It had been a week since Zephyr had witnessed the brutal weight of noble supremacy. Now he stood atop the abandoned clock tower in Thunderfall City, the domain of his family. His emerald eyes gazed lifelessly across the far horizon as the wind brushed against his face, tugging gently at his dark blue hair. For a moment, the world seemed quiet, suspended in grief.
A hand rested suddenly on his shoulder. Zephyr spun around instinctively, his hand twitching toward his sword—but instead of danger, he found Aidan Sylvaris standing there.
Aidan, cheerful as ever, greeted him with his usual warm smile. But when his gaze met Zephyr's weary expression, the smile faltered. Concern replaced levity.
"Zephyr…" Aidan's tone was softer now. "I know you're grieving over Aria. But—tell me honestly—was the reason for her death truly what they claim it to be?"
Zephyr's jaw tightened, his silence heavy.
"You've heard the story," he said bitterly. "That she was stealing treasures from my uncle, that it was an accident while he tried to stop her." His voice grew sharper. "But you know Aria. She wasn't a thief. She wasn't anything they accused her of."
Aidan narrowed his eyes. "Then why, Zephyr? Why would Belthar…?"
Zephyr's breath shook, his voice breaking through clenched teeth. "Because she rejected him."
Aidan's eyes widened.
Zephyr continued, the words like venom on his tongue. "You know the kind of man he is. A predator. He tried to take her—force her—and she resisted him. That was her only crime. For that, he vented his twisted anger on her. Tortured her. Killed her. And now the whole empire is meant to believe she was a thief."
His fists tightened, knuckles white. "She had more dignity in her last breath than Belthar will ever have in his entire life."
Aidan placed a steady hand on Zephyr's arm, grounding him. "It wasn't your fault. The world is cruel, yes—but that doesn't mean you have to carry its weight alone."
Zephyr looked away, emerald eyes dark with resolve. "No, Aidan. It's exactly because of this cruelty that I will carry it. No one else should suffer as she did. Not in this empire."
Aidan exhaled, half in relief, half in worry. His smile returned, faint but sincere. "Then I'll stand with you. After all, what good is an alchemist without a storm to temper his fire?"
For the first time in days, a small flicker of warmth stirred in Zephyr's chest.
Talking to Aidan had lightened Zephyr's heart, if only a little. While the two were busy catching up, Aidan suddenly noticed smoke rising from the forest east of Thunderfall. His brows furrowed, and he pointed it out to Zephyr.
"Smoke... from that side of the woods. That's unusual," Aidan said with concern.
Curiosity — and unease — pulled them both toward the source. Though Aidan was no swordsman, his stamina and speed were nothing to scoff at. Years of basic self-defense training and drills on how to evade danger had given him surprising endurance. Of course, Zephyr was holding back his true pace, but he was quietly impressed at how Aidan managed to keep stride with him through the woods.
When they arrived, the sight before them was grim. A small, secluded hut was engulfed in flames. In front of it, an old man knelt on the ground, tears streaking his ash-stained face as he begged for mercy.
"Please—please! Put out the fire!" the old man cried, clutching at the dirt with trembling hands. "My goats… my poor goats… they'll die!"
Standing over him was a young man flanked by three armed guards. He smirked with sick delight, arms crossed as he watched the hut burn.
"You should have listened, old man," the young man sneered. "If you'd paid me my due in herbs, this wouldn't have happened. But no, you thought you could defy me. Now you pay the price."
The old man wept, but the young man only leaned closer, whispering mockingly as if savoring every word.
"Do you even realize what you've done? Defying me is the same as defying Young Master Roderic himself!" His voice rose with theatrical arrogance. "For I am Paul—Young Master Roderic's most trusted aide, his right hand, his number one admirer!"
One of the guards rolled his eyes at Paul's dramatic declaration, muttering under his breath, "Number one admirer? More like court jester..."
"Silence!" Paul barked at his own guard, clearly embarrassed but unwilling to break his façade. He puffed out his chest. "I, Paul, am the shield and sword of Young Master Roderic's will. To cross me is to cross him!"
