Genshin Impact:-What if the Sovereigns Started a War

Inside Aethercastle, a rift split the air open like torn parchment.

From within, a blaze erupted.

A man stepped forth, his very presence like a living pyre—crimson hair cascading like wildfire, eyes that had stared down gods and monsters alike. Every step radiated command; every breath echoed through the marrow of warriors who lived and died by their honor.

Ignarion had arrived.

He walked forward with thunderous silence, stopping just before Orion.

"It's time for you to continue your training," he said, his voice like molten stone—firm, distant, but never unkind.

Orion didn't look at him right away. His gaze lingered on the portrait across the chamber—of King Orion the First and Queen Minerva, holding a swaddled infant in their arms. A memory, a burden, a legacy.

"I'll be there," Orion replied softly.

Ignarion gave a slight nod, then turned and stepped back through the rift. It vanished behind him in a flicker of embers.

Orion exhaled and rose. He sliced his hand through the air—clean and sharp. Another rift tore open, shimmering like a mirror of fate.

He stepped through.

—

In the Realm of Training, the air was thick with heat and silence.

Ignarion stood tall, arms folded, face unreadable. The flames dancing around him cast long shadows—none of which dared touch him.

"I still can't believe you've come this far," he said, his voice lined with something between irritation and reluctant admiration. "With that embarrassingly low amount of talent."

Orion didn't flinch. His face was carved with grief and quiet fury.

"I can't leave this realm to find Frieda… or our child. But I know they're out there. I feel them." His hand rose, and from the cold shimmer of his will, a Cryo blade bloomed into existence.

Slender. Sharp. Merciless.

"The Emblems won't risk crossing between Nyxhara and Teyvat because of the chaos in time. So I'll keep pushing forward… Even if I have to bleed through every training session with my pathetic self. I'll keep going—until I can see her again."

Ignarion's gaze narrowed. A flicker of pride—buried beneath layers of fire-hardened discipline—flashed in his eyes.

"Then show me."

He dropped into a battle stance.

Orion mirrored him, Cryo blade ready, breath steady.

The Realm held its breath.

Inside the Knights Academy, sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting shards of colored light across the grand hallway.

Elynas skipped ahead, her feet barely touching the floor. "We're here to talk about our admission with the Headmaster!" she chimed cheerfully, dragging Tera and Merry along by the wrists.

Tera clutched a rolled-up scroll. "Yes! We even have a recommendation letter from Granny Suri." His smile was full of hope—and a sprinkle of anxiety.

Merry lagged slightly, fidgeting with the strap of her satchel. "I… don't know. Do you really think Granny Suri's letter holds weight here?" Her voice carried the subtle panic of someone suddenly realizing they were very underdressed for a royal ball.

The receptionist, a tired woman with a coffee mug that said "I Survive Children and Sword Fights", didn't even blink.

She pointed silently down the hall.

Third door. Left side.

The Headmaster's Office.

The trio stood before a door of polished mahogany, the plaque reading in ancient font:

Orion Grusch I

Headmaster of the Knights Academy

Descendant of the Founder of Arian. Hero of the Leviathan March. Slayer of the Pale Wyrm. Former King of Arian.

Tera's hand trembled as she knocked.

"Enter," came a voice like cracking stone—measured, deep, and terrifyingly calm.

They stepped in.

---

The room was a time capsule of legends.

Books lined the high shelves—some whispering softly as if they didn't like being disturbed. Medals gleamed under lantern light, and swords too ancient for use were mounted like museum relics above velvet banners. The smell of parchment, ink, and frost lingered in the air.

Behind the vast desk sat Orion the First.

His silver eyes flicked up from a report.

His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in.

The children froze.

Elynas was the only one who moved, sliding the scroll across the desk with a too-loud tap. "Uh… Hello! We came… with this! From Granny Suri. She said—uh—she said we might be allowed to study here!"

Tera bowed so fast she nearly toppled.

Merry stared at a spot on the floor, whispering to herself, "I should've worn the other boots—these squeak too loud, I'm going to die here."

Orion the First took the letter without a word. He read it slowly, his eyes narrowing at certain names, relaxing at others.

When he looked up, the silence was absolute.

"…You are Suri's recommendations," he said finally, his voice edged with distant memories. "Since Mother In law herself is asking this of me, I won't refuse you kids from entering the academy."

He stood. Even age had failed to dull the sheer gravity of the man.

"You want to become Knights of Nyxhara… under my watch?"

Elynas nodded so fast her horns might've rattled.

Orion stepped around the desk and studied them with a gaze that once measured armies.

"Then prove you are not children playing war."

He turned, gesturing to the training field visible through the window.

"Tomorrow at dawn. Wear armor. Bring no excuses."

Night, Knights Academy Dorms

Elynas lay awake, staring at the ceiling beams. Granny Suri's voice echoed in her head: "Don't try to impress power. Impress purpose."

Across the room, Tera was "sharpening" a wooden practice sword with a whetstone that did nothing. Merry sat by the window, whispering, "First Royal Guard from Roselight Hollow. I'm calling it."

"Sleep," Elynas mumbled.

"Nah," Merry said. "I want to be tired and terrified."

---

Dawn. Training Field.

Mist clung low to the ground. Orion the First was already there—arms behind his back, eyes colder than the morning air.

"Three things," he said. "You will run. You will see. You will choose."

They didn't ask what that meant. They just obeyed.

Run — until the cold burned the lungs and the stone bit into their legs.

See — through distractions, shouted taunts, and staged chaos.

Choose — between saving the "fallen" or winning the race. Between pride and duty.

Elynas slowed to pull a crying "injured" student to her feet. Merry hesitated, then followed. Tera cursed, doubled back, and lifted them both.

Orion the First said nothing. But he watched.

When it ended, they were soaked in sweat, shaking, and strangely lighter.

"Provisional acceptance," he said at last. "Dawn drills. No tardiness. No pity for your own limits."

Tera almost collapsed in relief. Merry fist-pumped. Elynas just smiled, quietly.

---

The Realm of Training

Ice met Frost. Cryo hissed and cracked under Ignarion's pressure.

"You're holding back," Ignarion growled.

"I'm not."

"You're hoping," Ignarion corrected. "Hope dulls the blade."

Orion's Cryo edge shattered. He re-formed it instantly, thinner, calmer, steadier.

"I will find her," he said. "Even if time eats itself and the realms refuse to meet."

Ignarion's eyes narrowed—faint approval, buried deep. "Saying cheeky stuff won't help you meet her."

"Again."

---

Knights Academy — Later

Word spread fast: The Headmaster himself tested three nobodies from a village no one's heard of.

By noon, the notice boards bloomed with new parchment:

Arian Core — Cultural & Tactical Exchange Week

Representatives from Other Sovereigns Expected

Mandatory Attendance: Year 1–3

Merry gaped. "We picked the wildest year to get in."

Tera frowned. "Granny Suri picked us to get in during the wildest year."

Elynas' smile faded just a fraction, eyes drifting toward the horizon.

"Something's coming," she said softly.

And far above them, in the quiet heart of Aethercastle, the silver bell rang again.