Warm Embrace and Heavy Heart

Moonlight spilled gently through the ornate windows, silvering the wooden floor and the edges of the bed where Arasha lay, eyes closed but far from peaceful. 

Her breath hitched softly, the edges of a dream pulling her deeper.

The field stretched endlessly — a sea of wildflowers glowing under the gentle embrace of the sun. 

Soft winds played with golden petals, the scent of lavender and jasmine heavy in the air.

In the middle of it all stood a woman. Familiar. Radiant.

Arasha's steps slowed as she approached her. The woman's warm eyes held the wisdom of someone who had loved deeply and lost greatly.

"Mom…?" Arasha's voice was a whisper, unsure, vulnerable.

Her mother smiled, arms already open. "My little flame," she murmured, wrapping Arasha in a gentle embrace, the scent of her comforting and painful all at once.

She pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind Arasha's ear, then kissed her forehead — light as breath.

"You're doing more than I ever dreamed… but be careful, Arasha. Power takes as much as it gives."

Her smile dimmed, sadness blooming like a shadow behind her eyes. The wind picked up. Petals scattered.

Arasha reached for her — "Wait—!"

But her mother was already fading, dissolving into light with a final sorrowful smile.

The dream shifted.

Arasha was falling — endless, cold, the wind screaming past her ears.

Then — arms caught her.

Kane.

His expression was wrecked, tear-streaked, his eyes wide with terror and pain. 

He held her close, his mouth moving — frantic words she couldn't hear, couldn't grasp.

Her body felt heavy, distant. She could only raise a hand weakly to touch his cheek, managing a soft smile.

Kane shook his head violently, clutching her tighter, the world blurring around them — grief and desperation consuming the moment—

Arasha gasped awake, bolting upright in bed.

The room was dark and still. Her breath came quick, cold sweat on her brow.

She brought a hand to her chest, heart racing. The images lingered — her mother's embrace, Kane's anguished face — vivid, too vivid.

"Just a dream," she whispered aloud, as if saying it made it so.

She sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, hands clasped tightly. The words her mother said echoed in her mind.

Be careful.

Arasha closed her eyes briefly, then stood, steadying herself.

"No time for omens," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "There's too much left to do."

Still… the weight of that dream followed her long into the morning.

The morning air in the northern estate was crisp, the gardens painted in hues of early sunlight. 

Arasha stood by the courtyard, her armor polished, her cloak fastened—ready to return to the Order.

Duke Lionel and the Duchess stood nearby, offering their warm but dignified farewells. Lucian and Levi, however, made no such effort to hide their reluctance.

"You better come visit more often," Levi huffed, arms crossed, his usual grin struggling to hide the gleam of sadness in his eyes. "And rest! You always look like you haven't slept in days. Even knights need breaks."

Arasha chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his unruly hair. "I will. I promise."

Before she could turn away, Lucian stepped forward, thrusting a soft brown teddy bear into her arms. 

Arasha blinked in surprise.

"A... bear?"

Lucian smirked. "Good to know I can still surprise you."

Levi grinned and added, "It's from both of us. For you to hug when you're feeling too much but don't want anyone to see. So, you know... it can be your comfort."

Arasha stared at the plush toy for a long moment, then knelt and pulled both boys into a tight, heartfelt hug. 

Her arms trembled slightly, her voice softer than a whisper.

"Thank you... Truly."

The Duchess dabbed her eyes discreetly while the Duke nodded with his usual calm authority. "Take care, Arasha. May the stars watch over your path."

Arasha stood, hugging the bear to her chest once more before placing it carefully into her satchel. 

With one last glance at the place she once called home, and the family she still held dear, she mounted her steed and rode out with her knights into the dawn.

Behind her, the echoes of childhood laughter and newfound bonds lingered in the wind.

****

On the way back, Arasha hoped that nothing major had happen while she was gone. 

As though prompted by her hope.

The air shimmered with distortion across the lands—then, without warning, the rifts opened.

Not one. Not two. But countless breaches were tearing through the skies of major cities across the kingdom. 

Chaos bloomed in seconds. 

