Corrupted Throne

The wind gently stirred the grass as Duke stood near the edge of the training field, the green shimmer of Kendra Energy still faint on his hands.

"Hey, look! He really awakened it!"

Samaira came running toward him, eyes wide with excitement.

Drex followed behind, arms crossed but visibly impressed.

"You really did awaken it," Drex said with a nod.

"Yeah,"Duke replied, smiling faintly. "It just happened. I'm still figuring it out."

"Feels different than mine," Drex added, squinting slightly. "More... precise."

"Definitely different from mine too," Jack muttered, jogging up with a scowl.

"Why do you get wind, and I get the regular stuff?"

Duke grinned. "Weren't you the one calling me jealous ?"

"Tch—shut up,"Jack huffed, looking away.

"It doesn't mean he's stronger than us," Lysa cut in smoothly as she approached.

"He's just going to be better at using wind-type Kendra. That's all."

"Wait, seriously?" Jack blinked.

"She's right," Duke said. "Miss Violet told me. Elemental Kendra's rare and specialized. I won't have a wide range, but the techniques I do learn… they'll hit harder."

"Hmph. As long as you don't get cocky,"Jack said, scratching his head.

DING–DING!

The fortress bell rang across the field.

"Ahh, crap. It's the duty bell," Touka muttered, rising from her rock perch.

"Me and Touka got stuck with cleaning duty today," Samaira groaned, already heading toward the fortress.

"I'm in the kitchen again," Lysa added with a dramatic sigh. "See you guys at the campfire."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't burn the place down," Jack teased.

The girls waved as they split off—Samaira and Touka heading toward the stone halls, Lysa disappearing toward the kitchens.

Duke, Jack, and Drex stood in silence, staring at the training ground. It was an absolute mess.

"This is too much," Jack muttered. "I don't think we'll finish this before sunset."

"Hey,"Duke stretched and yawned. "I'm going to take a quick nap. Ten minutes. Freshen my mind a little."

"Are you kidding me?!" Jack snapped, throwing his hands up.

"You awaken your fancy wind powers and now you think you're royalty?!"

"Exactly," Duke said with a smirk, already lying down on the grass.

Drex chuckled under his breath while Jack grumbled to himself, picking up a broom.

Each morning began with the clash of weapons echoing across the training field—not just drills, but violent collisions of will and muscle. Duke, Jack, Samaira, Drex, Touka, and Lysa trained in cycles—with blades, without them, and fists when nothing else remained.

Drex was relentless.

His punches hit like boulders, and he didn't go easy, not even on Jack—especially not on Duke.

"Your hands are soft, Vento," Drex barked once, cracking his knuckles. "Start hitting like you mean it."

Jack dodged, ducked, and shouted between breaths. "We're supposed to be training, not dying!"

But Duke kept standing. Bleeding. Breathing. Learning.

Touka joined the combat drills too, her movements measured and deadly. But her focus always felt… elsewhere.

At night, while others rested, she vanished—silent steps through forgotten tunnels and cliffside ledges. Her violet eyes scanned hallways that hadn't seen light in years.

She was still hunting. Still searching for the hidden sword… and something more.

In the deeper wing of Bastionspire, the Void Room glowed again.

Duke returned—and this time, he didn't break.

The spiral still dragged him through screams and blood. But now, he fought back.

Not just with rage—but with clarity.

With wind at his side.

Miss Violet stood outside the chamber, arms crossed. She said nothing, but her sharp gaze held something rare when he exited—approval.

The forest was quiet, save for the distant echoes of training blades clashing on stone.

Derius stood under a tree, arms folded, eyes locked on Duke in the far distance—his sparring stance loose, the air around him flickering with faint green light.

"Wind element, huh?" Derius muttered, almost to himself.

A voice came from nearby, low and steady.

"Mm."

Kairoz sat cross-legged, eyes closed, surrounded by a faint swirl of black mist. He was meditating on a flat stone, barely acknowledging Derius.

Derius didn't stop watching. "Wasn't elemental energy supposed to be… rare? Bloodline-based? Calm awakenings, not violent ones like that."

Kairoz exhaled slowly. "It still is."

"So how the hell does he have it?" Derius asked, frowning. "No noble blood. No known clan."

Kairoz opened his eyes, just slightly. Shadows danced along his fingers.

