Within the Moduran System, your past—and the past of those before you—determine your worth in the present.

  A Moduran Sorcerer, the name of a player… is someone with a strong “Origin.”

  If one carries this, then their declaration of becoming a “player” in the Moduran System is met without rebuttal.

  Will you join the game?

  The might of winter howled over the spiraling mountain that fell from grace, the apex trapped in the clouds. Despite the unforgiving blizzard, a flame in the hand of a single boy refused to submit its dignity.

  Likewise, the one who carried the flame remained stationary, blue eyes emotionless behind a cascade of wavering hair that mimicked its color. Numerous curls of vibrant red, orange, and yellow hues.

  “Pwooo…”

  A wintry air escaped from his breath, and in response, the flame grew slightly stronger. In light of this, the boy smiled in anticipation, showing his sharp teeth that mixed together without bloodshot. “You kiddin’? Well, it's about damn time.”

  Carefully as he could, he rolled up the sleeve of his simplistic black T-shirt, bringing the flame away from his knee layered by baggy, red pants—and at the end of that, his bare feet.

  The snow hadn’t affected his body, but it surely was a detriment to his practice. “Come on….”

  The flame grew…

  “Come on……!”

  Even further….

  “This is good!" He claimed, stunting the growth of the flame and standing up with haste. "Now, I just have to carry this up the mountain—”

  Poof!

  And the flame vanished.

  “How long is this time of year gonna last? What a pain...” He scoffed, smirking as he closed his fist.

  This was Spriggan Sunreaper.

  Son of Longinus Sunreaper, the King of the Boiling (Now not so boiling) Mountains—or, as regarded by his Witch as…

  “Little lord!”

  The Witch emerged from a higher part of the mountain, flying on the largest broomstick the King could’ve possibly found during his conquests, or… attempts at conquest.

  Unlike the Little Lord, she struggled in the face of the snow, her pointy, navy blue witch hat barely hanging onto her hands, showing her yellow hair wrapped into two, messy buns that Spriggan named “bunnies”. Shielding her against the cold was the usual, navy blue cloak with half sleeves—and some leather boots.

  Her blue eyes pierced through the snow and onto the Little Lord.

  Spriggan squinted, attempting to amplify his vision by putting his hand above his eyes. There, he spotted his Witch, “Bella!” He yelled with a smile, “..How’s the snow?”

  “No time for jokes, Little Lord! It’s far too cold for such, and your father is grumpy!”

  Spriggan parted his lips, his smile fading for an expression of confusion. “...He callin’ for me?”

  “Yes—gah!” Her Witch hat shot right off her head, but before it could sway to the blizzard’s drum, she caught it—attempting to regain whatever formality he had. “Hurry, Little Lord! Hurry!”

  “Tch!” Spriggan chuckled in half annoyance and half humor. Bella grumpily flew back up, disappearing into the large entrance to the tunnel of the apex of the rock spire. He expected to see black smoke coming out of the entrance—as it was the signal of a dragon’s death.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  The King of the Boiling Mountains sat with his muscular arms crossed in the cave. He had the full view of the world from here and yet, the sneer he strung was undeniable. He was a mountain of a man with the same fiery hair as his son, only this time there was an abundance of white within the colors, and also the fact that it jutted backwards like a cascade of spikes. Adding onto the similarity between him and his son, the man’s attire was also unsuited for the cold; a simple, green tunic with a golden outline, muscles bulging underneath. Below, he wore pants of the same color.

  “Hm…” He grumbled, the cold air escaping off his mouth. He irritatedly scratched the absurb amount of facial hair under his chin. “It’s been ten seconds… What's taking him so long?

  “He’ll be here soon, King.” The Witch said, finding warmth in the flames that floated above two stone carvings. The flames illuminated the cave, allowing clear visage of ancient sigils depicting mighty warriors standing against a dragon.

  “Alright, gramps!” Spriggan leaped into the cave from the right, coming to a smooth landing. He stretched his arms overhead, groaning. “Do you finally need a cane?”

  “You will refer to me as the All Mighty Malevolent King of the Boiling Mountains!” Longinus shouted, smoke booming out of his nostrils, “How many times must I tell you, boy?”

  “Not a single soul is calling you that.” Spriggan said, wishing the smoke away with a dismissive gesture.

  “Clearly, Bella hasn’t been disciplining you enough.”

