The night before leaving for the Southern Front.
The tent was silent, except for the occasional rustling of the wind and the smoky light of the campfire.
Arden stood in the middle of the tent, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes as green as ice, and the wounds across his face burning harder than ever.
In his mind — his father's words. Eugene was relentless, cold and brutally honest: "You will never be as strong as me or Minato… Even if people praise you, you are weak."
Arden felt his anger boil, almost physically, as if the flames within him wanted to break through.
"That stupid old man…!" he whispered through gritted teeth. "I never respected him or my mother!"
The flame inside him began to flicker. The katana on his back flickered slightly, as if sensing his furious energy.
"If he thinks he can humiliate me… if he thinks I'll stay weak… I'll rip him to shreds!"
Arden stopped, hands clenching around the katana. His gaze was icy, but in it was the pain and sadness that never goes away—the loss of Minato, the memories of his mother, and the endless hunger for power that he still doesn't know how to control.
Rin stood beside him, quietly, watching.
"Vex… take it easy. It's night and tomorrow we have the Southern Front."
Lyra, still a youngster but an authority among the medical units, added:
"Arden… anger is powerful, but if you let it go now… you won't be able to control what's yet to come."
Arden turned to them, his eyes cold and merciless:
"I will control or kill anything that stands in my way. No one—not even him—is allowed to tell me what I can or cannot do. Tomorrow… the Southern Front will see the true power of the Vex!"
The smoke from the campfire illuminated his figure as the tent trembled slightly.
Eyes as cold as ice, hands trembling with suppressed anger, and in the heart — a flame that was now blacker than ever.
The night was quiet, but Arden's rage spoke louder than a thousand words could.
This was the night before the war. The night before the destruction.
The night before Vex - Heartless Blade is released into the world.
THE LAST FIRE
SOLINARIS PALACE, BEFORE DEPARTURE
The morning was gray, although Solinaris rarely knew such days. The smoke from the forges rose straight into the sky, as if the city also knew that something was irreversibly breaking.Arden stood in the inner courtyard of the palace, equipped for the journey. The katana was on his back. The fox mask was hanging from his belt—he didn't put it on.
Steps.
Heavy. Measured.
Eugen Dalis.
He wore no armor. Just a black warrior's uniform and a belt with the seal of the old guard. His face was emotionless.
"I heard you were going south," he said.
Arden didn't turn his head.
"By order of the Emperor."
Silence.
"Thalassa is not Voltaris," Eugene continued.
"The sea does not burn like lightning."
"Everything's burning," Arden replied.
"Just slower."
Eugen laughed briefly, without joy.
"You still talk like a child who thinks anger means strength."
Arden turned around.
"Minato thought otherwise."
The name comes as a shock.
Eugene's eyes watered. Just for a moment.
"Minato was a warrior," he says coldly.
"You are…unstable."
Arden's jaw clenched.
"You know what you told me," his voice is low, full of suppressed anger.
"You know how you talked about mother."
Eugene moved closer.
"You never understood why I was strict"No," Arden answers.
"You were never a father."
The silence explodes.
Eugene's palm rises.
Quickly. Instinctively.
But—it doesn't fall.
Arden catches his hand in the air.
For the first time.
Their eyes meet.
Arden's voice is low but firm:
"Never again."
Eugene tries to pull his hand away—but he can't immediately. It catches him off guard.
Arden lets it go.
"If I come back," he says,
"I won't be your son."
He turns.
"I'll be what you made me."
Arden heads for the gates.
Eugene remains alone in the courtyard, his hand still shaking.
Not with anger.
With the realization.
That he's just lost something that can never be returned.
The dawn over Solinaris was red, but not fiery—but tired.
The great southern gates of the Pyra Solinaris Empire were open. A small procession passed through them: three shadows and an escort of Imperial Guards to the first point of separation.
Arden walked forward.
No mask. No looking back.
On his back — a katana.
In him — a silence that burned stronger than any fire.
People gathered along the road.
They didn't shout.
They didn't celebrate.
They just worshiped.
"Vex..."
"Ostrica Bez Srca..."
The name was whispered as a prayer and as a fear.
Arden is unresponsive.
To his left walked Rin—quiet, focused, all-seeing eyes.
On the right, Lyra — draped in the white mantle of the medicine lord of fire, her face calm but her heart heavy.
It wasn't until they left the city walls that Lyra spoke.
"The sea is not like the north," he says quietly.
"Water remembers."
Arden nodded.
"Me too."
Rin gave a faint laugh.
"Thalassa won't know what hit them."
The road takes them through burnt plains, then through rocky gorges, where the wind carries the smell of salt. The days pass in silence. The nights are cold.
On the third night, with a low fire, Lyra broke the silence.
"Minato would hate this," he says.
"A long journey without a fight."
Arden looks into the flames.
"He would say that war never waits for the prepared."
The flames flicker."And you'd be right."
When the sea finally appears, endless and dark, Rin is the first to stop.
"Southern front," he says.
"Kingdom of Thalassa."
Waves crash against the rocks below them. Somewhere in the distance, a fleet waits — ships with blue flags and water symbols.
Arden takes the mask.
He looks at her for a moment.
Then he puts it on.
His voice is muffled but firm:
"This is where the son's journey ends."
He turned towards the sea.
"Next comes the Vex."
And while they were descending towards the coast, none of them knew that the southern front was waiting for them as an ally...
but as storms that will consume fire and water alike.