Wind roared past Kaito's ears as Varnax soared above the shattered plains. Below, the scars of war painted the land in gray: scorched forests, collapsed watchtowers, and rivers that glowed faintly with tainted magic.
Riven sat behind him, silent. For the first time since his rebirth, Kaito felt something like calm—until the sky darkened.
A storm wasn't coming.
This was something else.
A tower of swirling black fog stood dead ahead—a storm that didn't move, didn't shift, didn't fade. And at its center, a stone fortress built into the side of a mountain: The Whispering Vault.
Riven leaned forward. "That's where the Blade Crystals were hidden. Before the fall."
"Blade Crystals?"
"Your essence—your power—was too great for one body to contain. You sealed parts of your soul into five crystals. One stayed with your sword. The rest were hidden."
"And I need them to reach my full strength?"
Riven nodded. "Without them, you're only fragments of who you were."
Varnax let out a low growl and began descending toward the vault.
The air grew cold. The sky pulsed red for a moment—then dimmed again.
They landed at the edge of the storm. Kaito dismounted, sword strapped to his back, and approached the vault doors—giant slabs of darksteel marked with runes.
He raised his hand, and the runes glowed.
> "Soul Signature confirmed: Kael Varenth."
> "Vault access: Granted."
With a rumble, the doors groaned open.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy. The hallway was lined with statues of fallen guardians—his guardians. Faces he didn't remember… but their loyalty still echoed in the walls.
The path forked.
"This way," Riven said, stepping into a chamber carved with golden flame symbols.
At the center hovered a crystal the size of a fist—burning with white-blue light.
Kaito stepped forward. "One of the Blade Crystals."
As his fingers touched it—
FLASH.
He was standing in a courtyard, twenty thousand soldiers kneeling before him.
He held Nightcleaver high, shouting a command.
Then—betrayal. Blood. Fire raining from the skies. A blade plunged through his chest—from behind.
He gasped, stumbling back into the present.
"Another memory," Riven said. "Each crystal will return pieces of you."
Kaito opened his hand. The crystal dissolved into light and flowed into his chest. He felt… more—as though strength that had been missing was now returned.
Suddenly—whispers.
Low. Twisting. Beckoning.
Riven drew his daggers. "They followed us. Veilborn."
Shadows poured from the corners. Shapes with no faces. Eyes like embers.
Kaito stepped forward. "Let them come."
He raised Nightcleaver—and the blade sang.
The shadows lunged.
He moved with lightning—each strike guided by memory, his body reacting on instinct. One swipe split the air like thunder. Another severed limbs made of pure darkness.
Behind him, Riven struck with deadly grace.
When the last creature fell, silence returned.
Breathing hard, Kaito sheathed his blade.
"That was only the first," Riven said. "There are still four crystals. And each is guarded."
Kaito looked down at his hand. It still glowed faintly.
"Good," he said. "Let them try."
He turned toward the exit.
The Emperor was rising.