Silence.
Kael's heart thudded once—loud and ugly.
What the hell... he thought, stunned.
Even Yue looked frozen beside him, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with disbelief.
The General had refused.
After everything.
Kael exhaled sharply, the breath ragged, like he'd been punched in the lungs.
Regret twisted through him like poison.
He should've killed the bastard back then.
Before he gave him the potion.
Before he restored the storm.
But then—The General's voice returned, low and absolute, like a judgment:
"I can only swear loyalty to House Drenlor."
Kael went still.
His eyes snapped to the General.
The red mask on his face began to hum faintly, glowing with a pulsing, ominous light.
The General met his gaze.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
And then—Kael reached up.
Yue gasped, grabbing his arm.
"Kael—wait!"
But he was already pulling it off.
The red mask slid away.
And for the first time, Kaelion Drenlor stood exposed.
His face was bloodied—scratched, pale, bruised by battle and near death.
But his eyes… burned.
The General's breath hitched.
He took a half-step back, stunned.
Even Yue couldn't speak.
Kael spoke, quiet but unshakable:
"You said you can swear loyalty to House Drenlor."
He held the mask at his side.
His gaze never wavered.
"Then swear it.
I'm the third son of Duke Drenlor.
Direct descendant of the bloodline you served.
My name… is Kaelion Drenlor."
Silence fell again.
But it was different now.
Thicker.
Heavier.
A divine hush.
The General didn't need proof.
Not anymore.
The moment the mask came off—he felt it.
The bloodline.
The echo of oaths long buried.
The weight of House Drenlor's soul humming in Kael's veins like a forgotten drumbeat.
But something else stunned him even more.
Kaelion… had been magicless.
He remembered it clearly.
A weak, discarded heir with no future.
And yet now—He stood tall.
Unyielding.
Wielding artifacts.
Surviving what should've killed ten men.
His battle aura was sharp as blades.
His mind, a weapon.
This was no longer a boy.
This was a storm.
The General was silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly… he laughed.
A dry, weathered chuckle that cracked the tension like thunder on ice.
"You really did hide yourself well… nephew."
Kael's lips curved into a quiet smile.
There was no pride in it.
Just inevitability.
The General stepped forward, then dropped to one knee.
One hand clenched into a fist, placed to his chest.
The other raised in solemn vow.
"In the name of the War God,
I, Theron Drenlor,
swear my loyalty to the third son of House Drenlor—
Kaelion Drenlor."
A golden light burst around him.
Soft, searing.
It wrapped around his body like divine fire, then faded into his skin—marking the oath.
Binding it.
The War God had accepted.
The loyalty was sealed.
And now, for the first time since the war began—
Kael was no longer alone.
Kael exhaled slowly.
A faint smile touched his lips—worn, tired, but real.
The General rose to his feet, golden light still faintly clinging to the edges of his armor like dust from the divine.
His voice broke the silence, low and clipped.
"So. What's the plan now?"
Kael didn't answer immediately.
He reached for the red mask and slid it back over his face, sealing away the truth once more.
Persona over person.
The Devil reborn.
Only then did he speak.
"There are rumors," Kael said quietly.
"That my eldest brother has gathered an army of Rank 2 mages.
A hundred strong."
He looked up.
"I need to know if it's true.
And if it is—find them.
Find where they're hiding."
The General nodded once—no questions, no hesitation.
But as Kael adjusted the mask, blood still drying along his jawline, Theron studied him a moment longer.
"You good?" he asked finally, voice rough.
Kael didn't flinch.
"Don't worry about me."
His tone was steady, cold.
"You're the one they'll be hunting now.
Leave. Fast."
A pause.
The wind stirred.
Then—
The General whispered a word.
"Autumn Fade."
The rooftop answered.
Leaves stirred from nowhere—amber and crimson, curling in the air like smoke.
His body unraveled into the storm, dissolving into gold and wind.
Gone.
Only silence remained.
Kael stood alone once more.
He stared at the space where his uncle had been… and muttered under his breath:
"I swear, I'm stealing that spell someday."
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips.
Yue floated beside him in silence for a moment, then finally asked, soft but pointed:
"So… where are we going?"
Kael didn't answer immediately.
His mind spun behind the mask.
He couldn't go home—not like this.
Bloodied. Half-broken.
And the duchy's hospitals?
Impossible.
The estate would be crawling with guards.
The entire duchy likely sealed off already.
They'd be hunting for the General—scouring every corner, every gate.
And Kael…
He was in no condition to fight again.
He staggered slightly, catching himself against the edge of a crumbling rooftop.
Pain lanced through his side.
Yue watched him, concern deepening.
Then—
His eyes caught something in the distance.
Down below, tucked between rows of slanted rooftops and forgotten stone, stood an old chapel.
The Church of the Night Goddess.
Dust-choked.
Weather-worn.
But…
Light.
Faint golden light flickered behind the stained glass windows.
Kael's lips curled beneath the mask—a slow, wicked grin.
Not playful.
Not hopeful.
Predatory.
"There,"he said, voice low.
"Let's pay our respects."
He limped forward, fading into the shadows as he made his way toward the church.
Yue followed, fluttering anxiously around him like a mother hawk.
"You shouldn't have pushed yourself like that in the dreamrealm," she muttered, scolding.
"You're lucky your mind didn't collapse completely.
Idiot. Reckless.
Arrogant—"
Kael chuckled under his breath.
"Yeah, yeah.
I'll be careful next time."
He didn't say it aloud, but he was glad.
Glad she was worrying.
Glad she was still with him.
Even now.
They reached the church minutes later—quiet, its cracked spires rising like forgotten bones.
Kael crouched low in the shadows, breathing hard, watching the flickering light.
Yue vanished to scout ahead.
The wait felt endless.
But soon she reappeared, voice whispering directly into his mind:
"Inside—there are children.
Magicless.
And… one more."
Kael tensed.
"Who?"
"A sainthood healer.
Rank 3."
Kael's eyes went wide.
A Rank 3 healer?
In this forgotten place?
It made no sense.
If a Rank 3 healer truly resided here…
Then this church should be famous.
Guarded.
Protected by nobles and elite families desperate for her gifts.
But this building… was nearly abandoned.
Crumbling.
Hidden.
Something didn't add up.
Kael said nothing.
He simply narrowed his eyes.
And limped forward—toward the doors, toward the mystery, toward the light that somehow still flickered inside the dark.
###