The training field behind west wing was colder than most.
Colder than it had any right to be.
Storm clouds gathered above without promise of rain, just a heaviness that pressed against the bones. The wind carried whispers so Shinrei-born, others born of tension.
Three students stood in a loose triangle beneath the cracked banner of Team 9.
"Alright, kids," ca the voice of their ntor, low and easy, but with a weight that made the ground seem shallower.
Solen Drayvahn.
Crimson Veinwalker.
Scarlet cloak. Burnt-silver eyes.
"We've got a mission."
He grinned, all teeth and shadow.
"...Tomorrow."
Silence.
"Whatever," Ceyla Nox muttered. Her arms were folded, her gaze sharp, angry, electric. She didn't look at them—didn't need to. The storm around her spoke louder than her voice.
Juno Arkai stepped forward. His movents were precise, deliberate—ritualistic.
He bowed low, palms pressed together in a warrior's gesture.
"Understood, Sensei."
Then, the third.
Khael Corzedar didn't speak at first.
Didn't need to.
His eyes, studied everything.
(Team 9. Solen Drayvahn. This guy… wasn't in the manga.)
Not a single panel. Not a whisper of his na.
And Khael had morized the original work.
(This shouldn't exist. Either he's new… or the story's changing.)
Solen turned his eyes to Khael sharp, gleaming like twin embers under a wet sky.
"You. Khael. Co with ."
Khael blinked once, surprised.
"...Sure."
Ceyla didn't even glance his way.
Juno gave him a firm, respectful nod Taishin discipline in every movent.
As the others walked off, Solen led Khael down a narrow path veiled by tall ironwood trees.
No Shinrei pulses here. No light Echo residue. Just the sound of boots on gravel and a ntor who walked like he didn't need the world's permission to exist.
They stopped near a carved stone lantern, half-buried in moss.
Solen finally spoke.
"It's , Khael."
Khael blinked.
For a mont, he didn't understand. The words ant nothing. But then—
"Wait… what?"
His eyes widened.
"Master…? Master Isen?"
Solen nodded. Slowly. Calmly.
Not denying. Not hesitating.
Just… confirming.
"Don't tell anyone," he said, voice low, not pleading but final. Absolute.
Khael's mind reeled.
(What the hell is happening right now? Isen— THE Keiryuu, Supre Commander of the Veinwalker Corps, living legend, the "Honored One"…)
(He's... here? In front of ? As a school ntor?)
"But… why?" Khael finally breathed.
"Why are you here? Why are you pretending to be a ntor?"
The smile on Solen no, Isen's face curved faintly, like a blade barely sheathed.
"Because you are my disciple. Rember?"
Sothing in those words struck deeper than expected.
Not just a reminder.
A bond. A promise. A weight of mory stretching between lifetis.
Khael staggered back a half-step, his thoughts crashing over each other like thunder.
"But… you're the Keiryuu."
"Shouldn't you be—busy? At the Council? Fighting Voidborn? Running the entire Corps?"
Isen chuckled lightly.
Not mockingly.
But like a man who had lived far too long to take titles seriously.
"Don't worry." He gave a casual shrug, one hand tapping his temple.
"I let my clone handle it."
Khael blinked.
"…Clone?"
"A Shinrei Projection. Perfect emotional replica, limited autonomy. Looks just like . Sounds just like . Good enough for bureaucrats."
Khael stared at him. Mouth dry. Brain buzzing.
(He… made a clone of himself to run the world… while he cos to teach us?)
He exhaled slowly.
"…You're insane," he muttered under his breath.
Isen only laughed.
Not offended. Not even surprised.
Just… warm.
"Possibly."
Then his expression shifted, his eyes, once light and playful, cut sharper now. Deeper. There was sothing hidden behind them. Sothing old.
Almost… nostalgic.
"But you're important, Khael. More than anyone."
Khael scoffed lightly, folding his arms.
"Seriously… you're impossible."
Isen chuckled, stepping forward.
The white-haired man stood beneath the moss-covered lantern, the crimson folds of his cloak catching in the wind like a flag from another era.
"Do I?"
Then softer.
More grounded.
"Khael, don't treat as the Keiryuu. Or a legend."
"Treat as your master. Or your ntor. Nothing more."
The air around them shifted.
Not with pressure.
But with intention.
With presence.
Khael blinked. Sothing stirred in his chest wariness and warmth, both threading into one.
And sowhere within that quiet storm of disbelief and awe…
He smiled.
Just faintly.
"Can't help it, huh…" he muttered.
"…Sensei Solen."
Solen Drayvahn.
White hair like ash-struck snow.
Burnt-silver eyes.
Scarlet cloak swaying with mories of wars past.
Isen—no, Solen—grinned quietly.
Then, with a glint of curiosity, he asked:
"So. What's your plan? About those two kids… You specifically asked for both of them on your team."
"Why?"
"What exactly is my clever little disciple trying to do?"
Khael turned his gaze toward the path Ceyla and Juno had taken, eyes half-lidded, thoughtful.
"Let's just say… I want to be friends with them."
"Starting with Ceyla."
Isen raised a white eyebrow.
"That child, huh… So you do know her circumstances."
Khael gave a short nod.
No hesitation.
Just truth.
Isen tilted his head slightly.
His tone turned amused but not mocking.
"Seriously… you have so many secrets you refuse to tell even , your own master."
Khael t his gaze, calm and resolute.
"I told you already."
"My secrets an no harm."
A pause.
Then—
Isen closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
"Well… I trust you."
But in his mind, sothing flickered. A mory. A ghost of soone long gone.
(You're just like her… Yuna.)
(The way you talk. The way you calculate everything while still carrying the weight of kindness.)
(It's uncanny.)
He shook the thought.
Then smirked again.
"Anyway. Want to start training now?"
But Khael shook his head gently.
"Sorry, Sensei… but not yet."
"Like I said, I want to get to know Ceyla. I want to be her friend."
"And to do that, I need to go to where she is."
Isen stared at him for a mont.
Then he sighed with theatrical exaggeration, pressing a palm over his chest like a wounded nobleman.
"You're thinking about chasing a girl instead of bonding with ?"
"How cruel."
Khael smirked faintly, turning toward the path once more.
"I'm sure you'll survive, Sensei."
Isen grinned and leaned back against the lantern.
"Barely."
As Khael's footsteps faded into the trees, the red-cloaked master watched him go, eyes softened by sothing far older than the present.
(Friends, huh…)
(You've got the blood of dragons in you now, Khael. You can't run from destiny.)
But then again…
Neither did Yuna.
To be continue
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