The light from the magical lanterns and torches surrounding Yofel Castle spread into a soft halo, like a solitary lighthouse adrift in a sea of night.
Thin wisps of smoke rose from the fireplaces below, fading into the cold air of the upper sky.
At the foot of the castle, the residential quarter had already fallen silent. The stone houses were dark; only a few taverns still flickered faintly before closing for the night.
Only a handful of players still wandered quietly along the rough cobblestone paths, their shadows stretching long and wavering in the mist.
Ren stood on the high balcony of the castle, his eyes fixed on that still landscape below. The winter wind from the distant lake swept upward, bitingly cold, sending his messy hair into disarray. A few strands brushed against his lips and eyes. He brushed them aside lightly, but his gaze did not waver.
Beside him stood Viscount Yofilis, master of the castle, silent as well.
The glow of the magic stones illuminated his face, tracing sharp, cold lines, and yet, there was something strangely serene about him.
A thin scar ran from his left eyelid down his cheek, like a mark carved by time itself, accentuating his remaining eye...half open, half closed, reflecting an unfathomable light.
His long hair was tied neatly behind him, the tail swaying gently with each gust of wind, as if in rhythm with the breathing of the night.
Neither of them spoke. Only the wind whispered, the mist brushing against the stone railing, the chill seeping into their skin, silence heavy, yet not uncomfortable.
Ren cast a sidelong glance at the man beside him. In that fleeting moment, he no longer saw a noble Viscount or a legendary warrior, but simply a person, or perhaps an Elf...quietly gazing into the distance, as though searching for something lost in the faint glow of the lights below.
Under the flickering lanterns, their shadows stretched long across the gray stone floor, merging and trembling in the cold wind that blew from the volcanic lake.
The stillness was so deep that one could hear the rustle of the Viscount's silk cloak shifting in the breeze.
"You've gotten used to the training by now, haven't you?" Yofilis finally spoke. His voice was low, calm, yet carried a gravity that made even the wind seem to fall back.
Ren tilted his head slightly toward him, then looked away again. Beneath them, the entire land lay as if asleep, save for a few dim lights glimmering from houses that were still awake.
"I think… there's still a lot I need to learn," he replied hoarsely, a trace of hesitation in his tone.
Yofilis fell silent for a moment. Arms folded, his gaze wandered toward the horizon where darkness had swallowed the world.
"You've done well, Ren," he said slowly. "Don't let ambition become your chain. It'll strangle you before you even realize it."
Ren lowered his head, his breath dissolving in the air. "But… I still feel too slow," he murmured, voice growing quieter. "If I don't get faster… I'll be left behind again… like so many times before."
The words drifted into the frozen air. Yofilis turned to look at him, his expression unreadable for a few seconds, before letting out a quiet sigh.
"Then… how fast do you want to become?"
Ren didn't answer.
The Viscount stepped closer to the railing, letting the lantern's glow fall faintly upon his face, where the thin scar over his left eye seemed to tremble with the light.
"You're one of the most gifted warriors I've met… your two friends as well," he said, his voice now deep and resonant. "I know, because I've seen too many fall before achieving even half of what you already have."
He drew in a slow breath, the cold threading through his words. "In just two months, you've reached a level that even the most promising Dark Elf warriors train four years to attain. To most people, that would be a miracle."
He looked up toward the star-filled sky, where the faint lights shimmered in the void. "But perhaps… for you, even miracles aren't enough to feel content."
Ren looked up at him, and in that instant, their eyes met, one filled with belief, the other with fear.
The torchlight flickered in the wind, casting Ren's face half in brightness, half in shadow.
He stayed silent for a long moment. In his eyes, the distant city lights reflected as tiny, scattered specks...like memories drifting somewhere far away.
"...I just think," Ren finally said, his voice low and tight, "if I slow down, one day… there'll be no one left beside me."
Viscount Yofilis didn't respond right away. He simply stood there, hands hidden beneath his black cloak, his gaze lost in the distance, as if listening to something the night wind was whispering.
Then, slowly, he spoke....his tone steady, deep. "I've met many young ones like you, who carried a fire in their eyes, so bright that even they feared it might burn out. But… you know something, Ren?"
He turned, his lone eye gleaming through the dark. "Pressure never keeps a fire burning longer. It only makes the embers die sooner."
Ren looked up, a flicker of confusion in his expression.
The Viscount continued, his voice now barely above a whisper. "You say you fear being left behind… but are you sure you're chasing the right people? The right thing?"
