The journey to the northern border was a test of cold silence. For three days, Aris and Viren moved through frozen pine forests and snow-dusted mountain paths. The biting north wind seemed to be their only companion, hissing past the rocks and bare branches. They spoke only when absolutely necessary: "Stop," "Your watch," or "We move."
For Aris, this silence was an opportunity to observe. He watched the way Viren moved—fast, efficient, and always alert, like a wolf patrolling its territory. Yet, there was an impatience in every step, an urgency that burned behind his cold emerald eyes. Viren always chose the shortest, fastest route, even if it meant climbing a steep cliff or crossing a treacherous ice river.
"We're wasting time," Viren grumbled on the second day, pointing to a valley below them. "The main path is faster."
"The main path is also more exposed," Aris replied calmly, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We don't know what kind of patrols Baron Kale has. Going over this ridge is slower, but we'll stay unseen."
"Fear won't win a fight," Viren hissed.
"And recklessness will get us killed before the fight even begins," Aris retorted.
They ultimately took Aris's path, but the tension between them grew thicker.
Unbeknownst to them, about a hundred meters behind, a shadow moved silently through the trees. A woman with short black hair, clad in form-fitting light leather armor, followed their every step. Her name was Lyra, one of Veritas's elite agents, a specialist in infiltration and reconnaissance. Juro had given her a single, simple order: "Ensure the mission succeeds. Don't let those two brats kill each other or get killed. Do not interfere unless the situation gets out of control."
On the fourth night, they reached their destination: an old fortress standing proudly on a rocky cliff, surrounded by a chasm on three sides. Smoke billowed from its chimneys, and the light of torches flickered in the watchtowers.
"What's your plan, Prince?" Viren sneered as he observed the fortress from behind a thicket.
"There are three visible entry points," Aris said, ignoring the jibe. "The main gate with heavy guards, a side wall that might be climbable but is very exposed, and a supply route at the back that seems to lead to the kitchen or a storeroom."
"The main gate," Viren said without hesitation. "We strike during the changing of the guard. Create chaos, get in while they're panicking."
"That will alert the entire fortress," Aris argued. "They'll know we're coming. The best plan is to use the supply route. We can slip in silently, complete the mission, and get out before anyone notices."
"Sneaking is a coward's tactic," Viren glared at him. "I'll create a diversion at the front gate. You, with your cowardly tactics, use the chaos to get in through the back. Meet me in the main hall in twenty minutes."
Before Aris could argue further, Viren had already vanished into the darkness, moving swiftly towards the main gate. Aris swore under his breath. He had no choice but to follow the insane plan.
A few moments later, shouts and the clang of swords echoed from the front of the fortress. Viren had begun his attack. Taking advantage of the commotion, Aris nimbly scaled a low wall near the supply route and slipped in through an unlocked kitchen window.
Inside, the atmosphere was chaotic. Guards were running towards the main gate. Aris moved quickly and silently through the dimly lit stone corridors, heading for the main hall as agreed. He arrived on a balcony overlooking the great hall just as Viren leaped in through a window, his sword dripping with blood.
But the hall was strangely empty. Too empty.
"It's a trap," Aris whispered, his heart pounding.
Just as he said it, heavy iron gates crashed down over all the exits with a deafening roar. CLANG! They were trapped.
A captain below pointed up at them. "They're in the trap! Attack!"
The fight erupted instantly. Aris and Viren leaped from the balcony, landing in the midst of their enemies. Their backs met, a makeshift alliance born of necessity. At first, they were an unstoppable storm. Aris's Origin Power-coated sword danced with precision, while Viren's brutal slashes carved a path through the crowd of soldiers. They fought like two sides of the same coin—one tactical, the other ferocious.
But the enemy's numbers were too great. For every soldier that fell, two more stepped forward to take their place. And then, the Golem activated.
