Muffled voices stirred Kael from the darkness, like distant echoes underwater. His body was numb—cold in places, burning in others—and every breath felt like drawing in shattered glass. He couldn't open his eyes fully, but the voices rang clearer now. Two people. Arguing.
"They were targeting Kael," Reinhardt's voice was tense, clipped. "They didn't hesitate to hurt him."
"They're not human," Elric retorted, her voice sharper than he'd ever heard. "Their corpses vanished when my arrow struck. Like ash. We've never seen that kind of magic before."
"You were there with him," Reinhardt's voice cracked into something more raw, less composed. "You should've kept them from touching him."
"I was there!" Elric snapped. "Where the hell were you, Your Majesty?"
But before Kael could hear the answer, the weight of consciousness crushed him again—and he slipped under.
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This time, when Kael woke, the pain was gone.
He was standing—barefoot, breathless—in a place he didn't recognize. Mist drifted around his ankles. The sky above was blank and silver like a memory fading. He stepped forward and heard the gentle ripple of water beneath his feet. He was walking on water.
Confused, Kael looked down and saw his reflection beneath the still surface. White hair. Red eyes. It was still this version of him.
Then, a small shadow stood before him.
A young boy.
Kael froze. The child's face was riddled with bruises—some fresh, some old. His lips were cracked, his skin pale and thin. But it wasn't the injuries that stunned Kael. It was the familiarity. That boy… was him. From the other world. From before everything.
The boy tilted his head. His eyes were dull. Empty. Hollow.
"You're forgetting me," the boy whispered, not blinking. "Piece by piece."
Kael's knees gave out. He fell onto the water, now knee-deep, like he was sinking into his own guilt. A sob escaped before he could stop it.
"If you forget about me… who will remember?" the boy asked again, stepping closer.
Kael reached out, fingers trembling.
But the boy's hand moved faster—around Kael's neck.
The grip tightened. Kael's breath hitched.
He clawed at the small, impossibly strong hands choking him. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "Please… I… can't… breathe…"
The boy didn't flinch.
"You killed everyone," the voice said. "You don't deserve to be happy."
Kael's vision darkened. His lungs burned.
"Don't forget me… don't forgive me."
Then—he was yanked upward by a force unseen.
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The next scene slammed into him like a storm.
He fell onto scorched earth, pain returning all at once. Screams rang out—inhuman, guttural, agonized. A village burned. Flames consumed wooden houses. Smoke curled toward a broken sky.
Kael sat in the ash.
Blood hit his cheek—fresh, warm.
He turned.
A man lay beside him.
Black hair. Pale skin. Crimson eyes.
Him.
Or rather, the him before. Old Kael. The hero. Torn cloak, shattered blade, and a bleeding wound in his shoulder that wouldn't stop.
Around them, monsters feasted on corpses. Human cries blended with gurgled death rattles.
Kael watched, frozen in horror.
Then Old Kael, still breathing heavily, turned his gaze to a massive, shapeless entity across the field. Kael couldn't see it clearly—it blurred, as if reality refused to focus on it.
"How dare you…" Old Kael snarled, rage coating his voice. "Leave this village alone!"
He charged—but was struck down mid-run by a glowing arrow to the chest. He collapsed again, landing just before Kael.
Kael reached out, desperate to help—but his fingers passed through the blood-soaked body like smoke. He wasn't there. He was watching.
Suddenly—
"KAAAEEEL!!"
That voice.
He turned.
Reinhardt sprinted toward them from the smoke and fire. His emerald eyes wild with terror. But before he could reach them—
Darkness swallowed everything.
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Kael woke with a violent gasp, sitting upright in bed. Cold sweat drenched his back. His entire body trembled—but there was no pain. No burns. No wounds.
He was alive.
The room was dimly lit by moonlight. Beside the bed, curled up with his head resting on Kael's leg, was Robert—fast asleep. His mana signature pulsed faintly, gentle like a heartbeat. Kael realized Robert had been healing him all night.
His stomach churned violently.
Kael stumbled out of bed and rushed to the washroom. The moment he knelt before the basin, he vomited.
Robert awoke in alarm and hurried to his side.
"Young master—!"
Kael's body shook uncontrollably. His chest heaved. He gasped for air through sobs that wouldn't stop. He couldn't even form words.
Robert knelt beside him, hand on his back, voice low and gentle. "It's alright. Try to breathe. I'm here… You're safe now. The bad people are gone…"
But Kael couldn't stop.
He grabbed Robert's arm—tight, desperate—and buried his face into the crook of his shoulder.
"I… I am not Kael… I'm… not…" he sobbed. "Please…"
Robert stiffened in confusion but said nothing. His hand moved gently over Kael's back. He held him, letting him cry.
Then the door burst open.
Reinhardt stood in the threshold, eyes wide at the sound of Kael's breakdown. His gaze snapped to Robert, who simply met it and spoke quickly.
"He just woke up… then suddenly started like this."
Reinhardt approached slowly, dropping to one knee beside them. His hand hovered near Kael's shoulder, but hesitated when he saw Kael flinch—not from him, but from something he couldn't name.
Still, gently, Reinhardt lifted Kael into his arms and carried him back to the bed.
Kael didn't resist. His tears didn't stop.
"Bring me a wet towel," Reinhardt said softly.
Robert obeyed, silently passing the warm cloth to him.
With care, Reinhardt wiped the tears and sweat from Kael's face, brushing away the strands of damp white hair that clung to his forehead.
"I'm sorry…" Reinhardt whispered. "I was there… and still, you got hurt."
Kael's head turned away, refusing to meet either of their eyes. The blanket pulled to his chin like a fragile shield.
"I won't let it happen again," Reinhardt added, quieter now. "I promise you. Whatever comes next… you'll never face it alone."
But Kael said nothing.
His tears slowed. Then sleep took him again.
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Outside the room, Reinhardt stood beside Robert in silence.
"Is his mana core damaged again?" Reinhardt asked at last.
"No, Your Majesty," Robert replied, voice calm. "It's intact. He's just recovering from the shock. Physically, he's stable."
Reinhardt bit the inside of his cheek.
"I don't think they came just to hurt him."
Robert tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean they didn't want to kill him—they wanted to awaken something."
A pause. Then Reinhardt gave a long breath. "Keep monitoring him. And don't overuse your mana again. I still need you."
Robert bowed deeply. "Understood, Your Majesty."
Without another word, Reinhardt turned and made his way toward Elric's office, the weight of dread following behind him like a shadow that refused to leave.