Duskwind Vale – Midnight
Soulflame clashed with shadow.
Kael's blade howled through the corrupted night, streaking with black-blue fire. But the corrupted man was too fast—each of his strikes came like a whisper before thunder. Kael could barely keep up, and every time he blinked, his enemy had already moved.
Their battle tore through the clearing. Trees snapped. Rocks split. The corrupted man fought like a phantom—fluid, unrelenting, laughing between attacks.
"You burn so brightly," the corrupted said, sidestepping Kael's sweeping slash. "But you still don't understand what you carry."
Kael slid back, panting, the mark on his chest searing.
"This mark… it reacts to you. What is it?" Kael growled, blade raised again.
That stopped the corrupted for a moment. He grinned slowly.
"You mean you don't know?"
Kael clenched his teeth. "Tell me. Is it from Maldrak?"
The corrupted held up his arm and pulled back the tattered sleeve—revealing a mark just like Kael's, only darker. Twisting, pulsing like something alive beneath his skin.
"You bear the first," he said. "I bear the refined."
Kael's breath caught. "Then… you were like me."
"I was more than you," the corrupted spat. "Chosen. Refined. But I saw what the mark truly is. Not a curse."
His eyes gleamed.
> "It's a door."
Kael roared and charged, blade igniting in full. Soulflame screamed as it struck the corrupted man's aura—but the blow didn't land.
The corrupted vanished in a blink and reappeared behind him, slamming Kael into the dirt with a backhanded strike. Kael coughed blood, rolling onto his side, vision spinning.
"You're not ready," the corrupted said, almost bored. "Still clinging to your little Hunter lessons. Still chasing light in a world ruled by shadows."
Kael forced himself up, staggering.
"Why… why not finish it?" he spat.
The corrupted man turned his back.
"Because weakness… becomes obsession. And obsession feeds the mark."
He vanished in a swirl of black mist, leaving Kael broken, bleeding, and alone beneath the twisted trees.
---
Blackmere – Guild Infirmary
Pain woke him.
Kael stirred beneath bandages, lanternlight flickering across the stone walls. He sat up with effort, ribs screaming, muscles trembling.
The battle played over and over in his mind—the speed, the power, the effortless way the corrupted man had dismantled him.
His chest ached—not just from wounds, but from failure.
> "I wasn't strong enough..."
He clenched his fists.
> "Why…?"
He lowered his head as tears welled in his eyes, hot and bitter. He turned his face away from the empty room.
> "All the training... all the pain... and I was nothing to him."
His hands shook.
> "Why am I still so weak?"
He sat there, silently crying, every breath a reminder of his defeat. Of how far he still had to go. How powerless he truly was.
But somewhere inside, beneath the pain and shame—something stirred.
That small voice that had never let go.
> "Get up."
Kael wiped his face.
> "Keep going."
He stood, slowly, shaking.
His blade leaned against the wall, scarred and blackened like him. He walked to it and gripped the hilt.
"I'm not done," he whispered.
> "I will master this mark. I will train until my bones break. Until my flame burns stronger than his shadow."
He looked at his reflection in the steel—bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, exhaustion in every line—
And a flicker of something else.
Conviction.
"I'll return to Duskwind Vale," he said, voice steady now. "And next time…"
The mark on his chest pulsed faintly beneath his bandages, answering him.
> "Next time—I won't lose."
---
Kael Morric was broken.
But from that brokenness…
He would rise.