Kaze Veyron left the orphanage at dawn.
There was no dramatic farewell. No long speeches. Just a worn backpack, a wooden staff strapped to his back, and a quiet excitement beating in his chest. The iron gates creaked behind him as the morning wind brushed against his face, carrying with it the smell of freedom.
"This is it," he said softly, eyes fixed on the open road. "The world."
"You're smiling again."
Kaze turned just in time to see Lira walking toward him, hands on her hips, expression sharp and unimpressed. Her light-brown hair was tied back neatly, clothes practical, eyes already scanning his pack like she expected something to go wrong.
"You didn't even tell anyone goodbye," she said. "You're unbelievable."
Kaze laughed. "If I stayed any longer, I'd never leave."
Lira clicked her tongue. "And you think leaving without a plan is smart?"
"Nope."
"Figures." She stepped past him and started down the road. "Come on. Someone has to make sure you don't get killed in the first week."
Kaze blinked. "Wait—you're coming?"
She glanced back with a smirk. "You always get into trouble when I'm not around. I'm not letting that happen."
Kaze grinned wider. "Guess I'm lucky."
"Don't push it."
The first town they reached by evening was quiet—too quiet.
Wooden houses lined the streets, but the doors were shut. Shops were half-open, their owners tense, eyes darting whenever armored knights passed by. Kaze noticed the tension, but he didn't think much of it at first.
"Place feels stiff," he said.
"Places like this usually are," Lira replied.
"Keep your head down."
They were about to pass the central square when a sharp cry cut through the air.
"Please! I don't have any more!"
Kaze stopped.
A boy—no older than ten—was on his knees, clutching a torn pouch. Three armored knights surrounded him. One of them raised a baton and struck him across the shoulder. The boy cried out and fell.
"For failing to pay taxes," the knight said coldly, lifting his weapon again.
Something twisted inside Kaze.
Lira turned away, distracted by a shouting merchant behind them. She didn't see it.
Kaze moved.
In one smooth motion, he slipped into an alley, climbed the low wall, and dropped behind the knights. His breath was calm. His body felt… heavier, steadier. Something deep within him stirred—silent, watchful.
He struck.
A punch to the first knight's back sent him crashing forward. Kaze grabbed the second knight's wrist, twisted, and slammed him into the stone pavement. The third knight barely had time to turn before Kaze's staff cracked against his helmet.
They were down in seconds.
Kaze grabbed the boy and pulled him away just as whistles echoed from the square.
"Run," Kaze whispered.
The boy nodded, terrified, and bolted.
Kaze disappeared into the alleys just as the knights' reinforcements arrived.
"You vanished."
Lira confronted him later, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Had to stretch my legs," Kaze replied casually.
She studied him for a long moment. "You're hiding something."
"Maybe."
She sighed. "Idiot."
They found the boy's home at the edge of town—a small, crumbling house. Inside, a woman lay coughing weakly on a straw bed. The boy clutched her hand, relief flooding his face when he saw them.
"She's sick," the boy said quietly. "They took everything."
Lira's expression hardened. "How long has this been happening?"
"Since the Baron raised the taxes," the boy replied. "If we can't pay… they beat us."
Kaze was quiet.
That night, they listened. Spoke to villagers.
Learned everything.
The Baron ruled through fear. His knights enforced impossible taxes. Anyone who resisted vanished.
"This isn't just wrong," Lira said, fists clenched. "It's disgusting."
Kaze stood, eyes burning with resolve. "Then we stop it."
Lira smirked. "About time you said something smart."
They moved fast.
Lira spread word quietly, organizing the townspeople, cutting off supply routes. Kaze took down patrols at night, striking from the shadows. Each time danger closed in, the presence inside him stirred—like a silent guardian ready to awaken, but never needing to.
The Baron's knights fell one by one.
Finally, the Baron himself stepped out, clad in heavy armor, spiritual energy crackling around him.
"So you're the one causing trouble," the Baron sneered. "Just a boy."
Kaze stepped forward, staff in hand. "You don't get to hurt people anymore."
The fight was brutal.
The Baron was strong—trained, empowered—but Kaze's will was stronger. Every strike he took only hardened his resolve. His soul burned hotter, pushing his body beyond its limits.
With a final blow, Kaze shattered the Baron's armor and slammed him into the ground.
Silence fell.
Then cheers.
The town was free.
As the sun rose, Kaze stood at the edge of town, wind tugging at his clothes.
Lira joined him. "You realize this won't stop here, right?"
Kaze smiled. "Good."
Deep within him, something ancient and armored watched silently.
Waiting.