The smell of charred earth and burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mixing with the cold night breeze that swept over the battlefield. All around me, bodies of the fallen lay scattered, human and monster alike. Some soldiers staggered between the bodies, checking for survivors or offering quick words to the dead. Others moved to set up a perimeter, wary of another attack.
I could still feel the tremors in my legs, the dull ache of fatigue settling into my bones. My arms felt like lead from swinging my sword through creature after creature, and my body pulsed with the aftershocks of fear, exhaustion, and the unfamiliar thrill of survival.
Roran’s voice cut through the haze as he appeared beside me, wiping the blood from his blade onto the grass. “You did well out there, Kael. You held your ground.”
I nodded, feeling a flicker of pride despite the exhaustion. “Thanks,” I managed to say, my voice rough. I glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction, hoping to see some approval or maybe just a sign that I wasn’t completely out of my depth.
He seemed to read my thoughts. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he warned, his tone firm. “This was just a skirmish. Nothing compared to what’s waiting for us near the Rift.”
As he spoke, I thought back to the mage, Varyn, who had unleashed that devastating lightning spell. His power had been terrifying, illuminating the battlefield with an otherworldly light, wiping out dozens of the creatures in an instant. It was a level of strength that seemed almost impossible, and it was a stark reminder of how far I still had to go.
Roran watched me, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s humbling, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “To see that kind of power up close.”
I nodded, unsure how to put my thoughts into words. “I thought I understood strength,” I said finally. “But this… it’s different. I don’t know if I’m ready for what lays ahead.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, a reassuring weight. “None of us are,” he replied. “But that’s what makes us human, Kael. We go forward even when we’re afraid.”
I let his words sink in, feeling a strange comfort in his presence. This world, with its monsters and darkness, was still alien to me. But Roran’s steady, unshakeable resolve gave me something to hold onto, a reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.
The camp was quieter now, the soldiers settling in for a few hours of rest before dawn. I found a place near the edge of the encampment, far enough from the noise but close enough to feel the presence of others. My mind churned with thoughts, about the mage’s power, about the creatures we had fought, and about the journey ahead.
As I sat there, gazing into the darkness, I let my thoughts drift to Elderwood. I could picture my mother’s face, her gentle smile as she brushed back my hair, the way she’d hum softly as she worked around the house. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her, how much I missed the safety and simplicity of home.
“Thinking of home?” Roran’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see him standing nearby, his gaze distant.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I… didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.”
He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s natural. War has a way of making you appreciate what you left behind.” He paused, studying me with a curious expression. “You know, Kael… strength isn’t just about power. It’s about having something to fight for.”
His words struck a chord in me, and I felt a strange mix of emotions—determination, fear, hope. I’d always thought strength was about proving myself, about stepping out of the shadow of my father and brother. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was about finding something worth protecting, something worth risking everything for.
The night deepened, and I lay down, closing my eyes and letting the sounds of the camp lull me into a restless sleep. My dreams were filled with images of home, of my family, of the creatures we had fought. And through it all, a single thought echoed in my mind.
I would survive. I would become strong. And one day, I would return home, not as the shadow of my father or brother, but as someone who had forged his own path.
The words lingered in my mind, like shadows that wouldn’t lift. Witness the fall of Anria. And the Spector’s cryptic message… To know who you are, you must lose yourself. Every time I tried to make sense of it, I ended up more confused. And if my brother was behind it, if he’d somehow led me here, why? What did he expect me to do?
I couldn’t deny the reality around me. The world here was brutal, unforgiving. Just last night, I’d witnessed a mage unleash lightning with the force of a storm, incinerating creatures with ease. It was power beyond anything I’d known, even compared to my father’s tier 7 strength. I’d always thought of my father as nearly unmatched—someone no one would dare challenge. Yet here I was, surrounded by warriors and mages wielding forces that seemed impossible. How was I supposed to make a difference in a world that already had people like that?
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to let the doubts settle. I had to focus. I was already in the thick of it, and there was no turning back now. Whatever the message had meant, whatever the Spector intended, I’d have to face it head-on, one step at a time.
Roran’s boot struck my stomach, snapping me out of my thoughts and pulling me right back into the present. I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing, but I caught myself, gritting my teeth against the dull ache spreading across my ribs.