  Gulp. Bella’s eyes fell pale. Even though Longinus didn’t give her any acknowledgement, the fear of those eyes was enough to make her want to fly into the wintry sky.

  “So, King of the Whachamacalit,” Spriggan crossed his arms, “Whacha need me for?”

  “Do I really need a “reason” to see my son?”

  “...You always have a reason, though.”

  “Well, that is true.” Longinus calmed down, his gaze now reserved. Spriggan noticed Bella’s eyes fall into somberness, and that intrigued him. “Anyways, It’s time I retire.”

  What a casual statement!

  “...From what?”

  “From stealing the Day of Miracles.” Longinus answered, and before he could continue with his words, a haunting sound escaped from his mouth—practically answering why.

  Cough! Cough!

  Smoke escaped from his mouth, mixing with the cold air.

  Spriggan’s gaze hardened. He didn’t bother to blow it away.

  “The cold always forces me to go into hibernation—but I’m the only one who can stay awake.” Longinus said, a fist covering his mouth, “...I suppose the rejection of simple biology has finally gotten to me.”

  “...So you’re dying?” Spriggan asked flatly. “Figures. You’re only about five-hundred years old. I didn’t think death would stop you, though. Sure, you never win because of the Moduran Sorcerers, but you keep coming back.”

  “A pitiful performance.” Longinus chuckled, “Those damn Sorcerers. They’re such pests no matter what year. I never understood why they fought so hard for the Day of Miracles. Even now, it’s still just a holiday where the weak can find solace in being kind to me.”

  Spriggan looked to the side, remembering why he was going through with this.

  Origin…

  The blizzards that howled through the Boiling Rock brought nothing but sickness and death to the Dragons that lived there.

  But for many other places, that snow was a blessing.

  The hatred that stemmed from that cultivated a cycle that spanned over hundreds of years—although the fight was always one-sided.

  “....So, it’s my turn?” Spriggan asked, scratching his hair, gaze still astray.

  “That’s your choice.”

  “Huh?”

  “I had ten illegitimate children—all of which are now Moduran Sorcerers.” Longinus explained, eyes to the floor, “We both don’t know where they are. After all, we never concerned ourselves with them. They left this place because they were tired of it, but you never wanted to leave.”

  “You’re saying you want me to accept my invitation to Moduran High?” Spriggan asked, looking over to the side. “No way. I can just decline like always.”

  “You seem so troubled despite it being your choice.” Longinus said, “...Are you sad to see your father so weak? Haha! Don’t worry! I’m sure to live on at least another year!”

  Spriggan furrowed his brow, “Oh c’mon, old man! You’re supposed to be ambitious! Why are you accepting defeat?” He complained, “Right now you’re supposed to be telling me your dumb plan to overtake this holiday—not sulking like some grandpa! In fact, why the hell is Moduran High even an option?”

  “Little Lord…” Bella chimed in, her voice breaking. She flew over to Spriggan’s right, attempting to place a hand of reassurance on his soldier. Unfortunately, it was brushed off.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Bella.” Longinus said with a chuckle, “The boy is young. He doesn't understand a man wanting to go out in style.”

  “I don’t need to understand something to see it’s dumb.”

  “Well, why don’tcha pick something to do? I never said going to Moduran High was the only possibility!” Longinus said, “We can still play our little games—like carrying a flame up the mountain, or rock balling."

  “Nah, I don't care about that kinda stuff.”

  “You will care when I’m not here anymore, you brat!” Longinus grumbled, a vein appearing above irritated eyes. “That’s all the more reason to choose! Don’t let these be my final words, son!”

  Spriggan shook his head with a sigh, “Dude, just be yourself.”

  “This is me!”

  “You’re telling me you would be trying to act cool if you were all alone?”

  “That’s what my father did—and look at me!”

  “...You proved my point.” Spriggan sighed, and then turned around. “Look, I should get going.”

  “Where are you going?” Longinus asked, raising a brow, “You haven’t chosen yet!”

  “I have.” Spriggan paused, “I’m going to do… absolutely nothing!” He said ever so cheerfully, hiding his gaze.

  Bella was baffled by this answer, but Longinus seemed to feel something different. His expression shifted from being dumbfounded to finding solace.

