Kael was on his knees, gasping for air.
The sword in his trembling right hand was the only thing keeping him upright as warm blood seeped between his fingers, staining the ground beneath him. His left hand pressed against the gash in his abdomen, the pain sharp enough to blur his vision.
In front of him stood Reinhardt—also wounded, blood matting his golden hair and trailing down the side of his face. Reinhardt's head turned sharply toward Kael.
"Stand up! We have to defeat this $&jf>"
The words distorted, breaking into static in Kael's ears.
$&jf>?*
What had he said?
Kael tried to focus past the ringing in his head. There was… something in front of them—something massive, its presence overwhelming. But his mind couldn't form its shape. The world itself refused to let him see it. All he could sense was that it was strong, inhuman, and dangerous.
A crimson butterfly fluttered past his peripheral vision.
It clicked.
This wasn't reality.
He was inside old Kael's memory.
But then—his hand tightened over the wound. A hiss escaped his lips.
Pain.
Real pain.
It was the first time he had ever felt hurt inside a dream.
"Kael!" Reinhardt's voice snapped him back.
Kael turned toward him—he looked younger, less weathered, his face tired yet determined.
"We have to move!" Reinhardt grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward.
They rushed toward the unseen creature. Reinhardt's spear shot forward with brutal precision, and Kael heard the wet crunch of metal piercing flesh. Blood sprayed, hot against his cheek. A shrill, inhuman scream filled the air.
Kael froze, unable to join the fight. His gaze dropped to his own hand… the one still holding his "sword."
Except—it wasn't whole.
It was nothing but a hilt.
The same fragment Sebastian had given him.
The crimson butterfly landed on his knuckles, its wings opening and closing like a slow heartbeat.
"You're… telling me to keep searching for the rest?" Kael whispered.
The butterfly fluttered in place as if answering. Then, the sky split open and rain began to fall. A droplet landed on his cheek—
Dark.
Warm.
Blood.
It was raining blood.
Kael slowly raised his eyes to the battlefield. Reinhardt was still fighting. But then, for just an instant, the veil over the enemy lifted—
Two massive, glowing yellow eyes locked onto him, radiating a pure, seething hatred.
The world shattered into black.
-----------------------------------------
Robert and Sebastian walked down the hall toward Kael's chambers, Robert balancing a tray of breakfast with steady hands.
"Young Master isn't like he used to be," Robert murmured, his tone low. "All of you should give him space."
Sebastian glanced at him. "But… he still eats the same things, doesn't he? Still loves sword training?"
"Yes," Robert said with a faint smile, though his voice carried the weight of something unsaid.
Sebastian's brows furrowed. "But he really… lost all his memories?"
Robert's smile faltered. "Yes. Everything. Even his own name." His gaze softened with a kind of sadness Sebastian wasn't used to seeing from him. "He's quiet now. We've never had a conversation longer than a few words. You saw it yesterday—he won't answer unless necessary, and he never asks questions. But… if you watch him long enough, you can read something in his stare."
They walked in silence for a moment before Robert's voice lowered further.
"There's one thing he hasn't done since waking from his coma. He's never smiled."
Sebastian slowed, the heaviness of the statement sinking in.
Robert sighed. "I hope one day I can see that again."
But when they reached Kael's door, Robert froze.
The door stood wide open.
They rushed inside—only to find chaos.
The mirror was shattered, the window cracked, the glass table in pieces. Blood speckled the floor and furniture. Kael was nowhere in sight.
Panic set in. Robert immediately began searching, flinging open the wardrobe and checking every corner. "He panicked—must've seen his reflection," Robert muttered, biting his finger in frustration.
"What do you mean, reflection?" Sebastian asked, wiping sweat from his brow, eyes darting anxiously.
"Sometimes he… reacts badly if he sees himself in a mirror." Robert was already looking under the bed. "But he's been fine lately. Maybe it was a nightmare, or…" His gaze dropped, and his voice trailed into hesitation. "…he dislikes this place."
"That's impossible," Sebastian said sharply, though his voice wavered. "This place holds so many of his memories. He built this dukedom with us—"
"He's not the same as before, Sebastian."
Sebastian didn't reply. His eyes had caught something—an open wooden box lying beside the bed. The sword fragment that should have been inside was missing, a few blood stains marking its surface.
"The fragment's gone."
Robert's head snapped up.
"He must have sensed the other pieces and gone after them himself," Sebastian said grimly. "The other fragments are here in the castle. Emperor Reinhardt placed them himself. And if we're talking about Hero Kael—" his voice lowered—"that sword was his. He'd be able to sense them."
Robert's worry deepened. "He shouldn't be moving around yet…"
He spotted small droplets of blood leading toward the door. "Sebastian, get the servants to clean this up—and remove anything reflective."
Sebastian nodded. Robert stepped out, following the trail of red.
-----------------------------------------
From her window, Elric spotted movement in the garden—Kael, walking slowly, his white shirt stained with fresh blood. Her eyes widened, and she bolted outside barefoot.
"Kael!" she called, chasing after him.
Kael wandered without aim, his gaze distant. The garden was different from Vaelthorn's, but it was still cared for with meticulous devotion. Roses bloomed in a hundred colors, though he barely spared them a glance. His hand clutched the hilt of the broken sword.
Oddly, touching it soothed him. The panic from earlier began to fade, though not entirely. The blood from his shattered-mirror injuries stained the grip.
The dream of the crimson butterfly was still vivid in his mind.
"If I find the rest of the fragments… will I be at peace?" he whispered to himself.
Elric caught up, grabbing his wrist. "What are you doing out here with your hand like this?" She panted from the run, then took one look at the glass shards embedded in his skin and hissed under her breath.
Without another word, she pulled a handkerchief from her robe and wrapped it tightly around his palm. Kael flinched but didn't pull away.
"What happened? Nightmare?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer. Instead, he simply raised the hilt in his hand.
"…You're looking for the other fragments?" she asked. Kael turned away, continuing to walk. Elric hesitated before following.
They stopped at the far end of the garden, where a small temple-like structure stood. Kael tried the door—it was locked. He crouched, checking the frame as if searching for another way in.
"You sense something inside?" Elric asked. When Kael didn't reply, she touched the handle herself.
A faint light glowed from her hand, and a soft click echoed as the lock disengaged.
She grinned at him, lifting her hand. "Thanks me later."
Kael only stared before stepping inside.
The interior was dim, dustless, preserved with care. Sunlight filtered through a single hole in the roof, illuminating a lone box at the center of the room.
Kael felt a pull toward it—an instinct so strong it drowned out every other thought. He tried to open it, but the pain in his hand slowed him. Elric sighed and knelt to help.
Inside lay a shard of a blade—the continuation of the hilt he carried.
Elric took one step back. "I can't touch it," she said quickly, feeling her mana drain just from proximity. "It's… pulling at me."
Kael's fingers brushed the steel—
And a flash engulfed his mind.
A boy crying alone in a field.
Petals falling into a pool of blood.
A town collapsing into ruin.
His breath caught as he returned to the present, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Elric stared at him, startled. "What did you see?" she asked, reaching to wipe it away. Kael said nothing.
Black smoke began to curl from his palm into the fragment, as though it was drawing out some unseen poison from him. He pressed the shard into the hilt—
Light exploded, a blinding beam shooting toward the sky.
The ground trembled violently, birds scattering in a flurry of wings.
A sudden gust tore through the garden, carrying with it a silent, heavy message.
The world had just been alerted.