Back to Present
Lucas's body came to an abrupt halt as he collided with someone. The impact snapped him out of the thoughts that had consumed him ever since Vivian disappeared. Instinctively, he stepped back, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword as he slowly raised his head.
The moment his eyes met the man standing before him, everything around him seemed to fade. His breathing caught in his throat, his pupils narrowed, and for a brief second he couldn't bring himself to speak. That face... after all this time, it was still burned into his memory.
"...YOU—"
The man looked back at Lucas with a puzzled expression, clearly caught off guard by the sudden outburst. Lucas couldn't tear his eyes away. His jaw clenched as anger, disbelief and hatred all surfaced at once.
"You..." His voice trembled despite his efforts to control it. "...You were there that night. The night of the attack."
The river, the rain and the forest slowly disappeared from Lucas's mind. In their place came an endless sea of flames. Buildings collapsed one after another beneath the dragon's fire while desperate screams echoed through the streets. Heroes fell, civilians ran for their lives, and before Lucas lost consciousness...
He looked up.
A lone figure stood proudly atop the dragon's back.
Lucas had remained unconscious for weeks after that massacre, yet no matter how much time had passed, he had never forgotten the face of the man standing before him.
The memories shattered like glass, dragging him back to reality. Lucas's eyes burned with pure hatred as his grip around the sword tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"Do you even know..." he growled through gritted teeth, "...how many innocent people lost their lives because of you?"
The man stared at Lucas for another second before casually looking over his shoulder, sounding more confused than concerned.
"Hey, Leo... do we know this kid?"
Lucas froze.
His eyes slowly shifted past the man until they landed on another figure standing only a few steps away. Tall, calm and completely motionless, he looked back at Lucas with an expression so indifferent that it almost felt as though Lucas's rage wasn't even worth acknowledging.
That single glance was enough.
"YOU BASTARD!"
Lucas exploded forward without another thought, driving his fist straight into the man's face before he had a chance to react. The impact echoed across the riverbank, sending him flying over the wet ground until he crashed near the opposite side of the river. Lucas didn't even watch where he landed. The instant his feet touched the ground again, he drew his sword and charged straight toward Leo with everything he had.
Leo remained exactly where he stood.
Only at the final moment did he slowly raise one hand. A dense layer of energy condensed around his palm before he caught Lucas's blade barehanded, bringing the attack to a complete stop. The collision sent a powerful gust of wind through the trees, yet Leo's body hadn't moved even a single inch.
Lucas's eyes widened.
His sword...
Hadn't moved at all.
He immediately pushed himself backward, creating distance between them. His breathing grew heavier as he slowly closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. When they opened again, a brilliant orange glow shone within them.
"Fire Style..."
Heat surged around Lucas as flames wrapped themselves around the edge of his sword.
"Fourth Form..."
He planted one foot firmly against the ground.
"Fire Slash!"
Lucas swung his blade three times in rapid succession, each slash releasing a blazing arc of fire that tore through the air toward Leo. The attacks were fast enough to carve through the trees behind him, yet Leo avoided every one of them with effortless movements, stepping aside at the last possible moment without ever reaching for his sword.
He didn't even bother reinforcing himself any further.
Lucas refused to let up. Raising his free hand, he gathered another stream of flames before guiding it through the air in a wide circle around Leo. The ring of fire completed itself in an instant.
"Fire Style..."
"Seventh Form..."
The earth trembled.
"FIRE WALL!"
A towering wall of flames erupted into the sky, surrounding Leo from every direction. Fire roared high above the trees, cutting off every possible escape as waves of heat distorted the air itself. Standing within the inferno, Leo slowly closed his eyes, remaining perfectly still as though he were listening to the battlefield instead of watching it.
Then...
His eyes opened.
Three Lucases burst through the flames simultaneously from different directions, each charging toward him with swords raised. Their voices echoed together as one.
"Fire Style..."
"First Form..."
"Fire Clone."
For the first time since the battle began, Leo reached for the sword resting at his waist. With a single smooth motion, his blade carved a brilliant arc through the flames, cutting down all three attackers in an instant.
Their bodies scattered...
Before dissolving into burning ash.
"...Huh?"
A faint look of confusion crossed Leo's face. He looked around for a brief moment before something caught his attention. Slowly, he raised his head.
The real Lucas had never been among the clones.