  “Well,” The King finally stood up, his height towering over the two. “At least know this.” He walked over to the two flames—stopping at the center, looking up at the ancient depiction of their Origin engraved into the stone. “...Even if all of this ends, you better not sulk like me.” he said, “A warrior’s greatest death is one of solitude, but that’s something my father used to say. Me? Ha. I think you’ll be much stronger if you stop hanging around me. There’s a wall between you and Moduran Sorcerers created because of me. Perhaps you could make me angrier by breaking that wall…”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “....” Spriggan side eyed his father, blue eyes glowing with a reflection of somberness and understanding in his eyes. Every conversation between them until this point had been nothing more than a father trying to gain control of his insane son.

  But… Spriggan found that fun.

  Yet—and perhaps it was because of the snow—the fire inside of him couldn’t allow for a rebuttal. “Sure.”

  And so, he was gone.

  Now, Bella was alone with the King. A silence lingered between the two for a moment before the guilt of not disciplining the Little Lord spat out of her mouth. A turbid spill of emotion. “Apologies, my King. I will accept whatever punishment you give me!”

  However, Longinus’ gaze, when he turned, was one of confusion, as if he had forgotten about what she had done already.

  “Ah, don’t worry.” He said with a wave of dismissal, “Not even I could control the boy. The Origin is only really important if he wants to become a Moduran Sorcerer. For those living regular lives, it’s something to help guide them.” ….. “But this right now is his Origin. So, if I die today… try to support whatever path he chooses.”

  Bella clenched her broom tightly, holding it upright. Hearing such calm and words of finale from the King only made her agree with the Little Lord.

  But… memories of her past riled up, and she came to the conclusion that she could never refute the King’s order. “...Yes,” She nodded, already feeling stiff, “...I’ll do whatever it takes."

  Around the giant rock tower were a kaleidoscope of rocky areas. Due to the King’s fall from grace, he was too lazy to destroy most of the items left over by his minions, who either succumbed to the cold or left.

  Giant, obsidian cannons on the peaks of mountains and pillars. Scaly sword hilts scattered across the plains alongside the rusty shards of steel. Small rocks in the walls that stored up a dragon’s “Energy”, and released their fire at an even greater rate.

  And most importantly, the gems scattered across every one of these areas.

  Spriggan sat in the middle of the smallest plain where most of the mountains were close, motionless in the face of the blizzard. He curled up a ball of snow in his hands, then watched as it melted into boiling water in an instant. He didn’t get any enjoyment from this, but in times where nothing could excite him, small actions could suppress his boredom.

  But a series of memories barraging his head only amplified his boredom.

  For some reason, he remembered his father’s stupid plan to build a canal that could ride on snow. It was a total failure, yet it was the only plan he bothered to participate in.

  “I hated that…”

  And then there was the time where he first unlocked his flame. That always happened to a dragon when they reached the age of five, and a good practice for harnessing and amplifying the power was by shedding away at a boulder by punching at it for five hours a day.

  However, for Spriggan, he destroyed the largest boulder of the Boiling Rock on the first try. The funniest part was that his own father was jealous, and shouted at Bella when she congratulated the endeavor.

  “.....The guy is an ass.” Spriggan smiled while saying that.

  “Little Lord!”

  And again came to the witch, but now, it seemed that she had adapted to winter’s roar. She descended with her broom with grace, occasionally wiping away whatever snow landed on her face.

  Spriggan smiled, genuinely impressed. “...You’re not cold?”

  “That’s the least of my worries.” Bella said, landing barefoot on the ground. “...And before you ask, this isn’t another command from your father. I’m here on my own accord."

  Spriggan turned in the process of chewing on a red gemstone, slightly appalled. “You here for ‘discipline’?”

  “I’m concerned for you, Little Lord.” Bella answered, tone growing louder due to the sound of the blizzard. “...I know you won’t say it, but I’m saddened by the King’s state as well. I can understand what you’re feeling.”

  “...I’m surprised.” Spriggan said, standing up and stretching his arms overhead. “But I’m not really mad about him dying. He and I were never really close.” When he stopped stretching, his eyes went astray as he faced the snowy horizon. He curled his fingers into a ball, embers dispersing outward and fading away. “Mom died when I was like five… and I didn’t care. Nor did he. I guess that’s how it’ll be when he goes.” …. “But, I gotta say… living with a grumpy old man… has made me strong. Even if he dies, I’ll be strong enough to live on my own.”

