"Let's see what you're made of, little Stromriven," Mornak smirked, unsheathing his sword in a single swift motion before lunging at Zephyr.
Zephyr narrowed his emerald eyes, aura flaring dark with streaks of blue. "And let's see what one of the Crimson Jackals' leaders has to offer." He raised his blade, black aura dancing like fire along the steel.
Mornak's strike came for Zephyr's heart, fast and precise. Zephyr sidestepped and parried, steel shrieking against steel. Almost instantly, Mornak pivoted with predatory speed, his blade slicing toward Zephyr's neck. Zephyr twisted, deflecting with a sharp flick of his wrist. The clash of their swords rang through the night air as both fighters tested each other with swift, measured movements—neither unleashing their full strength, both gauging the other's foundation.
Mornak suddenly stepped back, lowering his sword slightly, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
"I have to admit," he said with a smirk, "in all my years, I've never crossed blades with someone like you. Your foundation is solid. Your talent undeniable. Do you realize it takes the average swordsman twenty-five years to reach the third star? Yet here you are, barely eighteen, already standing on the cusp of the fourth." His smirk darkened into a frown. "Impressive… but dangerous. And I cannot allow such talent to grow unchecked. If you live, you will interfere with the plans of my Crimson Jackals. Therefore, Stromriven… you must die here tonight."
His aura flared crimson, and his attacks suddenly grew sharper, heavier, merciless. Each strike came like thunder, forcing Zephyr back step by step. Sparks flew as Zephyr parried desperately, his arms trembling under the weight of Mornak's power. Every blow reverberated through his body, reopening cuts and driving him to the edge of collapse.
He's… strong… Zephyr's thoughts raced as he staggered backward, his black aura flickering. His pressure feels like Uncle Belthar's… a five-star swordsman. No… maybe even more refined.
Blood trickled from cuts along his waist and shoulders, his non-dominant elbow dislocated from a poorly timed parry. His breath grew ragged as he tried to keep up, his defenses crumbling with each strike. Mornak's grin widened—he was toying with Zephyr, enjoying the slow breaking of a young warrior's will.
"Come now, boy," Mornak sneered between strikes, "is this the best the Stromriven heir has to offer? Pathetic. You'll die not with honor… but as entertainment."
Zephyr's knees nearly buckled. His sword hand shook, the weight of his blade growing unbearable.
Watching from the side, Aidan clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. If this keeps up, Zephyr will die. I can't… I won't stand by.
His usual cheerfulness vanished, replaced by grim resolve. He pulled several vials from his satchel—glass filled with unstable concoctions he had brewed. With a sharp exhale, he hurled them toward Mornak.
The first vial shattered against Mornak's back, igniting his cloak and burning through his flesh. Mornak hissed in pain, spinning around with murder in his eyes.
"You… pest!" he snarled, realizing Aidan's interference. His smirk twisted into rage as he dodged the next volley of vials.
That momentary distraction was all Zephyr needed. Digging deep into his last reserves of strength, he pushed forward. His aura flared violently, shadows of black and blue consuming his blade as he launched a flurry of desperate strikes.
Aidan's voice suddenly cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding: "Zephyr—close your eyes! Trust me!"
Without hesitation, Zephyr obeyed. He had always trusted Aidan.
Aidan pulled out a smooth stone inscribed with runes. It erupted in a blinding flash of light, filling the forest clearing with searing brilliance. Mornak cursed, staggering back, his vision stolen by the sudden glare.
Zephyr's eyes snapped open the moment the light faded enough. Without wasting the chance, he lunged forward, his blade aimed true. Steel pierced flesh with a sickening resistance.
But at the last moment, Mornak twisted his body, saving his vital organs. Instead, Zephyr's blade severed Mornak's non-dominant arm. Blood sprayed as the limb fell to the ground.
Mornak's scream echoed through Ebonveil Woods, a mixture of agony and rage. His face twisted into something feral, murderous.
"You'll pay for this, Stromriven," he snarled, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "I swear… I will make you beg for death the next time we meet!"
The blood from Mornak's severed arm dripped onto the scorched earth as he staggered back, clutching the wound. He grit his teeth, trying to retreat into the shadows of Ebonveil Woods.
But before he could take another step, a calm, commanding voice echoed through the forest:
"Not today."
Mornak froze. Zephyr and Aidan turned sharply toward the sound. From the darkness beneath the burning treeline, a lone figure emerged. Cloaked in black, a hood pulled low over his head, and a silver mask concealing his face, he seemed to materialize out of the night itself.
The presence alone made the air heavy, causing even Zephyr to unconsciously grip his sword tighter.
"Who are you?" Zephyr asked, his voice guarded, sweat dripping down his brow. Aidan instinctively reached for another vial at his belt.
The masked man raised a gloved hand.
"Do not be alarmed. I am not your enemy. Quite the opposite. Tonight, I am on your side."
Mornak's single remaining hand trembled on his blade. "On our side?" he spat. "Then show yourself properly, coward! What's your name?!"
The stranger tilted his head slightly. His voice was steady, neither proud nor ashamed.
"I am the one they whisper about in the alleys and taverns. The one the Empire fears in silence. I am the leader of Silent Requiem… they call me Nocturne."
The moment the name left his lips, Mornak's eyes widened in panic. His bravado collapsed into sheer desperation.
"Y–You?! The Silent Requiem's leader?" His breathing quickened. "Listen, it wasn't my choice! The Crimson Jackals forced me, I swear! It was the Vorcrane family—always the Vorcranes! They pulled the strings, made me torch the old man's hut, made me—" He dropped to his knees, pleading. "Nocturne, I can serve you! Yes, from this day I'll pledge myself to Silent Requiem! Spare me, and I'll—"
Before he could finish, Nocturne's blade flashed in the moonlight. A clean stroke.
Mornak's head hit the ground with a dull thud, his body collapsing beside it. Silence swallowed the forest, broken only by the crackle of flames behind them.
Zephyr's grip on his sword tightened, stunned at the cold efficiency. Aidan took a sharp step back, bile rising in his throat.
Nocturne wiped his blade calmly and turned toward the two.
"You both did well," he said softly. "You stood for what was right, even when the world weighed against you. That courage is rare in this Empire."
Zephyr and Aidan exchanged uneasy glances before Zephyr spoke, "I am—"
Nocturne cut him off gently. "Zephyr Stromriven. And you, Aidan Sylvaris. I know who you are."
Both froze, caught off guard.
Nocturne's voice lowered, carrying weight like an oath.
"Your spirit… your will to act where others remain silent… aligns with us. Silent Requiem seeks a world where power no longer dictates worth, where all may stand as equals. Join us. Be more than pawns of your noble bloodlines. Be the blades of change."
Zephyr didn't hesitate. His voice was steady, burning with conviction.
"I'll join you. If it means I can tear down this injustice, then I'll walk this path."
Aidan looked between his best friend and the masked man, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He swallowed hard. "Tch… damn it. If Zephyr's going, then I'm not leaving his side. Count me in too."
For the first time, Nocturne chuckled faintly. He reached into his cloak and withdrew two small, obsidian masks, handing them over.
"In Silent Requiem, we shed our names. We wear masks to cast away the weight of our birth, and we adopt codenames to become symbols rather than men." He looked at Zephyr first.
"From this night onward, you will be known as Spectre."
Then his gaze shifted to Aidan.
"And you, alchemist, will be called Delta."
Zephyr — now Spectre — took the mask with reverence, while Aidan turned his in his hands with a conflicted sigh.
Nocturne's voice carried into the flames, final and resolute:
"Welcome to Silent Requiem. From the shadows, we will carve a brighter dawn."