Tyrin's training was, above all, about survival. Given the circumstances, leveling up was nearly impossible. What he really needed was knowledge.
"Gargantua is the most hostile planet in our universe. Everything there wants to kill you. Even our most powerful pets have to live in constant protection zones. Do you understand that, kid?" Caronte's voice carried an unusual gravity. He spoke nonstop, focused on teaching Tyrin how to survive in that merciless environment.
Although he had only been to Gargantua once — and for just a few days — Caronte spoke with the authority of someone who had experienced terror up close. A carnivorous plant had ended his brief incursion.
"The advantage you have going there is the same one our companions had: if you die on Gargantua, you return to our reality. In other words, you go back to the portal. However, for some reason, that prevents you from returning to the planet… unless you actually wish to die. We believe it's a singularity that breaks the space-time continuum, nullifying the entropy of life. But once you go back to the planet, that singularity no longer protects you like it did the first time. The ancients used to say you could feel when that protection vanished. Even with that safeguard, be careful: there are extremely intelligent creatures that would rather turn you into a lifelong blood source than simply kill you."
Caronte then handed something to Tyrin — a small pill.
"If you find yourself in a hopeless situation, where your fate is to become part of a 'meat farm,' swallow this."
"It's a cyanide pill," he explained in a neutral tone.
Alvina, who had remained silent next to Caronte, stepped forward. Her eyes, once distant, now looked at Tyrin seriously.
"I had to use this pill myself... It hurts. A lot. But it's better than what they'd do to you. Never lose it, understood?"
Tyrin saw hidden trauma in her gaze. She spoke with the voice of someone who had no choice. It was clear Alvina had gone through horrors before turning to the pill.
"How long did the person who lasted the longest on Gargantua survive?" Tyrin asked, trying to understand what might be considered a victory there.
"Good question," Caronte replied. "Billions of lives were lost on that planet before we established even minimally safe zones. We have an extensive database. The strongest ones — who later became Ultras — managed to survive for… three months."
The answer shocked Tyrin. Not even the most powerful beings in the universe could survive for a year in that place.
"Tyrin, you'll fight for food and water. You won't have a single peaceful night's sleep. Believe me: three months was an extraordinary feat."
Caronte then handed him a map.
"This map shows where you can find water and where there's a higher chance of getting food. But it covers less than 0.001% of the planet. Be very careful. Gargantua is colossal — bigger than stars. It only exists because of the singularity that keeps it inside a black hole. Even so, this map covers weeks of walking in every direction."
"I recommend taking your dragon with you. It'll be a unique opportunity to strengthen your bond and increase your synergy in battle."
Tyrin had already spoken to Karma about the mission. The young dragoness was excited, but he couldn't hide his anxiety. He wanted to grow stronger — yes — but not at the cost of dying on the first day. If he could choose, he'd wait until he reached a higher level.
"I know this may not be the ideal time," said Alvina, reading the worry on his face, "but it's the only way we found to help you grow without violating the Empire's rules."
"Are others going with me to Gargantua?" he asked.
"Unfortunately, no. Due to your bond with an Ilutar, we can't send you in a group. You'll be alone. But in eight months, we'll send the final-year class for an advanced training internship. We believe that'll be more than enough time for you to return."
Everything had been meticulously planned. Tyrin would go first, to gain experience and grow. Then, when he returned, the most promising final-year students would follow. Alvina was betting big on some of them — just as she was with Tyrin.
"Before I leave… can I talk to my sister?"
Tyrin would finally have the chance to speak with his sister. It had been a long time since their last contact, and he wanted to make the most of the opportunity.
"We're already aware of her situation, thanks to Gertrudes," said Alvina. "Feel free to contact her. Get ready, because tomorrow is the day. The teachers have already been informed and are aware of your absence. I think now would be a good time to let your classmates know as well."
Alvina wasn't naïve. She knew exactly who Tyrin was fighting for — and understood that his main motivation to evolve so quickly came from his bond with his sister. Allowing this contact before the mission was a way to rekindle that fire.
With help from Gertrudes and Dante, Tyrin secured extra time for the call. It allowed him not only to ease his longing but also to confirm that his sister was being well cared for. Dante had kept his word: she was healthy, and with the resources provided, she was living the life she had always dreamed of. Still, Tyrin made a point to emphasize:
"Use this chance to study, sister. I want you to become someone better than me. The army brings money, yes... but not safety. Real education is what gives you choices."