  Bella sighed, her gaze downcast in disappointment. “...I see…”

  “...You’ll cry though, right?” Spriggan asked, “He saved your life, after all.”

  “...I can’t cry.” Bella admitted, “The King would hate me if I did that, just like he’ll hate you. But I’ve made the mistake of getting too comfortable with this life. And, if I’m being honest, I may be a burden to you in the future.”

  “There’s no reason to worry, then.” Spriggan said, turning back with a smile showing his spiky teeth, “At least I still have something to chew on!” …. “Speaking of which, we should go get some grub. You like gemstones, right?”

  “They taste like candy.” Bella replied mindlessly, still wrapped in her sorrow.

  “More like meat.” Spriggan said, walking away, “C’mon, let’s go.”

  “...Right, Little Lord.”

  CAVE.

  [Simplistic, but this exactly what Longinus renamed all caves.]

  Many of the giant caves were quite spacious on the inside, offering cracks in their structure to allow the light from outside to peek through. That made the walls seem grey no matter how deep you ventured—and more importantly, they granted even more luster to the gemstones.

  Spriggan was too lazy to grab most of them, so Bella would have to carry the gemstones. Not by hand, but with a wand built in grey steel, the orb at the top dawned in a pinkish colour.

  Twirling it around three times and pointing it to the sky cultivated mystical, cube-like energy of varying colors that seemed to choose their directions as long as it was angled towards a group of gemstones. Likewise, when they touched a gemstone, their form phased through the hard exterior, and from there, they lifted the gemstones off the ground—surprisingly not leaving as much of a crack.

  Tens and twenties of cubes circled around the young witch, seemingly having no strain on her. “Do you like the caves, Little Lord?”

  “Sure.” Spriggan said, eyes going in all directions, “It’s one of the few ways to get away from the cold… plus, it’s got plenty of free healthy food for us dragons.”

  “The overconsumption of gemstones can lead to you having your father’s “tummy aches", Little Lord.”

  “Blah blah blah!”

  Bella shook her head, swallowing up any words of anger. "Suit yourself."

  Eventually, Spriggan came to a stop. Something on the wall had captured his gaze. Engraved in the rock, rotten to the core as shown by its mold and outlandish cracks, was a grey pipe that extended all the way up into another layer of rock. Bella stood by the Little Lord’s side, her pupils flashing as if she was witnessing an ancient relic.

  “...His third hundredth and eighth attempt.” Bella recalled off the top of her head, “He tried to—”

  “—Get his minions to build a pipe that connected to Kamerlot.” Spriggan interjected to no surprise from Bella. Though, he opposed her in terms of expression, his eyes showing disappointment. “...There’s no way he thought that would’ve worked.”

  “He has to experiment a little during the upcoming days.” Bella chuckled, “You have to admit… It was a pretty ambitious project.”

  “Speaking of ambitious…” Spriggan directed his eyes back to their path, and the goldmine that overshadowed the luster of the gemstones were the remnants of even more old inventions from his father.

  The light from outside infiltrated the cave and honed their light specifically on the thrill and glamour of said inventions. Spriggan was unimpressed as he took three paces forward to the only thing that seemed valuable—and perchance, the only item that wasn’t ridden in rocks.

  It was a large, impenetrable cannon ball shrouded in a perfect gold, the kind of gold certain Moduran Sorcerers would kill to have. Spriggan could have left it alone but ended up staring at it for a while.

  This was his strongest cannon yet…

  Bastard must've made a deal with a Sorcerer...

  And he knew where it came from.

  And for the Witch, she diverged from the path as well, losing herself in the incongruous relics of the past. It was every fantastical piece imaginable, ranging from gigantic hammers of pure steel, the broken chestplate designed to resemble scales, the ghastly balls of death that held spikes all around, and even some brooms which could’ve very well been the plaything of dragons or of her ancestors.

  Eventually, she wound up at the end of a sharp right of the tunnel where a labyrinth of gemstones continued on. However, the true spectacle was the valiant monument of a flying ship built in stone and outlined in obsidian, though most of that resource was spent on a carving of his usual, grumpy face designed to be as malevolent as possible. One of his favorite inventions, he often claimed it as.

  But such only reminded Bella of what once was.

  At the same time, the King of the Boiling Rock stood unyielding against the blizzard, having the audacity to stand at the apex of the cave where he was closest to the clouds. As he cursed the sky, a hand flew out instinctively, reaching for something unattainable.

