Rain walked in silence.
Once, this place had been called the Sunlit Capital — where bright sunlight bathed even the coldest winter. People had been kind, beautiful, generous. Hunger was unheard of. There were no orphans.
But all of that was gone. The kingdom had fallen. Only one city remained — the final stronghold of humanity. The Sunlit Capital had become the Gloom City. The sun no longer shone. Its rays couldn't pierce the eternal shroud of thick, black clouds.
The weather had turned unpredictable. Rain could fall without warning. Snow could blanket the streets. Or worse — everything could drown in a heavy, lifeless gray.
The fall had been gradual.
First came the monsters — countless, though weak. Then the cities began to fall, one after another. People died. The few survivors fled and united in the last standing city, cutting off the rest of the world. It had taken only a few decades.
The monsters became rarer, but stronger. Far more dangerous. Then came the plagues. Infections. Mutated viruses. A new-world plague. People died not just from claws and fangs — but from cold, from starvation, from invisible enemies.
Some, like that nameless child, didn't even die in battle. They simply perished — from hunger, or cold, or both.
Rain pondered darkly on humanity's fate.
Rumors claimed that other kingdoms still had surviving cities, but all communication had long since been lost. Now, he and the silent boy walked toward the royal palace in the heart of the city.
For the first time, the boy crossed into the second level.
Each level of the city was enclosed by massive walls — like layers of armor guarding humanity's last hope.
Knights stood watch on those walls — clad in silver, armed and alert, as if the darkness might invade at any moment.
But no one stopped them. The knights barely glanced at the strange pair and let them pass in silence.
The second level was very different from the one they had left behind.
There were shops, merchants, and the smell of real food. Children played, laughed, ran in the streets. If not for the eternal darkness above, one might almost believe the world hadn't ended.
The child stared in awe at the grand homes lit by warm torches glowing in the twilight.
They walked a bit farther — and reached the first level.
Everything changed here.
The wall separating the first level was absurdly tall.
The number of guards — easily double what they'd seen before.
This wasn't casual watchfulness. This was readiness for war.
On the outer third level, most guards watched the horizon, though even that was hard. Black clouds, fog, unpredictable weather — all reduced visibility to nothing.
When Rain and the child reached the gate of the first level, they were stopped for the usual check.
The knights examined Rain, confirmed his name and purpose. The boy? Not even a glance. Just a shadow. A speck of dust.
Today, Rain was expected at an important meeting summoned by the king himself. Not a war council — but a gathering of the elite: heroes with rare and mighty gifts.
If the second level was filled with life and modest luxury, the first level was its polished opposite.
Here lived the highest-ranking families — generals, advisors, those responsible for the city's order and safety. No cramped homes. Only wide villas. The streets were lit not by torches, but glowing stones that bathed the streets in gentle light.
Children didn't play stickball — they practiced swordsmanship, read old books, or sipped refined drinks under the guidance of tutors. Every movement spoke of grace and control.
The nameless boy looked around, enchanted. Someday, he wanted to be part of this world. And to do that, he knew — he needed strength.
At the center of the level, he saw it: the royal castle. Vast. Dark. Towering above all else.
They didn't walk long. Soon, they stood before its gates. Once, this place had symbolized power and glory. Now it looked abandoned. No guards at the doors — not from carelessness, but because every soldier had a task. No one could afford idleness anymore.
Crossing the threshold, Rain felt it — the king's presence. A pressure. Even an ordinary man would sense it.
Other powerful presences stirred inside the castle. Heroes.
Once, the king had been a mighty warrior, a slayer of beasts feared by armies. Recently, he'd defeated a colossal monster — alone. But the victory left him wounded. Since then, he rarely appeared in public.
— It's cold, — the boy whispered, shivering.
Rain nodded.
— It's called presence. It radiates from the strong. If you ever feel it from an enemy — don't hesitate. Run.
The boy nodded, teeth chattering.
«I must make him strong», Rain thought, fists clenched.
Inside the palace, the atmosphere was better.
From the outside, it looked like a relic. But within — even in decay — royal order and faded splendor remained.
They passed through iron-bound gates into an empty garden. Stone paths, cracked and overgrown, wound through dead flower beds. Yellow leaves and brittle twigs ruled where once roses bloomed.
— Nothing grows anymore, — Rain said, his voice low. — This garden used to glow with emerald grass and trees that shed pink petals. The wind would dance among them.
He fell silent. The boy didn't reply — just followed quietly.
They reached the second gate — dark wood, bronze trims, cool to the touch.
— The palace has two wings, — Rain explained. — One for the king. One for the princess. Used to be the queen's. She passed recently. Just so you don't get lost.
The boy nodded.
— I'll remember.
Rain nodded back and opened the door.
They entered the main hall.