“Less thinking, more doing,” he barked, his voice carrying that hard-edged command I was beginning to get used to. His sword flashed in a high arc, aimed right for my shoulder. I brought my own sword up, parrying the strike, feeling the force ripple down my arm as I absorbed the blow. With a quick step back, I steadied myself, waiting for his next move.
But the attack didn’t come. Roran simply stood there, sword lowered, studying me with that assessing gaze of his. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, something I hadn’t seen before.
“Despite what you think, you’re getting stronger, Kael,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “I can feel your core. You’re close to tier two.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his words. “Really?” The doubt in my voice was clear. I’d been training relentlessly, pushing myself every day, but it still felt like there was a mountain between me and that next tier.
Roran nodded, his expression serious. “You’ve been pushing yourself harder than you realize. Your movements are sharper, your mana control is stronger. Each time you draw on your core, it’s more stable, more refined. That’s what happens when you’re close to a breakthrough.”
I felt a surge of determination well up in me, mixed with a cautious excitement. Reaching tier two… it had felt so far out of reach, yet here he was, telling me I was on the edge of it.
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“It’s not just about physical strength,” Roran continued, pacing around me in a slow circle. “Tier two is about control, about knowing yourself and your limits. Every step forward requires you to dig deeper into who you are, what drives you. And it looks like you’re finally starting to figure that out.”
I nodded, taking in his words. My core wasn’t just a source of power—it was part of me, shaped by everything I’d gone through, everything I’d learned. And it was growing because I was growing, with each push, each setback, each moment I forced myself to overcome.
“Don’t let doubt hold you back,” Roran added, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “The breakthrough will come, but only if you’re ready to let it.”
He shifted his stance, blade at the ready again. “Now, show me that strength. Show me that you can stand on your own.”
He lunged forward, and I felt my own core respond, a subtle hum of energy stirring within me. I braced myself, feeling the growing power in my limbs as I met his charge, my mind clearer than it had been in days. This wasn’t just about the fight—it was about proving to myself that I was ready for the next step, that I could stand shoulder to shoulder with warriors like Roran.
Our blades met, and for the first time, I felt the beginnings of something beyond just survival, something that felt like true purpose.
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Each day, as Roran and I clashed, I could feel my sword art growing sharper, more fluid. The forms I’d spent hours memorizing were no longer just steps in a sequence. They felt like extensions of myself, each movement flowing into the next with a sense of rhythm that seemed almost effortless. My mana, once a stubborn and unwieldy force, was starting to feel more like a partner, responding to my intentions with less strain, allowing me to execute each form with a newfound efficiency.
Drifting Breeze, Swirling Gust, Rooted Oak—I could feel the subtle improvements in each. My footwork was lighter, my strikes faster, and the energy I once burned through like dry grass was now lasting longer, stretching through each movement like a steady pulse. Every day, I could hold out a little longer before exhaustion hit, and I could feel the weight of my own growing strength.
But even with these gains, Roran remained an unmovable wall. No matter how much I improved, he was always a step ahead, reading my moves before I made them, countering every strike with a calm precision that felt leagues beyond me. He didn’t need flashy techniques or bursts of mana; his mastery was in his simplicity, his efficiency. While I had to pour focus into each form, he seemed to execute his moves on instinct, as if his body knew exactly what to do without him even thinking.
Our sparring sessions would end with me flat on my back, gasping for breath, while he stood over me barely winded, his sword still held steady. Each defeat was a reminder of the gap between us, and each bruise I earned only reinforced how much further I had to go. It was humbling, to say the least.
After one particularly hard session, as I lay in the dirt catching my breath, Roran looked down at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re getting better,” he said, his tone even. “But there’s a difference between knowing the forms and understanding them. The art isn’t just about technique or mana. It’s about intent. You still fight like you’re holding back, like you’re afraid to push to the edge.”
I struggled to sit up, his words ringing in my ears. He was right. There was a part of me that hesitated, that pulled back before I could fully commit to a strike, always wary of the power I might lose control of.
“You’re stronger than you think, Kael,” he added. “You just have to believe it yourself. Until then, you’ll never be able to touch your full potential.”
He offered me a hand, and as I gripped it, pulling myself to my feet, I felt a renewed determination settle within me. Each defeat was a step, a lesson. And if I kept pushing, kept fighting, maybe one day, I’d stand as his equal.
