Breaking Point

“You always were a shadow, weren’t you, Lykos?” Solon’s voice was calm. “And now you’ve come crawling back into the light, trailing children behind you.”

Lykos’ grip tightened on his spear. His face stayed unreadable, but his eyes burned. “If this is your light, then I’d rather stay a shadow forever.”

Rokuro poised to attack and Kagi materialized her blade.

Lykos raised a hand to stop them.

“No. This is between me and him.”

Rokuro stiffened. “The hell are you saying?!”

Kagi’s gaze sharpened, immediately reading the intent. “…Lykos.”

Solon tilted his head, lips twitching faintly. “So you mean to fight me here? Alone? You can’t hold me long enough for your strays to crawl out of this castle alive.”

Lykos shifted, just enough to stand between Solon and them. He didn’t look back when he spoke, but his voice carried weight. “Go.”

“Wha—“ Rokuro sputtered, “And leave you here with the strongest dude in the kingdom?!”

“Your fight’s with the king. With the relic. Not here. Not with him.” Lykos’ tone was final. “While I… let’s say we have some unfinished business.”

Solon scoffed, resting his claymore on his shoulder. “Bold words. But you can’t keep me.”

That was when Lykos pulled something from his belt. A small vial, faintly glowing purple. The liquid inside churned like fire caught in a bottle.

Kagi’s breath caught. “That’s—! Selka told me… the Aetherfruit elixir. Normal humans can’t tolerate it! You’ll burn yourself alive if you—”

Lykos’ mouth quirked into a rare grin, sharp and grim. “About time I used it, then.”

Rokuro lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “Are you insane, old man?! That stuff’ll kill you!”

“Rokuro…” Lykos met his eyes, calm as ever. “This… this is what I’ve been preparing for. Every damn day since I left Crystalor— every fight I ever had… it was for this.”

For a moment, silence. Then Rokuro’s jaw clenched, bitter anger twisting his features.

He wanted to stop him. Stand by his side. But he knew what this meant for Lykos.

“…Tch. Fine.” Rokuro turned his back at him, but spared him a final grin, “Don’t you dare lose, old man. It sets a bad example for your student.”

Lykos’ grin widened, though his eyes softened just slightly.

“Same goes to you, kid. If you lose, training will be extra difficult the next day.”

He uncorked the vial and downed it in one smooth motion.

His throat burned, his chest ached like it would be ripped apart. Lykos let out a growl of pain, gripping his shirt tight.

The change was instant. Purple veins spread along his neck and arms, glowing faintly beneath his skin. The whites of his eyes darkened, irises burning like molten steel. His breath came out hot, each exhale trembling with power.

Solon’s eyes narrowed for the first time. “…So you’re willing to poison yourself just to face me.”

“Poison?” Lykos spun his spear, the air itself shuddering with its motion. “Then have fun getting beaten by a walking corpse!”

With a roar, Solon lunged, his silver claymore arcing down in a blur of light.

But Lykos met it head-on. The claymore came down like lightning, and Lykos twisted his spear, the shaft catching the strike at an angle. The clash sent sparks through the cellar, stone cracking beneath their feet.

“Go!” Lykos barked without looking back.

Rokuro and Kagi didn’t hesitate this time. They bolted past, through the cellar door, hearts pounding as Solon’s and Lykos’ weapons howled behind them.

The true duel of mentor and disciple had begun.

╒ 🗝 ╛

The streets of Crystalor burned with steel and blood.

Rebels were pushed back step by step, their cries drowned beneath the clash of shields.

Ravuun was a wall of muscle and fury, his axe cutting men down like straw—but even he was being swarmed, his movements slowed by sheer numbers.

Selka’s spells burst like fireworks, scattering arrows, but her hands trembled, her breathing ragged. A soldier slipped past her guard—her Aether orbs swatted at him, barely holding him off.

Nero fought like a cornered wolf, daggers flashing—but his strikes grew sluggish. Cuts opened along his arms, his ribs. His grin was long gone.

Crystalor’s army pressed harder. Rebels fell. The perfect formation of the enemy locked tighter, strangling their hope.

Nero was in the deepest trouble, as a few ranked soldiers swarmed him from every side.

“Damn it!” He parried a strike only to barely dodge another. Their strikes were relentless. Nero’s back touched the wall. He cleaved one soldier down only to get slashed by the next one.

“Nero!” His father’s voice rose over the din of battle. Too many yards of enemy forces were between them to come to his rescue.

Selka too, had her hands full with defending herself and the other casters.

Just as Nero fought tooth and nail—

BOOM.

The barrier above them shook.

Every head turned upward.

Two titans hammered against the dome. Ava. Lami. Their wings flared, their roars cracked the sky.

“What are they doing?!” Nero hissed, seeing his winged companions act so suicidal.

Each strike burned their flesh against the light, yet they didn’t stop. Soon, more Aetheralyx landed on the dome, pounding hard against it.

“The beasts… they’ll never break it!”

a soldier barked, rallying his line.

“They’ll die clawing at the glass!”

Yet the image alone woke up a primal fear within the men of Crystalor. The beasts had never tried to defy the barrier. They had never even tried to come close to it.

Nero gritted his teeth, horror etched into his face.

“No… stop! Don’t kill yourselves for me!”

A sword slashed his shoulder. His daggers slipped from his grip as a boot buried into his gut. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, vision swimming.

“Nero!” His father bellowed, unable to reach his son in time.

“Damn it!” Selka clicked her tongue, as she too was rendered useless.

The soldier raised his blade for the killing strike.