  Why must others be happy while the freedom of my flame is restricted?

  He stared below home, unfazed by the darkness. He had read the sigils again—perhaps too much, and could envision his scaly minions revamping the castle into what it was today. The entire world, basked in the earth’s unrelenting magma, awaited the process. Stronger than the crowd that shamed them, they were.

  Now, there is no crowd. The King now stands with very few, and that’s fine.

  Perhaps, the sky ignored him out of pity.

  His pupils flared, reflecting sadness. Closing his eyes, he figured…

  This city has been overtaken again… and my sons at Moduran High are probably expecting whatever I come up with.

  Ah, is this fear? An ignorant bug, it is. My father punished me for weaknesses like that. Is it because I’m dying that I’m finally moved?

  “Ha.” A laugh against the snow. “What am I worried about? As long as there’s a kingdom, I still have something to defend to my death.”

  But those words of opportunity you spoke to your son.

  “I had to spit out the bug.”

  Why are you throwing your life away?

  “I don’t feel that way right now.”

  Yet, the sky is distant.

  The questions from his consciousness was a curse, but he would carry that curse, eyes drawn to the sky. He brought up a hand to his chin, crossing over his other arm.

  “I see,” he said, “This Kingdom will not live to see me gaze upon its fire for another year. The only thing I’ve ever done is fail, fail, and fail, distancing myself from a death without regrets. The only thing I can do now is accept my fate.”

  So, the King sat, coughing up black smoke once more, and waited for the world to validate this moment.

  CAVE

  It was as if the tunnels repeated themselves within the gloomy cave as the two ventured further on. The same gemstones and everything.

  The intertwining feeling between the Little Lord and the Witch was that the inventions of a pitiful king with a pitiful fate was the most life the cave contained.

  Spriggan couldn’t understand why, but as soon as the reason came up, he rejected it.

  And for Bella, “...Little Lord…”

  “Yeah?” Spriggan kept on walking, not looking back at her.

  Bella would then take the time to unveil the infamous scroll him and his father hated so dearly. The smooth, white fabric tied together by a crimson rubber band connected by a single, golden dot with black swirls on it. The Moduran System symbol, signaling that this was a Moduran System invitation.

  “Are you thinking of going to Moduran High?”

  Spriggan stopped, gaze still fixated the darkness before them. “Probably.” He said, “Two of my brothers are at the one in Kamerlot, and I hear the Sorcerers there are strong. But, keep that between us. I wanna keep my old man on edge.”

  Fwoosh! He cultivated a small, much clearer flame in his palm, illuminating the tunnel. “But I don’t understand why they waste so much time on this stupid holiday. My old man only loses because he’s not in the system. I can’t imagine anyone related to me who would want to enjoy that garbage. Bleh!”

  “So why is Moduran High an option for you?” Bella asked, “You feigned hatred towards the King, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “If you choose to enter the Moduran System, you will be going against everything this Kingdom stood for. I will support you, but inside, I will die.” Her words struck through the light of the flame, and finally forced Spriggan to acknowledge her, “The Moduran System wouldn't be so kind to me, but I’ll find a way. But you? This route won’t be linear, even for someone like you. So, I ask… what is your wish, Little Lord?”

  “...Wish?”

  “What is it that you want to do?”

  Spriggan fell down into the depths of his mind, finding out that the flame in his heart, fueled by anger, was still shining even so brightly due to his father’s acceptance.

  “...I don’t need to paint out my destiny. That’s what weak people do.” He answered, venturing deeper into the darkness, his flame shredding it to pieces in order for a clearer sight. “Whatever road fate has for me, I’m not gonna end up like my old man.”

  Bella remained motionless, the words of the Little Lord only showing her a life with no clear end. She tightened the grip on her broom unconsciously, thinking to herself…

  At least the King will die with someone by his side….

  The curtain of night layers upon the snow...

  The end of another boring day—another boring buildup to the Day of Miracles, and rather than being frustrated like he usually would be, he was busy tuning out the sound of the blizzard by focusing on the sigils of the walls. The two flames had more merit now due to the darkness.

  Chomp!

  He could also indulge in his gluttonous deeds. As he read the sigils, he carried an arm full of gemstones of varying colors. When he swallowed one badly, a green fire lashed forward during a cough. “Meh! I hate the green ones!”

