Kael couldn't sleep.
Even after the Veilborn had fallen, even after the sky had stilled and Lyra's healing aura soothed his wounds, the visions wouldn't leave. They played behind his eyes like cursed reels, over and over—Drayke screaming as he burned alive, Lyra's light flickering out, the world in ruins.
He sat alone near the cliff's edge, blades stuck in the earth beside him, ash dancing on the breeze like dying fireflies.
"Those weren't just illusions," he muttered, fingers twitching slightly. "They were echoes. Possible futures… fragments the Veilborn tried to force-feed me."
He clenched his fist.
"They were too real."
Behind him, soft footsteps approached.
"You haven't slept since the battle," Lyra said gently, wrapping a light shawl tighter around herself. "You're going to burn out."
Kael didn't look back. "I don't sleep well when I see my allies die in every possible outcome."
She sat beside him, hugging her knees.
"I know," she whispered. "But you're not the only one carrying the weight."
Silence fell between them, but it wasn't empty. It was shared. A quiet moment in the aftermath of chaos.
Then Kael broke it. "Why do you stay?"
Lyra blinked. "What?"
"I'm a ticking time bomb with a cursed aura. I'm hunted by Eternals, the Veilborn want to rip open my brain and wear it like a crown, and I'm probably going to die before I turn twenty."
He turned, finally facing her.
"So… why are you still here?"
She stared at him. Hurt. Confused.
Then angry.
"Because you saved me. Because you believed in me when I was nothing but a weak healer barely clinging to her rank. Because despite all your talk about death and darkness, you still stood in front of that monster while bleeding from your ribs."
She stood now, hands balled into fists.
"Because you care, Kael Arclight. Even if you don't admit it."
He opened his mouth to argue.
She turned away.
"And maybe I'm staying because… if you fall… someone has to be there to remind you who the hell you are."
Kael sat in stunned silence as she walked away, the glow of her Sunveil Feather shimmering faintly behind her.
"…Damn," he muttered, scratching his head. "Why does she always win those arguments?"
Elsewhere – Noctheron Marsh, Outer Ruins
Drayke dragged a fresh monster corpse out of the black water, panting.
"Wraithfang Basilisk. Rank B+. That's number six."
He threw it on the pile and sat down, pulling out a ration bar and biting into it like it owed him money.
From behind the mist, Zera stepped forward—quiet as a ghost.
"You're pushing yourself."
Drayke smirked. "Didn't realize you cared."
"I don't. But you'll be needed soon. And you're getting sloppy."
He growled. "You spying on us now?"
"No," she said simply. "I'm watching the warboard. The Veilborn aren't attacking dungeons—they're corrupting them. Tiers are collapsing. Apex monsters are going mad. Even Dungeon Lords are abandoning their nests."
Drayke's grin faded.
"…That's bad, right?"
Zera's Wraith Bell chimed once—soft, but hollow.
"Yes. It means the Eternals are reacting. And worse…"
She looked toward the marsh's center, where the fog swirled unnaturally.
"…they're afraid."
[Sunspire Citadel – Vanguard Briefing Room]
Veyl Solane stood before the gathered captains, the entire war table lit up with aura projections.
"Three dungeons collapsed in one day. Not cleared. Not sealed. Collapsed. Gone. Vanished into ash."
The captains whispered among themselves.
"One Veilborn did this," she continued. "And it was defeated. By a Bladesoul."
Someone scoffed. "A half-class. That shouldn't be possible."
Veyl's eyes narrowed. "Then explain it. Because the reports are clear—Kael Arclight faced the entity alone and lived."
The room fell silent.
"From this point forward," she said, turning to the projection of Kael's face, "he's no longer a rogue variable. He's a high-value asset."
She touched her badge, activating a secure signal.
"Contact every Vanguard in the region. New priority: Find Kael Arclight."
Later That Night – Elarith Peaks
Kael finally found rest. Not sleep—but rest. The kind that let your bones stop buzzing for a minute.
He dreamed.
In his dream, he stood before a mirror.
But his reflection was not himself.
It was someone older. Wiser. Scorched from a thousand wars.
The figure spoke without moving its lips.
"You are not the first Ashen."
Kael stepped closer. "Then who was?"
The figure flickered—now wearing a crown of molten stone.
"You are not meant to survive. You are meant to burn."
Kael gritted his teeth. "I don't accept that."
The reflection leaned forward.
"You don't have to."
And then—
The mirror shattered.
Kael jolted awake, hand on his blade.
Drayke was at the edge of camp, watching the dark horizon.
Lyra was asleep, curled beside the campfire.
Kael stood, dusted himself off, and stared at the sky again.
The stars had stopped blinking.
But now… one was missing.
A sign.
Something was coming.
Something worse.
And this time… it wasn't coming for the world.
It was coming for him.