The figure stepped out of the carriage.
Noir's breath caught in his throat.
The crowd had gone dead silent for the briefest moment, as if the entire city was holding its breath. The air shimmered, and from the door of the floating carriage, a lone figure descended slowly.
They wore flowing green robes, the fabric layered and heavy, embroidered with unfamiliar golden symbols that shimmered faintly with each step. Their hood was raised, casting deep shadows across the face beneath. Noir tried to peer closer—perhaps make out a jawline or the edge of their eyes—but it was useless.
It was as if the light itself refused to touch them.
A gloved hand, clad in pale, bone-like armor, extended out toward the crowd.
And then something eerie happened.
The entire street—hundreds of people—moved at once. No orders. No sound. They simply parted like a sea of cloth and flesh, bowing as one. As if controlled by a single will. As if welcoming their savior.
And with chilling reverence, they chanted:
"King. King. King."
Noir felt his stomach twist.
The king? he thought, eyes narrowing beneath the soft hum of drones flying overhead.
Whoever this was, they ruled this place. That much was certain. But was it Cloud Solslade? He couldn't tell. The robes. The mask. The posture. It was impossible to identify them.
And yet, something stirred in Noir's mind—
A memory.
---
"Daniel!"
His sister Aria's voice rang clear in his mind, sharp and gentle like the chiming of wind bells.
He saw her again, back in the warmth of their home, fingers wrapped around a cracked mug of tea, legs curled beneath her on the couch. She always loved telling stories when the power flickered.
"I found something cool in my class today," she had said, eyes bright. "About kings and planets!"
"Oh yeah?" Daniel—Noir—had smiled, placing a steaming plate of synthetic rice on the table.
"There's this king," she started excitedly. "Eptor. He ruled Jupiter a long time ago."
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Jupiter that would kill you if you tried to stand on it?"
She nodded. "Exactly! But get this—he changed it. Eptor used this power called solidification. Like, he could force matter to stabilize. He used it to solidify the entire gas planet."
Daniel blinked. "...He turned a gas giant into a landmass?"
She beamed. "Yup! Walkable, liveable, with cities. They say it's why Jupiter's like a super strong planet now with crazy terrain and high-gravity cities. But…"
Her voice softened.
"He used his own life force to do it. His power wasn't enough by itself, so he started converting his lifespan into fuel. Some think he's still alive. Others think he's just… a spirit now. But they all remember him."
Daniel folded his arms. "What'd he look like?"
Aria grinned. "Green robes. That's the only thing every source agrees on. Long, ceremonial robes woven with glyphs. Always green. Some even say the robes hold his power together."
He whistled. "That's mental."
"He was noble," she murmured, glancing toward the window. "But also tragic. Not everyone who sacrifices everything ends up being remembered."
She had looked back at him, eyes soft.
"But that's the kind of hero you'd be, right, Daniel?"
---
Noir's eyes fluttered open.
The crowd was still chanting.
"King. King. King."
The robed figure stood motionless at the front of the carriage, hand still extended, as if their presence alone was divine permission.
Noir stepped back instinctively, nearly stumbling into a nearby trash bin. He steadied himself. His thoughts raced. Could it really be Eptor? he wondered.
Or worse—could it be someone impersonating the King of Jupiter?
The robes were too specific. Too exact. The chants weren't for a leader. They were for a legend.
Noir kept his head down and slowly turned from the crowd. The risk of being spotted was too high. He couldn't afford to be captured, not now.
Not when he had a name to clear.
And a rebellion to scout for.
He melted into the stream of bodies, the chants still echoing behind him.
Somewhere above this planet's shining steel and glass skyline, history had just walked out of a carriage.
And Noir Zelion had witnessed it.
He took a few careful steps backward, trying to edge away from the crowd's energy. But his foot caught on something—a loose metal plate, poorly welded into the platform he stood on.
Before he could react—
"Woah—woah—woAH—!"
He flailed like a broken robot, spinning mid-air with limbs flapping uselessly, before crashing through a hollow sound barrier hanging over the platform.
With a final panicked yelp, Noir plunged down… down…
Right through the open roof of the floating carriage.
He hit the floor with a loud, ungraceful thud, limbs sprawled in all directions.
"...Ugh."
His head throbbed. His vision blurred.
And then—
Darkness.
The chants outside continued unabated.
No one had noticed.
Not yet.