pretend it hadn't transpired. He noticed Cefketa's subtle eye movements as he searched the crowd for familiar faces.

"They don't like attending this festival," Selistar explained with a sad smile. "They say it reminds them of their failure."

"So they're still being cowards, huh?"

"What do you expect? We're only human, right?" Selistar responded, the weight of old friendship heavy in his voice.

Cefketa nodded continuously, processing the familiar dynamic between them. "Yeah... well, maybe you should hurry up and become Persequions. Get rid of that little flaw." He paused at the threshold of the portal. "See ya later, Devin."

"Yeah, later, Zac," Selistar managed to say as Cefketa stepped through the dimensional rift, which sealed itself behind him with barely a whisper.

The moment the portal closed completely, Mythara felt an immense weight lift from his chest. He hadn't shown it during their confrontation, but Cefketa had been exerting enormous pressure on him throughout their encounter. It felt as though his rival had grown infinitely stronger since their last battle, despite Mythara's own relentless training and development. The gap between them seemed to have widened rather than narrowed.

"Fuck..." The word escaped his lips before he could stop it.

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