The next morning, I woke to the sounds of commotion. Soldiers and mages alike were bustling around the camp, moving with a sense of urgency that hadn’t been there the day before. The usual morning routines had been replaced with something more intense, and everyone seemed to know exactly what they were preparing for. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, trying to make sense of it all as I watched men sharpen their weapons, donning fresh armour, and mages focusing intently as they gathered mana, casting small, flickering spells to test their power.
The air felt thicker, charged with an edge that sent a shiver down my spine. I spotted Roran by the edge of the camp, packing his gear with a grim focus I hadn’t seen before. I hurried over, sensing that something was different.
“Roran,” I called out, my voice breaking through his concentration. He looked up, his face solemn but steady.
“We’re a day away from the Rift, Kael,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of the words. “Tomorrow, we’ll be standing on the edge of where this darkness spills out into our world.” He paused, his eyes studying me as though gauging my reaction. “This is what we’ve been marching toward, what we’ve been preparing for.”
I took a deep breath, the reality of our mission sinking in. The Rift—an unnatural tear between our world and something darker, a realm where these twisted creatures, the darklings, spawned and poured out like a disease. It was the source of the darkness spreading through the land, the reason these soldiers, mages, and warriors had been gathering from every corner of the realm.
As I glanced around, I saw the same expressions mirrored on the faces of those around me. Faces hardened by experience, eyes set with grim determination. Each person here knew the stakes, understood that closing the Rift was the difference between life and death for the whole world. I wasn’t the only one feeling the weight of what was to come; it was there in every hurried movement, every whispered conversation, every clenched fist and tightened grip on a weapon.
I spent the day alongside Roran, training and going through last-minute preparations. The other soldiers watched us spar, their faces a mixture of admiration and pity as they saw me struggle to keep up with him. Roran’s strength, his control over his mana, was undeniable. Even with all my training, he made every move look effortless, each strike a perfect blend of power and precision. His experience showed in the smallest of actions—a quick pivot to dodge, a subtle shift of weight to counterbalance. Each time he corrected me, it was with the same calm patience, though I could feel the urgency creeping into his voice.
“Tomorrow, there won’t be room for mistakes, Kael,” he said, his voice low but firm as he blocked one of my strikes. “Stay focused. Keep your mind sharp. You’ve gotten stronger, but remember, those creatures won’t give you a second chance.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. This wasn’t a spar in a camp; this was a prelude to something far darker, something that would demand every ounce of strength I could muster.
As the day wore on, the camp grew quieter. Soldiers checked their gear, sat in quiet circles sharing stories, or huddled together for one final meal. The mages cast small protective spells, their hands glowing faintly with mana as they prepared charms and wards. The air was thick with anticipation, a kind of charged stillness that settled over us like a heavy fog.
When night finally fell, I found myself unable to sleep. I lay on my cot, staring up at the starlit sky, my mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. The Rift felt like an impossible shadow looming just beyond my vision, a chasm that threatened to swallow everything. I didn’t know if I was ready, but I also knew there was no turning back. I wanted to go home, and for some reason I knew this was the last step.
The next morning, we set out before dawn, the sky barely a shade lighter than it had been hours before. The march was silent, each step bringing us closer to our destination, the eerie calm broken only by the sound of armour clinking and the crunch of boots on the rough path. The landscape around us shifted gradually as we approached the Rift’s territory, the once-lush forest giving way to twisted, withered trees, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. The ground beneath us grew cracked and blackened, as though scorched by something far more sinister than fire.
It wasn’t long before I felt it—the pull of the Rift, a dark energy that seeped into the very air we breathed. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill ran through me despite the warmth of the morning sun. Around me, the other soldiers seemed to feel it too, their eyes narrowing, their grips tightening on their weapons.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we crested a hill, and there it was, the Rift. It tore across the landscape like an open wound, pulsing with a sickly, unnatural light. Dark tendrils of energy spiraled out from its edges, twisting and writhing as though alive. The air around it was thick with the smell of sulfur, and the ground was littered with the remains of previous battles—broken weapons, scattered armour, and charred earth.
I could feel my heartbeat quicken, a cold sweat forming on my brow as I took in the sight. This was it, the source of all the darkness and suffering that had spread across the land. This was the reason so many had fallen, the reason I was brought here. And my chance to somehow end this and get home.