The cathedral loomed like a shadow against the horizon, its spires clawing at the storm-dark sky. Inside, light flickered from hundreds of candles, their flames dancing across marble walls carved with images of saints, martyrs, and executioners alike.
Kneeling at the altar was a man in black and gold robes, head bowed as whispers of low chanting echoed through the cavernous hall. His features were sharp, angular, his piercing blue eyes half-hidden by the shadow of his brow. A scar carved down one cheek—a reminder of humiliation he had never forgiven.
Inquisitor Lucian Varro lifted his gaze slowly, the candlelight catching the fury behind his calm exterior.
Vael… you still live.
The flame before him trembled, as though in response. His lips curled slightly in displeasure.
---
He remembered fire.
A village swallowed in smoke and screaming. His silver-and-white robes were soaked in blood, his sword dripping as he stood in the middle of the carnage. Men cried out. Women wailed. Children burned.
And in the midst of it—her.
A younger Vael, leather-clad, her dagger spinning lazily in her hand, smirking at him through the haze.
"You look upset, priest," she had taunted. "Not used to losing?"
Lucian's rage had seared hotter than the flames that day.
"You interfere with God's will, mercenary."
"Your 'God's will' looks a lot like slaughtering children," she replied coolly, stepping over the body of one of his fallen inquisitors.
He had lunged at her then, sword flashing, zeal giving strength to every rigid, disciplined strike. She had danced around him like smoke, grinning even as his blade cut into her shoulder.
"Not bad," she had said through gritted teeth. "But you're too predictable."
A kick to his stomach had dropped him to the ash, his sword skittering. Her laugh had echoed in his ears as she turned her back on him, walking away into the fire.
"Doubt it," she had thrown over her shoulder.
And then she was gone, leaving him beaten, humiliated, smoldering in rage.
---
Lucian's nails dug into his palm as the memory burned anew.
He rose abruptly, black-and-gold robes sweeping behind him. His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"She should have died back then."
His boots echoed across the cathedral as he approached a raised dais, where an old priest sat draped in ceremonial white. The man's eyes were sunken, his voice little more than a rasp.
Lucian bowed his head slightly. "Your Holiness. I volunteer to retrieve the child."
The priest studied him, long fingers steepled. "Do you believe this boy is truly an abomination?"
Lucian smiled, though it carried no warmth. "I believe it is the will of the divine that I put an end to him."
"And if Vael stands in your way?"
Lucian's jaw tightened, then loosened, a faint smirk tugging at his scar. "Then I will finish what I should have long ago."
The priest's voice was little more than a whisper. "Then go, Inquisitor. May the light guide your blade."
Lucian bowed low, though ambition glinted in his eyes. "I will not fail."
---
Outside, armored knights gathered. One fell into step beside him, helmet tucked beneath his arm. His voice was hesitant.
"Inquisitor… do you truly believe the boy is dangerous?"
Lucian didn't even look at him. His smile was razor-sharp. "I don't care."
The knight faltered at the coldness of the words.
Lucian's eyes narrowed, gleaming with venom. "I just want Vael to suffer."
He mounted his horse, black cloak billowing as the church's banners snapped in the wind. "We ride. The heretic and the child will not escape me this time."
The thunder of hooves carried his promise into the night.
---
Far ahead, the forest whispered with softer sounds. Leaves rustled as Vael crossed her arms, eyeing the boy who stood before her in the clearing.
Reider gripped a wooden practice sword. His face, as always, betrayed nothing.
"Alright, kid," she said. "Let's see what you've got."
He lunged.
The air split with a whoosh as the blade swept toward her waist. Vael twisted aside, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise.
Fast.
Reider pressed harder, each strike precise, efficient, unrelenting. The dull thuds of wood rang through the clearing as he attacked again and again.
Vael parried easily, her movements fluid, analyzing every swing. "Not bad. But power means nothing if you can't land a hit."
She swept his legs from beneath him with a flick of her foot. He hit the ground hard, leaves scattering. Without hesitation, he rose again.
"Good reaction time," she muttered, almost amused.
Her grip tightened on her practice sword. A faint hum of energy rippled through her body as she let magic sharpen her movements. "Let's kick it up a notch."
Reider charged again, faster this time, his strike aimed cleanly at her side. She sidestepped, parried, and tapped him with ease.
"You're good," she said. "But you're not hurting me."
Something changed then. Reider's blank gaze sharpened just slightly, and he brought the sword down with all his strength.
The wood slammed into her arm—yet Vael felt nothing. No sting, no pressure, nothing beyond the dull weight of timber.
"…What?" Her brow furrowed.
She caught his wrist, stopping him mid-swing. "Hold up."
Stepping back, she frowned. "Reider. Try hitting me again. Full strength."
He hesitated, then obeyed. The sword came at her leg, swift and sure. Again—nothing. Just the hollow tap of wood against flesh.
Her expression darkened.
"…No force. No weight behind it. It's like…" Her heart thumped once, hard. "…like he's not even there."
"Again," she ordered.
Reider swung with everything he had. The wood cracked, snapping in half, shards scattering across the clearing.
And still—nothing.
Vael stared at him, her pulse quickening.
It's not his strength. He's strong. But something's wrong.
She crouched before him, her voice sharp. "Reider. Do you feel… anything? When you fight?"
He tilted his head slightly. "No."
Her jaw tightened.
The old words of her mentor came back to her: Without magic, you can't cut. You can't wound. You'll swing your blade all you want, but you'll never leave a mark.
The realization hit her like ice.
He can't use magic. He can't hurt anything.
Her gaze fell to his small hands, still gripping the broken hilt.
He's powerless. Completely.
She forced herself to straighten, masking her unease. "We're done for today."
Reider nodded, silent, and followed her as she turned away.
But Vael's thoughts churned like a storm.
No magic. No way to hurt anything. In this world… that means he's defenseless.
Her fists clenched at her sides.
And if I figured this out… so will everyone else.
She glanced back at him, his blank eyes meeting hers.
What the hell are you, kid?
---
In the shadows of the forest, unseen, a knight shifted among the branches. He whispered into a small crystal, the air shimmering with faint magic.
"The boy is different," the scout murmured. "Weak. We'll report back."
The crystal hummed with life, carrying his words to the cathedral.
And with it, the noose around Reider's neck tightened.
To be continued…