Aidan whispered to Zephyr, unable to contain a smirk. "Is he… actually bragging about being someone's fan?"
Zephyr's emerald eyes narrowed, the flicker of anger already stirring inside him. "Fan or fool, he's still tormenting an old man."
Zephyr and Aidan broke through the treeline, the flames of the burning hut dancing against the darkening sky. Paul turned at the sound of footsteps, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
"Well, well… what have we here? Two curious little rats sniffing around where they don't belong." His eyes ran over them with disdain. "You should've stayed in whatever hole you crawled out of."
Zephyr's gaze hardened, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "Put out the fire. Release the old man. Do that, and I'll spare you."
Paul barked a laugh, clutching his sides. "Hah! Did you hear that, boys? This runt thinks he can give me orders. Darik! Garn! Show him what happens when you cross Paul, first aide of Young Master Roderic!"
The two guards lunged forward, blades glinting. Zephyr didn't flinch. In one swift motion, his sword whistled through the air, aura rippling black with streaks of deep blue. Two strikes, clean as flowing water—steel shattered, knees buckled. Darik and Garn hit the ground groaning, their weapons reduced to scraps.
Aidan blinked, stunned. "Already…? He cut them down like they were children."
Paul's smug grin faltered, his face paling. "T-two star swordsmen, taken out so easily…?!"
Zephyr lowered his blade slightly, his emerald eyes gleaming with calm fury. "Next is you. Step aside, or I'll cut you down."
Paul swallowed hard, anger twisting with fear. "You dare threaten me? Do you even know who I am? No… better yet, tell me who you are!"
Before Zephyr could reply, a deep, gravelly voice broke through the night.
"I know what he is."
Captain Mornak stepped forward, his presence heavier than steel. Unlike Paul's bluster, his gaze carried measured interest as he studied Zephyr.
"M-Mornak?" Paul stammered. "What are you saying?"
The Captain did not answer him immediately. Instead, he let his sword rest on his shoulder, speaking like a man reciting a lesson.
"You're surprised your men lost, Paul. But that's because you don't understand the gulf between sword ranks. Every swordsman in this world is measured by the stars of their mastery—one star to nine. One star marks a child just beginning to swing steel. Three stars show that the aura has fused with the blade, allowing true combat strength. Five stars… they say you can cut through boulders like parchment. And at nine stars—" he gave a humorless chuckle, "—that is the realm where legends are born, and gods of war tread. Few in all of Valoryn ever reach such a peak."
Paul blinked, dumbstruck. "W-what are you getting at?"
Mornak's lips curled into a faint smirk, his eyes narrowing at Zephyr. "Your men were two-star swordsmen. And this boy cut them down without effort. His stance, his breathing, his precision… all the marks of a solid three-star."
Zephyr stiffened, emerald eyes narrowing.
"And more than that…" Mornak's gaze lingered on the dark, flickering aura licking across Zephyr's blade. "That color. That flow of energy. I've seen it before."
Paul stepped back, confused. "You… you mean—"
Mornak cut him off, his voice like a verdict. "There is only one family in this Empire that wields such a blade. Only one bloodline cursed and blessed with that black aura streaked with blue." His smirk deepened. "He's a Stromriven."
Zephyr's heart lurched, his hand tightening on the hilt. "How do you know that name?"
Mornak straightened, his tone calm, almost proud. "Because I am Captain Mornak of the Crimson Jackals. And our blades serve the will of Young Master Roderic Vorcrane. So whether you wished it or not, Stromriven boy… your path has already crossed ours."
Paul immediately puffed his chest, trying to mask his earlier fear. "Ha! Did you hear that? You're already marked as our enemy, Stromriven! You'll regret stepping into Ebonveil Woods tonight!"
Zephyr's eyes burned with restrained fury, his grip firm on his sword. "The Crimson Jackals… and the Vorcranes. So that's who hides behind the flames of cruelty."
Aidan whispered from behind, unease in his voice. "Zeph… this is bad. Really bad."
Mornak raised his blade, a cold gleam in his eye. "Then let's see if you're truly worthy of the name Stromriven."