The morning mist settled over the valley like a cold whisper. After the revelations within Valkireas, Kai Hitari had changed. Not visibly—but within, something ancient had awakened. The fragments of the broken blade he carried pulsed faintly, reacting to the presence of the lost city's energy that still lingered in the air.
Rekha noticed it first. "That sword... it's reacting again, isn't it?"
Kai nodded slowly. "It wants to be whole. It wants to return to its other half."
Herin Rai, silent for most of the morning, placed her hand on Kai's shoulder. Her eyes reflected the same determination. "Then let's follow it. Wherever it leads."
---
The group set out eastward, guided by the sword's subtle resonance and ancient markings Rekha deciphered from the Valkireas murals. The markings spoke of a 'Mirror of Flame'—a volcano believed to guard the resting place of the twin blade.
Their journey was far from quiet. Forests twisted unnaturally around them. At night, shadows moved where no light fell. But Kai stood strong—his aura warding off whatever dark spirits dared to approach.
Three days later, they arrived at the edge of Mount Nysorath, the so-called Mirror of Flame. The mountain roared like a living beast, spewing clouds of smoke into the sky.
As they ascended its obsidian steps, the very air grew thick with pressure. Time itself seemed to slow.
Halfway up the path, they encountered a cloaked figure seated at the cliffside, as if waiting. The stranger rose, pulling back his hood—revealing a scarred face and eyes that shimmered crimson.
"So, the son of Renjiro arrives."
Kai gritted his teeth. "Who are you?"
"Your reflection," the man replied. "I carry what you lack. I am the wielder of the Blade of Dusk."
With a flick of his hand, the stranger drew a sword that looked like a twin to Kai's broken blade—except this one burned with violet fire.
Herin stepped forward. "Why protect this weapon? What is it that binds you to it?"
"Purpose," he said. "You seek to finish a story. I was born to end it."
And with that, the battle began.
---
Clash after clash shook the volcanic ridge. Kai's broken blade, still incomplete, echoed with every parry. The opposing warrior was ruthless—every strike intentional, every movement honed by years of darkness.
But Kai was not alone.
Rekha launched radiant sigils into the battlefield, creating barriers. Herin channeled wind through her palm, knocking the enemy off balance.
Kai pushed forward, rage and honor coalescing in his strikes. He could feel the broken blade respond—not as a weapon, but as an extension of himself.
With a final cry, Kai struck the enemy's sword. The impact resonated like a gong across the mountain. Cracks formed on both blades.
Then, in an impossible moment, the twin swords—one broken, one burning—merged. Light and shadow fused. The blade reformed in Kai's hand.
The enemy staggered. "No... it chose you?"
Kai held the sword aloft. Its edge shimmered with the colors of dawn and dusk.
"Not because of blood," Kai said. "Because I choose to protect."
With a single swing, he shattered the enemy's sword and knocked him unconscious.