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    “Mydeimos performs his duties admirably, aside from the one duty he refuses to take. It matters little to us whether he is an alpha or omega, though I understand it may be different to you Okhemans.”

    “It matters little to me as well,” says Phainon. “Mydei is a fine warrior and my friend.”

    Krateros squints at him, and Phainon struggles to keep his expression neutral. “However, his condition as an omega does impede him in one way. His heats can be…unbearable, and his immortal body makes it difficult for others to assist him.”

    mydei struggles through his heats. phainon experiences culture shock.

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    06 Aug 2026

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    Khaslana doesn’t liken himself to these other children, plucked from their own city-states, probably snatched out of the arms of their dying parents. They cry too much. Too loud. Their experiences were similar, but they’re not the same. He has a purpose, a heavy responsibility rests upon his shoulders. He’s going to be a hero one day.

    “The son of The Mad King will become an even greater tyrant. He will grow mad with grief and plunge the world into strife until he takes his own life, at the edge of the world.”

    The prophecy rings inside his mind ever since he woke up, he doesn’t know where it comes from and no one else seems to have heard of it. Only a voice reminding him to stop that reality over and over. He knows it's true deep down inside his heart. Kephale is speaking to him.

    Phainon wakes up in the dungeons of Castrum Kremnos with fragments of memories and a prophecy etched deep inside.
    Given to the prince as a gift and with an intention to kill the future tyrant, he ends up risking the world to fight against the prophecy he believed his whole life.

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    01 Aug 2026

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    "I'll be waiting for news," Cyrene whispered. "Not of a princess in a castle. Of a great hero from the front lines. Promise me you'll become him. Promise me, █████."

    "I promise," he breathed, and the words became an oath.

    On that starless night, the youth named █████ died. And from that darkness, step by step, began the journey of the one who would one day be called Phainon, the Deliverer.

    Eight years ago, the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos lost his true mate. Or so the official story goes. Eight years ago, a young omega fled his destiny, dying to the world only to be reborn in the crucible of war.

    Now, the immortal Prince Mydeimos, weary of his father's madness, journeys to the front lines under the guise of a common beta mercenary to learn the truth of how the other city-states are faring against the threat of the Black Tide. His mission has no room for attachments.

    But on the border of the Withered Lands, he meets a living legend: the Deliverer. A radiant omega hero whose smile gives hope to the hopeless, and whose claymore brings death to the Creatures of the Tide. He is a light in the darkness, but his crystal-blue eyes hide too many secrets.

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    28 Jul 2026

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    “So what, you tutor me in math, how am I supposed to teach you philosophy?” Mydei grunts, crossing his arms.

    “No need. Our final grade will be based on a mock debate with the professor, and arguing with you is my daily exercise.”

    Mydei huffs, what kind of foolish logic is that? Still, it sounds interesting, almost fun, and Mydei never says no to a battle of wits or might.

    “You’re a strange man,” he simply says. “But alright, if I win, you promise to confess, honestly, to whichever girl you’re interested in. Whatever answer she gives you will accept without protest and then stop disturbing the cheerleading squad.”

    Phainon draws himself to his full height so they are standing eye to eye, his blue eyes glittering with determination and delight.
    “Fine. But if I win, you have to wear the girl’s cheerleading uniform.”

    Star quarterback Phainon is pining over a mysterious hottie on the cheerleading squad, whose identity he refuses to reveal. Not on Mydei’s watch, for the self proclaimed ‘Guardian of the cheerleading squad’ is convinced that the charming, charismatic playboy is up to no good.

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    24 Jun 2026

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    “Your pronunciation’s even worse than a toddler’s.” 

    “That’s because you’re a terrible teacher,” Phainon says, petulance in his voice thin over affection.

    Only then does Mydei fully turn to his side to face him, eyeing the way the dim light seems to catch the silver of Phainon’s hair. He reaches over without thinking. “Like this,” he mutters, thumb pressing against Phainon’s bottom lip to force the correct shape. “Your tongue here,” his touch lingers. “And don’t enunciate the last syllable too much.” 

    Or, when Phainon asked Mydei to teach him the Kremnoan language, he expected refusal. Much to his surprise, Mydei agrees. But as the words come easier, so does everything else Phainon was never supposed to understand.

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    23 Jun 2026