In the depths of the abandoned wing, far from the prying eyes of the arrogant disciples, the room was bone-chillingly cold and reeked of medicinal herbs. Faren woke slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of a solitary candle. Beside him, Orik sat on an old wooden chair, meticulously wiping the blade of his long dagger with a cloth.
"You've returned from death for a second time, my friend," Orik said in his gravelly voice, never taking his eyes off the steel.
Faren propped himself up with immense difficulty, coughing up a few drops of dried blood. "Where are the boy and the girl?"
"Sleeping in the next room, or so I assume. One is dressed as an enemy guard, the other a blacksmith. I don't know why you dragged this trash with you." Orik stopped wiping and looked directly into Faren's eyes. "Why did you return, 'Keeper of the Throne'? You fled thirty years ago... when the cursed Senate decided to betray you and sell our souls to the Eclipse Cult in exchange for keeping their power. You were the rightful leader of this Academy, but you took the 'Legacy' and vanished."
Faren sighed, his face looking a hundred years older in that fleeting moment. "I didn't flee out of fear, Orik. I took the 'Azura Core' because the Senate intended to hand it over to the Eclipse Cult as a token of peace. They destroyed the Academy... Look around you. The magical barrier is collapsing, the leaders hide like terrified rats in their towers, and they throw the disciples out as bait in a losing war. The Academy is dying."
"And you brought me a blacksmith boy to save us?" Orik scoffed bitterly.
"I didn't bring him to save you..." Faren whispered, a strange, intense gleam in his eyes. "I brought him to burn this corrupt system to the ground. Do not underestimate the boy, Orik... He is the vessel."
Meanwhile, out in the outer training courtyard bathed in silver moonlight, Kael was not asleep.
The air was as cold as ice, but his chest was boiling. The words of the arrogant youth, Cyril, echoed in his mind like a hammer striking a metal anvil: "Make sure to clean the hall, you silver dog."
Kael stood in the middle of the vast grassy courtyard, gripping a rusty iron sword he had found discarded in a corner. He wasn't practicing noble martial arts; he was recreating the motions of his blacksmith hammer. He was synchronizing his breathing with the pulse of the "Azura Core" in his chest.
From the shadows of a nearby balcony, a pair of silver eyes watched his every move. Lyra was crouched on the edge of the roof like a black cat, her cloak blending seamlessly with the darkness. Why does the mana flow around him in such a chaotic and terrifying manner? she thought to herself. He has absolutely no technique, his movements are as crude as a lumberjack's... but the power he restrains within his body is monstrous.
In the center of the courtyard, a massive object caught Kael's attention. It was a colossal black meteorite, weighing at least ten tons, resting on a shattered marble pedestal. The rock pulsed with a heavy magical aura and was accompanied by an ancient metal plaque that read: "The Fallen Star Stone. Unscratched by blade, unpierced by magic. Whoever shatters its shell shall awaken the glory of the Clouds."
To the disciples and leaders of the Academy, this stone was a sacred legend, an impossible test that thousands had attempted and failed over the decades.
But to Kael... it was just a stubborn piece of metal that needed to be tamed.
Kael approached the meteorite. He placed his left hand on its cold, black surface. He didn't see a magical rock; instead, with the eyes of a master blacksmith, he saw the internal structure of the metal. He saw the microscopic fissures that no human eye could ever perceive. The fault lines binding the fabric of the meteorite together.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The pure blue energy of Azura surged from his chest, traveling down his right arm to pool into the blade of the worn-out iron sword.
Lyra shrank back into the shadows, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief as she saw the rusty sword glow with a terrifying, ethereal blue light for just a fraction of a second.
Kael didn't strike with brute force. He didn't shout or leap.
He swung his sword in a silent, horizontal motion—so incredibly fast and smooth, slicing through the air like a hot knife cutting through silk.
Hssssss!
A very faint sound, like a drop of water vaporizing on a hot coal, broke the silence.
The iron sword in Kael's hand couldn't withstand that pure, overwhelming energy. It turned to ash, crumbling away between his fingers.
Kael opened his eyes and looked at the massive meteorite in front of him. Nothing had changed. The rock was still in its place, solid and intact.
Kael sighed in disappointment, dusting the ash from his hand. "Stupid legend... you can't break a rock with a rusty blade anyway," he muttered to himself. He turned around and slowly walked back toward the abandoned wing to finally get some sleep, genuinely believing he had failed.
After Kael had completely disappeared from sight, Lyra dropped lightly from the roof and landed in front of the black meteorite. She stared at the colossal rock in bewilderment, then reached out a leather-gloved hand to touch the rough surface.
The moment her fingertips brushed the stone... a gentle night breeze blew past.
With a terrifying, grating sound of stone rubbing against stone, the top half of the massive meteorite—weighing a full five tons—began to slide slowly... before crashing into the ground with an impact that shook the entire training courtyard!
The legendary ten-ton meteorite had been perfectly cleaved into two equal halves. The cut was impossibly clean, smooth, and flawless as a mirror, flawlessly reflecting the pale moonlight.
Lyra stood frozen in place, her silver eyes locked onto the perfect cut, her lips trembling as she uttered a single word:
"Monster..."
And as the first threads of dawn broke over the horizon, Kael, fast asleep in his dilapidated bed, had no idea that his silent strike had just ignited the greatest chaos Cloud Peak Academy would ever witness in its history.