Ren nodded thoughtfully, then looked up at Kizmel with an expression that was half curious, half mischievous. "Then why…"
He didn't get to finish. Kizmel sighed and waved her hand lightly, as if she already knew what he was about to ask. "Alright, alright, I know what you're trying to say."
Her voice carried a hint of weariness, and a flicker of embarrassment she couldn't quite hide. "I've… only just awakened my sword aura."
Ren tilted his head slightly, his face saying, Go on.
Kizmel glanced sideways at him, then frowned faintly, as if he'd hit a nerve. "That's why its attack range and duration don't even last a full second yet…"
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then added with a touch of irritation, "…and I'm still not used to integrating it into sword skills."
A brief silence settled between them. Ren struggled not to laugh when he noticed her pointed ears twitch awkwardly.
"Is that enough questions for now?" Kizmel set her spoon down sharply. "Eat. Your food's gone cold."
"Wait," Ren said with an innocent look, "I was only going to ask about passive skills."
She shot him a sidelong glance, half annoyed, half resigned. "Use whatever you like."
Then, she picked up her bread again and bit into it, rather forcefully, as if to end the conversation right there.
"But I was wondering about that kid too… I mean… the Hound Envoy." Ren tilted his head, his tone oddly reflective in the middle of their half-finished breakfast.
"It's strange, isn't it? Why didn't anyone give it a name? Maybe… I'll think of one for it."
Kizmel stopped, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. A faint crease formed between her brows, a look that was part confusion, part the effort of suppressing a sigh.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind: Why does he talk so much…?
"The Hound Envoy is being trained and cared for in Lyusula, the royal capital," she finally replied, her voice calm. "After the conflict between the Forest Elves and the Dark Elves subsided, it was taken back there."
Ren nodded, eyes lighting up with interest. "So it's okay then? That's good…"
Kizmel didn't answer right away. She set her bread down, her gaze dimming slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant.
"'Okay'… if we're only talking about its health," she said softly. "But lately, the Fallen Elves have been appearing more frequently. Sudden raids, forests abandoned overnight…"
Her voice grew quieter, her eyes flickering with a wary glint. "…I doubt peace will last much longer."
Ren fell silent, his hand... still holding the spoon, frozen in midair. The air around the table, once warm and filled with the scent of soup, seemed to grow colder.
"I see…" he murmured, then looked up, curiosity returning to his tone. "But… why haven't you gone back to the capital?"
He hesitated, his voice turning playfully teasing. "Don't tell me there's someone there you don't want to see? Or maybe… it's just more comfortable here?"
Kizmel tilted her head, her pointed ears twitching slightly. She gave him a brief look, then shook her head, her voice calm but firm. "That's not it."
She set her bowl down. Her eyes caught the dim morning light, reflecting the quiet resolve that defined her. "It's just… I want to make use of this opportunity."
She paused, carefully choosing her next words. "Not everyone gets to be trained directly by one of the seven legendary Lightbringers."
Ren blinked, momentarily forgetting to breathe. "Lightbringers…?" he repeated, his voice low with curiosity. "You mean… Viscount Yofilis? What exactly is a Lightbringer?"
Kizmel fell silent for a long moment, her eyes lowering, reflecting the flickering firelight beside them. "It's an ancient story, passed down through generations," she said at last, her tone deep and deliberate, as if each word carried weight. "A story we were told before we even learned how to walk."
Ren looked up, morning light casting across his face, unable to hide his curiosity.
"They say that, in an age when darkness devoured the sky, when the sun itself fell like a dying ember, seven heroes rose with a sacred purpose."
"They weren't merely warriors… but bearers of light... Lightbringers."
Kizmel's voice lowered, blending with the faint rustle of wind from the distant forest. "To rekindle that flame, they each offered a fragment of their own souls."
"Some lost their emotions. Some were cursed to never die. And some… chose to erase their own names, so that the light would never fade."
She raised her head slightly, meeting Ren's gaze, solemn, yet faintly sorrowful. "Our Queen, and Viscount Yofilis… are two of them."
"And the four swords of the Broken Vows, they belong to four of the five remaining heroes. Only the last one… the cursed one, whom even death refused to claim."
The air around them grew heavy. Even the crackling fire sounded distant.
Ren didn't reply, he simply felt a cold current slip between his breaths, as if the story wasn't just legend, but a warning whispered from a past that had never truly ended.
He froze for a moment. Pale sunlight brushed across his face, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes, eyes that reflected something uncertain, suspended between light and darkness.
