The forest stretched endlessly before him.
Prince Arion moved silently beneath the towering canopy, his cloak drawn low, his presence deliberately hidden. No royal markings. No guards. No title.
Here—he was no prince.
Just a traveler.
At his side, Regalis Dominus rested beneath his cloak, its faint pulse steady like a heartbeat.
"…You feel it too," Arion murmured.
The blade answered with a soft glow.
Something had changed.
Something had begun.
By midday, the forest gave way to a quiet settlement.
Too quiet.
Villagers moved cautiously, their voices low, their eyes uneasy.
Arion walked among them unnoticed, observing everything. Listening.
At the center of the village stood an old structure of stone.
A library.
Ancient.
Important.
Inside—
Silence.
And empty shelves.
"…You're not from here," an old librarian said as Arion approached.
"Just passing through," Arion replied calmly.
His eyes scanned the gaps.
"…What happened?"
The old man hesitated.
"…The books are gone."
"Which ones?"
"…All records of ancient swords."
Arion's expression didn't change.
But his mind sharpened instantly.
Not stolen randomly—
Collected.
"Who took them?"
"No one saw clearly," the librarian said. "But whoever it was… they knew exactly what they were looking for."
Arion stepped closer to the shelves.
Dust disturbed recently.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
"…Then they're preparing," he said quietly.
For hours, Arion moved through the village, gathering fragments of whispers.
A shadow at night.
A silent figure.
One place mentioned again and again—
A house at the edge of the settlement.
Night fell.
Arion stood before the house.
Old.
Still.
Unkept.
He entered.
Dust filled the air.
Everything felt… wrong.
His gaze shifted downward.
"…Hidden."
A worn rug.
Moved aside.
A wooden hatch.
He opened it.
Descended into darkness.
The underground chamber revealed itself slowly.
Spider webs stretched across the corners.
Books scattered everywhere—open, torn, marked.
Ancient texts.
Diagrams.
Symbols.
All centered on one thing—
Blades.
"…So this is where you brought them," Arion said quietly.
He moved deeper.
Then stopped.
A sealed stone at the far end.
Different.
Concealed.
At his side, Regalis Dominus pulsed.
The stone trembled.
Cracked.
Shifted open.
A second chamber revealed itself.
Darker.
Heavier.
Older.
At its center—
A blade.
Dark.
Silent.
Waiting.
Arion stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.
"…So this is what you were searching for."
The blade did not react.
It remained still.
Unclaimed.
Arion stood there for a moment.
Thinking.
Calculating.
"…You'll come back for it," he said quietly.
He turned.
And left.
Above ground, the wind moved softly through the village.
Arion disappeared into the night—
Watching.
Waiting.
Time passed.
Silence returned.
Then—
Footsteps.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Cloaked.
Calm.
Certain.
He entered the house without hesitation.
Moved straight to the hatch.
Opened it.
Descended.
The underground chamber greeted him like a familiar place.
Scattered books.
Symbols.
Proof of his work.
"…All that searching…" he murmured.
"…and I was right."
He stepped toward the deeper chamber.
The stone was already open.
He paused briefly.
"…Someone was here."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"…Good."
He stepped inside.
The blade stood before him.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then—
The air darkened.
Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls.
The ground trembled.
"…So," a voice echoed.
Cold.
Endless.
From the darkness—
A figure emerged.
A being of shifting shadow, its form unstable, its presence overwhelming.
"The one who seeks the Chronic Blade."
The stranger stood still.
"I've been expecting this," he said calmly.
"…No," the Guardian replied.
"…You have been searching."
The ground cracked.
Dark energy surged.
"Then prove it."
The Guardian attacked—
Instantly.
A violent force slammed into him, sending him crashing into the wall.
Dust filled the air.
Slowly—
He stood.
Unshaken.
"…Good," he muttered.
"I didn't come this far to fail now."
He stepped forward, movements precise.
Not reckless.
Calculated.
The Guardian attacked again—faster, more chaotic.
But the stranger adapted.
Watched.
Learned.
"You hide patterns in chaos," he said, dodging narrowly.
"…but I've studied enough to see through it."
He countered—
Not with strength.
But with understanding.
Silence followed.
"…You see beyond the surface," the Guardian said.
"Answer me."
"Why do you seek this power?"
The stranger's gaze darkened slightly.
"…To understand everything."
"…To control what others fear."
"…To rewrite fate itself."
The shadows deepened.
"…You do not seek to protect."
"…No," he replied calmly.
"…I seek to master."
Silence.
Then—
The Guardian lowered its form.
"…Then you are worthy."
Darkness surged violently.
"I am the Chronic Blade…"
"Noctis Archivum."
"And you… Kael Virex… are the one who will wield its truth."
He gripped the blade.
Power erupted.
Dark energy exploded through the chamber.
Books tore apart.
Shadows bent toward him.
The ground trembled violently.
But he stood firm.
Unshaken.
Unmoved.
"…At last," Kael Virex said quietly.
Far away—
Arion stopped walking.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…So you've claimed it."
At his side, Regalis Dominus pulsed sharply.
Two blades awakened.
Two wielders chosen.
And the balance of the world…
had began to shift.