Lucas's expression shifted as the words settled.
"Aegis?"
Vivian didn't answer.
Her grip on the sword tightened, knuckles paling as her jaw clenched. For a brief moment, something flickered across her face—something Lucas hadn't seen before.
"Wind Sty—"
Her voice cut off.
The ground beneath her shifted violently.
Before she could react, her body was pulled forward, dragged across the soil toward the wolves as if something beneath the earth had latched onto her again. Vivian's eyes widened, the sudden force catching even her off guard.
"Vivian—!"
Lucas dropped to the ground instantly, reaching for her.
At the same moment, one of the wolves lunged.
Vivian's eyes shut for a fraction of a second.
Then—
She understood.
Her blade moved.
A sharp arc cut through the space beside her, aimed not at the wolves—but at the darkness beneath her.
The pull stopped.
The shadow recoiled.
At the same time, her swing shifted just enough to intercept the wolf's attack, forcing it back before it could reach Lucas.
The clearing steadied for a moment.
Lucas pushed himself up, breath uneven, eyes locked on her.
Vivian remained low, her grip firm but her breathing heavier now.
"Lucas…" she said quietly, without looking at him. "It's not safe here. You should go."
Lucas didn't move.
Instead, he stepped forward.
"No."
Vivian's eyes flickered slightly.
"I'm not leaving."
Lucas raised his hand slowly, his focus narrowing as he exhaled. His finger traced a small circle in the air, controlled, deliberate, as if guiding something unseen.
A faint glow answered.
Then fire surged upward from the ground.
The flames curved outward, forming a rough barrier around them, heat rising as the wall flickered to life. It wasn't perfect, but it held, pushing back the shadows long enough to carve out a moment of space.
Lucas stepped in front of her.
His stance lowered.
Guarding.
Behind him, Vivian steadied herself, her breathing still uneven as she tried to regain control.
Lucas didn't turn back.
"I don't understand this," he said, eyes fixed on the shifting darkness beyond the fire. "How do these shadows even work?"
His grip tightened slightly.
"I didn't even know Shadow Style existed till today."
Lucas moved along the edge of the fire, blade cutting through every shadow that tried to slip past. Each strike landed, but the lack of resistance unsettled him. The shadows didn't bleed, didn't slow—they simply broke apart and reformed elsewhere, as if the fight itself meant nothing to them.
He frowned, trying to read their pattern.
Behind him, a ripple shifted through the darkness.
A shadow rose silently at Vivian's back.
Her body reacted before thought.
Her sword cut through it in a clean motion, the form collapsing instantly before it could fully emerge. She didn't even turn to look at it, already resetting her stance as if she had expected it.
Lucas glanced over his shoulder.
"How long?" he asked quickly. "How much time do you need?"
Vivian steadied her breathing.
"…I'm fine," she said after a moment. "I'm ready."
Lucas nodded and turned back toward the wolves, his grip tightening slightly as he stepped forward.
"Then what's the—"
The words never finished.
Vivian moved.
In a single, fluid motion, she stepped in and drove her hand forward, striking into Lucas's stomach with precise force.
His breath left him instantly.
"I'm sorry."
Before he could process it, the air around him twisted.
Wind surged.
The world shifted.
Lucas's vision blurred as his body was pulled away from the clearing, the fire, the shadows—everything collapsing into a rushing blur of motion.
The last thing he saw—
Was Vivian.
Then darkness took him.
Lucas's body tore through the air before crashing into the forest below.
Branches snapped on impact. Leaves scattered as he hit the ground hard, rolling once before coming to a stop among the roots and vines. The world around him blurred, his vision struggling to hold onto anything stable.
He tried to move.
His body didn't respond.
The shock settled deeper than the fall.
Not the pain.
Not the impact.
But the feeling.
Left behind.
Again.
His fingers tightened weakly against the dirt before his vision faded completely, and the forest fell into silence.
Back in the clearing—
Vivian stood alone.
Her breathing was heavy now, uneven, the strain finally catching up to her. The three wolves had spread out, no longer testing her one by one.
This time—
They moved together.
One lunged forward, knife flashing through the air. Another slipped beneath the ground, the soil shifting unnaturally as it vanished. The third closed distance from the side, forcing her to split her focus.
Vivian didn't move forward.
She dropped.
Her hand slammed against the ground.
The impact cracked the soil beneath her palm as her fingers dug into the dirt.
"Please…" she muttered under her breath. "…just this once."
Her eyes shut tightly.
"Please work."
Wind gathered.
Slow at first.
Then violently.
"Wind Style— Eighth Form…"
The air around her twisted, pulling inward as everything in the clearing seemed to lean toward her.
