The sun rose quietly over the forest, casting golden beams through the mist-soaked trees. Dew clung to the grass as the small cabin was left behind, its door swinging gently in the morning breeze. Kirozan and Rei, travel-worn packs on their shoulders, were already on the move, heading eastward along a narrow dirt path cloaked in the hush of early dawn.
Rei was silent, his body aching but his spirit alight. The last few days had carved something new into him. Determination. Resolve. Something unspoken but now firmly rooted.
He glanced up at Kirozan, who walked steadily ahead. The fight from the previous night had been brief, but something about it still haunted Rei. He hadn't seen the battle—but he had felt the tremor in the earth, the shift in the wind, and the strange silence that followed.
"Who was it last night?" Rei asked finally.
Kirozan didn't slow down. "Someone who didn't belong."
"Did you... kill him?"
Kirozan shook his head. "No. But I left him with a message."
Rei's brow furrowed. "What kind of message?"
A cold smile tugged at the corner of Kirozan's mouth. "One that echoes louder than screams."
Far across the lands, beyond mountains that tore at the sky and rivers that cut through ancient forests, lay the grand citadel of Thornevalr. A fortress of obsidian stone and crimson banners, perched atop a jagged cliff like a throne of vengeance. It was here, in the highest spire, that the Crimson King of Thornevalr, Caldran Veyl, held court.
The throne room was vast, lit by floating lanterns of fire aura. Marble pillars carved with battle scenes held the weight of centuries. Seated on the obsidian throne, Caldran Veyl rested his chin on his hand, draped in robes that shimmered like blood beneath sunlight. His eyes—deep, ancient, and unreadable—gazed toward the grand chamber doors.
They burst open.
A soldier entered, one arm in a sling, breath ragged. It was Nizel.
"My lord," he panted, kneeling. "I bring a message."
He offered the sealed scroll, its wax marked not with any kingdom's crest, but a jagged slash through a crimson crown.
Gasps echoed through the room.
A throne attendant took the scroll and presented it to the king. Caldran's fingers brushed over the seal. A moment of silence. Then, he opened it.
He read.
And smiled.
The message was short. Brutal.
"Your little eyes are too weak to peer into my forest. I am not bound by kingdom nor law. Send another, and I will come to Thornevalr—not with a sword, but with silence. And your battalions will disappear in it. Tell Caldran Veyl that Kirozan walks again."
The silence that followed was heavier than iron.
One of the battalion commanders stepped forward, his aura flaring violet-blue. "With respect, my king—we must retaliate. Give me the order, and I'll hunt him myself. He's just a green."
Another slammed a fist into his palm. "He's mocking the crown! Let us ride now."
Caldran raised a single hand.
The room froze. And then—
Crimson.
It flared around him like a sun birthed in the heart of a volcano. His aura exploded outward—thick, suffocating, ancient. Every soul in the chamber dropped to one knee, gasping for breath as the pressure crushed the air around them. Stone cracked. Flames flickered violently. The banners of war shuddered on their poles.
Even the high commander who had spoken was forced flat to the marble, trembling, unable to lift his head.
Caldran stood slowly, his aura still pulsing in slow waves of terrifying heat.
"You want to chase Kirozan?" His voice echoed like thunder across the walls. "Then stand. If your knees can carry you beneath my fury, you may have the privilege of facing his."
No one moved.
Caldran stepped down from the throne, walking past his court like a god among insects.
"You think his warning was arrogance?" he said, voice low. "It was memory. And mercy."
He looked down at Nizel, who knelt shaking.
"Recall all agents from the eastern forests," Caldran said coldly. "Let the wolf walk."
One elder dared to speak. "Sire, are we... conceding?"
Caldran's eyes narrowed. His aura flared again, just enough to make the elder gasp and clutch his chest.
"No," he said. "We're respecting the storm before we decide how to ride it."
Back on the road, Rei sat by a campfire, watching Kirozan finish setting up their small camp for the night.
"Why do they fear you so much?" Rei asked quietly.
Kirozan didn't answer right away. He looked into the fire, and the flames danced in his eyes like ghosts.
"Because once," he said, "I didn't stop. And I left behind only silence."
Rei stared at him, the fire crackling between them.
He knew, now more than ever—this journey would not just test his strength.
It would define his fate.