Chapter 5: The Boy with the Rifle
The day started like any other—gray sky, sharp wind, and cold air biting through the academy's stone walls.
Kiel and Anna were on the field again, practicing in the cold like they always did. There wasn't a crowd, no instructors hovering nearby, no pressure. Just the familiar rhythm of movement, breath, and steel.
Kiel moved with calm precision, stepping into a strike and landing a clean hit on Anna's side. Wooden blade. Nothing serious. But enough to make her step back, annoyed.
"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her ribs.
"You were off balance," he said, brushing snow off his coat.
"You're smug when you win."
"I'm quiet when I win. You just talk enough for both of us."
Anna rolled her eyes and reset her stance. "Alright, come on then—"
"You shift your weight too early," a voice called across the training field. "He sees it before you move."
They both turned at the same time.
A young man stood nearby, leaning one arm casually against the fence. He wore a black travel coat with silver trim, dusted with snow, and carried what looked like a long, wrapped weapon across his back. His posture was relaxed, but something about him made you pay attention.
He looked older than them by a year or two. His hair was tied back in a loose tail, his eyes sharp and steady. When he moved closer, his boots didn't crunch the snow—they slid through it like he barely touched the ground.
Kiel's hand drifted toward his belt, where his practice blade rested.
Anna's brow furrowed. "You're not from our year."
"No," the boy said simply. "Elesio Cordeon."
The name hit the air like a quiet spell.
Anna blinked. "Cordeon? As in the Cordeon family?"
Elesio gave a small nod. "That's right."
Kiel stayed silent. He'd heard of the Cordeons, same as everyone. Legendary sharpshooters. Born with the kind of aim most people could only dream of. If the Valors ruled through magic, the Cordeons did it through distance and death.
"I thought your family didn't send their kids to Zephyr," Anna said, watching him carefully.
"They don't," Elesio said. "I came on my own."
"To do what?" Kiel finally asked.
Elesio looked at him for a moment. "To see you."
Kiel's jaw tightened. "Why?"
"I heard about the classification," Elesio said, voice even. "Assassin and swordsman. That's not normal."
"Not my fault."
Elesio gave a small smile. "I didn't say it was. But it got my attention."
He reached behind his back and unwrapped the weapon he carried. It was a rifle—long, elegant, and deadly-looking. Unlike anything the academy usually trained with. He didn't raise it. Just let them see it.
"I'm not here to fight," he said. "But I am here to figure out what's going on."
Anna narrowed her eyes. "What is going on, then? Because if you know something, say it."
Elesio looked straight at her. "I was at Esten Hollow two days ago."
Kiel's chest tensed.
Elesio continued. "The shrine was disturbed. The seal wasn't intact anymore. Someone touched it."
"We didn't destroy anything," Anna said quickly.
"I didn't say you did," Elesio replied. "But something changed there. And that kind of ancient magic doesn't come undone by accident."
There was a pause.
Then Elesio turned, stepped toward a distant training dummy across the field, and in one motion brought the rifle to his shoulder.
No spell. No chant. Just a soft pull of the trigger.
A crack echoed across the empty grounds.
The wooden dummy jerked, then split down the middle.
Perfect shot.
Elesio lowered the rifle and looked back over his shoulder. "I don't miss. And I don't guess. Whatever happened in that shrine—it started with you."
Kiel took a step forward, voice steady. "What do you want from us?"
Elesio met his eyes. "I want to know what's waking up in this country. And why it's tied to you."
Anna stepped between them, instinctive. Protective. "He didn't ask for this. Neither of us did."
Elesio looked at her. "That may be true. But you're both in it now. Like it or not."
He rewrapped the rifle and slung it across his back. "I'll be around. Try not to touch any more ancient seals."
With that, he turned and walked off, vanishing into the mist of the academy grounds like he'd always belonged there.
Later that night, Kiel sat by the window of their shared study room, staring out at the gray sky.
He didn't say anything for a long time. Neither did Anna. She was sitting on the floor, thumbing through her spellbook, but not really reading it.
Finally, she said, "Do you believe him?"
Kiel didn't answer right away. Then: "Yeah. I do."
"You think we really woke something up?"
He looked down at his hands. "I think it woke up because of me."
Anna glanced over. "Hey."
He looked up.
"We're in this together, remember?"
"I remember."
"I don't care what's in your blood. I don't care what you touched or what you're becoming. You're still you, Kiel."
He met her eyes and nodded slowly.
But deep down, a small part of him wasn't sure anymore.
Meanwhile, on the academy's highest balcony, Elesio stood in the cold with snow on his shoulders, talking quietly into a crystal device embedded in his glove.
"He's unstable," he said, watching the training field. "But not dangerous. Yet."
A voice crackled through: older, male, calm.
"Do what you have to. Keep him alive. But if he slips..."
Elesio exhaled, voice low. "I know the rules."
He looked down at the skywood tree—where Anna and Kiel had once sat together and made their promise.
"They think they're just adventurers," he said quietly. "Let's hope they stay that lucky."