Each breath grew slower, until the sounds around him seemed to dissolve.
In his mind, old memories stirred, fragments of a murky vision he once saw, when the world was swallowed by night.
From that darkness, seven silhouettes emerged upon a sea of black, vague figures, each one bearing the heavy breath of those standing at the edge between life and oblivion.
One of them… felt hauntingly familiar.
Could it be… the four broken swords… and the nameless king… were also among the Lightbringers? The thought flickered, spreading slowly like a crack across the mirror of memory.
"Some could not die… and some were forgotten forever…" Ren murmured under his breath, his voice faint, blending with the soft crackle of fire.
But then he stopped himself. No. That wasn't right. The king, and the three remaining blades... belonged to the Night Hunter.
Yet what if those two names weren't opposites… but two halves of the same whole?
Light Bringer… Night Hunter…
Light cannot exist without darkness. And perhaps, to protect the light, they themselves had to become part of the night.
"All right, Private Ren. You should finish your breakfast." Kizmel's voice cut gently yet firmly through his thoughts.
Ren looked up, about to say something, but all he caught was the faint ripple of her black-and-violet cloak swaying in the morning breeze.
Her footsteps were light, yet each one seemed to leave behind a quiet echo, fading into the forest's drowsy hush.
"...I'll be going now."
Without turning back, she simply raised a hand to shoulder height, a small gesture of farewell, yet carrying the solemn grace of a soldier.
Ren watched until her figure disappeared into the soft light of dawn. A hollow feeling, faint but unmistakable, welled up in his chest.
He lowered his gaze to the steaming bowl before him and smiled faintly.
"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, almost as if speaking to himself.
After finishing his meal, Ren didn't linger in the castle. He stepped outside quietly, where morning dew still clung to the cold stone steps.
The breeze from the volcanic lake carried a crisp chill that cleared his mind.
Ren climbed aboard his gondola, a new vessel he rarely used. He'd recently had it modified at the shipwright's workshop; silver engravings along its hull shimmered faintly, like the echoes of forgotten memories.
He pushed the oar, letting the boat glide across the dark surface of the lake... so still that only the soft lapping of waves against the hull could be heard.
His destination was a jagged patch of land near the center of the lake, a place the hunters called The Ashen Hand, because from above, its shape resembled five fingers clawing up from ancient lava.
There, Ren began his daily work: monster hunting.
Most of the creatures were freshwater crabs, though their size was enough to startle any first-time hunter. Their shells were thick and rough, and their claws as large as a grown man's thigh, strong enough to snap poorly forged steel swords in half.
The battles came in steady rhythm... sometimes fierce, sometimes mechanical, just motions repeated by instinct.
Ren dodged, slashed, stabbed, then collected the fallen monsters. Each time, a flash of blue system light blinked briefly in the air.
Though the grinding went smoothly, the experience bar crept forward sluggishly, slower than he'd hoped.
He sighed. Still, at least his inventory was heavier now, a few Cor coins, some hardened shells, and crab legs that could be used as crafting materials.
A pity… not a single piece of equipment dropped.
He sat on a rock near the shore, sweat mixing with the lake's misty warmth, eyes fixed on the fortress far away, now half-hidden in fog.
Strangely enough, just a few days ago, the crater lake's water had been icy cold. Ren dipped his hand into the now lukewarm surface.
"Seems luck's not on my side today," he murmured with a faint smile, one that carried both weariness and calm.
By the time he returned to the castle, the sun had already vanished beyond the horizon. Only a faint streak of twilight lingered behind the distant mountains.
His footsteps echoed down the long stone hallway, the sparse magic lamps casting pale blue light on the walls, stretching his shadow thin across the cold tiles.
He ate a simple meal in the mess hall, nothing memorable, cleaned up, and was about to head back to his quarters.
But as he turned into the corridor leading to the soldiers' wing, Ren stopped abruptly.
Someone was walking toward him from the other end, Viscount Yofilis.
The nearby lamp's glow reflected off the viscount's jet-black armor traced with silver, highlighting his austere face and the deep, starless gaze that seemed to hold the night itself.
His long hair was tied neatly behind him, though a few strands fell loose over his collar, swaying gently as he walked.
Ren instinctively straightened. "Viscount Yofilis…" he greeted softly, his voice low and slightly hoarse after a long day.
Yofilis's eyes rested on him for only a brief moment... enough for Ren to feel an invisible pressure, cold as wind filling his lungs. Then the viscount spoke, his deep voice resonating through the stone corridor.
"It seems you haven't wasted your day, Ren."