Kael followed the butterfly through the darkness. Its wings shimmered faintly, releasing a warmth that wrapped around him like a guiding flame. The crimson glow comforted him even as the silence of the underground threatened to swallow him whole.
His hand gripped the knife tightly, knuckles pale. Am I walking in a dream? Or is this reality? he wondered, each step echoing too loudly against the stone walls.
Then—light. A faint glimmer ahead. Kael quickened his pace, reaching the end of the cavern. What spread before him was not a tunnel but a vast chamber, built like an underground temple. The walls were carved with forgotten symbols, and the ceiling stones themselves pulsed with pale, otherworldly light.
He searched the chamber, circling the perimeter. No other passage revealed itself—only the path he had entered from. His gaze returned to the source of his guidance.
The butterfly had landed on a box set upon a pedestal in the center of the chamber. Kael walked forward, breath steady, eyes locked on the crest engraved into the lid—Delcra's crest. His chest tightened. Something within him pulled, urged, demanded that he open it.
He knew this feeling. It was the same as when he discovered the second fragment. Slowly, he placed his knife beside the box and pushed the lid open.
Inside lay a shard of steel, faintly glowing—yet unmistakable. The third fragment of the sword.
The butterfly left the lid, alighting gently upon his hand. Its warmth pressed into his skin, as though whispering a command he somehow understood. Touch it.
Kael hesitated only a breath before reaching for the fragment. His fingertips brushed the cold steel—
—and a sudden flash of light engulfed him.
The world shifted.
When Kael opened his eyes, he stood in the middle of a ruined city. The air was thick with smoke; charred buildings leaned half-destroyed, flames licked broken stone. Screams of the people were faint, lost beneath the sound of collapsing walls.
He staggered, disoriented. His reflection caught in a shattered mirror nearby stopped him cold. Black hair tied back, the attire of a hero—dirtied, worn, but still regal. A younger face. A sharper, sterner expression.
It was him. The Kael of the past.
Confusion spread across his features. I'm awake. I'm not dreaming. So why…
His gaze fell to his hands. He held a sword—whole, gleaming, radiating overwhelming strength.
A deafening roar tore through the air. Kael's eyes shot upward. Above the burning ruins, a massive dragon circled, its wings eclipsing the firelight, its eyes glowing with fury.
"Kael!!"
The familiar voice turned him sharply. Reinhardt came running, sword in hand, his golden eyes blazing. "What are you doing here alone? Are you planning to fight that dragon by yourself?!" His shout echoed with urgency.
Before Kael could respond, another roar split the air. The dragon tilted its head downward, throat glowing crimson. Fire gathered in its maw.
Kael's chest clenched with raw fear. He tried to move, to run—but his body ignored him, acting of its own accord. His lips moved, his voice strong, nothing like his inner turmoil.
"If I run, who will save these people?!"
He dashed forward, the sword in his hand blazing. The dragon unleashed its breath—a torrent of fire. Kael swung. The blade cleaved the flames apart, splitting the inferno into two raging walls.
Leaping off broken stone, Kael surged upward, his body moving like it had fought this battle before. He brought his sword down across the beast's leg.
The dragon shrieked, agony shaking the skies. It swiped with a claw the size of a carriage, but Kael ducked low, the strike splintering the earth instead.
"Over here!" Reinhardt's voice cut through the chaos as he launched spells toward its wings, but Kael barely heard. His focus tunneled on the dragon.
The creature's tail lashed toward him. Kael planted his feet and slashed—the blade cut through scale and flesh, sending blood spraying across the burning streets.
He didn't stop. His body leapt high, gripping ruined walls, vaulting himself onto the dragon's back. With a cry that wasn't his own, he drove the sword deep into its left wing. The beast convulsed, thrashing violently. Kael held fast, dragging his blade along its back, cutting deep lines that bled glowing red.
The dragon faltered midair, roared, and fell crashing into the earth, its wings shredded, its legs mangled. Buildings crumbled under its weight.
Kael leapt from its back, landing before its massive face. His chest heaved, his sword dripping with its blood.
The dragon's eyes locked with his. For the first time, Kael saw fear trembling within the beast's gaze.
He raised the sword, unwavering, its point inches from the dragon's eye.
"Why did you destroy this city? They didn't do anything to you." His tone was sharp, merciless.
The dragon hissed, struggling against the chains of pain pinning it to the earth. Its voice entered his mind, deep and mournful.
"They killed my children… The humans in black robes. They slaughtered them."
Kael's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don't have—"
The world snapped, pulling him back into blinding light before he could finish.
Kael gasped as the vision shattered. His chest rose and fell quickly, his fingers trembling as he realized he was back in the underground chamber. The fire, the ruins, the dragon—all of it was gone. Yet the feeling lingered.
He had never experienced such a thing before. This was no ordinary dream. His eyes darted down to his hand, still pressed against the fragment inside the box. The crimson butterfly rested quietly upon his skin, wings glowing faintly as if nothing had happened.
