Five years later…
---
"Dad! Can you teach me how to do that thing with your sword today?"
A blond boy with bright sky-blue eyes sprinted through the field, waving a wooden stick like a blade. His laughter echoed through the morning air.
Gable chuckled, resting his real sword against his shoulder. "You mean the Straight Edge Slash?"
The boy nodded eagerly. "Yeah! That one! The really cool one where everything goes whoosh! and boom!"
Gable laughed, ruffling his son's messy hair. "Not yet, kiddo. You're still too small. That move's dangerous if your heart's not steady."
The boy puffed out his cheeks. "But you said I was strong!"
"You are strong," Gable said with a grin. "Strong enough to eat all your vegetables, right?"
The boy groaned. "That's not fair…
Gable smiled, crouching to meet his son's gaze. "Listen. The Straight Edge Slash isn't just a move—it's a promise. You only swing when your heart's clean. When your purpose is pure. Understand?"
The boy tilted his head. "Like… when you're protecting someone?"
"Exactly," Gable said softly. "When you draw your sword for love, not hate."
The boy nodded slowly. "Okay. Then I'll practice until I'm ready.
Before Gable could respond—
Knock. Knock.
The sound froze him mid-smile.
His instincts flared.
He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Go inside. Now."
"Dad…?"
"Do as I say, son." His voice was calm, but firm — the tone that meant danger.
Gable's hand rested on his sword as he opened the door.
A tall figure stood there — cloaked, silent, shadows writhing faintly around his boots.
"…Ryker."
The man's jaw tightened. "You recognize me?"
"Hard not to," Gable said coldly. "You're still wearing that frown like armor."
Ryker's eyes glinted under the hood. "I found you two years ago. But I couldn't bring myself to do it… until now."
His gaze slid past Gable, catching a glimpse of the boy peeking from the window. "Strange. The boy's eyes — they're supposed to be red. Like Marcellius's. Before he became king."
Gable's lips twitched. "Lenses. Clever, right?"
Ryker ignored the jab. "You know why I'm here. The king demands justice. You, and the boy — you're coming with me. The easy way, or the hard way."
Gable stepped into the open field, the wind stirring his cloak. "You always were bad at choices, Ryker. Let's see if that's changed."
He turned his head slightly.
"Son, lock the door. Don't open it, no matter what you hear."
The boy's small voice trembled. "But, Dad—"
"Do it!"
Silence.
Then the faint sound of the lock sliding shut.
Gable exhaled, turning back toward his old comrade. "You could've stayed gone."
Ryker's eyes narrowed. "And let you raise his bloodline in secret? You've lost your mind, Gable."
"Maybe," Gable muttered, drawing his sword with a hiss. "But I'm still the better swordsman."
---
The two men stood opposite each other in the fading light — brothers-in-arms turned enemies.
Wind swept across the field, carrying tension like lightning before the storm.
Then—
CLANG!
Their blades met in a blur of sparks.
The air split with the force of the clash.
Gable swung low; Ryker parried with a cross-guard twist, the shockwave rippling through the grass.
Steel screeched.
Blades blurred like flashes of silver fire and shadow.
"Still fast," Ryker grunted, blocking another strike. "But slower than before."
"Still arrogant," Gable shot back, sliding under his guard and slashing upward.
The strike grazed Ryker's shoulder — a shallow cut, but it drew blood.
Ryker smirked. "So, the fire still burns."
"It never went out!"
Gable's sword ignited — crimson flames bursting from its edge.
"Level 8 Flame Force — Straight Edge Flame Slash!"
A blazing crescent screamed across the field.
The explosion lit the horizon in fire.
Ryker raised a hand, calm as night.
"Level 5 Shadow Force — Shadow Consumption."
A wave of black mist surged up, devouring the flames whole. The explosion folded into silence — snuffed out like a candle.
Inside the house, the boy's eyes widened. "Dad's winning… right?"
---
Outside, the battle raged like a storm unchained.
Gable charged again, blade singing with heat.
Ryker countered, shadows bending beneath his feet like living smoke.
Each strike cracked the air — sparks, fire, and darkness colliding again and again.
"Give it up!" Ryker barked, slashing horizontally.
Gable blocked, sparks flying inches from his face.
"Not until I've burned this curse away!"
He slammed his palm into the ground.
"Level 4 Flame Force — Hell's Flame Prison!"
The earth erupted.
Flames coiled around Ryker like dragons, forming a cyclone of fire. The inferno roared, tightening, devouring air itself.
Ryker gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing black.
"Level 4 Shadow Force — Consumption Space Slash!"
His blade tore downward — the shadows screamed, splitting the fiery prison in half.
A shockwave thundered across the field, flattening trees and shaking the clouds.
