The Radiant Kingdom shone high and mighty.
Its towers caught the sun like mirrors, scattering gold across white stone streets. Banners of light silk fluttered from spires, etched with crests of old victories and older vows. Even at dawn, the city breathed—merchants opening stalls, knights changing shifts, apprentices rushing late with books tucked under their arms.
And within the kingdom's inner grounds, steel rang endlessly.
Lloyd trained.
Again.
And again.
His blade cut the air with brutal precision, sweat trailing down his jaw as his boots tore shallow scars into the stone courtyard. Each strike carried weight—anger pressed thin and sharpened into focus.
"I'll kill them all," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Every last vampire."
Then, quieter—
"…And Naro."
The name tasted bitter.
Since the day the news reached the kingdom, Lloyd had barely spoken.
Dracula had vanished. The Radiant Kingdom erupted into confusion, celebration, fear. Vampires whispered betrayal. Humans whispered opportunity.
The official story spread fast.
The abandoned knight somehow brought down the vampire king.
It was believable enough for the masses.
But Lloyd knew something was wrong.
The way the world seemed to tilt afterward.
What none of them knew—human or vampire—was the truth.
That Naro had done it.
That the boy Lloyd once crossed blades with had erased a legend from existence.
Only one man knew the truth.
Raphael.
And Raphael had vanished.
Lloyd drove his sword into the training post so hard the wood cracked.
Elizabeth stood at the edge of the courtyard, hands folded tightly at her chest. Darian leaned against a pillar nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp with concern.
"He's been like this for days," Elizabeth whispered.
Darian nodded. "He hasn't even looked at food."
Elizabeth took a breath and stepped forward.
"Lloyd."
No response…
"Lloyd," she said again, louder. "You're going to break the blade."
Only then did he stop.
Slowly, Lloyd turned. His face was tired—not the exhaustion of training, but something heavier. Something hollow.
"…I'm fine," he said.
Elizabeth didn't believe him for a second.
She walked right up to him and placed a hand on his arm. "You don't have to carry this alone."
His jaw tightened. "If I'd been stronger… none of this would've happened."
Darian snorted softly. "You think strength alone decides the world?"
Lloyd shot him a glare. "It decided enough."
"No," Darian replied calmly. "Schemes do. Timing does. Monsters who don't think like people do."
Silence stretched.
Elizabeth squeezed Lloyd's arm gently. "We're still here."
That was what finally cracked him.
Lloyd exhaled shakily and looked away. "I swear," he said quietly, "I'll do everything in my power. I'll hunt vampires. I'll hunt him. I won't stop until this ends."
Elizabeth smiled softly. "Then we'll walk with you."
Darian pushed off the pillar. "Yeah. Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed before the story even starts."
For the first time in days—
Lloyd smiled.
Time passed.
The academy years were unforgiving.
Mornings began before sunrise—horns echoing through marble halls as trainees poured into courtyards half-awake, half-determined. Instructors barked orders. Knights sparred with blunted steel.
The Radiant Kingdom was alive with ambition.
Lloyd trained like a man possessed.
His instructors noticed first.
"Again," one barked as Lloyd completed a gruelling form.
Lloyd didn't complain. He reset his stance.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Elizabeth watched from the infirmary wing, tending bruises and broken bones with patience far beyond her years. She learned quickly—not just spells, but people. How fear hid behind their wounds. How pain wasn't always physical.
"Thank you-" trainees would say, embarrassed.
She'd just smile. "Rest more. You'll heal faster."
Darian disappeared into labs most days.
Alchemy halls reeked of smoke and chemicals. Tables cluttered with half-failed Nyx constructs and unstable cores. Darian thrived there—eyes lit with curiosity, hands steady even when things should explode.
"They say you're reckless," an older refiner scoffed once.
Darian adjusted his glasses. "They also said Dracula's death was impossible."
…
Years blurred.
The three of them trained, failed, laughed, and healed—together.
They shared meals under glowing lanterns. Argued over tactics. Celebrated small victories like breakthroughs in spell efficiency or a clean duel win.
One night, after Lloyd collapsed onto the grass outside the dorms, Elizabeth sat beside him.
"You're getting scary strong," she teased.
Lloyd groaned. "That's the goal."
Darian joined them, tossing Lloyd a water flask. "Fire Force scouts were watching today."
Lloyd sat up. "…Seriously?"
"Seriously," Darian said. "You split a veteran's guard clean in half."
Elizabeth beamed. "I told you."
The Fire Force Clan was legendary.
An elite order sworn to hunt Nyx-monsters, enforce kingdom law beyond the walls, and stand where armies could not. Acceptance wasn't guaranteed—earning a name within it was even rarer.
…
Four hard years passed.
Battles spilled beyond the kingdom walls. Vampire nests were purged. Lloyd's blade tasted real blood. He learned what killing truly meant—and carried it with grim resolve.
Elizabeth followed battle caravans, healing without charge, without praise. Her reputation spread quietly. "The kind healer," soldiers called her. "The light-handed saint."
She hated the titles—but kept healing anyway.
Darian refined Nyx after Nyx, improving efficiency, safety, versatility. His constructs saved lives. His name whispered through cultivation circles with awe and envy.
Then with time—
It happened.
Three names were called beneath the Fire Force banner.
Lloyd stepped forward, armor gleaming.
Elizabeth clasped his hand.
Darian smirked like he'd always known.
They stood together at rank 4!
Not children anymore.
Lloyd became known throughout the Radiant Kingdom—a knight whose presence steadied battle lines, whose sword burned with conviction. He met the king more than once. Sat at banquets beneath chandeliers and gold. Yet he never forgot the courtyard where he first swore vengeance.
Elizabeth healed crowds during festivals, refusing coin, leaving people crying in gratitude.
Darian debated scholars twice his age—and won.
One night, standing atop the city walls, the three looked out over the glowing kingdom.
"We made it," Elizabeth said softly.
"For now," Darian replied.
Lloyd rested his hands on the stone. "This isn't the end."
They all knew who he meant.
Somewhere beyond the Radiant Kingdom, events moved differently.
And destinies waited.
But here—
Under radiant skies—
Three bonds had been forged strong enough to face the future together.