Under the heavy shroud of a moonless night, while the world lay anchored in sleep, a shadow draped in obsidian silk slipped through the desolate streets. He moved like a ghost toward an ancient, decaying manor. Standing amidst the dust and rot, he called out with a voice trembling between desperation and defiance: "Falak! I know you are lurking here, you 'Eye' of the shadows! Show yourself!"
From the void behind him, a breath as cold as the grave brushed his ear. "Why do you wail so, O Heir of the Fire Clan?"
Kenji's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He spun around, his limbs trembling, before he could find his voice. "Finally... you appear!"
Falak regarded him with a gaze that stripped away his dignity. "Did we not swear a pact? Our paths were never to cross unless the very foundations of the world were shaking."
Kenji bit his lip until it bled. "And so they are. My brother, Ain, has returned today."
Falak's expression remained a mask of frozen indifference. "And? Should I prepare a crown for a pariah? He shall inherit nothing from your father. Your war remains with your elder brother."
"It is not just him!" Kenji hissed, his fingers twitching in anxiety. "Ain did not return alone. He brought a stranger—a youth radiating a power so suffocating it made my very skin crawl."
For the first time, a flicker of interest pierced Falak's cold eyes. "Power? Describe him."
"Tall," Kenji replied, the image burned into his mind. "Hair like spun gold, eyes of a predatory amber. And on his neck... a tattoo of a demon's horn, housing Seven Gates within its curve."
A predatory smile slowly spread across Falak's face. "Andrey... what a stroke of divine luck. Listen well, Kenji. I have the solution you seek. Do you wish to hear it?"
Kenji didn't hesitate. "Is that even a question? Speak!"
Chapter II: The Fog of the Mind and the Dance of Ice
The scene shifts from the darkness of conspiracies to the harsh light of the training grounds. The air was thick with the rhythmic thud of colliding bodies. Ain and Andrey were locked in a fierce duel, but Andrey's spirit was elsewhere, drifting in a fog of distraction. With the predatory grace of a panther, Ain exploited a gap in his defense and slammed him into the dirt.
"What is wrong with you, Andrey?" Ain barked. "Your focus is hollow!"
Andrey sighed, wiping the grime from his face. "Maybe you're just a monster today, my friend."
Ain't eyes narrowed. "Even if I were, you are fighting like a novice. You didn't finish the Old Man's training last night. That isn't like you."
Andrey sat on the ground, the dark circles under his eyes telling a story of exhaustion. "Sleep has been a stranger to me lately."
From the shadows of the porch, Master Lao's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "And what thief steals the sleep of a warrior like you?"
"Just a memory," Andrey whispered. "An old ghost that refuses to stay buried."
"Old memories are weights that drown the soul," Lao commanded. "Stand up! Face me! Your only mission is to land a single strike."
Andrey lunged like a desperate storm, unleashing a volley of blows. But Master Lao, with his single hand tucked calmly behind his back, moved like a reed in the wind, effortless and untouchable. "You fight with your muscles, not your mind!" Lao countered, delivering a sharp kick to Andrey's midsection, followed by a strike that sent him reeling to the floor.
"Overthinking blunts the senses. Rise!"
As Andrey stood, a primal instinct screamed of danger. He drew his blade in a silver flash, cleaving a shard of pure ice in two just before it struck.
Master Lao chuckled. "Lord of Ice... you truly have a heart of gold to test him so."
The Ice Lord stepped out from the dense foliage, a smirk playing on his lips. "Was my presence that obvious?"
"To us, yes," Lao replied. "But Andrey's mind is sluggish today."
Andrey smiled weakly. "Welcome, Captain."
"It's been a month since Emily's birthday," the Ice Lord noted, inspecting Andrey's bulk. "You've grown like a mountain. What are they feeding you? Elephants?"
"Just hard training," Andrey replied.
"Training, eh? ... Sora, descend!"
Before Andrey could process the command, the massive eagle, Sora, plummeted from the sky, pinning him to the earth with his weight. The Ice Lord laughed. "Zero reaction time. You're all brawn and no brain."
After discussing a secret mission from Commander Alexander, Lao invited the group to dinner, promising a feast of meat prepared by Ain's mother. The mood was light, broken only by Ain's fierce protests about Sora joining them. "That perverted bird stays outside!" Ain yelled. "If he looks at my mother with those eyes again, I'll roast him alive!"
Chapter III: A Feast of Blood and Iron Will
The group walked toward the tent, their hearts light with hunger and camaraderie. But as they neared, the laughter died in their throats. Blood. The crimson stain was spreading across the canvas of the tent like a horrific flower.
Ain's heart stopped. He tore through the entrance to find a nightmare: three strangers lay dead in heaps, and in the center, his mother lay in a pool of her own blood, her life fading in unconscious silence.
Before the horror could settle, the shadows outside moved. A horde of killers surrounded the tent, activating a sinister magical trap. A barrier shimmered into existence, severing their connection to their powers. They were caged—stripped of their magic—while the assassins moved freely, their dark energy intact.
One killer lunged toward the tent, a sneer of victory on his face. He never saw the counter-attack.
A silver blade erupted from the tent, impaling the assassin through the chest. With a brutal surge of strength, the sword swung upward, splitting the man and the tent in half.
Through the jagged tear in the fabric stood the Ice Lord. His eyes burned with a frost colder than any winter.
"Anyone who steps within this circle should prepare to greet death," he declared, his voice a jagged edge of steel. "Even without our magic, you are nothing but insects to be crushed. Step forward... if you dare."