Kael'Vorn's fingers gripped the boy's collar like a vice, his red eyes burning with a fury that spoke of centuries of war and betrayal. The boy dangled off the ground, trembling, breath shallow under the pressure.
"Speak," Kael growled.
"N-No—we're not assassins!" the boy cried, panicked. "I can explain!"
Kael'Vorn's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. But something flickered in the boy's gaze—fear, not malice. And innocence… not deception. With a low breath through his nose, Kael released him.
The boy collapsed, coughing violently, but still aware of the deadly gaze that loomed over him like a blade. He steadied himself and spoke, his voice softer now.
"I was born in the heart of Thal'mire. Not one of the great continents your maps name, but the core—the very cradle of the old world."
The Core of Thal'mire—a land untouched by the corrosion of time and war. Verdant, breathing forests stretch as far as the eyes can see, their trees glowing faintly with a gentle, living light. Creatures of myth—deer with runes carved into their antlers, birds whose feathers shimmer like silver, wolves who sing in tones like lullabies—roam freely. Peace does not exist there by law, but by nature. The land itself whispers calm into the hearts of all who walk upon its mossy floors.
It is a place of wonder. Of purity.
And it was desecrated.
"Our people lived in peace," the boy continued, "until one day, a being named Arkansa—child of an Aeclipsar—descended with his army. He came for the Core's Treasure, a treasure our tribe has guarded for thousands of years. When our elders refused…"
His voice broke.
"…they slaughtered us. Tortured fathers in front of their children. Stripped away lives like petals from a flower. Like we were nothing."
Kael'Vorn's expression didn't change. But he said nothing.
The boy looked up. "Only I and my twin sister survived. Our mother… with her dying breath, gave us the path to escape. We fled Thal'mire, wandered for months. Then… we heard rumors of a man with red eyes, who fought like a god. We thought… maybe you were Arkansa. Or worse."
A long silence stretched between them. Then Kael'Vorn finally asked
"What is this treasure? That even a child of the Aeclipsar would break ancient law to claim it?"
The boy hesitated, and then bowed his head. "I'm sorry. We swore not to speak of it… not even to save our lives."
Kael turned. "Then I have no more reason to linger."
He had taken two steps when the boy suddenly cried out:
"W-Wait! You… you want to kill the 13 Aeclipsar, don't you?"
The air stilled. Kael'Vorn froze. Slowly, his head turned, gaze sharpening like a blade drawn from ice.
"…How do you know that?"
The boy swallowed hard, trembling. "My people… we have a gift. When we look into someone's open eyes, we can see. Their truth, their purpose… even their sins. When you took me by the neck earlier—your eyes were open, if only for a second. I saw it. I saw everything."
For a moment, Kael said nothing. Then, with the speed of a serpent, he was suddenly in front of the boy again, hand raised—
only to stop as the boy fell to his knees.
"I swear," the boy whispered, "I will tell no one. Not even my sister. Our goals are aligned… the Aeclipsar must fall. I offer you my silence, my life… whatever it takes."
Kael'Vorn's voice was like frost:
"You just promised your life. So I have claimed it."
He raised one hand, fingers weaving through ancient symbols. "Velmorith."
"If you ever speak of what you saw… if you even attempt to whisper it, the curse I placed upon your soul will unravel you from within. You will die before your breath finishes the sentence."
The boy, pale as snow, nodded silently.
Kael'Vorn gave him one last glance, then vanished—teleporting back to the shadows of his inn, where silence greeted him like an old friend.
Kael'Vorn wore his obsidian armor, bearing the sigil of his fallen house, Kael'Vorn fastened his black cloak over it, concealing its sharp angles and ancient runes. As he stepped into the waning morning light, the sun remained hidden behind a thick veil of dark clouds, casting the world in a murky gray hue. The scent of damp stone and soot hung in the air.
He passed through crooked alleys and ruined walls until he arrived at a small, neglected cubhouse nestled between towering buildings—its wooden sign swaying gently, worn by time and silence. This was a mercenary den, where blades were bought with coin, and truths could be traded for blood.
Inside, the flickering lanterns did little to dispel the gloom. A woman sat behind the counter draped in black velvet, her face hidden behind a veil of shadowy cloth. The glint of her eyes shimmered like snake's eyes in the dark.
"My, my... a handsome one," she whispered, her voice like smoke curling in the air. "You do not belong in a place such as this. Your bearing—your features—they speak of nobility... or perhaps, an Arkansa?"
Kael'Vorn did not react. His voice was cold and low. "I seek rumors—of creatures, witches, or demons. Anything... unnatural."
Kael'Vorn, the last heir of a forgotten bloodline, walked the shadowed path in search of the lost Azürheins—fragments of ancient power tied to gods and horrors. Eight months had passed since he left the veil of hiding, carrying the Azürhein his father gave him before death the Zer'Rath—an artifact of space, capable of blinking him across time and terrain.
In his tireless pursuit, Kael had unearthed two more: the Orr'Kalos, a vessel of divine weapons sealed within his body, and the Velmorith—an Azürhein of curses and mindbinding, one that fed on pain and granted power through the edge of madness.
Now, he sought a fourth...
The veiled woman leaned forward, fingers tracing cryptic patterns on the wooden desk. "There is a tale," she said, her voice silk and shadow. "In the far South, in the blackened lands of Dour-Elheim... a witch. No, a goddess of witches. They say she whispered a word and one thousand men fell, their eyes bleeding, their hearts stilled. No one has seen her and lived. Some call it a curse, others... divinity."
Kael's crimson eyes flickered beneath his cloak. His expression remained unreadable, but the air shifted. That was the kind of power he sought. Perhaps—just perhaps—another Azürhein.
He turned to leave, but the woman's voice followed him like a final breath.
"Be careful, young seeker. The South is where the gods go to die."
Kael did not answer. His figure vanished into the mist outside, footsteps fading beneath the thunderous silence.