Using them as nothing more than a distraction, he had already launched himself high above the battlefield. Sword pointed downward, Lucas descended with every ounce of strength he had left, aiming straight for Leo's heart.
Leo shifted his body ever so slightly, the towering wall of flames collapsing behind him as Lucas's surprise attack cut through nothing but air. The inferno quickly died down, embers scattering across the riverbank while Lucas continued his descent. Unable to stop his momentum, he crashed into the ground with tremendous force, his sword piercing deep into the earth as the impact sent cracks racing across the soaked ground.
For a brief moment, everything fell silent except for Lucas's heavy breathing. He gritted his teeth and forced the sword free from the ground, stumbling back a step as exhaustion began catching up to him. Every technique he had thrown out had been instinctive, almost as though his body remembered things his mind didn't.
"I don't even remember learning all these techniques..." he thought, trying to steady his breathing. "Then why... why do they come out so naturally?"
He didn't have time to search for an answer.
Lucas tightened his grip around his sword and exploded forward once again. This time, an enormous amount of fire gathered around the blade, flames compressing until they formed a blazing mass so dense that the surrounding air began to distort. The pressure alone swept through the forest, startling flocks of birds into the sky as the trees trembled beneath the rising heat.
"FIRE STYLE... SIXTH FORM—!"
For the first time, Leo's eyes widened ever so slightly.
Not out of fear.
Recognition.
Before Lucas could complete the attack, Leo vanished from his path. In one smooth movement he stepped to the side, closed the distance, and drove his free hand into Lucas's chest with overwhelming force. The unfinished technique dispersed instantly as Lucas was slammed face-first into the ground, the earth collapsing beneath him as a cloud of dirt and shattered stone erupted into the air.
Lucas tried to force himself back up, but Leo's hand remained firmly pressed against him, pinning him so effortlessly that it felt as though an entire mountain had been dropped onto his back.
Leo looked down at him, his expression as calm as it had been since the beginning of the fight.
"...Pathetic."
His voice wasn't mocking.
If anything, it sounded disappointed.
"I expected you to be much stronger than this."
A familiar voice suddenly echoed from behind them.
"Tch..."
Heater casually dusted the dirt from his clothes as he walked back toward the two, the mark from Lucas's punch still visible across his face. His usual carefree expression had disappeared, replaced by obvious irritation. Without saying a word, he planted his boot onto Lucas's back before raising his hand. Crimson flames mixed with condensed energy, gathering rapidly within his palm as the temperature around them rose once again.
"Hell—"
"Enough."
Leo didn't even raise his voice.
He simply turned his head slightly toward Heater.
"Why waste that much power on him?"
Heater clicked his tongue, but the flames in his palm continued burning.
Leo's gaze remained calm.
"...Besides," he continued, "you remember what the Boss told us."
A brief silence followed.
"Our mission comes first."
For the first time, Heater hesitated. The flames dancing around his hand flickered for a moment before slowly fading away. He let out an annoyed sigh and removed his foot from Lucas, clearly unhappy but unwilling to argue any further.
"Tch... fine."
he muttered, brushing the dirt from his clothes. Leo didn't respond. Without another word, the two continued walking through the rain, their footsteps growing quieter as the forest slowly swallowed them.
Lucas couldn't see them anymore.
His vision had become a blur of shadows and rainwater, the only thing keeping him aware of their departure being the dull thud of their footsteps against the soaked earth. Every breath felt heavier than the last, blood running from the corner of his mouth before disappearing into the mud beneath him. He wanted to move... he needed to move... but even lifting a finger felt impossible.
His eyes slowly shifted toward the broken remains of his sword. One half still lay a short distance away, buried in the wet ground where Leo had effortlessly shattered it. Lucas reached toward it with a trembling hand, his fingers dragging across the mud inch by inch, desperately trying to close the distance between them.
"...Wi..."
His voice barely escaped his throat. It wasn't even loud enough for him to hear properly, only a weak whisper swallowed by the rain. Still, he forced his hand forward another little distance, his body refusing to give up despite every muscle screaming in pain.
"...Wind..."
His fingers twitched.
"...Sty..."
The strength left his arm completely.
"...Le..."
"...Fi..."
The unfinished words faded into silence as his hand dropped lifelessly onto the ground. His vision darkened, and before he could think of Vivian, Shawn... or anyone else...
Everything went black.
The rain never stopped.