Kairoz stood up silently, brushing the dust from his coat as the faint mist of darkness around him faded. He turned, heading down the narrow path without a word.

"Hey," Derius called casually. "Aren't you even a little interested?"

Kairoz paused. His back still turned.

"To be honest…" he said quietly. "I'm not."

Derius chuckled. "Heh. For real?"

Kairoz turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch the sharp glint in his eye.

"He can't beat me. Doesn't matter what power he awakens. Not just him—no one in this fortress can."

Derius raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Not even me?"

Kairoz didn't answer.

He just gave Derius a long, unreadable look—cold, confident.

Then walked away.

Derius watched him disappear into the trees.

"…Prideful bastard," he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.

Meanwhile…

At Hollowveil Village, cloaked in mist and silence, the moon barely pierced through the fog rolling over the rooftops. The village sat nestled deep in the Whispering Pines Forest, east of Bastionspire, near the base of the Broken Fang Mountains.

A chilling wind whistled between crooked wooden homes.

Five soldiers from Bastionspire had been stationed there.

Two stood guard near the village's rusted northern gate—gripping their spears, eyes squinting into the fog.

The other three sat around a flickering campfire near the center of town, their shadows dancing on the stone walls.

"Heh… this is the place everyone was afraid of?" said Fin, lazily poking at the fire with a stick. "I don't see the problem. These villagers are quiet, polite—hell, they're friendlier than most recruits."

"Don't let your guard down," muttered Rhett, the older soldier across from him. His eyes scanned the treeline. "Two soldiers disappeared last week. Without a sound. No blood. No struggle."

Fin snorted. "Bandits, maybe. Or they just got lost in the woods."

The third soldier, Calen, leaned back and laughed. "You're both too tense. We're Stromspire-trained. The world fears us. A few missing scouts isn't reason to start seeing ghosts."

"That's what I was saying!" Fin chuckled, slapping Calen on the shoulder. "We're soldiers, not babysitters. I'll take on ten bandits myself if they show up."

But none of them noticed the figure standing silently just beyond the treeline.

Still.

Watching.

Unblinking.

Then it moved—vanishing into the mist like smoke.

"Hey, did you see that?" Rhett asked, eyes locked on the tree line.

"W-What?" said Fen, startled.

"There was something. Not human," Rhett muttered, hand inching toward his sword.

Fen's face twisted in mock fear—eyes wide as he glanced at Calen.

Calen, already tense, flinched. "Why is he scared… did he see it too?" he whispered.

But then—

Fen burst into laughter. "Hahahahahaha! Not human? Of course not! Birds aren't human, you idiot! What else would be up there?"

He wiped a tear from his eye. "A human sitting on a nest? Hah! Come on."

Calen, who had been genuinely scared, looked at Fen—and then started laughing too, nervously. "Heh… yeah… stupid birds…"

But Rhett didn't laugh.

His hand stayed firm on his sword.

"Something was there," he said seriously. "Maybe I'm just seeing things, but—"

"No, sir," came a voice.

One of the guards at the gate—a young woman—had turned around, her face pale.

"I -Isaw it too."

"Now you said it too, Fen…" Rhett muttered, eyes narrowed toward the treeline.

Fen stood up, cracking his knuckles.

"Look, I'll go check around the tree."

"Hey! Fen, don't go alone," Rhett said firmly.

"It could be dangerous."

Fen smirked and waved him off.

"Tch. Signs of fear, old man? Do you doubt my abilities?"

He tapped the badge on his chest.

"I've got Wind Shelter. If anything happens, it can withstand 70% of all types of attacks. I'm not getting taken out that easily. Hahaha!"

Rhett exhaled and handed him a fire lamp.

"Ah—sure, fine. But take this. It's too dark and cold out there."

Fen grinned, snatching the lamp.

"Much appreciated, sir."

The young woman at the gate stepped forward slightly, her eyes darting around the fog.

"S-Sir… please stay guarded," she said softly.

Fen gave a mock salute and walked towards the tree.

As Fen started walking toward the treeline, holding the flickering fire lamp out in front of him, his boots crunched lightly against the cold ground.

Rhett stood up suddenly.

"Hey—Calen, stay here. I'll go with him."

He reached down and grabbed a thick wooden stick, jammed one end into the campfire, and watched it catch flame.