"…HURRICANE."
She didn't hold back.
Her voice broke into a shout as she drove her hand deeper into the ground, releasing everything she had left.
The wind exploded outward.
Not in a controlled burst—but in a violent, consuming surge. Trees bent under the force. The ground tore loose as dust, leaves, and debris were dragged into the spiraling current.
The entire clearing disappeared within it.
One of the wolves' eyes widened.
"Get back!"
But it was too late.
The hurricane swallowed everything in its reach.
When it ended—
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Broken only by the sound of uneven breathing.
Vivian sat where she was, her hand still pressed to the ground, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. The energy she had forced out of herself had left her drained, her body barely holding itself upright.
"That was close," a voice said.
Vivian's eyes lifted slightly.
The wolf with the knife stood in front of her.
Still standing.
Several cuts ran across his body, shallow but visible.
"But it's over now."
He stepped forward and kicked her.
The force knocked her back across the ground, her body sliding before coming to a stop. Her vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges, but she forced her eyes to stay open.
Through the haze—
She saw it.
A mark.
Etched into his skin.
Familiar.
Her lips parted slightly.
"…You're one of them," she whispered faintly. "…aren't you?"
Her strength gave out.
The other two wolves emerged again, their movements slower now, but still deliberate. One of them grabbed her, lifting her without resistance.
None of them were in a state to continue fighting.
But they didn't need to.
"What do we do with her?" the one beneath the ground asked.
"Follow orders," the other replied with a click of his tongue. "She goes into the ritual."
Far from the clearing—
Lucas's eyes snapped open.
The forest greeted him in silence.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then the memory hit.
His hand tightened around the ground as he pushed himself up, his breathing uneven. The feeling settled again, heavier than before, sitting deep in his chest.
Left behind.
He slashed at the vines around him, the blade cutting through them in sharp, uneven motions. Not precise. Not controlled.
Frustration.
Despair.
He stepped forward, forcing his way out of the thicket as the first light of sunrise broke through the trees.
His hand bled slightly.
There was no one there to heal it.
The Kingdom of Dragons (Inner Sector) — Mission Hall.
Deep within the inner sector, reserved for the highest ranks, Firen stood in silence.
A woman behind the counter straightened as she addressed him.
"Sir, are there any additions you require for your mission?"
Firen didn't answer immediately.
"What was my mission again?" he asked after a pause.
The woman blinked, caught off guard, but quickly composed herself.
"Five-Star, Rank 1—Firen is assigned to scout the Kingdom of Auranis. After fifteen years, their King is expected to make an appearance, as per their tradition. You are to assess potential threats and observe any changes."
Firen nodded slightly.
"Any additions, sir?" she asked again.
He remained silent for a moment longer.
Then—
"The Three-Star hero," he said. "Shawn."
The woman's eyes widened slightly.
"If I call for backup," Firen continued calmly, "send him."
She hesitated—
Then nodded.
Firen turned away from the counter without another word, his expression calm as ever. For a brief moment, nothing happened—then his body began to break apart, slowly dissolving into drifting ash. The particles rose into the air and faded, leaving the space where he stood completely empty.
The girl behind the counter let out a quiet breath, her shoulders easing slightly now that he was gone.
Before that relief could settle—
A faint heat gathered in front of her.
The air shimmered, and a small flame flickered into existence. It twisted and grew, pulling the scattered ash back together as a form began to take shape again.
Firen stepped out of it.
Her breath caught instantly.
"Only send him," he said, his tone steady, "if he has healed."
She nodded quickly, barely managing a response.
The fire collapsed again, and this time his form vanished with it completely, leaving behind only still air.
Far from the hall, in a place untouched by light, the darkness lay heavy and silent.
At the center of the room rested the orb.
A faint glow pulsed from within it, weak at first, then slowly stabilizing. The light flickered as if something inside it had begun to stir after a long silence.
A voice followed.
Low, rough, and slightly unsteady.
"Servants… bring me some water… and tell me what happened while I was out."
The figures in the room moved immediately. One stepped forward and began recounting everything, speaking clearly and without pause, laying out each event in order.
The voice listened.
Quietly.
When the report ended, there was a brief pause.
"Has Lucas used fire recently?" it asked.
The servant answered.
The glow within the orb shifted slightly, as if reacting to the response.
"And Firen…" the voice continued, more composed now, "what is his state?"
"He has begun his mission."
Another pause followed.
"…Eason. Gordon."
The names came slower this time.
"Any updates?"
The servant lowered his head.
"No, my lord."
The room fell silent again, the faint glow of the orb the only sign that something within it was still awake—thinking, waiting.