A shadowy figure emerged from the forest's depths, cloaked in a hood so dark it concealed every trace of his identity. He crept out from behind a gnarled tree, bow in hand, his arrow nocked with deadly precision. With a sinister chuckle, he released the arrow, its path cutting silently through the air toward his unsuspecting target.
Kyro sensed the incoming danger. In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his axe, his eyes narrowing with focus. Steel met shaft in midair, the clash ringing out through the trees as he deflected the attack.
"Ugh!"
Tharic, adrenaline surging through him, raised his spear and charged. But before he could close the distance, another cloaked assailant stepped from the shadows and clapped their hands. A wave of aether surged toward Tharic, wrapping around him like invisible chains, slowing his movements to a crawl.
"What the—"
Before he could react, the second figure drove a brutal kick into his stomach, hurling him backward.
Kyro spun around, heart pounding, eyes locking onto the second enemy—armless, but no less dangerous. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, axe raised high, aiming for a swift finish. But the figure smirked and clapped again.
Thick, serpentine vines burst from the ground, writhing and snapping as they surged toward both Kyro and Tharic.
"Not this again…" Kyro's thoughts flashed to the time he'd been caught in a similar trap deep inside a cavern. Now, the two warriors found themselves dodging the twisting tendrils, eventually cornered against the edge of a rushing river.
Frustrated and furious, Tharic redirected his assault toward the archer, hoping to eliminate the ranged threat. He pressed forward, trying to force the fight into close combat. Surprisingly, the archer used his bow defensively, parrying Tharic's spear strikes with skilled precision.
Meanwhile, Kyro charged back at the vine user, cleaving through the encroaching vines with his axe. Yet with each step he gained, new vines erupted behind him, coiling and lashing to keep him at bay.
"At this rate, I'll never close the gap!"
Realizing Kyro was being overwhelmed, Tharic attempted to retreat to his side. The archer, however, wasn't done. He fired a volley of lightning-infused arrows at Tharic, forcing him to dodge. A few connected, tearing through his sleeves and grazing his skin.
Grimacing, Tharic narrowed his eyes and prepared a technique.
"Wind Technique: Gale Step!"
With a burst of aether beneath his feet, he accelerated, closing the gap in a blink. Before the archer could raise his bow, Tharic drove his spear into his chest, sending him flying into a nearby tree. But something felt off, as Tharic tossed him towards the tree too easily.
From afar, Kyro's voice rang out in alarm. "Above you!"
"What?" Tharic looked up—his heart sank.
The archer was airborne, already mid-draw, aiming directly at Kyro.
"How the hell…?" Tharic muttered in confusion. The archer right before Tharic hit his attack, created an afterimage clone of himself before going airborne, thereby avoiding any damage from Tharic's spear.
In his moment of distraction, vines coiled around Tharic's ankles, locking him in place once more.
"Ugh!"
The archer loosed his arrow. Mid-flight, it fragmented, splitting into a hundred smaller lightning bolts that rained down toward Kyro like a storm.
Just then, across the river, a woman stood poised—her katana resting against her hip. Without a word, she exhaled and unleashed a crescent-shaped wave of water from her blade. It carved through the air with surgical precision, intercepting the lightning arrows mid-fall.
"What the hell?" Kyro shouted, spinning to see who had intervened. The mysterious woman leapt in front of him, blade now drawn, stance solid and ready.
"Who is this woman?!" the archer cried, his confidence visibly shaken.
She didn't answer. Instead, she dashed forward, slicing through the vines like paper. Her movement was blinding, so fast that even Kyro struggled to follow.
"I can't even see her move…" Tharic thought, stunned.
In a flash, her blade severed the vine user's head cleanly. She vaulted off a tree, angling toward the archer. Tharic, finally breaking free of the vines, dropped to his knees, exhausted.
The archer raised his bow in desperation, but he was too slow. With a single strike, the woman incapacitated him.
"Incredible…" Kyro breathed, awestruck.
She landed gracefully, catching her breath. Her long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, few strands falling over her face. Deep blue eyes stared forward, and a faded scar ran across her nose. She wore simple yet battle-hardened attire.
Turning her piercing gaze on Kyro, she raised her blade toward him.
"You. Explain yourself. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Kyro froze. Her presence was overwhelming—deadly, commanding. The sheer force of her aether pressed down on him.
"That aether… it's unlike anything I've ever felt…"
"I'm Kyro. That's my friend, Tharic. We're searching for a woman's missing husband that we believe he was taken by Aether hunters."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black tie. Her expression shifted.
"A husband?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
Kyro nodded. "She said they were ambushed. We were tracking the hunters when we found them."
She sheathed her blade and stepped closer, inspecting the tie.
"Strange... I haven't heard of such an incident nearby. But maybe I missed it."
She paused, then offered, "If you'd like, I can take over from here and help find him."
Kyro shook his head firmly. "I'm not just doing this for her husband. I want to protect the citizens of Sylmora. I want to help people."
Her gaze hardened. "This isn't a fairytale, kid. Sylmora's falling apart. Dreams won't fix that, and neither will people as weak as you. You'd be better off going home."
"See? I'm not the only one telling you," Tharic thought.
But Kyro's eyes burned with resolve. "It's not just a dream. I will save Sylmora. Even if I'm weak, I'll keep fighting, until the very end."
She studied him in silence, her expression unreadable.
"…What's wrong with this fool?" she thought.
Tharic stepped forward, trying to mediate. "I'm sorry about my—"
"Fine," the woman interrupted. "If you're serious, come with me. I'll show you why this path isn't for the faint of heart. Let's cross the river, my home is nearby."