“Do it, coward?” Nero hissed, hand over his ribs.

He looked up, one last time, at the barrier—at Ava’s wings up in smoke, at Lami’s shriek echoing like grief.

“…Don’t…” His voice cracked. “…don’t you dare leave me too.”

The sky split.

A fracture ripped through the dome, light spilling like blood. A crack had formed at the powerful barrier, big enough for only one of them to crawl through. The smallest. Lami. With a roar that shook the heavens, she forced herself through—her body burning against the crack, but she pushed anyway. For him.

“Lami!”

She crashed into the square like a meteor. The soldier above Nero vanished in the shockwave, stone exploding outward. Dust blinded the street.

When it cleared, Nero stared up in disbelief.

“You… really…”

The young Aetheralyx unfurled her wings, flames trailing off their edges. Her roar tore through the city, raw and defiant, as if screaming to the world: I would rather burn than abandon him.

Soldiers stumbled back. Rebels stared, wide-eyed. Then the cry rose from their throats, unstoppable.

“She broke through!”

“The Aetheralyx fight with us!”

“Victory is ours!”

Selka straightened, fire blazing from her palms. Ravuun surged forward like an avalanche, his axe carving a path to his son. And Nero—bloodied, broken, yet grinning, dragged himself back to his feet. He grunted in pain, using Lami’s wing as leverage.

“Guess I’m not dying yet,” he muttered, voice hoarse but burning with life. He looked at the Aetheralyx standing tall beside him. The first Eatheralyx to ever step foot within Crystalor.

“Thank you… you reckless fool.”

Lami cried in delight at the half compliment, before the two of them joined the battle once more.

Lami smashed her tail across a row of soldiers, stone collapsing around her. The streets that had been Crystalor’s advantage crumbled into chaos. Their perfect lines shattered.

“Fall back!” Crystalor soldiers cried.

“Forward!” Ravuun roared to his troops.

The tide had turned.

╒ 🗝 ╛

The castle’s stairwell coiled upward in endless crystal steps. Boots pounded against them—two shadows racing side by side.

Steel flashed at the landing. Guards.

“Try and dodge this, metal-face!”

Rokuro surged forward, gauntlet sparking as he slammed one into the wall. Kagi slipped past, her blade trailing violet as it carved through another before his weapon left its sheath.

More soldiers rushed to block the stairwell.

“Tch—where do they come from?!” Rokuro braced, gauntlet humming.

“This is your warm-up, don’t slack.” Kagi vanished in a blink, her afterimage cutting across their flank. Rokuro dove straight into the rest, trading blows with a grit that wasn’t as wild as before—his strikes hit harder, cleaner, a little more controlled.

With the upgraded gauntlet, his swings carried less drag and landed sharper.

The fight was still rough, messy at the edges. But it worked.

A guard attacked Rokuro, bringing his axe down. The Lock sidestepped the strike, and countered with a powerful punch that sent the guard crashing through the thin crystal window.

Another gawked at the sight, as Rokuro grinned.

“What? Can’t take a random kid with a gauntlet?!”

The soldier roared, thrashing forward with his sword. Rokuro grabbed the blade with his hand, his gauntlet flaring up and melting the blade nestled in his palm.

Rokuro tossed it away, and slammed his fist into the man’s gut, sending him crashing through the ceiling.

“Heh—“

Another soldier promptly appeared behind him. But his Key was there in an instant.

Kagi swooped in with her magical blink, taking him down promptly with a diagonal slash.

Soon the last guard fell, steel clattering down the steps.

“Well, that was easier than expected.”

“Maybe keep the cockiness for after we’ve won.”

Rokuro rolled his eyes.

They kept climbing the stairs. The castle wasn’t as transparent inside as it seemed from the outside. Only a few chambers were made of true glass that let the light flood through, mostly the ones along the outer walls.

From one of the windows of the staircases that they climbed, Rokuro looked far away at the battlefield where their companions fought.

“Wonder how they’re doing out there…”

The sounds of battle echoed regardless, mixed in with otherworldly roars.

“The hell was… that?”

“They’re doing their job.” Kagi touched his shoulder, “Let’s do ours and—“

“Save the day?”

Kagi smiled.

“Yeah, sure.”

Most of the castle had been evacuated. But if Solon was here, then Rokuro and Kagi had reason to believe the king had not fled.

At last, a set of double doors loomed. Red carpet stretched beyond them, pale light spilling through the crack.

They shoved them open.

The highest chamber awaited—vast, gleaming, oppressive. At its far end, the relic pulsed within its crystalline cage, red glow beating like a heart.

And before it stood two figures.

The King of Crystalor, blue robes catching the relic’s glow, a crown decorated with gleaming jewels adorning his head. In his hand rested a staff that glowed with a heavy red light, a kind of magic that seemed to bleed out into the air around it.

And beside him—Draven. Cloak drawn. Mask gleaming. His presence heavier than the chamber itself.

Rokuro’s fists clenched, gauntlet sparking. Kagi lifted her keyblade, her gaze steady.

“The Lock has arrived…” Draven’s voice rumbled lowly, “Just like I said he would, your majesty.”

Rokuro’s anger bubbled within him like smouldering magma threatening to overspill.

This was the first time he had locked eyes with Draven in this timeline, before he could have a shot at Earth.

Yet it felt like he was reuniting with his nemesis.

This time… this time I’m not the same clueless kid as back then! This time will be different!

“Draven….” His gauntlet spit out sparks as he clenched his fists.

The true heart of the war awaited them.