Rudra's body was screaming in pain as he stood, offering words of comfort to his brother, Ray. "It was nothing, big brother. You were more amazing than I can ever be." Yet, in his mind, Rudra was barely holding it together. His muscles burned, and every bone ached. Every fiber of his body felt strained, like it was on the verge of snapping. It wasn't simply the exhaustion of the day's sparring; it was the toll of a life lived in hardship. After a year of struggling on the streets—where hunger and frailty were constant companions—suddenly pushing his body into movement was a strain he hadn't prepared for. His life, once defined by stillness in a quiet, hidden forest home, had shifted into something physically demanding. Every motion felt foreign, every step a reminder of his vulnerability.

His thoughts were clouded with the pain. "Can't I just go for today?"he thought. "I'm really tired. Every muscle, every fiber is screaming right now."

But he couldn't show that weakness—not yet. So, he hid it behind a smile.

Riven's laughter pierced through the air, cutting through the tension. "Trying to comfort me, huh?" he teased, a playful edge in his voice. "Your big brother is a strong man." But before Rudra could respond, a sudden sound of clapping came from a distance, slicing through the moment like a blade.

A figure emerged—pale and ethereal, as though he were more of a shadow than flesh. Vidar. Even from afar, the air around him seemed to pulse with an undeniable coldness. His diamond-like green eyes gleamed, piercing the distance, landing directly on Rudra. It wasn't just a gaze—it felt as though those eyes were looking deep into his very soul.

Vidar's beauty was something otherworldly, enhanced by the sunlight glistening off his pale skin. With each step, it felt as if the earth itself yielded beneath him. His presence was intoxicating, a combination of grace and power that was both magnetic and unnerving.

As Vidar closed the distance between them, Ray's voice broke the silence: "Vidar."

It wasn't a greeting. It wasn't even a word of recognition. It was simply the acknowledgment of a figure of equal stature, someone who stood beside him as both a companion and a rival. Vidar's gaze, calm and calculating, moved to rest on Rudra. His voice was soft and measured, as though spoken from the calm depths of an ocean, "Who is this boy?"

The question wasn't simple—it was layered with curiosity, searching for something deeper, something more than just a name.

Rudra felt the weight of Vidar's eyes, as if they were reading him like a book, probing into his very essence. He shifted uncomfortably but held his ground. Vidar spoke again, this time in a more cryptic tone, "You are like me, but not the same, at the same time."

It was a riddle, but rudra knew what was he talking as he felt the disconnect from human society he has he had sensed that in the new boy saw at that time but he was not like him

Ray, sensing the undercurrent of tension, intervened. "He's my third brother," he said, his voice even. Vidar's expression softened, and he took in the information, his eyes briefly flicking over Rudra again, as if considering the implications of that statement. "He's the hot topic of your kingdom these days," Vidar remarked, his tone curious yet detached.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken words, as if the very ground they stood on was waiting for something to break it.

Vidar continued, explaining that he was there by his father's order he is here for the First Key Ceremony, and more specifically, to learn from the great warrior of Eryndra,

"Riven—the "Soul Cutter."

Rudra's thoughts raced. *The Soul Cutter?* He had heard the name in the streets many times , but the weight of it was still foreign to him. He acted innocent, playing the part he had crafted for himself. "The Soul Cutter?" he asked, feigning surprise.

Vidar's gaze narrowed slightly. "You don't know about him?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of surprise.

Rudra nodded, playing his role well. "No."

Vidar blinked, taken aback. "Where did you come from?" he asked, his tone now laced with genuine curiosity.

Rudra was about to respond, but before he could, Vidar began explaining.

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"his first Key holds the power to cut through everything—even the soul."

His words were heavy, each one imbued with meaning that seemed to echo in the very air.

But before Vidar could elaborate further, Riven interjected with a calm voice, "He's new."

In those two words, Vidar understood completely. The meaning behind them was clear. He took one last look at Rudra, noting the frailty in his form. "He doesn't look in good shape either. You should take him to a room," Vidar advised.

Ray, ever the supportive brother, nodded, and the two of them helped Rudra to his feet. But just as they began to move, Vidar spoke again, his voice soft but clear. "I'm going to practice," he said, his eyes shifting to Ray. "After all, you don't look in great shape either. Your overall abilities have fallen quite a bit."

Ray smiled, a hint of irony in his expression. "If you don't mind, we could train here for a while. Or spare."