It was breathtaking. High ceilings painted with ancient battle scenes. A chandelier hung in the center — studded with amethysts and sapphires. It glowed not with flame, but with moon-like crystals.
Before them: a golden throne adorned with dragon-wing carvings. Beside it, two smaller thrones — one silver, the other pure white, delicate as a child's chair.
Staircases on each side climbed upward — right for the king, left for the princess.
— I'm going right, — Rain said.
The boy noted it mentally.
Servants bustled across the room — black-and-white uniforms, royal crest on their chests. Efficient. Silent. Part of the palace's clockwork.
Some nodded to Rain. Others ignored him, too busy.
Rain stopped a maid — a young woman with dark hair tied back.
— Take care of the boy, — he said quietly.
She looked at the child. Surprise flickered in her eyes, then vanished. She nodded, offered her hand, and led him away.
— What's your name? — she asked, her voice fading as they left.
Rain didn't turn. He walked toward the right staircase.
Every step echoed the past. Every tile. Every portrait. Memories lived here.
The corridors were long, twisted — designed to confuse intruders. Soft carpets. Faded portraits. Dim lanterns glinting off bronze door handles.
Rain stopped at a door and knocked — soft, but firm.
— Enter.
The room was austere.
Two tall windows let in pale light, showing a dead inner courtyard. Bare walls. No shelves. Just a long, black wooden table — darkened by age. No chairs.
People stood around the table.
One wore a faded military coat with worn epaulets. Another — leather armor scarred by battle. Among them stood a girl in a light dress and cloak bearing the royal crest — her golden hair braided neatly. Beside her — a boy in black armor, solemn as a funeral. And another — white-haired, sharp-eyed, smirking.
A modest chandelier lit the map on the table — flags and markers pinned across it.
— Checked these three spots yesterday, — said the scout, cold and calm. — Clean. No trace. I think the beast escaped.
A man in the shadows lifted his head. The king.
He saw Rain. Their eyes met.
A moment passed. Too brief for memories. Too long for greetings.
It had been years. Their parting — not friendly. But now wasn't the time for grudges. The city was in danger. Rain had returned. By order — or maybe by his heart. Not that he'd admit it.
— Well, well… The great Rain. Swordmaster in exile, — the king said with a faint smile.
— Your Majesty, — Rain replied.
The king looked tired. His hair — once black — was white. Wrinkles lined his face, but his eyes… still sharp.
He turned to the others.
— This is Rain. Once, my teacher. Taught me the sword. One of the strongest I've known.
Rain, meet the heroes who guard this city's fate.
He nodded toward the girl:
— My daughter, Elisa. A healer.
Then at the scout:
— Lenar. Our eyes and ears.
Then the dark knight:
— Ed. From a ruined city. And his companion — Kai. White hair. Sharp mind. Each with their own gifts. You'll fit in.
Rain examined them all.
— Now that we're here — tell me. What's happened?
The king sighed.
— The dragon. It returned. It's gone south for now. But if it returns — this city will be ashes. I didn't summon you for ceremony. We need strength. If not for my wounds, I'd lead them myself.
Rain smiled faintly.
— You forget my age? And… never mind. You know why I left. I'm not young. My sword's still fast — but the body's fading. I can delay death… for a moment.
Ed chuckled.
— Don't worry. We'll manage. History won't send us on a doomed mission.
Rain squinted.
— History? Send? What is he even talking about?
The king stepped closer and whispered:
— Don't try to understand. They're all like this. Even Elisa speaks strangely sometimes.
Elisa shot Ed a glare.
— We agreed not to talk about it.
— Doesn't matter, — Ed waved her off. — King — we need food, shelter, and a little drink.
The king sighed, walked to the window.
— Arrogance breeds weakness. That dragon razed cities — kingdoms. Greater heroes died. Rain might be old, but his blade is still sharp. If he trains you — you might survive.
Elisa smiled faintly:
— We don't need a teacher. We'll manage.
The king turned slowly to her. His voice darkened:
— You've changed, Elisa. You used to listen. When did you stop calling me father?
She said nothing. Her lips trembled, but no words came.
Silence fell.
Rain, arms folded, broke it:
— Glorius, remember — I don't take just anyone. But… if you can hold on for a few years, you'll get one true fighter.
— What? You found a student?
— I did.
— Excellent. Another sword — another chance. You all heard him, — the king said. — If the dragon returns — buy time. We'll handle the rest. I'll help however I can.
One by one, the others nodded. Even Ed bowed slightly.
Lenar scribbled in a notebook.
The king turned to Rain:
— How strong is he? When did you find him?
Rain scratched his head.
— Not strong yet. But he will be. I found him… today.
Some smirked.
But the king smiled — weary, sad, hopeful:
— Sometimes the best sword is forged on the most unexpected day… Alright. I'll trust you.