Zairen lay in bed, his body restless, his head thrashing from side to side. Sweat soaked his skin, his eyes fluttered wildly, trapped in a nightmare that clawed at his soul. In the haze of his dream, Elyra stood before him, tears streaming down her face, her small frame shaking with sobs. Her voice broke, raw with pain and fury. "Because of you, our parents died!" she screamed, her words dripping with rage, her eyes burning into him like he was the source of all her suffering.
The scene shifted, and Elyra's face twisted, her expression dark and venomous, as if she were looking at a vermin. "Don't show your face again!" she spat, her voice sharp and accusing, each word a dagger aimed at his heart.
Then, the dream twisted this time her expression softened, her anger melting into desperation. A softer side of Elyra emerged, her voice trembling, pleading. "Zairen, please, give me one chance. I'll make this right." Her eyes, still wet with tears, searched his face for a flicker of mercy.
The dream twisted again, and Elyra's voice grew softer still, aching with love and pain. "Zairen, you're not a monster. You're my brother." Her words were a quiet, desperate plea, reaching for the bond they once shared.
Elyra's face hardened, her eyes locking onto his, and she shouted back, her voice matching with grief, "Do you regret everything you did?!" The question hung between them, heavy with accusation and unspoken guilt.
He jolted awake, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he sat up. His eyes darted around the room. Sunlight streamed through the window, painting the walls with the soft glow of morning. Zairen was still half-lost in the dream, his heart pounding. "Oh, damn, what the fuck happened to me? Why do I feel so heavy? Damn it!" He stood, legs unsteady, and stumbled to the window. He pushed it open, and a cool breeze brushed against his face, calming the heat in his skin. He sighed, but the memories of last night's conversation flooded back, dark and vicious.
"I want to kill her," he muttered, his voice low, trembling with rage. "I want to slice her neck with my sword. I want to choke her with my own hands." He glanced down at his hands—they were shaking. "Why the hell are my hands trembling? Why do I feel this… this weakness again? Pathetic!" He clenched his fists, trying to crush the softness creeping into his heart. "I have to kill her. But not now. I'm not strong enough yet." He exhaled sharply, forcing the thoughts away. "Let's go."
Zairen headed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, washing away the sweat and the weight of his dreams. He dressed quickly, trying to shake off the lingering emotions. A knock at the door broke his thoughts. "Master Zairen, dinner is ready. Everyone is waiting," a voice called.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Zairen replied, his tone flat. He changed into fresh clothes and, after half an hour, made his way downstairs. The guard at the dining hall opened the door, announcing his arrival with a loud, formal tone. Zairen stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room.
At the center of the long dining table sat the Viscount, perched on a grand, throne-like chair, exuding authority. Varek, the machinery captain, sat to his right, his posture relaxed but alert. Seressia sat across from them, her eyes burning with rage, glaring at Zairen as if she wanted to set him ablaze. What's her damn problem? Zairen thought, his jaw tightening. Next to Seressia sat Elyra, her head bowed, her eyes red and swollen, as if she'd been crying all night. Zairen's gaze lingered on her for a moment, but he quickly looked away, refusing to let her pain touch him.
He greeted the Viscount and Varek politely, ignoring Seressia's glare and Elyra's quiet suffering. The Viscount gestured for him to sit, and Zairen took his place at the table. The Viscount and Varek were deep in conversation, their voices low but serious. Suddenly, Varek turned to the Viscount, his tone respectful but firm. "My lord, we caught the traitor thanks to Zairen. He's hardworking, and his sword skills are exceptional. If he wants, he could join our machinery group. I'd be happy to train him."
At those words, Elyra's head snapped up. Her voice was sharp, trembling with emotion. "No! I don't want my brother to become some rundown machinery, fighting for scraps and risking his life!" Her words hung in the air, heavy with defiance.
Varek's expression softened, and he raised his hands in apology. "Princess, I didn't mean to insult your brother. I was only praising his skill with a sword. If my words offended you, I'm sorry."
The Viscount chuckled, his tone light but commanding. "Oh, Elyra, don't worry. Varek sometimes speaks without thinking. He didn't mean any harm." Elyra only nodded, her shoulders slumping as she sank back into her seat, her eyes fixed on the table.
Zairen glanced at her but quickly turned his attention to his food, pretending not to notice her distress. The Viscount's voice broke the silence, addressing Zairen directly. "Zairen, your reputation and your deeds have earned you a chance to train with the best commanders among our elite soldiers. But the training lasts two years, and during that time, you won't be able to see anyone. Think carefully before you decide."
Zairen didn't hesitate. "Yes, my lord. I've thought it through, and this is my decision. No one will interfere with it." His voice was cold, resolute, cutting through the room like a blade.
Elyra flinched, her lips parting as if she wanted to protest, but she stopped herself. Her head bowed again, her hands trembling in her lap. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but Zairen ignored her, his heart sealed off from her pain.
The Viscount nodded approvingly. "Very well, Zairen. The training begins in seven days. Prepare yourself. And because of your deeds, I'm awarding you a mana stone to help you awaken your power. Your armor and sword are damaged—take them to the blacksmith for repairs."
"Thank you, my lord. You're too generous," Zairen said, his voice steady, though a flicker of pride stirred in his chest. The Viscount laughed, waving off the compliment, and signaled for everyone to start eating.
The room filled with the clink of cutlery and the murmur of conversation, but Elyra didn't touch her food. Her hands stayed in her lap, her gaze fixed on the untouched plate. After a while, the Viscount and Varek excused themselves, leaving the dining hall. Elyra stood to leave, her movements slow, her eyes still red, her head bowed with regret. She didn't look at Zairen once.
Seressia watched Elyra, her expression softening with pity. She called out to her, "Elyra, wait!" But Elyra didn't respond, her steps heavy as she walked away, lost in her own sorrow. Seressia chased after her, calling her name, but Elyra reached her room, slipped inside, and locked the door behind her. Seressia knocked, her voice gentle but urgent. "Elyra, please, open the door. Elyra!Elyra! What happened between you two Elyra,Don't be sad. I'll come back, okay?"
There was no answer. Elyra lay on her bed, silent, her heart heavy with unspoken pain. After a few minutes, Seressia sighed, her shoulders slumping, and turned to leave. As she descended the stairs, she spotted Zairen heading toward his room, his plate empty, his expression unreadable. Rage flared in her chest, and she stormed toward him.
"This is because of you!" she shouted, grabbing his arm and slamming him against the wall. Her eyes, red with anger, bored into his. "Because of you, she's like this! How can you be so heartless after everything she's done for you? What did you say to her? Why is she crying? Tell me, you bastard!"
Zairen's eyes burned with fury. He shoved her hand away, pushing her back with enough force to make her stumble. "First of all, it's none of your damn business," he snarled. "Second, what I say to my sister is a family matter, and last I checked, you're not family. Don't threaten me again. I'm not your captive. I'm your father's guest, and I'm not your friend. So stay out of my way." He turned and walked away, his steps heavy with barely contained anger.
Seressia stood there, her fists clenched, watching him go. Her heart pounded with frustration, but she said nothing more. Zairen reached his room, slammed the door shut, and leaned against it, his mind racing. "Two years of training," he muttered to himself. "Then I'll join the academy. I'll to increase my mana capacity with the Redsoul.An SSS class item which are present in the secret chamber of the academy" He sighed, his eyes catching sight of a mana stone wrapped in cloth on his desk. He picked it up, his fingers tracing its smooth surface. "Let's start the Level up."