AK : RISING MYTHIC

The feast began. Course after course was brought in. Roasted skybeasts marinated with moonroot, glistening crystalfruit pies, fire-spiced soups, and chilled mist wines flowed endlessly. Plates were refilled before they were emptied, and laughter filled the air.

"This soup!" said Tarric Vohl with a theatrical moan. "By the stars, I think I just ascended a rank."

"Eat slow or you will," said Caelis Morvayn with a chuckle. "You'll choke halfway into the next course."

Yuna giggled. "At least we're not eating battlefield rations anymore. Remember that burnt bread before the ZARELLE battle?"

"Hey, that bread saved my life," said Tharion Vale, raising a goblet. "To burnt bread and broken blades!"

Everyone laughed, the sound echoing warmly.

At the head of the Mythic table, Arslan sat with his hands folded, offering small smiles but mostly watching. Seris leaned toward him.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to look proud."

Arslan looked at her. "I'm proud. I'm just... not loud about it."

Nirela, sitting beside him, smiled at that. "That's the Arslan we know."

After the plates had been cleared, and everyone was contentedly full, King Farhan stood once more. This time, the laughter quieted instantly.

He held up his goblet.

"So... how was the meal?"

Dozens of voices responded cheerfully.

"Delicious!"

"Unreal!"

"A feast fit for kings!"

"I regret not having a second stomach!"

King Farhan laughed. "Then my chefs will sleep well tonight. But I must confess, this dinner is not just for celebration. It is... a reward. A token of gratitude."

The mood shifted. A reverent silence fell.

"When the demons rose. When the skies turned red and the ground trembled... it was not the Zeniths or the Council who first met the threat. It was you."

His hand pointed to the Mythic table.

"We are right .as we put you in undefined power ranked . The unstable experienced. And yet... you held the line."

Eyes turned toward Arslan.

"When ZARELLE emerged, a demon strong enough to cripple an entire district... when our city was on the brink... it was not our veterans who ended him. It was not the armies..."

A pause.

"It was Arslan."

Applause began. First polite. Then it swelled.

Cheers erupted from the Apex ranks. Even Zeniths clapped, many nodding with genuine admiration.

Arslan looked up, slightly startled.

"Please stand," the King said, gesturing to him.

Arslan slowly rose. The entire hall stood in ovation.

"You didn't just defeat ZARELLE," the King said, "you showed us what it means to carry the burden of power with dignity. You reminded us that strength is not in titles... but in heart."

Even Julius, who rarely showed emotion, raised his goblet.

"To Arslan."

The entire room echoed:

"To Arslan!"

Arslan bowed, deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I didn't do it alone. My team was my shield, my strength. They gave me purpose."

"A noble answer," said the King. "Which is why my next praise is not just for you... but for all the Mythics."

He raised his arms.

"You who stood together. Who fought, bled, and rose again. Who trained side by side and fell side by side. You have proven that the Mythic rank is not a lesser rank, but the heart of our Echelon force."

Another wave of applause followed.

Tyrus Vaelren, one of the most feared Zeniths, stood.

"Arslan," he said, voice firm but respectful. "You fought like a storm. There's no shame in saying I could not have done what you did."

Kaelen Drayce added with a grin, "Remind me to never spar against you unless I want a broken spine."

Laughter rang out again.

Then Elira, her side still lightly bandaged, stood.

"You protected those I could not reach. You did not hesitate. That makes you a leader in my eyes."

Arslan gave a small nod, eyes soft with gratitude.

As the hour grew late, the King raised his goblet again.

"But not all who fought returned whole."

The room quieted.

"Some gave their lives in this battle. Their names will be remembered in the Hall of Honor. Tomorrow, a ceremony will be held to mourn and immortalize them."

A moment of silence followed.

Soft music returned. The atmosphere, though heavy with remembrance, carried a glow of unity.

The Mythics stood together. Arslan in the center, Nirela at his side, others close by.

Yuna whispered, "Did you expect this much praise tonight?"

Arslan smiled faintly. "No. I expected dinner."

"You got a throne," Seris teased.

Later that night, as everyone began to leave, many Apex and Zeniths approached Arslan to shake his hand, slap his shoulder, or offer thanks.

The story of the battle had traveled fast. But now, it had transformed into legend.

The King approached him one last time at the hall's entrance.

"Rest well, Arslan," he said. "You may not wear a crown, but tonight, you earned one."

And with that, the Mythic-ranked Knights departed Camelot Hall, not as guests... but as honored champions of Lumisgrave.