Night before the parade

Runa reached under her robes and pulled out a small parcel from her bag. "Cook this up, Chief Kyren," she said, handing over a metal pan filled with meat and vegetables she'd bought from Snider.

Kyren smirked and summoned Eclipsing Fang, using the dagger to slice the food into smaller pieces before dropping them all into the pan. He set it over the flame, letting the meat cook for a moment before flipping it with the blade. As the scent turned rich and savory, he pulled the pan off the fire, letting it cool as the sizzling slowed to a whisper.

He passed it around, letting Runa and Lydel grab their share of roasted meat and vegetables.

"Thanks, bro. I was tired of cooking," Lydel said, digging in.

"You've cooked once," Kyren shot back.

Runa giggled. "I'll cook next," she offered, raising a hand.

"We should put on the robes before we sleep," she added, glancing toward the darkening treeline. "Just in case."

"I'll take first watch," Lydel said, stretching and standing.

"I've got second," Kyren followed.

Runa shrugged. "Guess I'm last."

Kyren summoned the tent. As it unfurled, Runa glanced from the structure to Kyren, then said casually, "You wanna share it tonight?"

Kyren blinked, heat rising to his cheeks, but he steadied himself. "I'd like that."

Inside, they lay side by side on the bedroll, bodies close but not touching.

"Runa… when this is over, fighting the cult and all… what are your plans?"

Runa turned slightly. "I don't know," she said softly. "But I think there's someone I'd like to stay around."

"Are you talking about me?" Kyren asked.

"Who else would I be talking about?" she said with a straight face—until a slight grin tugged at her lips.

"I mean, Veldthar's kinda cool, and Arvalen's a cutie," Kyren joked.

They both chuckled.

"Go ahead and kiss already!" Lydel yelled from outside, followed by exaggerated gagging sounds.

Kyren and Runa quickly turned away from each other, faces flushed.

"Goodnight, Kyren," Runa said, curling to her side.

"Goodnight, Runa," he replied.

Runa inched backward until they were pressed together, warm and still—like two pieces of a puzzle finally locking in place.

Sleep came quickly, but peace didn't last.

Kyren dreamed again—this time, after the battle. The battlefield was silent. The Allfather had already disappeared into the sea.

Leon stood amidst the aftermath, steam rising off his arms and shoulders like smoke from an ember. He stepped forward toward Vireon and Kyanna.

"Vireon, are the men in purple dead?" Leon asked.

"Yes, Father. I don't think anyone survived… not looking like that."

"Good," Leon muttered. "Then we rally who's left and return to Epsilon."

"There's no one left to rally," Kyanna said quietly.

Leon turned. "What do you mean?"

"They're all dead," Vireon answered.

Leon's eyes darkened. Something in him cracked.

He turned away and began walking into the forest, his body glowing faintly as heat shimmered off his back.

"Power… we need more power…" he muttered, over and over. "They were too weak… everyone was too weak…"

Kyanna took Vireon's hand. "Your father isn't well. It's time he stepped down. Let you lead."

"You know that'll never happen," Vireon said. "But… I'll stay at your side until the day it does."

Together, they followed Leon through the forest as he burned a path toward Epsilon, still whispering to himself—haunted by the war, consumed by the thought of strength.

A tug on Kyren's ankle pulled him from the dream.

"I swear I don't wanna sleep in the tent with Runa," Lydel said quickly. "Just gimme the blanket so I can build something."

Kyren blinked and handed it over without a word. Lydel threw together a makeshift lean-to, laid under it, and was snoring within minutes.

Now alone, Kyren stepped into the night air, breathing deep.

He opened his system.

Level 10.

There were rewards waiting. But first—Runa.

She was Level 6, nearly 7, and her reward box was blinking.

Kyren focused on her level-up.

No stat points. No familiar blue screen.

Instead, his inventory flashed.

Two new items now filled empty slots.

He summoned them—two bracelets, one smooth and humming, the other heavy with glyphs. A message appeared:

Quicksoul Bind (Left Bracelet)

A smooth, rune-marked band that hums with restless energy. It quickens Runa's mana into form, allowing her weapons to shape and strike with unnatural speed.

• Weapons form faster, fly truer, and strike swifter.

• Each hit restores a breath of mana.

• When moving, her weapons shimmer—bending light like time itself.

Mindgrip Lock (Right Bracelet)

A weighty band etched with floating glyphs. It deepens Runa's telekinetic bond to her arsenal.

• Enhances control, precision, and range.

• Her weapons flicker with echoes—mirroring her intent.

Sovereign Sigils (Set Effect)

Forged for those born to command the battlefield—where every weapon bends to their will.

• In moments of perfect focus, Runa may summon all her weapons at once, a living storm of steel.

• Her control persists, even through pain or chaos.

• The world answers her more easily, softening the cost of creation.

Kyren's suspicion was all but confirmed now.

The system wasn't just strengthening them—it was adapting. Shaping itself uniquely to the person. Runa's reward wasn't brute force. It was precision. Harmony.

He stored the bracelets. He'd give them to her when she woke.

But now it was time to check his own.

He selected his Level 10 rewards.

+100 stat points

Weapon Fuser (One-time use)

No flashy fanfare. Just a single black box in his inventory.

The description was short: Combine two weapons. Gain one stronger weapon.

Kyren hesitated. He loved both blades—Lion's Requiem and Eclipsing Fang. But something told him one blade, forged in unity, might suit him better now.

He summoned the Weapon Fuser.

The black box appeared before him, swirling with a quiet storm of mana. He placed both blades inside. Closed the lid.

Mana surged, carving glowing lines into the box's surface.

A timer appeared in front of him:

Weapon will be ready in 3:59

Kyren sat with his back against the box, staring at the numbers as they ticked down.

Waiting. Wondering.

And feeling something stir in his chest—not fear, not doubt.

But anticipation.