The air tasted of salt, brine, and smoke as Kaelen stepped onto the jagged cliffside overlooking Port Scab. The settlement below leaned on itself for support: tar-stained driftwood shacks and scavenged ship hulls swaying precariously with each gust. Children darted between the structures, their laughter masking the ever-present undercurrent of danger.
Kaelen adjusted the strap of his harness, letting his storm-grey eyes scan the harbor. A rogue mage had been siphoning water Aura from the Serpent's Tooth Strait, creating currents strong enough to drown anyone caught in them. Kaelen's mission was simple: stop him.
He descended the cliff, boots landing lightly on iron spikes driven into the rock. Master Vorlag had taught him basic sword forms—footwork, stance, and minor Aura enhancements—but real-world improvisation was something entirely different.
The mage appeared suddenly, hunched in robes that glimmered like algae under moonlight. One hand plunged into the blackened water, and twisting tendrils of copper and onyx energy spiraled upward, humming with life and intent.
Kaelen's pulse quickened—not with fear, but with anticipation. He drew his sword, simple steel yet capable of carrying the faint pulse of his Aura. It was enough to disrupt the mage's tendrils with precision, though nothing dramatic enough to reveal the full extent of his power.
One swing sent a tendril spiraling harmlessly into the water. The mage hissed, eyes widening. Kaelen noted the ripple in the water Aura—it shifted in a way that didn't fully obey his control. He ignored it, focusing on the task. Improvisation would win this fight, not raw strength.
With a spinning strike augmented by subtle Aura pulses, he knocked the mage off balance, forcing him to stumble backward onto a drifting platform. Kaelen didn't pursue. Revealing his full abilities now would draw unwanted attention, and attention was dangerous.
As the mage fled, Kaelen glanced toward the edge of the pier. The girl he had saved earlier crouched behind a broken crate, eyes wide and alert. She didn't move. Her breathing was shallow, cautious—silent, but she had not left.
Kaelen gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. Stay hidden, he thought. You're safe for now.
She disappeared behind a stack of driftwood, leaving only a faint trace of shimmering aura in the moonlight, so subtle that Kaelen almost doubted it himself. He didn't dwell on it; he had other matters to attend to.
As he began climbing the cliff again, a faint glint of light flickered over the settlement. It vanished before he could focus on it—easily dismissed as moonlight reflecting off a shard of wood. A low hum threaded through the night air, subtle enough to be ignored as wind, but it left his teeth slightly on edge.
Kaelen shook his head. There were more pressing matters: refining his sword-Aura integration, surviving the night, and learning. Every small victory brought him closer to Tier-3, and each day honed his instincts for survival and combat.
The constellations above writhed faintly, like distant serpents slithering in patterns almost too slow to notice. Kaelen didn't think of it, not yet. The secrets of Aerthos—its deeper, older powers, and the girl who lingered in the shadows—could wait.