A long silence followed. Only the wind, and the faint toll of metal bells from the distant town, filled the air.
Ren clenched his hands, his eyes trembling slightly. "I… don't know anymore."
Yofilis nodded faintly, a nearly invisible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's the most honest answer a warrior can give."
He turned away, walking slowly down the stone corridor. His shadow stretched along the wall, melding with the wavering torchlight, a solitary silhouette in motion.
"One day," he said without turning back, "you'll understand… that not everyone who walks slowly is being left behind."
Ren watched the Viscount's silhouette fade into the wavering torchlight.
A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes before he finally called out, "There are still a few things… I want to ask you. If you don't mind."
Yofilis's steps halted for half a second. He turned his head, the torchlight catching the thin scar that traced the corner of his left eye. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Of course. I wasn't planning to sleep anyway."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Can't sleep? Do you have insomnia?"
The Viscount slowly shook his head, his gaze drifting outward as though peering through the night shrouding the castle.
"Not insomnia, exactly… I call it the Swordmaster's Syndrome."
Ren blinked, his expression tightening in surprise. "Swordmaster's… Syndrome? Is that even real?"
A weary smile curved Yofilis's lips. "It is. When one reaches the threshold between the Fifth Rank and something beyond, the body begins to change.
Your senses heighten to their absolute limits... but what exceeds those limits becomes a burden.
Every sound, every faint motion triggers the nerves. The body stays constantly alert… like a blade that can never be sheathed."
He paused as a cold gust swept through, stirring the tied end of his long hair.
"In short, I cannot sleep. It's been that way for ten years… perhaps longer."
Ren stared silently at him, a glimmer of understanding... and unease, flickering in his eyes, as if he were glimpsing a future that might one day be his own.
"So then, what is it you wish to ask?" Yofilis's gentle voice broke the silence, as though he'd already sensed the hesitation etched on Ren's face.
"Um…" Ren hesitated for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the darkness beyond the castle walls. "I wanted to ask about… us. You called us Plaedem... echoes from the world beyond the veil."
The words fell into the air like stones into still water. For an instant, Yofilis's gaze wavered.
His face, calm as a lake moments ago, took on a strange expression, not quite surprise, not suspicion either, but something distant and hazy, like the echo of an old dream.
Ren couldn't read that expression. He bit his lip softly. Was he truly curious… or merely seeking confirmation for something he'd already half-suspected deep down?
In that moment, even he wasn't sure whether searching for an answer still held meaning... or if it was just a way to justify the growing fear inside him.
The Viscount did not answer right away. Instead, he turned toward the window, where the night flowed slowly like ash drifting across a lake.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, yet oddly clear, as though each word had been drawn from an ancient memory.
"Perhaps I'll tell you a story… from long ago, when the primordial gods still walked this land. It is said they did more than create the world, they shared fragments of their own souls with living beings, shaping their forms, nurturing emotion, joy, sorrow, anger… so that their creations could understand, could feel, could dream."
He closed his eyes lightly, as if seeing something through the darkness itself. "And then one day, the gods departed, without a single word. They left behind a world in turmoil. No one knew why. From that moment on, the world began to divide."
The torchlight reflected in Yofilis's eyes, as though the night sky itself lived within them.
"Those who worshipped them... who called the gods the origin of souls, broke apart with their disappearance.
They said that when the gods left, the world was split in two: one half body, one half shadow. One half drowning in sorrow and loss, the other half filled with rage, no longer believing in anything."
He paused, then spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "The body… departed, taking with it all memories and despair that remained. And from that, they say, were born the Echoes...souls belonging to neither world, wandering endlessly between them."
"What remained here… were the shadows, those that chose to stay because they still wanted to believe. Reflections that never vanished.
They stayed, walking, speaking, fighting... dreaming of something they could no longer remember."
A cold wind swept through the corridor, making the torches flicker and casting shifting light across Yofilis's face, half in brightness, half in darkness.
"Some say that was the beginning of the Plaedem... echoes of the bodies that left this world, while their shadows refused to fade."
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile one wears when speaking of something they themselves aren't entirely sure they believe.
"It's just a legend. But… sometimes I wonder… are we truly seeing the real world, or merely the shadow they left behind?"
"This world has never been whole. Every soul is only one half, searching for the other."
Yofilis turned his gaze toward Ren... deep, distant, as if trying to grasp something even he did not fully understand.
"Perhaps… that is what the Plaedem truly are."