Chapter 9: Gathering Storms

Light rain still pattered against the half-collapsed walls of the Knights' garrison, lending a damp chill to the corridors. After the chaos of the siege and subsequent interrogations, an uneasy calm had settled over the fortress. Knights moved about with hushed urgency, repairing damaged structures and tending to the wounded. Over in the makeshift command center, the air buzzed with low conversations and the rustle of parchment maps.

Reziel sat on a bench along a hallway where daylight leaked through a shattered archway. Despite the cold draft, he found the open air a relief from the garrison's cramped interior. He pressed a hand to his healing side; it still twinged whenever he breathed too hard, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

His eyes fell on his forearm, where faint tracings of violet energy had appeared during last night's battle. The lines—like ghostly veins—had mostly faded, but a lingering buzz under his skin reminded him that Dark Rupture was now a permanent addition to his arsenal.

Can I ever go back to living without this power? he wondered. The memory of the cult's captive telling him they had "ways" to remove the System lingered in his thoughts. It should have been reassuring. Instead, it felt like stepping onto thin ice over a bottomless lake.

A clamor from the far end of the corridor drew Reziel's attention. Sir Galland emerged from a side room, followed by Knight-Commander Farren and Aria Highwind. They carried rolled parchments and spoke in hushed but urgent tones. Spotting Reziel, Galland motioned for him to join them.

He stood, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut. He respected Galland's measured authority but still felt like an outsider among all these disciplined knights.

They convened in what had been a small practice hall, now repurposed with a central table covered in maps, sketches, and notes. Flickering lanterns lent a dim glow, and the air smelled of stale sweat and damp stone.

Galland placed a hand on one of the maps, where multiple red circles had been drawn across Luxaria's countryside. "Our scouts and informants are pinpointing possible Circle of Twilight safehouses outside the city," he began. "We suspect at least one major hideout lies in the ruins of an old fortress beyond the western hills."

Aria tapped a particular circle scrawled near a crooked river line. "It's a two-day ride from here, near a region known for outlaws and stray magical beasts. Not exactly prime farmland—perfect for cult activity."

Farren nodded, voice low and rumbling. "If the captives won't talk, we'll corner their allies out in the field. A swift strike could yield intel—or force the cultists to make a move."

Reziel eyed the map, heart pounding. "So you're planning an assault? This soon?"

Galland's gaze was steady. "We have to. The Circle nearly took this garrison. If we don't bring the fight to them, they'll return in force once they regroup."

Aria glanced at Reziel. "We'd like you to come with us, if you're willing. You have the best chance of identifying cultist rituals or artifacts related to the Forbidden System."

Reziel's pulse quickened. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of plunging into a cult stronghold. But the possibility of finding references to a "Ritual of Severance" or anything that could free him from the System's grip was too compelling to ignore. After a shaky breath, he forced a nod. "Alright. I'll go."

Farren grunted in approval. "We leave at first light tomorrow. Gather what you need. Highwind, you'll oversee the expedition's security detail." He looked at Reziel. "In the meantime, see about honing whatever magic you used last night. We can't afford you collapsing mid-battle."

The idea of "training" with a forbidden skill made Reziel's insides twist. Still, he knew Farren was right—Dark Rupture was powerful, but unstable. If he lost control at a crucial moment…

"All right," he murmured. "I'll work on it."

That afternoon, Aria led Reziel to a partially intact courtyard ringed by high stone walls. Once used for sword drills and archery practice, it now served as a place to test—and hopefully tame—Reziel's emerging abilities.

Rain had tapered to a fine mist, the sky a low ceiling of silver-gray. Broken dummies and scorched patches of ground bore evidence of previous skirmishes with the cult. Aria motioned to an unoccupied corner, where a battered target dummy sat propped against a jagged wall.

"This is where you'll try to control Dark Rupture," she said, her tone both cautious and encouraging. She stepped back a few paces, giving him space. "We don't want a repeat of that corridor explosion."

Reziel approached the dummy, tension gathering in his chest. The System's power thrummed, like a coiled spring in his veins. How do I summon it safely?

Dark Rupture:

A concentrated sphere of negative energy that detonates on impact, causing greater damage and disruption than Dark Pulse.

He tried recalling the sensation from the hallway fight—the moment he'd channeled raw desperation into a more potent form of Dark Pulse. Slowly, he raised his hand, focusing on the spot just in front of his palm.

Violet sparks flickered, coalescing into a swirling orb. The air crackled with cold pressure. For an instant, Reziel thought he had it under control… but then the energy bulged erratically, lightning-like arcs snapping outward. He felt a spike of pain in his forearm.

"Ngh!" He gritted his teeth, forcing the orb to condense. Aria watched intently, spear in hand just in case.

With a determined growl, Reziel thrust his arm forward. The orb streaked toward the target dummy, colliding with a hollow boom. Shards of straw and wood blasted outward, leaving a smoldering crater where the dummy's torso had been.