"S-Sir, I… I want to come too," Calen said, stepping forward, clearly unnerved.

Rhett looked over his shoulder, firm.

"No. You stay here. Keep an eye on the camp… and the girl. If anything happens, shout."

Calen hesitated, then nodded, swallowing hard.

Fen, up ahead, glanced back with a smug grin.

"You both act like we're walking into a monster's mouth," he chuckled, spinning the lamp casually.

"It's just a damn tree."

They disappeared into the mist together, their flames flickering weakly against the thick veil of night.

Behind them, Calen stood by the fire, gripping his spear tightly, trying to steady his breathing.

As both Rhett and Fen reached the tree, a stillness clung to the air. Something felt… off.

"There's nothing," Fen muttered, sweeping his lamp side to side. "Just old bark and fog."

Rhett squinted. His eyes caught something odd—

A patch of scattered leaves, freshly fallen, yet the branches above barely moved.

"Hey," Rhett pointed. "Those leaves… they just fell."

Both of them turned slowly, scanning the ground and treetops.

Nothing. Just cold wind and thick mist.

From the distance, Calen watched them nervously, clutching his spear tighter near the campfire.

At the northern gate, the girl guard stood with another soldier—tense, unmoving.

Then—

A sound.

A whistle. Slow. Smooth. Eerie.

"Sir!" the girl at the gate shouted. "Do you hear that? There's a whistling sound!"

Rhett's head snapped toward the noise.

Fen turned too, suddenly serious. They both started walking back toward camp, their boots crunching faster on the gravel.

As they moved, the whistling stopped.

"What the hell is this?" Fen muttered, irritated.

He and Rhett stood in the center of the main street of village, firelight flickering on their tense faces.

Calen watched them, his breath shallow. Something wasn't right.

He could feel it in his bones.

Then—

A soft, distant sound.

Crying.

A child. A boy. Sobbing.

It came from one of the houses nearby, just beyond the firelight.

"…What the hell is going on?" Fen growled.

"First whistling, now a kid crying?

The crying echoed softly from the old wooden house at the edge of the village square, flickering firelight dancing across its rotting steps.

"Let's go check it out," Fen said, tightening his grip on the lamp.

"Yeah," Rhett nodded. "Calen! Stay put—we'll be right back."

"O-Okay, sir," Calen called from mid-distance, standing halfway between the campfire and the main street. He looked small in the fog, the flame behind him making his shadow stretch unnaturally long.

Fen and Rhett walked slowly toward the house, boots crunching on loose gravel. With each step, the crying grew louder… more desperate… sharper, like it was cutting the air.

But then—

Silence.

The crying stopped.

"…It stopped?" Fen whispered, narrowing his eyes at the darkened windows. "Just now?"

They paused at the threshold, just outside the creaking.

wooden steps.

"We shouldn't disturb civilians," Rhett said, glancing at the closed shutters. "Could just be a mother and her child."

But just as they turned slightly—ready to back away—

A voice.

A woman's voice.

Singing.

Faint… soft… melodic.

"Sleep, my child, the night is near,

Fog will hush what you may hear.

Eyes like stars, so wide and bright,

Close them now… no need for fright."

"Mother's here, the mist won't stay,

It only comes to take away…

All the ones who disobey—

So hush, my child… hush and pray."

A shiver ran through both men. Rhett felt it in his spine. Fen took a step back, face pale.

"That's… that's no lullaby I've ever heard," Fen muttered, his smirk long gone.

He looked at Rhett. "It's not about disturbing anyone anymore. We're not just checking on them… we might need to protect them."

Rhett's jaw tightened. "Alright. But stay sharp. We don't know what's inside. Could be anything."

They turned slowly toward the door, the wind rattling the wooden boards around them. The fire lamp flickered in Fen's grip.

Behind them, Calen swallowed hard, stepping closer to the campfire.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fen slammed his fist against the rotting door.

"Open up!" he barked, the firelamp swaying in his other hand, casting crooked shadows across the porch.

His sword was half-drawn, fingers coiled tight around the hilt.

Behind him, Rhett stood silent, tense—his blade already unsheathed, held low but ready.

The house gave no reply.

No footsteps. No creak of movement. No voice.

Just silence.

Thick. Heavy. Waiting.

Then—

CREEEAAAK…

The door creaked open.