An unfamiliar white ceiling stared back at - smooth, sterile, and too bright.
The faint hum of the lights above felt louder than it should’ve.
The infirmary.
The hospital room in the academy.
I knew where I was.
And still... it felt distant.
Like waking up from a dream that ended too quietly.
Strangely nostalgic, even though it hadn’t been long.
It reminded of that day.
The duel.
When he defeated .
Not as a tyrant.
Not as the old Kael.
But... sothing else.
Sothing terrifying.
Back then, I had planned to end the match early.
Break a rule. Force a disqualification.
Better that than risk him shaming the House in front of everyone.
But then—
his eye flared.
The Mythrigan.
And before I could even move, I saw it:
Fire. Ice. Lightning. Wind. tal.
Not summoned.
Not channeled.
Controlled.
Like he wasn’t borrowing nature. He was commanding it.
And for a mont, I forgot to breathe.
My entire life, I had never seen anyone fight like that.
It wasn’t just power —
It was sothing else.
Sothing mythic.
Even the Book of Valery, with all its exaggerated tales and embellished glory...
Didn’t do him justice.
Kael didn’t live up to the legend.
He surpassed it.
He moved like soone touched by prophecy.
Like he wasn’t part of this world —
but sothing it had been waiting for.
And I—
I can only imagine what he’ll beco.
In ti.
In full.
An absolute legend.
A na carved into the bones of history.
But—
The first wielder of the Mythrigan was called "The One Who Walked Away."
A figure from the Age of Shattering,
who saw the truth of the Three Eternities and chose exile over dominion.
He left because he saw sothing no one else did.
They say he vanished without a word.
That to bear the Mythrigan is to stand above the world...
And eventually, to leave it.
Kael said he would stay.
He said it at the conference — said it to us all.
That he wouldn’t vanish.
That he’d walk this path with us. With .
But even now...
Even after everything—
Will you walk away, too?
Maybe not from the House.
But from us.
From .
Because along the way...
You gave up your swordsmanship.
You stepped into the ring —boxing, of all things.
Can’t you see, Kael?
Swordsmanship ant everything to .
It was what brought us together as children.
It was the one thing we always shared.
But now?
You fight with fists. You strike without form.
You let go of the thing that once anchored us.
And then—
You gave up your silence.
You used to let things happen quietly. You acted, and we followed without question.
You didn’t shake our hands.
You didn’t hold our shoulders.
You didn’t have to.
Your presence was enough.
But now...
You speak gently. You hesitate.
You gave up your ti. Your knowledge.
And handed it to Arthur.
Arthur Valeheart.
I rember what you told him during the sparring match:
"Don’t mimic rejection. Feel it."
But Kael...
How could you possibly know what rejection feels like?
Everyone worships you. Fears you. Follows you.
Then what made you feel rejected, Kael?
Was it ?
Was it because I wasn’t enough to protect you?
Because I was too cold?
Maybe I’m the one who wasn’t enough.
But then you turned to .
You spoke kindly. Softly.
Like I was just... another person.
And I smiled. I answered.
I stood at your side like I always had.
But deep down
I was breaking.
Because I rember. But you don’t.
I was the one you were ant to marry.
The girl they whispered about behind closed doors — the one bound by blood and oath.
The one you told, long ago:
"You will be my sword. And I’ll be the hand that guides it."
That ant sothing to .
Not just duty.
Not just strength.
It ant us.
So when you gave up the sword...
When you chose fists over blades...
When you chose soone else to guide...
It felt like betrayal.
Not to the House.
To .
To the little girl who stood outside the training room every day, waiting for you to open the door.
To the girl who was locked away...
And still waited.
I...
I love you, Kael.
I don’t even know when it started.
But I do know this:
When you let go of your sword...
You let go of .
——————
I walked away in silence,
but her words wouldn’t leave .
They followed like a shadow —
long, cold, and sharp.
She had to be lying.
Right?
Maybe it wasn’t really her speaking.
Maybe sothing twisted her —
The Flaw. The demon.
Anything but her.
Because if it was her...
Then everything she said—
No.
My thoughts stopped when I rembered her eye.
Stage Three Lumigan.
You can’t fake that.
You can’t reach that depth through illusion or lies.
To awaken a Lumigan that far...
You have to confront sothing real.
Sothing buried in the heart.
And her eye—
It wasn’t rage.
It wasn’t corruption.
It was pain.
Undeniable.
Clear.
Personal.
Even if I wanted to look away...
I couldn’t.
Because part of already knew:
What she said was true.
The mory ca slow.
Unwelco.
Like sothing rising from deep water.
A door.
A child’s voice.
Crying — muffled behind tal.
Small fists pounding once... then going quiet.
That mont.
That hallway.
That silence I told myself was discipline.
That stillness I called strength.
Wait—
That was her?
Lucia?
Gods.
That was her.
And I—
I left her there.
I told myself it was training.
That she’d thank one day.
That breaking her would make her stronger.
But all I did...
All he did...
Was lock her away.
Not .
Him.
The one before .
The Kael this world rembers.
The Kael who mistook cruelty for love
and called control protection.
And now?
Now I’m the one left to face it.
To carry his sins.
To nd what I didn’t break.
But maybe—
Maybe it’s already too late.
Because she didn’t need the man I am now.
She needed him.
The one she waited for in the dark.
And he—
He never ca back.
The one before . The Kael this world rembers.
The Kael who made monsters and called it loyalty.
But still...
Even with the novel’s knowledge.
Even with the Mythrigan.
Even with his na and all the weight it carries—
I couldn’t save the little girl he left behind.
The one who followed him.
The one he shut in the dark.
And now I’m the one standing here.
Carrying his sins.
Facing her silence.
Trying to fix sothing I didn’t break.
But maybe that’s not enough.
Because she doesn’t need the new .
She needed him.
And he never ca back.
As I sat on the cold floor of the Valery training room,
I looked out the window.
Outside, the others were still swinging their swords —
hands trembling, eyes tired.
Insulting each other like it was a form of discipline.
Like pain was tradition.
And I began to wonder—
What right do I have to lead Valery?
I can’t even handle the youngest among them.
I’m not even truly Valery.
I’m just Adrian.
So how could I possibly understand them?
How could I ever guide them?
Did I even have the right to change them?
Maybe this is who they are.
Maybe it’s in their blood.
Maybe it’s the only way they know how to survive.
And ?
What am I but an outsider—
Trying to rewrite what I don’t even belong to.
Lucia...
You said I was too soft.
Maybe you were right.
Maybe I really am too soft.
Too weak.
Click.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
I turned my head.
There, standing in the doorway, was Jessa.
Still trembling.
Still tired.
Her hands were red and raw — blistered, bandaged loosely from training.
"Jessa... what are you—?"
She didn’t answer.
She just limped forward, one step at a ti, until she finally dropped to the floor in front of .
Not gracefully. Not steadily.
Her legs folded awkwardly beneath her, and she winced as she sat.
Her shoulders were shaking.
But not from pain.
But from sothing deeper.
She looked at — not as a student to her leader. But as soone just trying to understand why kindness hurts so much to witness.
"Kael," she whispered.
"Can I say sothing? From my heart?"
I nodded. Slowly.
"...Yes."
She took a breath fragile, uneven. Like she was still trying to find the strength to speak.
"Kael..."
Her voice cracked — barely above a whisper.
"You’ve beco kind."
I looked down at the floor. I couldn’t et her eyes.
The words didn’t feel like praise.
They felt like they belonged to a better man
not the one sitting here, silent and unsure.
But she kept going.
"That ans you’re stronger."
Her voice shook.
But her gaze never left mine.
"The strong are always kind."
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