Aria blinked, stepping closer to inspect the damage. "That's… quite the punch," she said. "But it looks exhausting for you."

Reziel exhaled shakily, knees trembling. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool mist. "It's more focused than Dark Pulse, but controlling it feels like wrestling a wild beast."

Aria offered a faint smile. "Then let's keep practicing—slowly. You can't afford to be wiped out after a single shot."

He nodded, swallowing the fear knotting in his throat. They continued drilling, repeating the motion of gathering and releasing Dark Rupture in controlled bursts. Each attempt was marginally steadier than the last, though Reziel's stamina dropped fast. His side ached, and his breathing came in shallow gasps.

After a final release that splintered another wooden post, he staggered back, hands on his thighs. Aria approached, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Enough for now. We'll break you if we keep going."

He fought down a wave of nausea. "Yeah… I think I'm done." Even so, a glimmer of grim satisfaction flitted across his mind—he was getting somewhere.

Aria motioned for a nearby squire to bring water. "Rest," she said gently. "We leave tomorrow. You'll want every bit of strength you can gather."

Reziel slumped onto a low stone bench, gulping the offered water. Tomorrow, he thought, gaze trailing to the ruined dummy. We strike at the cult's hideout. One step closer to answers—and maybe to severing this power.

Evening fell swiftly, shrouding the garrison in shadows. Despite the looming expedition, the Knights maintained strict patrols, wary of another surprise attack. Reziel found himself back in the "guest quarters"—still effectively a guarded room, though the door remained unlocked this time.

Exhaustion gnawed at him. After a frugal dinner of bread and stew, he lay on the modest cot, listening to the distant clink of armor and the wind sighing through broken corridors. The flicker of lantern light cast wavery patterns on the ceiling.

System Prompt:

Potential Quest: Uncover the Ritual of Severance. Travel with the Knights to the suspected cult fortress and secure forbidden knowledge.

Reward: Unknown. Probability of conflict: High.

Reziel sighed, letting his eyes close. Always conflict, he thought wearily. Yet he couldn't deny that forging ahead might be his only chance at freedom.

Just as he drifted toward sleep, he heard soft footsteps outside. A gentle knock sounded on the open door. He sat up warily, relaxing only when he recognized Aria in the lantern glow.

"May I come in?" she asked, voice hushed to respect the late hour.

He nodded, shifting to sit on the edge of the cot. "Sure."

Aria stepped inside, letting the door creak half-shut behind her. She still wore her armor's underlying padding, though her spear was nowhere in sight. Shadows under her eyes betrayed her own fatigue.

"I wanted to see how you're holding up," she said softly. "Tomorrow won't be easy."

He shrugged, rubbing his bandaged side. "Nothing's been easy since I got stuck with this System."

She offered a rueful smile. "Fair point." Silence stretched between them, gentle but heavy with unspoken tensions—her duty as a knight, his role as a forbidden mage, the precarious alliance that bound them.

Eventually, Aria spoke again, voice earnest. "Listen, Reziel, I know you didn't ask for any of this. But… I appreciate that you're sticking it out. That you're risking yourself to help us strike back at the cult."

He blinked. "I'm helping myself, too. If the cult takes me, or if they unleash this power on the entire kingdom… no one wins."

She inclined her head. "Still, thank you." Her gaze flicked down briefly, then met his eyes. "If you ever need someone to talk to—about the System, your fears, anything—well, I'm around."

Warmth spread through Reziel's chest at her sincerity. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he simply nodded. "I'll… keep that in mind."

Aria gave him a faint grin, then turned to go. At the threshold, she paused, throwing a final look over her shoulder. "Get some sleep, Reziel. Tomorrow might change everything—for all of us."

She slipped out, leaving him alone with the quiet flame of the lantern. He inhaled, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and anxiety. Tomorrow…

Morning would bring a new stage in this dangerous dance—journeying beyond the city, likely into the clutches of even more powerful cult forces. Reziel lay back on the cot, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The rhythmic pulse of the System lulled in his veins, neither demanding nor silent—just present, an inexorable bond.

Will I regret this? he wondered. Facing the cult on their own turf?

Doubts churned, but he recalled his vow: I won't let them decide my fate. If a chance existed—however slim—to sever the System or at least master it, he had to try.

Quietly, the night dragged on, and Reziel finally slipped into a fitful doze. An uneasy calm before the next storm. The faint dripping of water from the cracked ceiling, the occasional clank of a knight's armor in the hallway—these sounds blended into a lullaby of tension and hope.

In that twilight of half-sleep, he dreamed of swirling violet energies and ancient runes etched into crumbling fortress walls. A dark corridor stretched before him, beckoning. At its far end, a gleaming door—locked, sealed—promised answers.

System Notice (echoing faintly in the dream):

All paths lead deeper into the unknown. Which path will you choose when the door stands before you, host?

But in the dream, Reziel couldn't answer. He only walked forward, compelled by a mix of dread and determination. When he awoke at dawn's first glow, the question still lingered in his mind—taunting him like a prophecy.