"Well, alright then," Tharic thought. "Never mind, I guess."
Together, they crossed the river to her modest cabin tucked within the forest. Inside, Kyro and Tharic sat at a wooden table. A couch and a pair of shelves lined the wall. The woman poured water for each of them, the silence thick with tension.
"So, Kyro," she said at last, "what's your deal? Why cling so stubbornly to this dream? Judging by your appearance and aether levels, you seem pretty weak, much more than your friend next to you."
Kyro looked down for a moment before answering. "Not long ago, I saw a woman nearly killed for her aether by a hooded man—just like the ones we fought. That pain… that fear… I can't forget it. Ever since, I've felt this strange urge to help people. Like I'm chasing something I've lost."
The woman started at Kyro for a moment before chuckling. "Forgive me for laughing but that's called sympathy, kid. Most people feel it when they witness tragedy."
Kyro shook his head. "No, it wasn't just sympathy. It felt deeper… like a memory trying to surface. Like I've forgotten something important."
Tharic rolled his eyes silently. "I'm pretty sure that was sympathy, idiot."
The woman sighed. "The battlefield isn't where you go to find lost memories. If your mind's fractured, a medic would be better than a sword."
She took a sip of water, then continued. "Still, what else brought you here? You don't look like the locals…or what was the locals."
Kyro nodded. "We were sent to Ashcrest by someone named Oliver. He asked us to deliver a package to someone named Rena."
She blinked, surprised. "That would be me. Rena Glane. I was told there'd be a delay, but it looks like Oliver came through."
"Oh, great!" Kyro smiled and handed her the package.
She opened it, revealing a glowing Aetherite crystal. "Perfect, just in time. My crystal started running low on its power."
Her eyes drifted to Tharic. "And judging by your face… you must be Mr. Korr's son."
"Yeah, I am his son," Tharic answered.
"Send your father my thanks whenever you next see him. Are you also here to save the country, then?"
Tharic scoffed. "Nope. I'm just tagging along to keep this fool alive. I don't believe Sylmora can be saved, and I'm not wasting my time trying."
Rena tone and facial expression got more serious, "While I do agree, the boy is weak and his goals may be foolish because of who he is, to say saving Sylmora is a waste of time would be a great insult to those of us who call it home."
"Not if there is no hope, or any possibility of happening," quickly said Tharic. "I've seen too much suffering for me to believe in anything of this world."
Rena, facial expression and tone relaxed, "Well, I hope sooner or later, you realize just how much this country means to others. Perhaps that line of thinking would change if you realize that."
Tharic looked away, unmoved.
She then looked back at Kyro, her eyes narrowed as if to test Kyro's resolve to keep going, "You're still set on this goal of yours?"
Kyro gulped, feeling not only the tension in her eyes but also the powerful aether starting to permeate throughout the cabin.
He slowly stood up declaring, "Yes, and no matter what, I will see my goals to the end. It's important not only to save people in distress, but maybe one day find out who I truly am."
Rena stood as well, her expression unreadable as she reached for her katana resting beside the table.
"In that case…"
In one fluid motion, she unsheathed the blade and sent a water crescent slicing through the air toward Kyro. His eyes widened, instincts flaring. He tilted his head just enough for the wave to miss, crashing into the far wall of the cabin with a sharp splash.
"The hell is this crazy lady doing now?" Tharic thought, watching from his seat in disbelief.
"You…" Rena said, her eyes fixed on Kyro.
Kyro stood frozen, unsure. "Oh no… was I supposed to block that?"
Rena exhaled slowly, the pressure in the room dissipating as she sheathed her blade. "Have promise."
Kyro let out a gasp of relief, his knees bending slightly as he placed his hands on them, trying to catch his breath.
"Thank the gods… I thought I was dead."
Rena gave a slight smirk. "Very well. I'll humor this little farce of yours—for now."
Kyro looked up, his eyes still burning with determination. "Thank you. But I'm not quitting. Ever. You can count on it."
She chuckled. "I've heard that one before. Plenty of bright-eyed adventurers make bold declarations like yours, until they face the brutal reality of this country."
She turned and began walking toward the door. "Let's see if you last longer than they did…"
Meanwhile, in a hidden warehouse far from the forest…
"YUSEF!"
A shout echoed through the dark chamber. A cloaked figure stood at the center, his face obscured by a wooden mask stained with irregular streaks of red paint.
Yusef knelt before him, head bowed low, flanked by two armored guards who stood rigidly at attention.
"How could you let them escape?" the masked figure bellowed. "We are the First Order. We do not fail. We do not miss. And yet somehow, you've done the impossible!"
"Yes, Lord Ivance," Yusef replied evenly. "But I bring good news. We've pinpointed his location."
One of the guards stepped forward. "A tracking device was placed on—"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR EXCUSES!"
Ivance's voice boomed through the warehouse, rattling the crates stacked along the walls. The room fell dead silent. No one dared to speak again.
His tone dropped to a growl. "Find them. Bring them here. I want their Aether—now. No one escapes the First Order. No one makes a fool of us. Do I make myself clear?"
"If it happens again," Ivance continued coldly, "I'll kill every single one of you."
Yusef lowered his head further. "Yes, my lord."
"Then go. Now."
Yusef rose without another word, leading the guards out of the warehouse in silence.
Ivance remained, turning to a spear mounted on the wall behind him. It was worn down, the tip dulled, the shaft marked by faded runes that pulsed faintly beneath layers of dust. He reached out and ran a gloved finger along its edge, staring through the warehouse window at the horizon beyond.
He said nothing, but his grip on the spear tightened.