The ruins bled with rain.
Ryven ran—lungs gasping, chest burning, feet scraping broken stone—but for the first time in his life, he wasn't running from boredom.
He was running toward something.
Thrill.
Every step was defiance. Every heartbeat, clarity. He'd died, hadn't he? That last moment on the highway—metal twisting, sky spinning, the world gone.
But now?
Now he was sprinting through a world that made no sense, chased by something wrong. And instead of fear, he felt the edge of a grin rising.
Lightning cracked above, silhouetting the thing behind him: a tall, deformed monster of soul-forged bone and fractured will. A blade writhed in its arm—glitching in and out of phase like a dying signal. The Abythrot.
It didn't breathe. Didn't scream. It just moved—tearing through the air, carving slashes in reality, leaving trails of ozone-sharp residue behind.
Ryven's boots skidded over slick stone. He barely ducked a half-born soul slash—the wind behind him screamed as a monument split in two.
And he laughed.
Not out of bravery.
Out of adrenaline.
Out of the dizzying truth:
I wanted this. I wanted more.
The Abythrot rose again, its blade twitching like broken intent. One hit would erase him.
And then—
A sound like wind across glass bells.
A flicker of silver.
A ripple in the air.
Kaelith.
They stepped in like the rain parted for them—tall, draped in a white-gray cloak etched with glowing glyphs. The fabric clung wet to ash-brown hair streaked with silver. One eye glowed behind a half-mask of burnished metal. Their presence cut silence into the storm.
Their glaive—Sael'thera—met the Abythrot's corrupted blade mid-strike.
CLANG.Like a scream that got strangled.
Kaelith didn't move with urgency. Only precision. The glaive's ribbon of light unwound with grace, like a soul remembering itself.
The Abythrot screamed—without sound. It hit Ryven like pressure in the skull, as if his memories were about to snap.
Kaelith struck back. Each motion carved reality. The glaive didn't just cut—it unraveled the monster's purpose. One swing, and the Abythrot staggered, its next attack flickering out mid-form.
"Stay down," Kaelith said.
Ryven didn't argue.
The creature lunged, desperate, its weapon-arm twisting into something new.
Kaelith vanished.
A heartbeat passed.
Then they were above it, spinning like a soul-forged storm. The glaive came down through a slit in its chest—the false sheath—and ended it.
The Abythrot collapsed into glimmering fragments, soul-ash scattering like dying stars.
Only the rain remained.
It fell harder now, like the sky itself wanted to crush him. Steam hissed off the corpse as it dissolved into the wind.
Ryven's chest heaved. His legs shook. His jacket smoked where the blade had grazed his side—didn't hurt yet. Not really.
Then Kaelith stood over him. Cloak fluttering with that same eerie stillness. Their weapon glowed faintly, like a thought that hadn't faded yet.
"You have no sigil," they said. "No tether. No Eidolon. Yet you ran."
Ryven let out a breath, half a laugh, tasting blood. "I didn't think I'd survive," he said. "I just wanted to see what happened if I didn't stop."
Kaelith tilted their head. One glowing eye narrowed—not angry. Just studying.
"Thrill-junkie," they said. "Suicidal. You'll be dead in a week."
Ryven grinned—lopsided, cracked. "Then I better make it a legendary week."
A pause.
Kaelith turned. Their glaive dissolved into strands of soul-light. The cloak swept behind them, etched symbols glinting in the downpour.
"You're leaking resonance."
Ryven blinked. "Leaking what?"
Kaelith stopped. "That shimmer around your hands. Your breath. That's soul resonance—and it's unanchored. You don't have a tether, which means you're not meant to be here."
He looked down. And saw it—light, like heat haze, trailing from his skin.
"And that's bad?"
Kaelith's eye caught his. "Keep leaking like that, and Erethein will notice. And it won't send me next time."
Ryven hesitated. "So why save me at all? Why not let it take me?"
Kaelith didn't blink.
"I almost did," they said coldly. "Say one more dumb thing, and I still might."
Their hand touched their weapon's hilt—not threatening. Just reminding.
Ryven raised his hands. "Okay. Message received. Loud and deathy."
Kaelith turned again and walked into the rain.
Gravity felt heavier now. The world denser. And yet…
Something else stirred inside him.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
He followed.