With a terrible grinding sound, the obsidian Golem rose, its eyes glowing red. It swung its massive arm, shattering the stone floor where Aris had just been standing. The fight descended into a chaotic hell. Aris and Viren had to fight off endless waves of soldiers while constantly dodging the Golem's deadly attacks.
Their stamina began to drain. Each swing felt heavier, each breath more difficult. Small wounds started to appear on their bodies—a gash on an arm, a bruise on a shoulder, a cut on a leg.
"They're not trying to kill us!" Aris shouted amidst the clanging of swords, after parrying a blow deliberately aimed at his leg instead of his heart. "They plan to capture us alive! This is a trap to get information about Veritas!"
The realization made the situation feel even worse. They couldn't win, and the enemy didn't even intend to finish them quickly.
Viren snarled, frustration and anger burning in his eyes. He leaped towards the Golem, ignoring the soldiers around him. "I'll smash this oversized toy!"
It was a fatal mistake. As Viren focused on the Golem, a soldier managed to slash his back. Viren staggered, and the Golem seized the opening, striking him with the back of its hand. Viren was thrown like a doll, crashing hard against a stone pillar and falling unconscious.
"VIREN!" Aris screamed.
Now he was alone. Surrounded, exhausted, and desperate. Above, in the shadows of the ceiling, Lyra sighed. The situation was out of control. She grasped her daggers, preparing to intervene.
The Golem now turned towards Aris, the crystal in its chest glowing brighter. It raised both its arms, preparing to crush him. Aris raised his sword, every muscle screaming in exhaustion, his eyes half-open and heavy. It was a struggle just to remain conscious. This was the end.
It was then, when all hope seemed lost, that a tired and disappointed voice echoed in his mind. The voice was not his own.
"Sigh... this just won't do."
Something inside Aris broke. The world around him slowed to a crawl. The burning exhaustion in his body vanished, replaced by a wave of cold, limitless energy. He felt something alien take over. His pupils, once the color of the deep sea, now blazed, turning into a bright, molten gold.
He lowered his sword, then smiled—a thin smile filled with arrogance and boredom.
"You think insects like you can touch me?" The voice that came from Aris's mouth was different—deeper, calmer, and filled with a piercing contempt.
The soldiers who had been about to charge stopped in their tracks, feeling a crushing aura that made their knees tremble.
"Aris" stepped forward, his movements so fluid they seemed weightless. "Very well, let's finish this boring game."
What happened next wasn't a fight; it was a graceful slaughter. "Aris" didn't kill them—the word was too simple to describe the horror he created. He dismantled them, breaking bones and tearing through armor as if it were paper, as if he were taking apart broken wooden dolls.
"Slow," he muttered, dodging three slashes at once. "So very slow."
"Predictable," he said again, breaking a soldier's spear with two fingers. "Is this all your species is capable of?"
After all the soldiers were left writhing on the floor in pools of their own blood, screaming in agony with shattered limbs, "Aris" turned to the only remaining threat. The Golem swung its arm, but "Aris" dodged it with ease. He didn't attack the obsidian body. He saw what no one else could: lines of purple energy flowing from the crystal to the Golem's body.
His sword danced in the air, severing those energy lines one by one. Shing! Shing! Shing! Each cut made the Golem falter.
"A poorly made toy," he commented with a condescending tone.
With one final movement, he appeared before the Golem's chest and simply touched the purple crystal with his fingertip. The crystal cracked, then crumbled into dust. The Golem froze, before finally collapsing into a pile of lifeless rubble.
A total silence filled the room. Above, Lyra lowered her daggers, her eyes wide with shock.
The golden light in Aris's eyes slowly faded, returning to their deep blue. The immense power left him, and in its place, an exhaustion a hundred times more intense slammed into him. He staggered and fell to his knees in the now-silent hall, surrounded by the Golem's wreckage and the groaning bodies of the soldiers.
He looked at his hands, then at the scene around him with a blank, confused stare. There was a gap in his memory, leaving only the echo of a terrifying feeling of superiority.
"What..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "...what happened?"