The Hollow Watch didn't waste time.
By nightfall, Eli stood in a training chamber deep beneath the ruined subway. The walls pulsed with enchantments that absorbed shockwaves and energy bursts. The floor was carved with faded glyphs—old Veilbreaker war marks—meant to test strength and focus.
Across from him stood Bram, bare-chested and barefoot, his arms wreathed in flame. His eyes glowed faint amber as he sized Eli up like a craftsman inspecting crude stone.
"You ever held a blade before?" Bram asked, cracking his knuckles.
"Does a mana wrench count?"
Bram didn't smile. "Don't worry. Your relicblade will teach you. Eventually."
He stomped the ground once—runes flared—and a column of fire surged up around him before vanishing. The heat made Eli flinch.
"First lesson," Bram said, "rel relics bond through blood and memory. The sword you carry isn't just steel—it's a key to your past."
"My past?"
"All Veilbreakers have a forgotten lineage. The mark doesn't choose randomly. Somewhere in your blood, Eli, someone once tore through realms with fire and shadow. That instinct lives in you. You just have to wake it up."
Bram lunged.
Eli raised the relicblade. Their clash rang like thunder. Sparks flew as fire met glowing steel. Eli parried, barely, then stumbled from the force. The blade in his hand reacted, burning brighter, shifting shape slightly with each swing.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was learning with him.
Bram pressed harder. "Remember something! Reach for it!"
Eli's feet skidded on the stone. Bram's next strike hit hard—and suddenly, the room vanished.
He stood in a ruined temple under a red sky. Corpses littered the floor. And in his hand, the relicblade burned blue fire.
Ahead of him stood a man in black robes, chanting.
"Elias Draven," the man said. "Breaker of Seals. Son of the Sixth Flame. You should not have returned."
Eli blinked. "What is this?"
But it wasn't a vision. It was a memory.
His memory.
He roared and charged—and was yanked back into the present.
Eli dropped to his knees, gasping. The relicblade pulsed, satisfied.
Bram watched him, expression unreadable. "Good," he said at last. "The sword remembers you."
Kael stepped into the room, his coat fluttering. "The ritual starts tomorrow. And after that, your first hunt."
Eli stood, still shaking. The memory clawed at the edge of his thoughts. He didn't know who Elias Draven was. But somehow, he was him.
And that terrified him more than the Shadekin.