Screams, fire, the clash of steel, and monstrous roars echoed in every direction.

Kane, deep in a planning meeting with his strike unit, suddenly staggered. 

A mechanical chime echoed in his mind.

[System: World Events Update Alert!]

[Due to the exponential growth and rising expectations surrounding the main storyline character, the World Difficulty has been upgraded once again.]

Kane's eyes narrowed. His heart pounded.

"You've got to be kidding me," he growled under his breath.

[System Notification:]

[Initiating: Second Awakening Protocol.]

[Initiating: The Great Culling.]

[Objective: Have the shortest time for completing the trial for Second Awakening. Failure to meet the requirement will result in a penalty.]

Kane's breath hitched, but he forced himself to remain steady. 

Around him, his unit waited, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

He clenched his fists, voice low but commanding. "All of you, listen. Emergency teleportation to major cities—now. Divide forces. We contain the rifts and evacuate civilians. No questions."

He turned away, masking the cold dread curling in his gut.

Second Awakening. Great Culling. Penalty.

The stakes had changed. Again.

Calm but seething, Kane launched into motion. There was no time to curse the heavens. Only time to fight.

And win.

****

As the simultaneous rift outbreaks were finally subdued through swift cooperation, the Sanctuary of the Awakened erupts into motion. 

One by one, the Awakened—those called and blessed by various gods—are summoned inwardly, their souls resonating with divine echoes only they could hear. 

They gather in the open courtyards, their eyes turned skyward as brilliant sigils appear above them—markings of their patron gods. 

The Trial of Second Awakening has begun.

Each god's voice—distant, powerful, undeniable—reverberates through their chosen:

"The Cataclysm draws near. What you are now is not enough. Face the dungeons forged by fate, prove your worth once more… or perish."

The dungeons materialize across the land, ethereal and ancient, hidden from ordinary eyes but calling to those who must walk through fire once more. 

The trials within were said to echo the deepest fears and forge their greatest strengths. 

For those who emerge, unimaginable power awaits. For those who fail... silence.

Back at the Sanctuary, Arasha read every report, signed every requisition, and rallied logistics teams as more and more Awakened set off toward these mystic trials. 

She did not stop to sleep, barely eats, and refused every call to rest. Her heart, so tired yet so determined, led her through provinces now fraught with unrest. 

With resources stretched thin, Arasha rides to subjugation zones personally—villages and towns where commoners are too vulnerable, lacking even the means to defend themselves. 

She leads evacuations, fights riftspawn with her knights, and stabilizes regions where monsters prey on the weak. 

Many who had doubted the Awakened now rely on them… but fear still brews.

And amid it all, Arasha watches the Awakened march into their trials with fire in their eyes and dread in their steps. 

She sees the weight they carry—the same weight she bears.

"They're giving too much," she whispered late one night to herself, overlooking a burning horizon. "And I can't stop them... We need power. And they're willing to pay that price to keep this world from crumbling…In that case, I have to hold everything else together."

Gods demanded sacrifice for power to protect the world they created, and yet, were indifferent to the sorrows they had created. 

So Arasha ensures the awakened ones would still have some place to return to and something left to fight for.

****

The morning sun broke through a veil of clouds, casting a golden hue across the base—its warmth a stark contrast to the weight hanging in the air. 

Outside the sanctuary courtyard, rows of knights and staff stood ready, armored and resolute, faces set with determination despite the looming uncertainty of what lay ahead. 

The fluctuating auras that marked those chosen for Second Awakening shimmered faintly on their bodies, ethereal and undeniable.

Arasha stood before them, silent for a moment, her cape rippling in the wind. Beside her, Sir Garran's arms were crossed, his brow furrowed deeply. 

He said nothing, but his gaze swept over every face—many he had trained himself, some who were barely of age, others who had fought beside him for years. 

This wasn't a simple deployment. It was a call to tread paths where not even experience could guarantee survival.

"I don't like this," Garran muttered lowly to Arasha. "Too many unknowns. These trials are divine in nature—no tactics, no drills can prepare them for what they'll face."

