---
Rave equipped the shining sword. The space around it lit up with a soft, radiant glow, casting gentle beams of light that shimmered through the dark jungle. It was a beautiful sight, almost divine.
The sword was long and firm, its blade shimmering with silvery brilliance. The pommel was forged from iron, solid and round, giving the weapon a heavy but noble weight.
Swordsmanship had always been his primary skill.
His last sword, however, had been confiscated by the Absolute Authority. This new one felt like a second chance.
His bracelet buzzed with a chime.
Displaying Light Sword's Information…
Light Sword
Grade: 3
Info: A sword born in the depths of darkness. It radiates overwhelming light, defying the shadows around it. A symbol of hope and resistance.
Affinity: Light
Attribute: Deals twice the damage against beasts with a dark affinity.
Rave's face lit up at the attribute. 'Perfect.'
He turned to the Shadow Wolf and grinned, just as it lunged at him again. His reaction time remained sharp—but his body, now older due to the Skinwalker's transformation, responded slightly slower. Wil's body was strong, but it had aged.
Still, Rave managed to dodge. Barely.
He gritted his teeth and swung the sword with both hands, the blade trailing white particles like stardust in the night.
The wolf sensed danger and dodged. It backed away cautiously, understanding the weapon's power. Rave didn't waste the opportunity. He dashed forward, meeting the beast head-on.
Steel met claw.
Light clashed against shadow.
The jungle flickered—illuminated by the sword's radiance, only to be dimmed again by the wolf's darkness. Even the air seemed divided, as if the particles themselves were waging war.
It was a breathtaking sight. But the already injured wolf was being slowly overpowered.
Of course, the mutant beast still had the strength to end Rave with a single well-placed strike or bite.
He knew better than to drop his guard again. This time, he moved with purpose—his attacks more refined than before. Still basic in technique, but sharper, faster, more deliberate.
'Thanks, Wil. Because of you… I survived again.'
***
Wil had once been just another boy.
He was born into a low-class family, their name buried in the slums. His parents were executed by the Absolute Authority for failing to repay their debt—their heads hung on the city's massive port like trophies, displayed for all to see.
He grew up surrounded by filth, violence, and hunger. Education was a luxury he couldn't afford. At the age of six, he started working, laboring day and night just to survive.
But even then, he carried a dream—not for himself, but for his younger sister.
Her name was Laelynn.
He worked endlessly so that she could go to school. She was his reason to keep going. He gave her everything: his food, his earnings, his time. She gave him hope in return.
Laelynn studied hard. She aced every test. She made him proud.
Still, sometimes—just sometimes—Wil would feel the bitterness creep in.
'Why does she get to study and not me? Why does she get a future and not me? Why does she get to dream and not me?'
He would catch himself, ashamed.
"What am I thinking? She's my sister…"
And so, he worked harder.
Years passed.
Then came the war. One they could not avoid.
Every boy aged sixteen or older was drafted to fight against the Starfall Sanctuary, ruled by the Empress of Light—Luminara.
Wil was seventeen.
He had no choice but to leave Laelynn, who was only thirteen. The Absolute Authority promised to care for the children left behind, offering food, shelter, and education.
It was the only thing that gave him peace.
War camp was brutal. Wil was mocked for being poor. Beaten. Ignored. But he endured it all. Slowly, his talent emerged. His resilience was noticed. Within months, he was no longer just a slum boy—he was a soldier.
After six months, the real war began.
A war between light and darkness—a war that would be written into history books.
The conflict lasted three long years. Both kingdoms suffered devastating losses. Finally, the two emperors agreed to a treaty. The war was over.
Wil had survived the hellfire. He had achieved great feats. But he didn't care.
The only thing he wanted… was to see his sister again.
The rest of the soldiers celebrated. Wil declined.
He rushed to the shelter where the Authority had raised the war orphans. The building was large, well-lit, and smelled of polished wood and lavender. He saw many children inside, laughing and learning. The sight eased something in his chest.
He approached the front desk.
"My sister—Laelynn. Where is she?"
The secretary smiled warmly. "She's in class right now. You can wait by the hallway."
He nodded, thanked her, and sat by the door. His hands trembled slightly. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. He wiped away tears before they could fall.
'It's a time to be happy… not to cry.'
Half an hour passed. The bell rang. Children began pouring out of the classroom, their laughter echoing in the hall.
Wil's eyes searched through the crowd—until he heard a soft whisper.
"…Wil?"
He turned.
A teenage girl stood before him—older, taller, more mature. He barely recognized her.
"Laelynn… it's me," he murmured.
Their eyes welled with tears—not of grief, but of joy.
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, as if afraid he'd vanish.
And for the first time in years… Wil felt whole.
---