Morning had come.
When Liven opened his eyes, he found Elya by his side. Her eyes were swollen, evidence that she hadn't slept a single moment through the night. She tried to smile, but her voice trembled.
"Are you alright, Captain?" she asked softly.
"I'm fine… just a little tired," Liven replied.
Elya nodded, though her gaze lingered with worry. At that moment, the tent's flap opened and both coaches stepped inside—the stern-faced man and the sharp-eyed woman.
"Liven," the male coach said firmly, "we need to see you and the other captain candidates at once. There's been an incident."
Liven rose, steadying himself. His steps were heavy but determined. As he entered the gathering, Harven approached, his expression serious and almost hostile.
"We've all seen the power inside you, Liven," Harven said, his tone sharp as a blade. "You are not weak… but if you ever dare to use that power against the guild, you'll find us standing in your way."
Liven lowered his head, but fire flickered in his eyes. He was no longer running from the truth. He wanted to understand what he was—and what he was becoming.
The female coach's voice cut through the tension. "Today marks your first true mission. In the Misty Forest, monsters have been stirring. You will split into small squads to eliminate the threat. This will also serve as a test of leadership."
The groups were formed. Liven was assigned to lead a squad with Elya, Harven, and two new recruits:
Seren, the quiet, watchful archer with unerring aim.
Tarn, rough-mannered, loud, but strong, wielding a battle-axe that seemed almost too heavy for one man to carry.
Elya looked at him with searching eyes. "Captain… are you ready?"
Liven drew a steady breath. "Even if I'm not… I have no choice but to be."
---
The Misty Forest was wrapped in silence, its trees cloaked by thick curtains of fog. Each step seemed to vanish into emptiness. Shadows shifted in the haze, and every sound was amplified—snapping twigs, the rasp of breath, the beating of hearts.
"Take a short rest," Liven ordered. His voice was calm, though his hand clenched unconsciously at his side.
He walked ahead, needing a moment alone. But Elya followed, her steps quiet but persistent.
"You're not feeling well, are you?" she asked.
"Yes… but I'll recover," Liven murmured.
Then it came—the voice. Cold, cruel, dripping like poison into his mind.
"That girl… Elya. She softens your heart. She weakens you. Kill her. Kill her now."
Liven's teeth clenched. "Silence! I won't obey you anymore!"
Dark fire flickered across his eyes, heat radiating like sparks from an unseen inferno. His body trembled as if about to tear apart.
"Liven!" Elya cried, fear flashing across her face. "What's happening?!"
"Stay back!" Liven shouted, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "That's… an order!"
The squad obeyed, retreating, though their eyes stayed locked on him. Liven dropped to his knees, gripping the earth with trembling hands.
"You belong to me, Liven. You will submit to my power."
"No… I'll use this power… but not for you. Never for you. I'll listen to my heart, not your voice!"
His scream echoed through the mist, tearing across the forest. Birds scattered, and the fog itself seemed to recoil from his cry.
---
Later that night, the library of the Nightnail Guild lay silent. Liven sat alone among ancient scrolls, his heart restless. He tried to lose himself in faded ink and brittle parchment, but the buzzing in his skull returned—louder, heavier, unbearable.
CRACK.
It was as though a world had split open inside him.
His vision blackened. His knees buckled, and he clutched at the table to stay upright.
Then the demon's voice burst forth, filled with rage and disbelief.
"No… impossible… That Sword still existed?!"
"Vaelgor! That cursed god still dares to interfere!"
Liven gasped as searing pain tore through his chest. His left eye burned like a brand, fire surging behind it. But this time, something was different—the darkness inside him was being crushed, held back, as though a holy blade had pierced straight through his heart.
"The sword… has been drawn…" he whispered hoarsely, blood dampening his lips.
---
Far away, atop the peaks of the Ancient Mountains, an abandoned temple groaned with life for the first time in centuries. Darel knelt before its altar. His fingers traced the cracks in the stone floor where light seeped like veins of gold. His eyes gleamed with a fierce purpose.
Before him rested a sword adorned with gold and silver.
The Sword of Vaelgor.
A cold wind swept through the temple, stirring the dust of forgotten ages. Darel's weathered face was solemn, his breaths steady. He reached for the hilt.
The ground trembled. The heavens roared.
The sword was drawn.
Light exploded outward, searing across sky and stone. For a heartbeat, the entire continent felt the divine surge.
Back in the guild, Liven collapsed to the ground, his body drenched in sweat and blood. His left eye darkened as he gasped, broken words escaping his mouth.
"Who… who pulled the sword?"
The demon's laughter rolled like thunder inside his skull.
"It was your old master… Darel! He has drawn the Sword of the God. His fate is bound to yours. From this moment on, your paths are intertwined!"
---
The training grounds of the guild were nearly empty. After drills, Liven, Elya, Vellan, and Captain Rador sat upon the cold stone steps, catching their breath in the cool night air.
"Your eye glowed again today, Liven," Elya said softly, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Can you control it now?"
Before Liven could answer, the world shifted.
The sky dulled to gray. The wind stilled, then twisted. A low hum filled the air, resonating deep in their bones, unnatural and endless.
Liven collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with unseen pain. His eyes flared like embers. His chest convulsed as if something holy and terrible was splitting him apart.
"The sword… has been drawn…" His voice was hoarse, broken.
Vellan staggered back, hand flying to the hilt of his blade. His eyes were wide, terrified.
Elya froze. In her eyes, a faint golden glow flickered—an echo answering the distant power. Something long buried inside her stirred, and for the first time she feared not the darkness in Liven, but the light awakening within herself.
Captain Rador leapt to his feet. "A force… from afar. Sacred… unstoppable."
Liven raised his head slowly, his gaze unfocused, staring beyond them all.
"Darel," he whispered. "Darel has drawn the Sword of the God. From this moment… everything changes."
A heavy silence cloaked them.
Elya's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? Darel… our teacher?"
Liven lowered his gaze, his face etched with grief.
"He is no longer just a teacher. He is… the Heir of the God."
The demon's voice slithered through Liven's mind, gloating, patient, cruel.
"And you, Liven… you will be his shadow. If light rises… then darkness must rise as well."
---