When the smoke cleared, Ryker stood, scorched and bleeding, his cloak in tatters.
"Still alive," he muttered. "Impressive."
"Wish I could say the same about your dignity," Gable coughed, blood on his lips. "The king's pet dog has no pride left."
Ryker's eyes darkened.
"Level 3 Shadow Force — Shadow Containment."
Shadows burst from beneath Gable's feet, swallowing him whole.
He fell into a void of whispers — a crushing dark with no air, no sound but the echo of his own heartbeat.
"What… is this place?" he gasped, his body trembling.
"It's over," Ryker's voice echoed, distant and hollow. "Give up."
Gable's hands clenched.
He roared into the darkness.
"Level 4 Flame Force — Flame Burst!"
The void exploded in light. Fire shattered the prison, consuming the shadows.
He stumbled out, half-dead, smoke rising from his body.
Ryker's expression didn't change. "You never learn."
He raised his blade again.
"Level 3 Shadow Force — Shadow Puppets."
Ten dark figures clawed their way out of the ground, eyes glowing red.
They attacked all at once.
Gable met them with everything he had left.
Each swing left fire in the air — he cut one down, then two, then three.
But the rest overwhelmed him.
Blades slashed his sides, claws tore his shoulder. Blood stained his sword hand.
Still, he fought on.
"Stop… moving!" he growled, cutting another down before collapsing to one knee.
Ryker finally sighed. "Enough."
The puppets dissolved into dust.
Gable fell, breathing raggedly. "I didn't even… make you... use Level 2… pathetic."
Ryker stared down at him, silent for a long moment. "You should've stayed hidden, old friend."
He nodded to the shadows.
Gable's body and the crying boy were swallowed and dragged away.
---
Gable awoke chained in a dark hall.
His son was beside him, trembling.
"Dad! You're awake!"
The boy grabbed his hand, tears streaming.
Gable smiled faintly. "Hey… don't cry. I'm still here."
The heavy doors opened.
Ryker entered, expression grim. "Get up. His Majesty awaits."
They were led to the royal chamber — golden light spilling from stained windows.
At the far end sat King Marcellius, radiant yet weary, his golden eyes sharp as swords.
"Gable Thane," he said, voice echoing. "You stand accused of treason and the theft of the Eternal Core. Speak your truth."
Gable's laugh was bitter. "You dare ask me why?"
Marcellius's brow furrowed. "What madness—"
"Because you killed Grace!" Gable roared. "You killed my wife—my unborn child!"
The room went silent.
Marcellius's voice softened. "Grace…? Gable, that's not true. Why would I ever—"
"Liar!" Gable's chains burned red as flames erupted from his aura. "Don't you dare speak her name!"
Ryker stepped forward, blades ready. "Stand down!"
But Gable's grief had become fire incarnate.
"Level 6 Flame Force — Burning Requiem!"
Flames surged through the chamber, searing banners, shaking marble. The guards fell back, covering their faces.
Marcellius's gaze hardened. "Enough!"
"Then end me!" Gable shouted, charging forward with a scream that broke every heart in the room.
Ryker blurred into motion — his blades flashing once.
A single, clean cut.
Gable froze mid-strike.
The fire around him flickered… then died.
Blood fell like rain.
He collapsed to the floor, lifeless — his sword clattering beside him.
"Dad!! No!!"
The boy's voice tore through the hall as he ran inside, shoving past the guards.
He dropped to his knees beside his father's body, sobbing uncontrollably. "Wake up! Please!"
The ran out the run out the room as fast as he can.
Marcellius stood frozen, face pale. Ryker's eyes glistened, his hands trembling on the hilt.
"Bring him back!" Marcellius barked. "Now!"
Ryker vanished into the shadows, reappearing outside. But the boy was gone — vanished into the wind.
He fell to one knee, breathing hard. "He's… gone."
---
The boy stumbled through the woods, barefoot and bleeding, until he collapsed near a small village.
A kind-faced woman ran to him. "Oh gods! Child, what happened?"
The boy didn't answer — only cried.
She held him gently, brushing dirt from his hair. "You're safe now, sweet one. You're safe."
Between sobs, he whispered, "Bad men… killed my dad."
Her heart broke. "Oh, honey…"
She carried him back to the orphanage.
Do you have a name?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Dad said… I'd get one when I turned ten."
The woman smiled through tears. "Then I'll keep that promise for him."
The boy hesitated. "Can you… get me blue lenses? He said I should always wear them."
She nodded. "Of course."
She took his small hand, leading him inside. The light of the orphanage flickered warm across his tear-streaked face.
And so, in a quiet corner of a forgotten village,
the nameless heir of fire and sorrow began a new life —
one that would change the fate of the world.
---