  Clearing his throat, his gaze was mindlessly guided to the ceiling shrouded in darkness. To clear that problem, he extended his palm outward, then up, a green fire appearing.

  He brought the flame to his mouth, and exhaled, causing it to float upwards. It moved smoothly—controlled, its luster so immense that any ounce of darkness faded. Upon reaching the point of evenly matched distance between the floor and ceiling, it exposed the full story engraved in the stone.

  And it began at the ceiling, with a depiction of a dragon shrouded of malevolent armor of steel, eyes glowing through the helmet.

  “Hyperion.” Longinus called out, “...The armored dragon who was the only one who overtook the Day of Miracles. I can only imagine the triumph he felt in seeing everyone losing their minds because they lost the one sense of happiness at that moment… More importantly, you must’ve had high expectations for your son—especially in an era where everyone was trying to stand at the top.” …. “But I wonder…”

  The visage of a beautiful woman with cascading, dark blue hair and eyes flashed in his mind.

  The tale engraved in the stone told one of tyranny. The absence of joy, presents, and structure.

  But… never sign a love.

  “...Did you have a wife, too?”

  And just like that, his stare became aimless…

  …

  “...Why am I thinking about it now? We mated, and that was that.”

  Spriggan…

  “Heh.”

  I remember… when you broke my mother’s boulder. Not even the oldest child could do that.

  I loved that boulder.

  But you destroying it made me realize that you were truly special.

  “Hahaha….Hahahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The King of the Boiling Rock bellowed out a life that came from the deepest depths of the soul. “Both of us.. truly are idiots! I suppose I should draw out the tales of our idiocy in these stones!”

  But…

  Yaawwwnnnnn~!

  RUMBLE…

  When a dragon yawns, the entire land shakes.

  The King of the Boiling Rock was surprised, but eventually laughed it off, his flame whisking away as he eased his body. He stood up, stretching over head, yawning once more.

  “Oh! Sleepy already? You gotta get it together, old man!” Longinus said, trying to twist his deep, rough voice into the tender, yet sparky voice of his son. “That’s what the would say, wouldn’t he? Well, I suppose the dragon shall sleep.”

  He didn’t bother to eat or store away the gemstones before getting into a comfortable position; he lay flatly on his left side, the side of his head hoisted up by his left arm. Meanwhile, his right arm laid on his stomach, and his right knee was pointed at the air.

  Before he entered his slumber—specifically during the split second where his eyes closed fully, he made a promise to himself. “...I hope you choose to fight the Moduran Sorcerers by my side.”

  ......Next Morning......

  Five days before the Day of Miracles.

  There wasn’t really a difference between night and day due to the snow clouds, but Bella, being a witch, had a keen eye—or rather an innate ability for knowing time. For the first time, she emerged out of a gemstone cave with no damage in her attire.

  Spriggan emerged from the cave with an arm-full of gemstones, chowing down each of them in an instant as if he was a machine. Dragons were famously known for their insanely fast metabolism.

  Step.

  Step.

  Step.

  Three minutes, and Spriggan was already growing tired of the weather. The wind obscured their vision slightly, and because of this, Bella was leading the way. She floated ahead of the Little Lord by a few feet, hanging onto her hat for dear life.

  “How much further?” Spriggan asked with annoyance, his voice burdened by the howling wind.

  “...Not much further, Little Lord.”

  And finally, the residence of the King came into view.

  But…

  “Hey,” Spriggan raised a brow, “What’s with the black smoke up there?”

  The Little Lord turned to the Witch for an answer. But she was frozen. Had the feeble witch succumbed to the ice?

  Spriggan walked up to her side in order to gain a better look at her face, and couldn’t find anything. She was now faceless—her eyes covered by the darkness of her hat. "Hello—huh?"

  A single tear swayed to the wind, disappearing with a whimper of light.

  Through connecting the dots… it was certain.

  "...For real?"

  I couldn’t even tell you what I chose...

  ...A day later, Spriggan Sunreaper, standing at the top of the mountain, said the magical words needed for the Moduran Invitation paper to shine with its golden magic.

  "I declare participation into the Moduran System."

  Where most would be accepted immediately due to a strong Origin, the troubling history of his father caused the Master to classify this declaration as...

  "Pending..."

  PLAYER REQUEST: SPRIGGAN SUNREAPER!

  Will they accept?!