The morning was cloaked in mist, the sun little more than a pale eye behind a shroud of fog. Keith stood in formation with five others—all of them older, taller, and more experienced. He tried to ignore the weight of the dagger strapped to his thigh, hidden beneath his cloak. It wasn't officially his. Not yet. But something inside him said it belonged with him.
Commander Halem approached in full gear, his sharp eyes scanning the squad. "You are not going to war," he said, voice clipped and firm. "You are going to witness it. Remember that."
The six of them were assigned to Field Unit D, escorting a Master-rank warrior named Riven. A tall, quiet man with white streaks in his dark hair and a weapon on his back that didn't seem to be made of metal. It pulsed faintly with a bluish glow—alive in some strange way. Keith couldn't tell its rank, but it wasn't something ordinary. Maybe Spirit-Forged… or higher.
They traveled by mounted sand runners—strange, swift beasts bred for speed across rough terrain. Keith had never ridden one before. His hands clenched the reins too tightly, earning a smirk from one of the girls in the group, a lean Adept-rank named Mira.
"Loosen your grip, rookie. They can smell fear."
"I'm not afraid," Keith muttered.
"Sure you're not," Mira said with a grin. "Just trying to strangle your mount for fun, then?"
He flushed and forced himself to relax.
By midday, they reached a ruined watchtower near the western border. The air smelled wrong here—burnt, acidic, like something had scorched the very ground. Riven motioned for silence, his hand raised. The group dismounted and crept forward.
"We're not alone," he said quietly.
Keith's skin prickled. He couldn't see anything, but a cold wind blew through the trees, carrying with it the faintest sound.
A whisper.
It was soft, like wind brushing leaves—but layered beneath it was something more. Words.
"Feed us... break the seal… scream…"
He looked around, heart pounding. Did the others hear it?
Mira's face had gone pale.
Riven drew his weapon. A blade that shimmered like moonlight on water. "Minor Demons," he muttered. "No more than that."
Then he paused. His head tilted. "No… not just that."
Suddenly, the shadows in the nearby brush shifted—and then sprang to life. Three creatures burst forth, claws extended, fanged mouths dripping with black fluid. Their eyes glowed red.
Keith froze.
Riven moved like lightning, his blade flashing once—then twice. Two of the demons fell, bodies melting into oily puddles.
The third one got past him.
Straight toward Keith.
He fumbled for the dagger instinctively. The weight of it steadied him. Time seemed to slow.
The demon lunged.
Keith ducked, blade flashing up.
The dagger met flesh.
The demon howled and twisted away, its shoulder torn open—but it didn't die.
That was when Riven's blade took it in the back, cleaving it in half.
Keith stared at the body, chest heaving.
"You moved well," Riven said. "For someone who hasn't Awakened."
The others gathered, eyes on Keith. Some surprised. Others doubtful.
"That weapon," Mira said, frowning. "Where did you get it?"
Before Keith could answer, a rumble echoed from deeper in the woods.
It wasn't footsteps. It was... something worse.
The very trees groaned and twisted, as if recoiling.
Riven turned sharply. "Fall back. Now."
"But we're not done—" another student began.
"Yes, we are," Riven snapped. "That wasn't a Minor Demon. That was something far worse. Something sealed."
Keith's blood turned cold. He remembered the whispers.
Break the seal…
As they retreated, the whispers followed them. Not louder—but more focused. Directed.
At him.
You are the key…
He didn't understand what that meant. Not yet.
But in that moment, Keith realized something: whatever was stirring out here in the borderlands… it wasn't a random demon attack.
It was calling to him.
And it had been waiting a long time.