Rain poured like the sky itself was weeping, needles of water lancing down onto the academy's empty training grounds. Thunder rumbled distantly, yet it could not drown out the steady rhythm of steel slicing through the air.
A lone figure stood in the middle of the field.
A boy no older than fifteen moved with slow, deliberate precision. His blade cut again and again, arcs of silent fury in each swing. His black cloak clung to him, drenched, dragging behind him with every step. Yet he never stopped.
Anazitis.
Beneath the canopy of an old training pavilion, Igetis watched, brow furrowed. A fellow academy student beside him wiped the rain from his eyes and whispered, "Why is he out there… in this storm?"
Everyone at the academy had heard whispers about him—the boy from a burned village, the boy who never smiled, the boy who carried an emptiness that never seemed to fade. The academy's master hoped this place could help every lost soul recover, but some wounds ran deeper than lessons or training.
Igetis stepped forward into the rain. The chill bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the sight before him. Pain. Motionless, unhealed pain.
"Hi, Anazitis," Igetis called gently. "It's raining hard today… Did you forget your umbrella?"
No answer.
Anazitis' eyes were distant, void-like. His face was blank, untouched by the storm, by hope, by fear. In his left hand, he clutched a black, rune-covered book. Its cover pulsed faintly, resonating with the storm's energy.
Igetis tried again, softer this time. "Let's wait it out under the tree… You don't need to stand in the rain alone."
Still no response. But inside Anazitis, a thought flickered:
He wants to help me… to make me feel something. Is that what kindness feels like? But this world… it already took everything. My family. My home. My warmth. Gone.
Still… maybe if there are people like him, the world isn't completely broken. Maybe… if I learn enough, I can reshape it. A world full of smiles, like his. A world of eternal happiness.
Yet he said nothing, simply turned and walked past Igetis, past the chance for connection.
Igetis watched him vanish into the storm. "He doesn't even feel the rain," he whispered. "I want to help him… but how? Why should I even care?"
Frustrated, helpless, he returned to the tree. His gaze lingered on Anazitis' retreating figure.
Then… movement caught his eye.
A shadow slinking in the rain, following the boy.
Instinct flared. Igetis moved silently, low to the ground.
Near the old great tree at the forest's edge, Anazitis sat, the book open on his lap, unmoving. Behind a thick trunk, a figure watched.
Tall. Gaunt. Robes stained and clinging. Hair in greasy tangles, eyes narrow and venomous. A crooked nose, twisted hands clutching a rotting book.
"Perfect," the man whispered. "Miserable enough… a broken soul… just right for my poison. He will make me richer."
Fury surged in Igetis.
He leapt forward. The man barely dodged as Igetis' blade cut through the air.
"Who dares?!" the man growled.
"You prey on the innocent? On someone already suffering? I won't allow it!" Igetis roared.
The man smirked, drawing a curved dagger laced with sickly green light. "So emotional… Good. The angry are easier to manipulate. Let's dance, boy."
Steel rang against steel in the storm. Sparks flew. The man moved like a serpent, weaving between attacks. Igetis countered, fury driving every strike.
Then the man vanished.
"Coward!" Igetis shouted.
"As you wish…" whispered dozens of identical shadows, circling him—illusions, summoned doubles.
"Let's see if you can handle this."
Igetis inhaled deeply. His eyes blazed gold.
"Soul of the Phoenix!"
Flames erupted from his blade, slicing through the illusions with unstoppable force.
The man staggered, fear creeping into his eyes. "Impossible… How did you break my spell? You shouldn't know my true location!"
"Because I've trained—under rain, under sun—just for this moment. To protect the innocent… and destroy pests like you!" Igetis roared, striking again and again.
"You don't deserve to walk free! I couldn't save Anazitis from the past… but I can protect him from you!"
The man faltered, terror replacing malice.
Then—
"Enough!"
A voice cut through the storm. An old man stepped forward, robes billowing. His presence stilled the air.
"Igetis! Stop!"
Igetis froze, sword raised.
"This is not protection. This is vengeance. This is madness," the old man said softly. "It will not save him."
Tears mixed with rain on Igetis' face. "That's all I have! All I can give! I can't make people smile… I can't take away their pain! All I can do is fight for them! All I have is my strength!"
The old man placed a hand on his shoulder. "You said you wanted to protect every smile in the world. You can stop villains, yes—but you cannot shield the world itself. Not like that."
"Then tell me how!" Igetis cried. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Start by making him smile," the old man said gently. "Reach him. Not just fight for him. Even a smile… can change a destiny. Learn from it. Don't repeat our mistakes—you can be better."
Igetis stood silently, rain easing around him. His gaze drifted to the tree where Anazitis still sat, distant, unaware.
Step by step, he moved forward. Toward the tree. Toward the boy. Toward the fragile hope that two broken people might, together, save each other.