"Again!"
Rui's voice rang through the training courtyard as she launched another burst of wind mana from her palm.
The practice dummy wobbled—but didn't fall.
She cursed under her breath.
Sweat ran down her back. Her arms trembled. It had been two and a half days since she pushed herself beyond her limits.
She hadn't stopped since.
Across the yard, Dein collapsed with a groan. "I think my sword arm is mutinying."
Riva sat cross-legged by the shade, eyes closed, a single mana crystal hovering above her hand as she focused. "That's because you keep swinging without balancing your core. You're wasting energy."
"You want to switch roles, Miss Mana-Control?" Dein shot back. "Let's see how your muscles feel after carrying a steel broadsword all day."
"Then don't carry one twice your size, muscle-for-brains," Riva replied without opening her eyes.
Rui sighed. They were bickering again. But she knew it was just nerves.
The Academy entrance trials were six weeks away.
Six weeks to prove they were worthy of a future beyond the village.
Six weeks to catch up to Kael.
---
That evening, after their drills, the three of them sat around the campfire near the hilltop that overlooked the valley.
The stars were out.
Dein broke the silence first. "Do you think we'll make it in?"
Riva answered without hesitation. "We have to."
Rui poked the fire with a stick. "Even if we do, we won't all end up in the same track. Mages, warriors, scouts… we'll be split."
Dein grinned. "That just means I'll beat both of you in the rankings."
"You barely beat gravity," Riva muttered.
Rui laughed—but her gaze drifted east.
Toward the Dungeonlands.
Toward Kael.
"I just hope we're strong enough," she said quietly.
Dein leaned back. "You still want to go in after him, don't you?"
Rui didn't answer right away.
"Yes."
"He said no."
"I know," she said. "But it doesn't matter. If he falls, if the mark takes him, if that thing pulls him into the dark—I won't let him be alone."
Riva nodded solemnly. "Then we train harder. Together."
---
The next morning, Rui collapsed in the middle of a form drill, her mana overdrawn. Her vision swam. Her body refused to move.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in her room—blankets wrapped around her, the scent of food wafting from the side table.
Her maid sat nearby, smiling softly. "You've been asleep all day, my lady."
A bowl of warm broth steamed in her hands.
"You'll kill yourself at this rate."
Before Rui could answer, her father entered the room.
He said nothing at first, just folded his arms.
"You made a deal with us," he said sternly. "No Dungeon. Not until after the Academy."
"I remember," Rui whispered. "But the clock is ticking. Every day that passes, Kael gets closer to breaking."
He sighed deeply, voice softer now. "And what if it's already too late?"
Rui looked out the window, fire burning in her eyes.
"Then I'll walk into that abyss and drag him back out myself."
---
Eastern Forests, Beyond the Village
The forest was silent—too silent.
No birdsong. No rustling. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Kael stood alone in the clearing, bare-chested, his blade planted in the earth before him. Sweat ran down his back. His breaths came slow and deliberate.
He shut his eyes.
And reached inward.
The mark on his chest stirred, dimly glowing beneath the wraps.
Voidfang – Breaking Style.
Level 1.
It had nearly destroyed him last time.
He still bore the pain in his bones.
But he wasn't trying to survive it anymore.
He was trying to master it.
---
He exhaled.
The world dimmed—colors draining from the edges of his vision.
Mana gathered at his core, then tore outward, clashing against the unnatural force rooted in his soul. The Void. It wasn't flame. It wasn't shadow.
It was nothingness, shaped into a blade.
Kael's hand moved.
His sword came free.
One step—then a blink.
He vanished from sight.
A tree fifty feet away split clean in half.
Another behind it groaned, black cracks spreading from its core as if decay had touched its heart.
Kael reappeared, breath ragged, knees buckling.
He fell to the ground, coughing violently. Blood on his lip.
But he smiled.
"Closer."
His hand trembled, and he felt it again—that whisper.
> More. Just a little more. Let me in, and you'll never be weak again.
He clenched his jaw. "No."
The whisper hissed, then faded.
---
Later, as twilight fell across the treetops, Kael sat by a small fire, hands wrapped in cloth. His blade rested beside him.
The mark still pulsed faintly.
Not violently. Not out of control.
But watching.
He stared at the flames, then at his reflection in the blade's polished surface.
His own eyes stared back—but something in them was changing.
Not corrupted. Not yet.
But every time he used Voidfang, he got closer to something he didn't understand.
And maybe… something he wouldn't be able to undo.
---
Far above him, an owl watched in silence—before taking flight into the night.
Toward the west.
Toward Velthorn City.
Toward a man marked just like Kael.