SILENCE BEFORE STORM

The early sun filtered through the haze hanging over Lumisgrave. The air was still, but Arslan's chest was heavy.

He stepped out of his room, hair wet from a rushed bath, dressed in his usual dark training gear. His face was stone. His eyes—hollow.

But today… he didn't even glance toward the dining hall.

He walked past the smell of warm bread and honey tea, past the familiar murmur of his teammates sharing breakfast. Even Yuna's soft laughter, which used to bring comfort, now felt distant. Seris didn't bother to look up. Neither did Tharion.

He was invisible. And maybe he deserved it.

---

Training Ground – Morning

The moment his boots hit the dirt, he exploded into motion.

He lunged. Swung. Punched the air with wrapped fists. Kicked the training dummy until the leather split open. He trained like he was punishing himself, or trying to sweat out the silence lodged in his soul.

But his movements were clumsy. Unfocused. He stumbled mid-spin, missed the core of his strikes. His shadow blades flickered, uneven.

> No Phantom Rift. No precision. No Kar'Thæl.

He growled, punching a target dummy so hard the wooden post cracked.

Around the yard, the other Mythic Knights trained together—sparring, learning new stances, laughing, improving.

He watched from afar. Not a single eye turned to him. Not one teammate approached him.

He was alone.

Two hours in, drenched in sweat and fury, Arslan stopped mid-swing and stood still, gasping.

He had lost something.

Not his strength.

His fire.

The fire only Kar'Thæl could fan.

Without him… he wasn't evolving. He was collapsing.

And yet, Kar'Thæl still hadn't said a word.

---

Back to His Room

Arslan returned to his quarters, opened the food left at his door—but didn't eat.

He just stared at it. Then pushed it away.

A whisper crept into his mind—not from Kar'Thæl, but his own voice:

"What's the point of power, if it makes you more alone than ever?"

---

Nightfall – Training Ground

The courtyard was silent, stars hanging in a quiet sky.

Arslan stood alone in the center of the ground, sword in one hand, breath steady. He ran a few techniques slowly—Shadow Merge, Spiral Recoil—but his rhythm was off. His blades lacked flow. The aura lacked pulse.

He halted.

Dropped the blade.

Silence.

"…Kar'Thæl."

No response.

"…Kar'Thæl, listen."

The air shimmered faintly. Shadows coiled near the edge of the training field.

Then—Kar'Thæl appeared in a thin flame, arms crossed, expression void of emotion.

He said nothing.

Arslan sighed, then straightened his posture. "Train me a new technique today."

Kar'Thæl didn't flinch.

But his voice came—low and firm:

> "I think you should master what you already have. I have no more techniques for you."

Arslan stiffened. "You always have something new. Don't lie."

> "I think… I've already taught you more than you deserve."

Arslan's jaw clenched. "Why are you doing this? If you stop… we'll both become weak."

> "I'm already weak," Kar'Thæl whispered, his flame dimming.

"Our bond is just a hit away from shattering. Your pride and coldness brought us here."

Arslan's voice cracked. "You're blaming me?"

> "No. I'm just reminding you who you chose to become."

There was silence again.

Arslan looked away. "All of this… all this happened because of Nirela."

Kar'Thæl's eyes glowed brighter for a second. His tone sharpened.

> "Don't blame her."

Arslan flinched.

> "You didn't just hurt her. You wounded everyone. Seris. Orien. Elyra. Ravik. Even Yuna. You made every one of them feel like they didn't matter. Like their bond with you was a mistake."

Arslan clenched his fists.

He wanted to argue.

But couldn't.

Kar'Thæl continued, voice soft now—almost sad.

> "You were becoming more than a Vessel, Arslan. You were becoming a brother to them. But you—" he looked him in the eye, "—you chose to isolate yourself like a king on a broken throne."

Arslan lowered his head, breathing heavier.

Kar'Thæl whispered, "I think you became too proud of your power. And now you have nothing but power to talk to."

Arslan didn't speak.

He just stood there in the middle of the dirt, alone with his silence.

And Kar'Thæl?

He faded into smoke.

No more words.

No more warmth.

Just the cold sound of the wind brushing past an unlit torch