Kael looked again at the steel shard. The fragment lay still, no more visions, no more fire. Just silence. He couldn't understand what had happened—or what it meant.
Slowly, he reached into the box and lifted the fragment. The moment it left its resting place, black smoke seeped from Kael's body, spiraling into the steel. He clenched his jaw, a shiver racing through him—yet when the fragment pulsed and accepted the darkness, relief washed over him.
The butterfly lifted from his hand, circling once before fluttering toward the knife he had set aside. Kael followed its movement with narrowed eyes, then picked up the knife. Holding the shard and the blade together, he pressed them close.
Light burst forth, bright and violent. Kael shielded his eyes, and when the glow finally receded, he stared in shock.
The knife was no longer a knife. It had transformed into a dagger—sleek, dark, and heavy with an aura that pulsed faintly in his hand.
By the time he lowered the blade, the butterfly had vanished. He searched the chamber, scanning the corners and shadows, but it was gone. Only silence remained.
Then a presence stirred behind him.
Kael turned sharply. A figure stood at the entrance, draped in a black robe. His heart dropped—the same kind of figure who had attacked him back in Vaelthorn mansion.
From the shadows, two more emerged. One by one, they stepped into the chamber, three in total, surrounding him like predators who had been waiting.
One of them walked forward, voice low and mocking.
"Oooh… our hero. Our savior. At last, you've found it."
Kael's grip tightened on the dagger. His stance shifted, eyes locked on the robed man.
The figure chuckled, unfazed. But before Kael could move, familiar voices cut through the tension.
"Y…Young master…"
Kael's head snapped toward the entrance. His chest constricted. Another robed figure had appeared, dragging Robert and Albert into the chamber. Both were bound, their hands tied behind their backs, their faces pale with exhaustion. Robert struggled weakly in the man's grasp, his mana nearly gone.
"Give us the sword, Hero Kael…" the lead intruder demanded, his tone sharpened with hunger.
Kael remained silent, dagger raised, gaze flickering between his companions and the enemies blocking his only exit.
"You don't want to get hurt like last time, do you?" The man's voice dripped with cruelty.
Kael froze, a shudder coursing through him.
"Y…Young master, don't listen to—" Robert's protest was cut short as the robed man kicked him savagely. Robert fell to the ground, groaning, blood staining his lip.
Kael's eyes widened. Rage burned in his chest.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and in that moment, the memory he had just seen surged through him—the sword in his hands, the dragon before him, the movements of battle etched into his muscles.
A sudden aura exploded from him, filling the chamber. The three intruders recoiled instinctively, trembling as they felt the weight of his presence.
"Kill him!" one barked, breaking the moment.
The three rushed at Kael, spells crackling in their hands.
Kael didn't flinch. The aura guided him, his body moving like it remembered. He slashed with the dagger, cutting through their spells as though slicing fire apart, just as he had in his vision. He spun low, blade carving across one robed figure's chest, sending him sprawling. Another lunged with a spear of ice—Kael leapt forward, twisting midair, and cut through the weapon, his dagger flashing across the man's shoulder. The third tried to retreat and cast from a distance, but Kael charged, using the momentum of the broken stone to vault upward and drive the dagger into the man's side.
All three crumpled, groaning in pain, unable to rise.
From the floor, Robert's eyes widened in disbelief. His body shook, not from weakness this time but from shock. He stared at Kael, at the dagger, at the impossible way his frail master had just fought. The grace, the speed, the ruthless precision—it was the same as the hero of old.
Only two enemies remained—the ones holding Robert and Albert hostage.
Kael stepped forward. The aura around him had not lessened. His gaze was cold, unreadable, and when his eyes locked onto the men, they faltered. One immediately released Albert, raising his hands in surrender.
But the other pressed his blade tighter against Robert's neck, drawing blood.
"Take another step, and I'll kill him," the man warned, his voice sharp with desperation.
Kael stopped, but his expression didn't waver. He raised his dagger and leveled it at the man.
"You know me… Release him or you get the same ending as your comrades."
The robed man snarled. "Do you think you can—"
The words never finished.
A whistle cut the air—then an arrow struck dead center into the man's forehead. His body went rigid before collapsing to the floor, lifeless.
Kael's eyes widened. He knew that arrow.
"Elric!"
She burst into the chamber with several guards at her back. Her bow still in hand, she sprinted toward him. The moment her eyes fell on the scene—three robed figures groaning on the ground, another lying dead, Robert and Albert bound and bleeding, and Kael standing at the center with a dagger in hand—she froze.
Her voice trembled.
"Kael—!"
She ran to him, grasping his hand. Her touch was firm, her eyes filled with worry and disbelief. "Are you okay?"
Kael didn't answer. Instead, he lifted the dagger slowly, showing it to her.
"They want my sword…"