Rudra, understanding Ray's unspoken words, looked up. "I'm fine," he said with a smile, though it was an act. "You don't need to worry about me. I also want to watch your sparring."

It wasn't just idle curiosity. Rudra knew something was coming—something he wasn't prepared for. He needed to learn more, to observe. He wasn't ready to lose his life yet.

As Ray and Vidar readied themselves for the sparring, Riven glanced at Vidar. "He's a good guy," Riven said, his voice quiet but certain.

Rudra nodded, though his eyes were focused on the two fighters. "He seems strong,"

Riven's expression softened. "He is. He's one of the senior guys—truthful and talented. Ray considers him as a rival."

Rudra's mind raced. For Ray to consider Vidar a rival was a statement in itself. The two began to spar, their swords clashing in a flurry of movements so fast they seemed to blur. The air around them grew thick with the intensity of their strikes, their movements fluid yet filled with purpose. Vidar was like a phantom, his sword flicking through the air, dodging and striking with near-inhuman precision. Ray, though strong, was being pushed to his limits. Every clash of their swords echoed like thunder.

The ground trembled beneath them, the very earth seeming to feel the weight of their battle. It was more than a sparring match—it was a test, a dance of warriors that neither would easily give up.

When the fight came to a halt, both fighters were breathing heavily. They stood facing each other, swords lowered but eyes still locked in silent recognition. Vidar's voice broke the silence. "What happened to you? You seem weaker than three years ago. Why didn't you finish it in one move?"

Vidar's pale face bore a trace of irritation, his voice sharp as he broke the tense silence."As always, you should have finished it in one move. Why didn't you?"

Ray, standing in the shadow of fading light, tilted his head slightly, a faint, enigmatic smile playing at his lips. His eyes held no trace of regret, only calm resolve."I can't be like that," he replied, his tone measured. "You don't even hold anything right now—not a single key. Shouldn't I play fair?"

The air between them seemed to shift, heavier now. Vidar's face darkened, a flicker of restrained anger igniting in his eyes."Fair?" he repeated, the word a blade in his mouth. "If you truly wanted to play fair, then you would have used it. That thing. The innate power you carry inside you."

His voice rose slightly, brimming with frustration."If I'm sparring with someone who's physically weaker than me, should I lower my power just to make it feel fair? No, absolutely not. It only becomes fair when you go all out. If you hold back, you create the illusion of fairness—but what happens when that person finds a way to suppress you? What then?"

Ray's expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained distant. He gave a faint chuckle, though it lacked humor."I appreciate your concern, Vidar. But that's not why I held back," he said, his voice quieter now.

Vidar's piercing gaze demanded an answer, and Ray hesitated for a moment before continuing."That power—'it'—puts too much strain on my body. You know why. I never went through the Key Ceremony."

As the words left his mouth, Ray's expression dulled, a shadow of something unspoken crossing his face. The smile disappeared entirely, leaving only a hollow mask of composure.

Riven, who had been watching silently until now, noticed the shift in Ray's demeanor. His presence, usually unshakable, suddenly seemed fragile. Yet, in that fragility, there was a quiet strength—a refusal

Riven, sensing the tension, gestured for Vidar to step aside. "Come here for a second," he said, and the two of them moved away from Ray.

Rudra watched them leave, his eyes lingering on Ray's face. There was something haunting in the way Ray carried himself. A sadness, a burden that weighed on him. Rudra could sense it—a feeling of emptiness.

As the silence between them stretched, Rudra, always the actor, said, "I'm hungry."

Ray's face softened with a small smile. "Let's go eat something."

They moved to the dining area, and after a while, they were joined by Riven and Vidar. After eating, Rudra excused himself. "I'll head to my room," he said, his body aching in ways that made him long for the quiet of his bed.

In his room, he collapsed onto the bed, the exhaustion overwhelming him. His hand rested on the blade at his side, but there was something unsettling about it. It didn't feel like it was supposed to.

The feeling of holding the blade felt uncomfortable... Rudra thought. It wasn't the discomfort of an unfamiliar weapon—it was as if something was missing. *It wasn't the blade itself that unsettled me. It's the emptiness in my other hand. I want to hold another blade.

As his thoughts swirled, an epiphany struck him. Can I dance with two blades?

With that thought, Rudra closed his eyes, a sense of clarity settling over him. Something deep inside stirred