Chapter 60: Shadows of Resolve

A few days had passed since the night Lyra died. The world felt heavier, quieter, as if the sky itself mourned her loss. The air in the mountains was sharp and clean, but every breath I took still tasted faintly of ash.


I spent most mornings alone, perched at the edge of the same cliff where I’d watched Lyra’s last battle. The dragon egg—her legacy—never left my side. I kept the pocket dimensional artifact close too.


My wounds had healed with unnatural speed. Deep gashes that should have left scars were now faint pink lines on my skin. The ache in my bones was gone, replaced by a restless energy that simmered just beneath the surface. I’d always been quick to recover, but this was different. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I could feel something stirring inside—a pulse of power that wasn’t quite mine.


I sat cross-legged, egg in my lap, and focused on the memory of the Eclipse Leader’s presence. That overwhelming aura—pure, blinding, impossible to ignore. I wanted to understand it, to replicate the way I’d sensed him on the battlefield. If I could learn to track power like that, I’d never be caught off guard again.


I slowed my breathing, letting the world fade. The wind, the distant call of a hawk, the warmth of the sun on my face—all of it slipped away. I reached inward, searching for that echo of power, that resonance in the air.


A flicker. A ripple, like the aftershock of a distant bell.


I opened my eyes, heart pounding. I’d found it—a shadow of the Eclipse Leader’s magic, faint but unmistakable. A new technique was taking shape in my mind: Aura-Enhanced Sensory Technique: Echo Pulse. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.


I whispered to the wind, “I’ll find you. No matter what you hide behind.”


The egg pulsed in my hands, as if in silent agreement.


By midday, our camp was alive with the sound of training. The clearing was ringed with ancient pines and the last stubborn patches of snow. Seven girls moved through the space, each bearing a codename that marked them as part of something greater.


Helium stood at the front, her posture straight, eyes sharp. She was the leader—composed, decisive, and unyielding. Her violet hair caught the sunlight, and her aura radiated calm authority. The others looked to her for direction, and she gave it without hesitation.


Beside her, Neon flashed a grin—her hair bouncing with every movement. She was the illusionist, the show-off, always eager to prove herself. Her magic left afterimages in the air, a trail of light that dazzled and confused.


Argon hovered nearby, her hair falling in a perfect sheet. She was the tactician, always thinking three steps ahead. Her eyes missed nothing, and her voice was cool and analytical.


Krypton was silent, her presence a steady weight. Her hair was cropped short, her movements economical and precise. She rarely spoke, but when she did, everyone listened.


Xenon moved with effortless grace, her long hair tied back in a loose braid. She handled diplomacy and manipulation, reading people as easily as she read the wind.


Radon was the coldest—her jet hair and piercing eyes gave her an air of danger. She was the assassin, quick and brutal, her strikes efficient and merciless.


Oganesson stood slightly apart, the eldest and most enigmatic. Her hair was nearly black, her gaze distant. She spoke rarely, but when she did, her words carried weight.


Today, I pushed them harder than ever. Grief had become our fuel, sharpening every movement, burning away hesitation.


“Again,” I called, stepping back as Helium and Neon circled each other, sparring with wooden daggers. Neon feinted left, her hand glowing with illusion, but Helium anticipated, ducking under the strike and tapping Neon’s ribs.


Helium’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of pride. “You’re getting faster, Neon. But you’re still too flashy.”


Neon grinned, flickering with pride and frustration. “You saw that from over here?”


I nodded. “You’re all improving, but don’t rely on tricks. Watch your opponent’s center of gravity. Most people move their hips before their hands.”


Argon stepped forward, her tone clinical. “We’ve been practicing the aura synchronization drills you showed us.”


“Show me,” I said.


Argon, Krypton, and Xenon formed a triangle, closing their eyes. Their auras flickered, then pulsed in sync—a harmony of energy that made the air around them vibrate.


“Not bad,” I said. “But Krypton’s anchoring too much. Argon, take the lead next time. Krypton, you’re the shield, not the spear.”


Krypton nodded, her aura flaring in acknowledgment.


Radon watched from the shadows, arms crossed. “When do we get to practice on something that fights back?”


I met her gaze, unflinching. “Soon. But you need to trust each other first. If you can’t move as one, you’ll die as one.”


Oganesson’s voice was low, measured. “We’re ready. More than you think.”


I studied her, searching for any sign of doubt. There was none.


“Pair up,” I said. “One attacker, one defender. Use everything you’ve learned.”


The next hour was a blur of movement and magic. Helium darted between trees, her style efficient and controlled. Neon’s illusions shimmered, dazzling even the other girls. Argon and Krypton moved in perfect tandem, their attacks precise and devastating. Xenon danced around Radon’s brutal strikes, her grace a counterpoint to Radon’s raw power. Oganesson watched, silent, her aura a deep, steady pulse.


Between rounds, I offered corrections, sometimes a word, sometimes a gesture. The girls listened, adapting quickly. Their respect was palpable—not just for my skill, but for my willingness to stand with them, to push them further than they thought possible.


During a break, Neon flopped down beside me, breathless. “You don’t smile much, do you?”


I shrugged. “Not much to smile about lately.”


Helium approached, her gaze steady. “We’ll change that. Just watch.”


Radon, arms folded, smirked. “If he ever smiles, it’ll be because one of us finally beats him.”


