The rain had finally stopped.All that remained was the hollow rhythm of water dripping through the cracks of the ancient ruin. The once-towering arches now sagged beneath the weight of the battle's scars — stone walls scorched black, the air still carrying a faint metallic tang of burnt ozone and blood.
Kael stirred first. Pain flared through his body as consciousness clawed its way back. His vision swam — faint motes of blue light drifted across the ceiling, remnants of magic still unstable in the air.
He groaned and tried to push himself up. His arm trembled. "Elara…?"
A soft voice answered weakly beside him. "Still here. Barely."
Kael turned. Elara was half sitting against a fallen pillar, her hair matted with rain and dust. Her armor was scorched at the edges, but her eyes — though tired — were sharp.
"What happened?" she murmured. "The last thing I remember was—"
Kael's head throbbed as memories rushed back — the flash of lightning, the roaring clash, the two figures whose power defied comprehension. He saw his master amid the storm, the crackle of violet energy, the stranger with the rune blade… and then nothing.
He clenched his jaw. "Master. And the other one."
Elara frowned, confusion in her voice. "You mean… that masked man? The one who nearly—"
Before she could finish, a new voice cut through the silence — calm, heavy, and commanding.
"You both should not be awake yet."
They turned sharply.
A tall man stood near the edge of the ruin, his cloak torn, lightning still faintly crackling along the metal of his gauntlet. His presence filled the shattered hall like the echo of thunder itself.
Kael's eyes widened. "Master Ardyn."
Ardyn stepped closer, his expression unreadable, fatigue faintly showing beneath his usual composure. His gaze shifted to Elara. "You must be Elara. Kael's… partner on this ill-timed mission."
Elara blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer weight of his presence. She pushed herself upright, wincing. "You're his master? The one from the guild?"
Ardyn inclined his head slightly. "So I am. And you — the daughter of Lord Vael, if I'm not mistaken."
Elara hesitated. "You know my father?"
"I knew the man he once was," Ardyn said simply. "Before politics turned every alliance into a blade's edge."
Elara's posture stiffened, unsure how to reply. "...I see."
Ardyn looked between the two, the faintest trace of a smirk crossing his lips — gone as quickly as it appeared. "Introductions aside, you're both fortunate to be alive. That masked warrior you encountered was not one to leave survivors."
Kael frowned. "Who was he, Master?"
Ardyn's gaze darkened. "A mistake from the past. One that should have stayed buried."
Elara, still uneasy, took a careful step closer. "He fought like… he knew you."
Ardyn's hand flexed once at his side, the motion subtle but telling. "He knows many things that no longer concern him."
Kael studied him. "He wasn't Syndicate, was he?"
Ardyn's silence was answer enough.
Elara exchanged a glance with Kael, then asked softly, "Then why was he after us?"
Ardyn turned away, his tone dropping lower — restrained, but edged. "The Syndicate's reach is deep. Too deep. What you witnessed here was a fraction of their design. The less you know, the better."
"But—" Elara began.
"Enough." His tone softened, though it carried command. "You need rest, not answers. The Raven Division has already withdrawn from the perimeter. We leave by dawn."
Kael hesitated, frustration flickering behind his exhaustion. But one look at his master's eyes — calm but heavy with unspoken weight — silenced him.
Ardyn moved toward the open archway, lightning faintly crackling at his fingertips as he gazed toward the clearing horizon. "The Syndicate knows too much already. Let's not give them more."
Far from the ruins, deep within a mountain stronghold carved from black stone, the Blade of Silence knelt before a circle of robed figures. Shadows concealed their faces, but their voices were sharp, echoing in the chamber like the hiss of serpents.
"You failed," one hissed. "Two targets. Both alive."
The Blade's head remained bowed. "Interference. Unexpected. Ardyn himself appeared."
The circle murmured at the name — unease spreading among the gathered figures.
One voice, calm but venomous, spoke. "Ardyn should not have survived. We saw to that years ago."
"He's stronger than before," the Blade replied, tone flat. "He no longer holds back."
A pause. "And the boy?"
"Still unaware."
"Good. Keep it that way."
The Blade hesitated. "His aura… it's familiar. The mark—"
"Do not let sentiment cloud you," the voice snapped. "You are the hand of silence, not its conscience."
The Blade's gauntleted hand clenched once, then relaxed. "As you command."
The figures vanished into darkness, leaving him kneeling in the echoing chamber. The runes of his sword glowed faintly violet — pulsing, alive. He stared into them, the reflection of a boy's eyes flickering faintly within.
Back at the camp, Elara sat near the small fire Ardyn had conjured from lightning itself. The warmth barely cut through the mountain chill. Kael sat opposite her, silent, the crackling flames reflecting off his eyes.
"So…" Elara began quietly. "That's your master."
Kael nodded, not looking up. "He's… complicated."
"I can tell," she said dryly, then glanced at Ardyn, who stood apart, arms crossed, watching the horizon. "He doesn't talk much, does he?"
Kael almost smiled. "Only when it matters. And even then, you wish he hadn't."
Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. "I can see why you two get along."
Before Kael could reply, Ardyn's voice came low from behind them. "The Syndicate won't stop. This fight was only a test."
Both turned to him.
"They're searching for something," he continued. "Not just power. The relics buried in these ruins are keys — to a truth that predates kingdoms. One the world buried for a reason."
Kael frowned. "What truth?"
Ardyn's gaze hardened. "One I swore to keep until the right moment."
He turned away, cloak stirring faintly in the breeze. "Get some rest. We leave at dawn."
Elara exchanged a glance with Kael — uncertain, uneasy. He looked back at her, then at his master's silhouette framed by the dying storm.
The thunder rolled far off in the distance, and Kael thought, not for the first time, that his master carried more storms inside him than the sky ever could.
High on the ridge, unseen, the Blade of Silence watched from afar.The runes of his sword flickered softly in the dark.
He could have ended it tonight — finished what the Syndicate commanded.But as he looked at the sleeping boy, the faint glimmer of the Stormblood mark beneath his collar, his grip faltered.
"You really are her son," he murmured.
He sheathed the sword and turned toward the mountains. "The storm isn't over yet."
Lightning flashed behind him, distant but alive.
And the storm followed.