The stench of blood was the first thing that hit him.
Not rain, not damp earth — only the heavy metallic tang of spilled life.
Kael stood alone, surrounded by corpses. Mud squelched under his boots, but he knew it was not made of earth and water. The sky was choked in dark clouds though it was not night. Flames licked through the ruins of what was once a village, their crackling the only sound in a world otherwise swallowed by silence.
"...Lord Kael…"
The voice was faint, fragile — yet it struck his heart like a blade.
Kael turned and saw a boy, no more than twelve, lying broken in his arms. His right arm was gone, torn away in battle, and his body bore wounds no child should ever suffer.
"Why…" Kael's lips trembled as he tried to hold the boy together with hands that could no longer save.
"Please… save this world…" The boy's voice wavered, fading like the last flicker of a candle. And then, stillness. His head fell limp against Kael's chest.
"No…" Kael's voice cracked. He held the child tighter, as if sheer will alone could anchor his soul back into his body. His tears fell silently, blending with the blood-soaked mud.
Rain began to pour, but it could not wash away the guilt. Once again, he had failed to save the innocent from the Demon Army.
A second Kael — the Kael of now — stood apart from the scene, watching his past self crumble in despair. The butterfly landed gently on his shoulder. He turned to it, and the world shifted.
He was standing on a vast mirror of water under an endless, grey sky. In the distance, the flower he had seen before was blooming — now with two petals. The butterfly left his shoulder and settled in his palm.
Kael's eyes widened — he was holding something. A sword.
Its dark steel caught a faint red glow when light touched it. In the center was a crimson stone, its hue hauntingly similar to his own eyes.
Before he could think, a voice rang out.
"No!"
He froze. The voice was familiar — too familiar. His own voice. But not from this life.
He turned and saw a figure far away — a boy he knew only from fragments of dreams, the self he had once been in another world.
"No!" the voice cried again, closer now though the figure was impossibly distant.
Kael's breath quickened. He clutched the sword tighter and stepped back. The voice grew desperate.
"Don't go…!!"
Panic clawed at his chest. He turned and ran. The further he ran, the further away the voice seemed, until it vanished entirely.
When he stopped, his heart was pounding violently. His knees weakened, and he collapsed, clutching his chest, struggling for air.
A shadow fell over him. Slowly, Kael looked up.
Dark hair. Crimson-gold eyes. Pale skin.
The real Kael — the one from before — stood there, smiling softly, without malice. His lips moved, forming words Kael could not understand. All he heard was a sharp, piercing noise splitting his skull.
"Stop—!!" Kael screamed, covering his ears, but the figure did not vanish. The smile remained. The noise grew louder, and the world went black.
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Kael jolted awake in bed, gasping for breath. The shrill ringing in his ears hadn't stopped. Pain tore through him, and he groaned, pressing his palms to his ears.
From across the room, a chair scraped.
"Kael?"
Elric's voice was sharp with concern. She rushed to him, seeing his trembling frame and the tears streaking his pale face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into her arms, pressing his head against her chest.
"Breathe…" she whispered, rubbing slow circles on his back. Her heartbeat thudded steadily against his ear. Gradually, his breathing slowed, though the tremors still rippled through him.
When she felt his shoulders loosen, she eased back slightly, brushing the tears from his cheek with her fingertips.
"Another nightmare?" she asked softly.
Kael didn't answer. He only blinked slowly, letting her touch linger — her hand, warm and grounding, an anchor against the storm in his mind. She noticed, and a faint, tender smile formed.
"You've been asleep all day," she sighed. "You lost a lot of blood when you were injured. You shouldn't push yourself."
He glanced toward the window. Night had already fallen. The wrapped knife Robert had left sat beside his bed — his gaze lingered on it until Elric's voice pulled him back.
"Kael…" Her voice was hesitant, gentle. She reached for his hand, placing it atop her lap. "Can you tell me what you dreamed about?"
His fingers twitched. His eyes wavered away from hers. The memories weren't his — and the parts that were, he didn't understand.
"Perhaps…" Elric's voice softened even more, "…you're starting to remember something?"
His eyes snapped back to hers, startled. There was hope in her gaze — so bright it almost hurt to look at. He opened his mouth, then hesitated. His teeth caught his lower lip. He had no answer that wouldn't shatter her hope.
Her smile faltered, just barely. "Well… if you remember anything, tell me. I'll wait." She began to rise — but stopped when his hand gripped her wrist.
She looked down. Kael's head was bowed.
"If… I'm not who you're waiting for…" His voice trembled. "…will you still accept me?"
Her breath caught. She sat back down, cupping his cheek so he was forced to meet her eyes.
"No," she said firmly — then softened, "…we — I — will never abandon you, Kael."
The words sank into him like warmth after a long winter. His eyes stung, and tears welled again.
Elric leaned in, slow enough for him to pull away. Her breath brushed his cheek. Her eyes searched for his permission. Kael did not move.
Her lips met his — soft, warm, and steady. Not a kiss of passion, but of shelter. Of a promise that he wasn't alone.
Her hand slid to the back of his head, urging him closer. Hesitantly, his hand rose to touch hers, not to push her away, but to hold onto the contact — to hold onto her.
The faint sweetness of wine lingered on her lips. For a while, his heart beat not from fear, but from her nearness.
When she drew back, they stayed close, his hand still holding hers.
"Do you hate it?" she asked, voice quiet.
He didn't answer — only touched his lips, as if trying to memorize the feeling. Her cheeks flushed.
A knock broke the moment. The door opened.
"Lady Elric, the Count has arrived—" Robert froze mid-step at the sight of the two of them, awkwardly close. "…ah. Sorry for disturbing you." He began to retreat.
"Why were you calling me?" Elric asked, straightening quickly.
Robert cleared his throat. "Count Albert has arrived. Will you meet him?"
"Where is he now?"
"At the lobby."
After a moment's thought, she turned to Kael. "You haven't eaten, have you? Come with me for dinner." She extended her hand, and after a pause, he took it.
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A young man stood nervously, holding a bouquet. He kept brushing at his coat, his hair, his sleeves.
"You seem excited, Count Albert," Sebastian greeted, bowing slightly.
"Sir Sebastian! It's been a while. How are the papers without me?"
"All in order. Everything you instructed is done." Sebastian sounded relieved.
Albert grinned. "Good. How about some wine later? I've brought—" His words stopped abruptly. His eyes fixed on the figures descending the stairs: Elric, followed by Kael and Robert.
He bowed deeply. "It's been a long time, Duke Elric—" His gaze landed on Kael. His breath caught. Then he dropped to one knee. "I–It's been an honor to see you again, Hero Kael!"
Kael stiffened at the title.
"It's been a while," Elric greeted smoothly. "You're a Count now, I see. How's the West Gate?"
"E–Everything's fine! Nothing to report!" Albert's voice cracked, overly formal.
Robert smothered a laugh.
Leaning down, Robert whispered to Albert, "Relax, he's not going to kill you."
Albert swallowed hard, stepping toward Kael. "S–Sorry for the late introduction. I am Albert Chreas." His forehead beaded with sweat under Kael's steady, unreadable gaze.
Robert added cheerfully, "Albert used to serve under you. That's why he's acting like you might bite."
For the first time since taking Kael's name, someone looked genuinely afraid of him.