"I know," Arasha replied quietly, her voice tight with emotion she tried to contain. "But we can't stop them… nor should we. We must respect their choice."

One of the younger knights, a boy barely twenty with sharp eyes and a steadied hand, stepped forward and saluted. "Commander, we chose this path the moment we joined your cause. This—going through the Second Awakening—isn't a burden. It's our pride."

Arasha met his determined gaze. 

Another, an older veteran with a scar running from his jaw to collarbone, nodded. "You've fought more for us than anyone else ever has, Commander. Let us earn the strength to fight by your side. That's all we want."

Arasha tightened her grip on her wrist behind her back.

Then the support staff—those who tended the wounded, ran the logistics, kept the base breathing—gathered behind the knights. 

One of them, a middle-aged woman named Mirra who'd served since the earliest days, stepped forward, clutching a glowing sigil on her hand. 

"Even us non-combatants received the summons. We're going. Not just to grow stronger... but to be less of a burden. To help you carry what you shouldn't have to bear alone."

Arasha's heart clenched as she took in the sea of faces. 

Brave, unyielding. 

Chosen. 

Willing.

She stepped forward, her voice steady but full of emotion. "You say it's your choice, that you're proud to stand with me—but it is I who am honored. Each of you is a light in this darkening world. And though I have no right to ask it… I do have one wish."

She looked over them, her eyes glinting with restrained tears.

"Return. Come back to me. However long it takes, however hard the trial—return."

The courtyard was silent for a breath, heavy with the weight of her words. Then, with perfect unity, every knight and staff member saluted—an oath in motion, unwavering.

Sir Garran placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "They'll fight like hell to come back, Commander. Because they believe in what you're building."

And as the first wave departed toward the divine dungeons scattered across the realm, Arasha stood watching them until the last figure disappeared into the horizon—her heart aching, but her resolve fiercer than ever.

The next day.

The sky was overcast as if mirroring the tension that clung to the air like a storm about to break. 

In the main hall of the base, a quiet assembly had formed—smaller than before, but no less heavy with emotion. 

This time, it was Kane and Leta who stood at the center, ready to depart for their Second Awakening trials.

Arasha stood before them, her expression calm, but her hands were clenched tightly behind her back. 

Sir Garran, to her side, looked stoic as ever, but even he couldn't completely hide the deep crease in his brow, the way his jaw tensed. These weren't just comrades—they were family in all but name.

"Sending them off like this is hard…," Garran muttered under his breath, for what felt like the hundredth time. "You two are pillars in this base. And you, Kane—you're her shadow. If something happens to either of you…"

Kane offered him a rare grin, that roguish curve of his lips tinged with something more subdued. "Relax, Sir Garran. I've been through life and death countless times and come back, didn't I?" 

Then his gaze shifted to Arasha, his expression softening. "This time, I'm choosing to walk into the unknown. Because I need more—more power, more leverage, more everything. I'm not letting this world take you away from me again."

Arasha's lips parted slightly at his words, but she said nothing, her eyes simply locked with his. 

Leta clapped her hands once, breaking the heaviness with a cheerful, if forced, smile. "Alright, enough with the grim faces! We're not marching to our graves, we're going to wrestle glory from the gods and return draped in triumph. Fame! Power! Bragging rights!"

She elbowed Kane. "Don't let me beat you too badly, hmm?"

Kane scoffed. "We'll see about that, Head Medic Leta."

Garran sighed and finally relented, crossing his arms. "Just don't do anything stupid. Either of you."

Leta gave him a wink.

But Arasha stepped forward, her composure firm despite the sorrow that lingered in her eyes. 

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Leta's face, and then turned to Kane, resting a hand on his chestplate. "Come back to me. That's all I ask."

Kane reached up and closed his hand over hers. "Always."

As the divine portal shimmered open behind them, framed by otherworldly energy and pulsing like a living heartbeat, Leta and Kane stepped toward it side by side. 

Neither looked back—not out of indifference, but out of trust. 

Trust that their paths would cross again.

And Arasha stood there, watching them vanish into the light, a silent prayer echoing in her heart.

Please return.