It continued pouring over the silent forest, washing the blood from Lucas's face while the broken halves of his sword rested beside him. The river flowed as if nothing had happened, carrying away the crimson stains one wave at a time until only the sound of the storm remained.
Kingdom of Dragons
Mending Hall XIII
Shawn's eyes flew open.
A sharp breath escaped his lungs as he suddenly sat upright, his body reacting long before his mind had fully awakened. Instinctively, both hands moved across his chest, shoulders and stomach, searching for the wounds he remembered receiving during the Blackridge mission. Layers of fresh bandages covered his body beneath clean wrappings, the faint scent of medicine lingering throughout the tent. The pain was still there...
But he was alive.
The movement inside the tent hadn't gone unnoticed. Standing just outside, Jennie turned as soon as she heard the sudden gasp, gently pushing the entrance aside before stepping in. A small smile appeared on her face the moment she saw Shawn sitting up.
"Well..." she said, folding her arms. "Look who's finally awake. Heard you put on quite the show back at Blackridge."
Shawn remained silent for a moment, his breathing gradually settling as the memories rushed back all at once. He lowered his hands from his bandages and looked directly at Jennie, the seriousness in his expression replacing the confusion from moments earlier.
"There's something..." he said quietly. "Something I need to report to the higher-ups immediately."
Jennie's smile softened a little as she pulled over a nearby chair and sat down. "You'll have to wait," she replied calmly. "The Kingdom's in complete chaos right now. Ever since the recent attacks, everyone's occupied, supply routes are blocked, and even getting a message across has become difficult. Whatever it is... it'll have to wait a little longer."
Shawn lowered his gaze, letting out a quiet breath.
"...I see."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The rain tapping against the canvas roof filled the silence until Jennie finally broke it, asking the one question that had been lingering in everyone's mind ever since the mission ended.
"...Shawn."
"How did you come back... as the only survivor?"
The question lingered in the air.
Shawn's expression slowly stiffened, his fingers curling slightly around the blanket covering his legs. He swallowed once before looking toward the entrance of the tent, though his eyes weren't really seeing it anymore. They had already drifted back to that night.
"...We thought it was just another scouting mission."
The memory began to return.
Blackridge — The Night Of The Incident
Rain drizzled steadily over the old bridge as the scouting squad made their way through the valley. The mission had been simple from the beginning—investigate a few unusual reports near Blackridge and return before sunrise. No one expected resistance, let alone a battle. The group remained spread out, quietly scanning the surroundings while the sound of rushing water echoed beneath the bridge.
Everything felt... normal.
Until one of the warriors suddenly stopped.
"There..."
Every head turned toward the center of the bridge.
A lone man stood there with his back facing them, completely motionless despite the rain pouring over him. He didn't react to their footsteps or the voices behind him. It was almost as if he had been waiting for them to arrive.
[ Nom | 4-Star Warrior | Rank #1099 | Earth Specialist ]
Nom slowly raised his hand, signaling the rest of the squad to stay where they were. Without taking his eyes off the stranger, he spoke in a calm but commanding voice. "Everyone stays back. Shawn... don't move unless I tell you to."
"...Understood."
Shawn tightened his grip around his bow as Nom cautiously walked onto the bridge. The distance between them grew shorter with every step, but the stranger still refused to turn around. It was unsettling... almost unnatural.
As Nom drew closer, condensed energy gathered around both of his fists. Layers of earth rose from the bridge itself, wrapping around his hands until they resembled massive stone gauntlets. "Earth Style..." he muttered, lowering his stance. "...Thirteenth Form. Rock Fists."
The stranger finally moved, though not in the way anyone expected. He didn't attack or even raise his weapon. He simply turned his head toward Nom, almost lazily, as though acknowledging his presence.
Before anyone could react, a sword pierced straight through Nom's throat. The blade emerged from the other side in a spray of blood as the stranger effortlessly lifted his entire body off the ground. A loud, almost joyful laugh echoed across the valley, so loud that every member of the squad froze where they stood.
For a brief second...
Nobody moved.
"I tried to fight..." Shawn's voice quietly overlapped the memory.
The shock lasted only an instant before chaos erupted. Every warrior immediately drew their weapon, shouting orders to one another as Shawn instinctively reached for an arrow. His breathing grew heavier while he pulled back the bowstring, waiting for the perfect shot.
Then...
Something changed.
