The chamber did not welcome sound.
Even silence felt regulated here—compressed, measured, unwilling to stretch beyond permission. The circular hall was vast, its walls forged from black stone so old it no longer reflected light. Symbols drifted through the air, not carved, not engraved, but remembered by the world itself, as though reality had agreed never to forget them.
At the center hovered a relic.
It was small—heart-sized at most—yet the space around it bent subtly, like air above a flame. No chains bound it. No pedestal supported it. It simply existed, suspended between intention and inevitability.
And then—
It trembled.
Not violently. Not visibly. Just enough.
The figures seated along the perimeter stiffened.
They were not cloaked. Not masked. Their forms blurred by design, distorted by authority rather than concealment. Each presence carried pressure—controlled, refined, ancient.
One leaned forward.
"The reaction was confirmed," a voice said, neither male nor female, layered with restraint.
Another replied, "That should not be possible. The suppression protocols are flawless."
The relic pulsed once more, faintly correcting itself, as though sealing a hairline fracture in the flow of existence.
A colder presence spoke next.
"Two high-ranking relics resonated simultaneously. No invocation. No ritual."
Silence deepened.
Then a final voice, calm and decisive.
"Continue observation. No interference."
No one objected.
The relic steadied.
Far from the capital.
Far from this chamber.
Kaelen turned in his sleep.
He awoke with a sharp intake of breath.
For several seconds, he did not move.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—arched stone reinforced with faintly glowing kyz veins that pulsed like slow breaths. The air carried a sterile scent mixed with old metal and incense.
The capital, he thought.
Then he felt warmth.
His muscles tensed instantly.
Breathing—soft, steady—pressed against his chest.
Kaelen lowered his gaze.
Kyle Snow lay asleep beside him, silver hair spilling across his shoulder, her expression unguarded in a way that felt dangerous in a city like this. One arm rested loosely over him, as though she had drifted there without intent or fear.
Annoyance flickered through him.
Then guilt.
Not because she was there—but because he hadn't noticed.
His awareness had dulled.
That alone unsettled him more than her presence ever could.
Carefully, he shifted her arm aside and rose from the bed without waking her. As he dressed, his eyes drifted to the window.
The royal capital spread below like a polished monument—white stone towers rising in disciplined symmetry, golden bridges spanning clean streets, banners of the Jones bloodline fluttering in perfect alignment.
Beautiful.
Controlled.
Rotten.
A city that must constantly remind itself it is powerful, Kaelen thought, is already afraid.
His dual blades rested against the wall.
They vibrated faintly.
Not hunger.
Recognition.
"You're awake early," Kyle's voice murmured behind him.
He didn't turn. "You were in my bed."
She stretched lazily. "You didn't complain."
"I didn't notice."
She paused, then laughed softly. "That's worse."
Kaelen fastened the bracelet around his wrist. The pressure around his soul tightened instantly, compressing its density into something manageable.
Kyle watched him quietly.
He doesn't react, she thought. Not to danger. Not to people.
They left together soon after.
The streets toward the arena grew louder—masters training, novices shouting, steel clashing against stone. Yet beneath the noise lay tension, like a city holding its breath.
Kyle spoke casually as they walked, trying—and failing—to unsettle him.
"You didn't dream at all?"
"No."
"Ever?"
"No."
"That explains why you're unbearable."
Kaelen ignored her.
The arena gates loomed ahead, massive and old, etched with scars from generations of training and conflict.
A presence greeted them before words did.
Kaelen slowed.
Another general.
The man waiting for them stood relaxed, hands behind his back, dark hair neatly tied. His eyes were sharp—calculating, observant.
"Arthur Jones," he said smoothly. "General of the Royal Capital."
Kyle straightened instinctively.
Kaelen met Arthur's gaze without lowering his own.
Arthur studied him a moment longer than necessary.
"So you're the one John mentioned," Arthur said faintly. "You may proceed directly to missions, Kyle Snow. Inhost Cave has shown irregular activity. Investigate and eliminate any threats."
He turned to Kaelen. "You may remain here. I can assign her another partner."
"No," Kaelen replied immediately.
Arthur's eyes flickered—interest, not surprise.
"Very well," Arthur said. "Return alive."
Inhost Cave yawned from the mountains like an old wound.
The first beasts were weak—rank ten, perhaps nine. They fell quickly, dispatched with restraint and precision.
Too easily.
Kyle wiped her blade. "This feels staged."
Kaelen nodded. "Beasts don't cluster without cause."
They moved deeper.
The air thickened. The stone walls pulsed faintly, as if something beneath them breathed.
Then—
Kaelen stopped.
He sensed something dangerous, approaching.
"Prepare yourself."
The cave erupted.
Three rank six beasts burst from the shadows, their kyz signatures unstable and aggressive. Two rank five entities followed, radiating pressure that distorted the ground beneath them.
Kaelen reacted instantly.
"Rank six are yours."
Kyle nodded once.
Kaelen faced the rank fives alone.
He could not release freely.
His vessel wouldn't survive it.
Every strike was calculated, every movement restrained. The cursed blades screamed for more, feeding on suppressed pressure, urging him toward excess.
He refused.
He adapted—redirecting force, minimizing output, letting precision replace domination.
The first beast fell.
The second nearly shattered his arm before collapsing.
Kyle finished moments later, breathing heavily.
"This isn't normal," she said. "Rank fives shouldn't be here."
Kaelen wiped blood from his lip. "Then something is drawing them."
Kaelen thought "It's not the right time for kyz absorbtion and.... I'm not sure if I can endure the beast will of rank 5 beasts. " It wasn't terror it was precaution.
They went deeper.
And found her.
A girl stood at the heart of the cave.
Barefoot.
Unharmed.
Smiling.
Her beauty was unsettling—not because it was striking, but because it felt wrong in this place.
Kaelen's blades vibrated violently.
The cave seemed to lean inward.
And somewhere far away—
Something watched.
The girl approached kaelen .
She did not approach him for warmth.
She approached him to replace herself inside him.