⊙---Mentor System Part 3

Kael's muscles screamed in protest as he twisted low, narrowly avoiding the arc of Varin's blade. His breath came ragged, heart hammering against his ribs, but his movements felt sharper than ever before—refined, honed, lethal. 

The underground chamber reverberated with each clash of steel, the dim light of rune-etched walls casting jagged shadows around them.

"Better," Varin murmured, the barest flicker of approval crossing his impassive face. "But still too slow."

Still too slow. 

The words gnawed at Kael, burrowing under his skin like embers waiting to ignite. Hours had bled together in this place, each session pushing him closer to the brink, each failure a lesson carved into his bones. 

His once-unrefined style had evolved—void energy weaving seamlessly into his strikes, shadows clinging to his movements like a second skin. And yet, it was never enough for Varin.

Kael lunged, his form blurring as he poured himself into the void, reappearing behind Varin with his blade primed for a killing thrust.

Varin smirked.

With inhuman speed, he twisted away, snatching Kael's wrist in an iron grip. A moment later, Kael's back slammed against the cold stone floor, the impact rattling his bones. Pain lanced through him as the breath tore from his lungs.

Kael coughed, forcing air back into his lungs. "Damn it," he wheezed. "Thought I had you."

Varin crouched beside him, his voice low and calm. "You did. But thinking isn't enough." His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before releasing. "You hesitate in the moment that matters. Feel the void. Let it guide you—not your mind."

Kael ground his teeth. There was always a lesson, always another gap in his technique, another flaw to correct. But beneath the training, beneath the brutal efficiency of Varin's instruction, Kael sensed something more—something unspoken. 

The way Varin watched him, the way he tested him. It wasn't just training.

It was preparation.

For what? Kael didn't know. But the way Varin moved, the things he knew—things no ordinary mentor should—set his nerves on edge.

Pushing himself upright, Kael rolled his aching shoulder. "You've been awfully generous with your time," he said, keeping his tone light. "Most mentors don't just appear out of nowhere offering free training."

Varin's gaze flicked to him, sharp as a blade. For a heartbeat, Kael saw something shift in his expression—something darker, heavier—but it vanished too quickly to grasp.

"I've seen your type before," Varin said, voice cool, unreadable. "A wildfire. Uncontrolled. Dangerous. But full of potential."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "And what's your angle? Why do you care?"

Varin held his gaze for a long moment. Then, with a slow exhale, he stepped back, arms folding across his chest. "The Darkspawn aren't just mindless monsters, Kael. They're drawn to power. And the stronger you become, the more they will seek you out."

Kael's stomach tightened. He had felt it—the weight of their hunger, the way they converged on him every time he ascended. But he had thought it was just the nature of the game.

"You're saying they're coming for me?"

"They always have been," Varin murmured. "And they always will."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Kael swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists. He had known—deep down, he had known something was wrong, something bigger was moving beneath the surface of this world. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.

"Then I'll be ready," he said at last, his voice steadier than he felt.

Varin watched him for a long moment before nodding. "See that you are."

The following hours blurred into relentless training. By the time the training nearing it's end it was already night fall. 

Kael pushed past exhaustion, past pain, until instinct replaced thought and hesitation burned away beneath the sheer force of will. His strikes grew sharper, his footwork more precise. But even as his skill flourished, his suspicions deepened.

Varin knew too much. About the Darkspawn. About the Rebirth Core. About things no ordinary awakener should.

Yet, he never asked Kael outright about his abilities. He never pressed him for details, never pried where others would have.

One evening, after a grueling session, Varin sheathed his blade and turned to him. "You've come a long way," he said, voice softer than usual. "But remember—strength without control is a weakness."

Kael hesitated. The words lingered, heavy with meaning.

"Varin… why are you helping me? Really?"

Varin was silent for a long moment. Then, a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Let's just say I see something in you. Something I haven't seen in a long time."

Kael's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

Varin's eyes darkened. "You'll find out soon enough."

And then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows like he had never been there at all.

Kael remained where he stood, breath steadying, heart still pounding in his chest. The more he learned, the less he understood. 

The sky stretched overhead, a vast expanse of deep indigo, the stars barely visible through the swirling clouds. Kael exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as another realization hit him like a punch to the gut—Lira.

His sister.

She was probably worried sick by now. He hadn't left a note. Hadn't sent a message. Hadn't even thought to add her as a contact in his system.

"Idiot," he muttered, smacking a palm against his forehead.

Panic surged through him. Lira wasn't the type to sit and wait. If she thought something had happened to him, she'd tear through Greythorne looking for answers.

He pulled up his system interface, fingers flying over the menu—only to freeze.

Right. He never added her.

A groan of frustration escaped him. Of all the things to forget. Shoving his system away, he turned on his heel and broke into a sprint, feet pounding against the dirt path as he raced back to the inn.

Lira was going to kill him.

But first, he needed to make sure she wasn't already halfway through burning the place down looking for him.