The stranger's laughter stopped.
His body stiffened, his posture becoming completely different from moments earlier. Even the way he stood had changed, as though another person had suddenly taken control. His voice grew deeper, colder, while an unnatural orange glow slowly filled his eyes.
Then black flames ignited around him.
Shawn had never seen anything like it before.
One of the warriors immediately stepped in front of him, forcing his bow downward. "Stay back!" he shouted. "Do not engage!"
Shawn wanted to argue.
He wanted to help.
But his feet refused to move.
All he could do was watch.
One after another, every member of his squad fell before the stranger. The bridge became a slaughterhouse, the rain washing streams of blood into the river below while desperate cries echoed through the valley. No matter how bravely they fought, the outcome never changed.
Within minutes...
Everyone was dead.
The black flames disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared.
The orange glow faded from the stranger's eyes, and he staggered backward as though waking from a nightmare. His sword slipped from his hand, clattering onto the bridge before he collapsed to his knees. Terror filled his face as he looked around at the bodies surrounding him.
"N-No..."
His voice trembled violently.
"It... it wasn't me..."
He buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Please... believe me..."
"I didn't do this..."
Shawn slowly lowered his bow.
His expression never changed.
Step by step, he walked toward the kneeling man until he stood only a few feet away. Without saying a single word, he calmly pulled one final arrow from his quiver, drew the string back...
...and released it.
The arrow pierced straight through the man's throat.
Silence returned to Blackridge, broken only by the rain.
Back to the Present
The memory slowly faded, replaced once again by the quiet tapping of rain against the canvas above. Shawn remained silent for a while, his gaze fixed on the floor as if he were still standing on that bridge. Even now, he could hear Nom's laugh, the clash of weapons, and the screams that followed. The images hadn't become any easier to remember—they had only become more familiar.
Jennie didn't interrupt him. She had listened to every word without looking away, but by the time Shawn finished, the smile she usually carried had disappeared completely. Her expression had turned unusually serious, her eyes lingering on him as though trying to piece together everything he had just described.
Shawn finally broke the silence. "There was something else..." he said quietly, his voice carrying far more uncertainty than before. "That man... when he changed, he wasn't using Shadow Style anymore. His voice became different, the way he fought changed... it was like someone else had taken over his body."
He paused, replaying the moment in his mind before continuing. "Then black flames started burning around him." Shawn slowly shook his head. "A Shadow user shouldn't be able to use something like that. Even if he was an anomaly... it didn't make any sense."
Jennie's eyes widened immediately.
"...Black flames?"
For the first time since entering the tent, genuine surprise crossed her face. She remained silent for a few moments before lowering her voice. "That's... an incredibly rare anomaly. I've only ever heard of one other person who could wield them."
She hesitated.
"...My big brother was one too."
Shawn slowly looked up. "...An anomaly?"
Jennie nodded, leaning back in her chair as she gathered her thoughts. "Someone whose body breaks the normal limits of the Styles they were born with. Most warriors spend their whole lives mastering one Style, and even those gifted enough to wield two are considered extraordinary. But anomalies..." She paused briefly. "...They're different. They don't follow the rules."
Shawn's fingers tightened around the blanket covering his legs. "That's what doesn't make sense," he muttered. "It wasn't just the flames. His presence changed... his movements changed... even the way he spoke. Then, after everyone was dead..." His voice became quieter. "...he threw away his sword and started begging for mercy like he had no idea what had happened."
Jennie frowned. "You really think he wasn't pretending?"
"...No."
Shawn answered without hesitation.
"It didn't feel like an act. When his eyes returned to normal... he looked terrified. Like he had just woken up and found himself surrounded by corpses."
The tent fell silent again. Neither of them knew what to make of it, but one thing had become painfully clear.
Whatever Shawn had encountered at Blackridge...
It wasn't normal.
After a long pause, Jennie finally stood up, letting out a slow breath. "You should tell the higher-ups everything once they're available. Don't leave out a single detail—not the flames, not the change in his voice... nothing. If what you saw is real..." Her expression hardened slightly. "...then Blackridge wasn't just another mission gone wrong."
Shawn gave a slow nod, but his thoughts were already somewhere else. He lowered his gaze to his bandaged hands, remembering the arrow that had ended the man's life.
"...After that," he murmured quietly, "everything's blurry."
The only thing he remembered clearly...
...was the blood.