Krypton’s lips twitched. “Unlikely.”


Argon interjected, “We’re not here to outdo him. We’re here to learn.”


Xenon’s voice was soft, diplomatic. “But a little friendly competition is good for morale.”


Oganesson, from the edge of the circle, simply nodded. “Morale is secondary. Survival is primary.”


Neon grinned. “See, even Oganesson agrees. We need to survive first, then we can make him laugh.”


I shook my head, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Just don’t get overconfident.”


I whispered in my head,
"It’s not that I can’t smile. It’s because I don’t think there’s any meaning in doing so."


People laugh, cry, smile… act as if emotions hold some kind of value.
But to me, they’re just reactions. Tools.
If there's no purpose behind it, then what's the point?


A fake smile gains trust.
A real one is unnecessary.
 
"In a world built on deception, the truth isn't a virtue—it's a weapon, if you know how to twist it."


Helium knelt beside me, her tone serious. “We trust you. All of us. Whatever comes next, we’ll follow your lead.”


I met her gaze, seeing the resolve in her eyes. “Then we train harder. We get stronger. And when the time comes, we strike.”


The girls nodded, a silent pact forming between us.


Night fell quickly in the mountains, the shadows swallowing our camp in minutes. We kept watch in pairs, rotating every two hours. I slept lightly, one hand on my dagger.


The attack came just before dawn.


A twig snapped, too sharp, too close. I was on my feet in an instant, eyes scanning the darkness. Figures moved between the trees—fast, disciplined, armed.


“Up!” I hissed, and the girls snapped awake, weapons in hand.


The first mercenary lunged at Neon, blade flashing. She rolled away, laughing, and Helium dropped an aura barrier between them, her energy precise and controlled. Argon and Krypton flanked the attackers, their auras pulsing in sync.


I slipped through the chaos, my dagger a whisper of steel in the dark. “Phantom Edge: Serpent Coil.” My movements were precise, every cut disabling rather than killing—hamstrings, wrists, tendons. I moved from target to target, never lingering, never hesitating.


Radon was a blur of motion, her strikes silent and deadly. Xenon danced through the confusion, her magic turning enemy blades aside. Oganesson stood at the center, her presence anchoring the group, her aura a steady beacon.


One mercenary broke and ran. I was on him in two strides, my dagger flashing. He went down with a cry, my blade pinning his ankle to the ground.


I knelt beside him, voice cold. “Who sent you?”


He spat blood, eyes wild. “Vareon’s men… they said… kill anyone with a dragon’s scent…”


He whimpered. “So the secret doesn’t spread. So no one knows the dragon’s gone…”


I nodded, satisfied. “You failed.”


He passed out, and I left him for the others to bind.


The girls gathered around, breathing hard but unhurt. Neon grinned, her face flushed with adrenaline. “That was almost fun.”


Radon wiped blood from her blade. “Too easy.”


Argon checked the perimeter, eyes sharp. “No more threats.”


Helium looked at me, her voice even. “You moved faster than last time.”


I shrugged. “I don’t plan on dying any time soon.”


Krypton’s voice was soft. “What now?”


I looked at the unconscious mercenary. “Now we make sure no one else finds out.”


Oganesson’s gaze was unreadable. “We burn the bodies. Leave nothing.”


The girls nodded, moving efficiently. Within minutes, the evidence of the attack was gone, the camp restored to its quiet vigilance.


We regrouped at dawn, the fire crackling as the girls spread out a battered map on a flat stone. Four locations were marked in red, each one circled with careful precision.


“These are the possible hideouts,” said Argon, tapping each mark. “Vareon’s men move between them regularly. We don’t know which one he’s in.”


Neon leaned over the map, her fingers glowing faintly. “If we hit one, he’ll know someone's hunting. He’ll run.”


Krypton nodded. “We need to be certain.”


Xenon added, “Each hideout has its own defenses. If we attack the wrong one, we risk losing him entirely.”


Helium stood at the head of the group, her eyes scanning the map. “We need a decisive plan. No mistakes.”


I sat back, spinning my dagger between my fingers, my mind half on the map, half on the my imagination. The girls watched, waiting for my decision.


I didn’t even look. I flicked the dagger, letting it land with a soft thunk in the map—piercing the mark labeled “Iron Veil Bastion.”


Silence.


The girls stared at the dagger, then at me. Slowly, reverently, they began to murmur.


“He already knew…”


“As expected from our lord… ”


Helium’s eyes shone with pride. “You never fail to amaze.”


I blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? I just—”


But it was too late. They were already moving, gathering weapons, preparing for the strike. Their faith was absolute, their loyalty unshakeable.


Radon grinned, her eyes glinting. “Let’s see if Vareon can run from us this time.”


Neon spun her dagger, flashing a cocky smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t even see us coming.”


Argon was already organizing supplies. “We’ll need a diversion team and a main assault group.”


Krypton nodded. “I’ll take point on infiltration.”


Xenon smiled, serene. “I’ll handle any negotiations—if there’s anyone left to negotiate with.”


Oganesson simply stood, her presence commanding. “We move at dusk.”


Helium looked at me, her expression unreadable. “Are you ready?”


I nodded, feeling the weight of their trust settle on my shoulders. “I was born ready.”




To be continued