The Preperation 2

Morning arrived, spilling golden light across the Isle of Vigils, yet the warmth of the sun did little to chase away the cold weight pressing on Velvet's chest. Their sleep had been fitful, troubled by fragmented memories of a lullaby that no longer belonged to them. The sensation of loss clung to them like a phantom.

The main squad—Velvet, Kouneli, and Leonardo—emerged from their quarters, shaking off the remnants of sleep, only to be greeted by a voice laced with frustration and slurred venom.

"You're still weak," the older man spat. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his voice carried a bite sharper than any blade. "You faced the prophets, and you still came back like this? How long are you going to keep failing?"

Rajin stood rigid before the man, head bowed, fists clenched tight enough that his knuckles went pale. The drunken man wavered slightly, his narrowed eyes drilling into Rajin's soul before scoffing. "You're not fit to carry our name." With that, he turned and stumbled away, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than steel.

Velvet, Kouneli, and Leo exchanged glances before stepping closer. Kouneli was the first to break the silence. "What… was that about?"

Rajin exhaled sharply, as if trying to push out something suffocating him. "Nothing worth talking about."

Leo's gaze didn't waver. "You sure about that?"

A hollow chuckle left Rajin's lips. "It's a long story."

Velvet shrugged, crossing their arms. "We've got time."

Rajin closed his eyes for a moment before taking a seat on a nearby bench, the others settling in beside him. Then, with a quiet breath, he began.

He had been born into a family of warriors, raised among blades and tradition. His mother had died bringing him into the world, a fact that left an invisible fracture in his home from the start. His father tried—he really did—but there were nights when grief and alcohol turned him into something unrecognizable.

Still, Rajin had never been alone. His grandfather, his swordmaster, and most importantly, his grandmother—one of the esteemed 13 Royal Commanders—had always been there to guide him. She had been his pillar, the unwavering warmth in his life.

But fate was cruel.

A simple vacation to the Greathive had turned into a nightmare when an Authority God's Knight launched a surprise attack. His grandmother, a woman who had towered above all in his eyes, had given her life protecting him. He remembered the moment vividly—the scent of blood, the crackle of ether in the air, the way her warmth had vanished in an instant.

Her sacrifice was meant to save him. But instead, it condemned him.

His father, his grandfather, his teacher—they all turned on him, their grief twisting into blame. He had survived when she had not. And for that, they severed all ties, leaving him adrift in a world that had suddenly grown cold.

Until Zephir Zeshi found him.

The man had taken him in, given him purpose, and trained him in the way of the sword.

By the time Rajin finished his story, the silence stretched long between them. Kouneli looked away, Velvet bit their lip, and Leo simply stared at the ground. None of them spoke, but the weight of understanding was shared between them all.

Then, breaking the silence, a voice cut through the air.

"Good. You're all awake."

The four of them snapped their heads toward the source of the voice, only to see Evengarde Rest standing there, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes. Despite his usual demeanor, there was something more deliberate in his expression today.

"You're up early," Leo muttered.

Evengarde smirked. "And you're up late. But no matter, today's an important day." He stepped forward, hands resting on his hips. "It's time to train your souls."

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning.

Velvet blinked. "Train… our souls?"

Evengarde nodded, motioning for them to follow. "The Isle of Vigils isn't just a place for warriors to sharpen their blades. It's also a place to sharpen their very existence. You've wielded your strength, honed your techniques—but without the soul to match it, you'll never reach your full potential."

He led them through the stone pathways of the island, the crisp sea breeze whispering against their skin. The temple loomed ahead, its doors heavy with age, yet teeming with energy. As they stepped inside, a hush settled over them.

Within the temple, candles flickered despite the lack of wind, and a strange, almost rhythmic pulse echoed through the walls. Evengarde turned to them, his expression unreadable.

"Sit. Breathe. And listen to the depths of your being."

The squad obeyed, settling onto the temple floor. The moment their eyes closed, something shifted. The world fell away, and in its place, they found themselves sinking into the depths of their own souls.

And in the stillness, their true trials began.