The dim, oppressive air in the abandoned building pressed down on Raden, his breath shallow and rapid. He stood frozen in place, heart hammering in his chest, torn between the mission and something much deeper. The red-haired woman stood before him, a flicker of magic in her hands, a desperate defiance in her eyes. She was ready to fight, but Raden couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here, that none of this was as simple as Kamebrow had made it seem.
But there was no time to think.
"Don't hesitate, Raden," Kamebrow's voice echoed from behind him, cold and commanding. "This is your test."
Raden's hand tightened around his blade, but his mind was clouded. The words from the woman had planted a seed of doubt, but Kacmebrow's orders were sharper, colder. He was a part of something now, something bigger. He couldn't just turn back. He had to complete the mission.
The red-haired mage's eyes flickered with understanding. "You're not like them," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "You're not like Kamebrow. You don't have to do this. You don't have to become a tool of the empire."
The words stung, but before Raden could respond, she moved. Her hands weaved intricate symbols in the air, and the space around her seemed to pulse with the force of raw magic. The floor groaned beneath their feet, and suddenly, the entire room seemed to shift—like the walls were closing in.
Raden barely had time to react as a blast of arcane energy shot toward him. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blast, but the heat from the spell still burned across his skin. She wasn't holding back. She was fighting for her life.
He surged forward, but her magic was quick. With a flick of her wrist, a barrier of shimmering light sprang up between them, stopping his advance. The air hummed with the force of her power, a shield strong enough to deflect most physical attacks.
"Come on, Raden," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I don't want to kill you. I want you to see the truth. What you're doing, it's not right."
Raden's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't want to kill her, either. He didn't want to do any of this. But Kamebrow's orders were clear, and there was no room for hesitation. He was one of them now. He was a Mage Breaker. He was supposed to protect the empire. The mission was all that mattered.
With a growl, Raden struck. His blade collided with the barrier, sending a shockwave of force through the air. It was no use. The shield held firm. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the magic thrumming in his blood, but it was useless against her. She was stronger, faster, and her magic was more refined.
He needed to end this. He couldn't keep dragging this out.
But then, he heard it—a faint sound, almost drowned out by the crackle of magic in the air. A voice, soft but clear.
"Raden!"
His heart froze.
He turned sharply, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jay.
Jay had followed him.
Raden's chest tightened. He hadn't heard Jay's footsteps, hadn't seen him enter the building. But there he was, eyes wide with concern, his posture defensive.
"What are you doing here, Jay?" Raden's voice cracked. "Get out. It's not safe."
"I'm not leaving," Jay said firmly, stepping forward. "Not when you're—you're doing this." He gestured toward the mage. "You're better than this. We're better than this. You don't have to do what they want."
Raden's stomach lurched. He wasn't sure what hurt more—the sight of Jay standing there, still believing in him, or the fact that he was right. Jay was right. The path Raden had chosen wasn't his own—it was Kacmebrow's. It was the empire's.
But that didn't matter. Not now.
Kamebrow's voice boomed in his ear, low and menacing: "Don't hesitate, Raden. End it."
Raden didn't respond, but his hand twitched, gripping his sword. His pulse hammered in his ears as he looked back at Jay. His old friend—the one who had always been by his side in the streets, who had shared his dreams, his pain. Jay had never been part of the Mage Breakers. He had never chosen the empire over the people who mattered.
And that thought, that old bond, shattered something inside Raden.
The woman took another step back, her eyes darting between Raden and Jay. "Raden, no. You don't have to do this."
But Raden didn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything but Kacmebrow's orders and Jay's pleading voice, both pushing him in different directions. He raised his sword, his muscles screaming in protest. His hand shook.
"I'm sorry, Jay," he whispered, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.
And then, with a swift, fluid motion, he turned his sword on Jay.
The moment was a blur.
Jay didn't see it coming. He barely had time to react before the blade pierced his side, his face contorting in pain and shock. His eyes locked onto Raden's, confusion and betrayal written across his face.
"Raden… why?" Jay's voice was barely a whisper as blood poured from the wound.
Raden's chest constricted. He couldn't look away. He couldn't tear his gaze from Jay's dying eyes. But the words didn't come. The guilt, the regret—everything was choking him, yet he was paralyzed.
Jay's hand reached out weakly, his fingers brushing Raden's arm, and for a moment, Raden thought he might say something—something that would break him completely.
But instead, Jay's eyes went dull, and his body collapsed to the floor with a sickening thud.
Raden stood there, his sword still raised, his heart frozen in time. It felt like the world had stopped, the very air around him pressing in until it became suffocating. He had done it. He had killed Jay. For Kamebrow. For the empire.
He could feel the warmth of Jay's blood still on his hands, as though it had burned into his very soul. The weight of the blade was nothing compared to the weight of the betrayal.
The woman stared at him, her face pale with shock. She had stopped fighting. The room was dead silent, save for the sound of Raden's ragged breathing. The mission, the orders, the empire—it all seemed so distant now, lost in the horror of what he had just done.
"You've crossed a line, Raden," she said softly, her voice filled with pity. "And there's no coming back from it."
Kacmebrow's footsteps echoed in the distance, growing closer, his shadow stretching across the room like a death sentence. He walked past the bodies—Jay's, and soon, the red-haired mage's. He stopped beside Raden, his face impassive.
"You did well," Kamebrow said, his voice calm, almost clinical. "The mission was a success."
But the words were hollow, empty.
Raden's stomach twisted. He had followed the orders. He had killed Jay—his best friend—because Kamebrow had told him to.
And now, there was no turning back.