The conversation went on into the evening. They laughed, shared stories, got emotional — and for the first time in a long while, they felt like a family again.
"Sis… I'm about to begin training to improve my skills. I might not be able to talk to you for a while. But don't worry. I love you."
"I love you too, big bro. Good luck, and… if you can, come back soon. Being alone is kind of fun, but I already miss you."
She was strong and grounded, but never hid her feelings. That sincerity always touched Tyrin deeply.
"I'll come back. I promised you. Wait for me."
Just as the call was ending, Dante appeared on the screen.
"Mr. Dante? Is something wrong?"
"Actually, yes, kid. We intercepted a Tyranos ship. We think they're moving. Our planet doesn't have strategic value to them, but... we don't have enough Astras to defend ourselves if we're attacked. Can you get us some help?"
Tyrin felt the weight of the request. He knew Dante didn't dramatize. If he was saying this, the threat was real. Many planets asked for help with Astras, but usually only those who lived there volunteered to defend them. Even so, Dante knew Tyrin was no longer just one among thousands.
"I'll see what I can do. I promise I'll come back… but it's not time yet."
Dante looked like he was about to say something else. Tyrin sensed it — as if the old leader knew something, maybe a flicker of insight, a fragment of what was truly at stake — but no question came.
That night, Tyrin still managed to speak with his friends. They were confused, sure, but they also knew: any chance for growth was valuable, especially with what was coming.
He didn't summon Karma until Vanaheim's natural satellite was high above his head. When the young dragoness appeared, Tyrin explained the mission. She understood quickly — and was even excited that she wouldn't have to be alone on that strange, hostile planet.
In the morning, Tyrin gathered his belongings and took everything Alvina and Caronte had asked for. He met the two at the training site, where he was led — blindfolded — through underground tunnels that seemed to stretch across multiple levels.
Until finally, he found himself before something he hadn't expected: a gigantic portal, four or five times the size of a normal one.
"Welcome, kid," said Caronte. "This is Portal 001. One of the oldest… but hardly anyone knows about it. Are you ready?"
For the first time, Caronte and Alvina would witness Tyrin summon the creature many still called a legend — a being some referred to as a god.
"Karma, come to me."
The dragon appeared, imposing. No longer small — her wings filled the space, and her black scales gleamed like living black metal. A short horn protruded from her head, and her deep eyes pierced through Caronte and Alvina like spears.
The two instinctively stepped back. Alvina raised a hand to her mouth, visibly moved. It wasn't that she doubted Tyrin… but what she saw was simply surreal. She had never believed she'd lay eyes on a mythological creature like that.
"We're ready, aren't we, Karma?"
The dragon merely tilted her head, as if acknowledging the challenge ahead — and accepting it.
For the first time, a deep growl escaped Karma's throat. A powerful sound that echoed through the chamber like the howl of a caged storm. Even Tyrin was surprised — not just by the volume, but by the primal intensity in that voice.
It was the roar of a creature born to reign.
Karma then lowered her head, tilting her imposing body. She offered her back to Tyrin. It was a clear, direct gesture. She wasn't just allowing him to mount — she wanted it. She was ready to go with him.
Tyrin took a deep breath, soaking in every second of that unique moment.
"Well… I guess now I'm ready."
Caronte, still wearing an expression marked by surprise, let out a loud and genuine laugh.
"HAHAHAHA! That's what I'm talking about! Let's see it now! Good luck, kid! I'm opening the portal."
Alvina, with a faint smile and a restrained gleam in her eyes, simply said:
"Good luck, Tyrin. And try… not to get yourself killed too quickly."
The tone was light, but everyone knew what was at stake. Tyrin nodded, and with a gentle touch to Karma's scales, signaled that they were ready.
The structure of the portal began to vibrate. Lines of energy ran along the ancient arches, like veins pulsing with ancestral life. A dense, bluish light started forming at the center, swirling into a spiral until it opened like a vortex. The sound was like a thousand distorted bells ringing all at once — beautiful and terrifying.
Karma took the first step. Then another. And with a determined roar, she launched herself toward the unknown.
Without fear, driven only by a strange curiosity, Tyrin crossed with her into the impossible. He had studied everything he could about Gargantua — the fauna, the geography, the anomalies. But theoretical knowledge wouldn't prepare him for what awaited. Nothing truly prepared anyone for that.
His heart pounded like a war drum. And still, he smiled.
It was the beginning.
It was Gargantua.