The thick wall of ice Kairo had thrown up stood as a temporary barrier, its crystalline surface glistening under the harsh arena lights, the Rimefire still dancing like ghostly auroras on his skin. He held his breath, every sense straining.
It didn't last.
With a sound like grinding glaciers, cracks spiderwebbed across the ice wall. Then, with a deafening CRUNCH, the entire barrier didn't just break—it exploded inwards, a hailstorm of razor-sharp ice shards flying through the air. Kairo threw up his arms to shield his face, the Umbral Kinetic Grips deflecting the worst of it.
When the icy shrapnel settled, the two Red Traces stood amidst the glittering debris, unharmed, their dark forms utterly unfazed. They began to walk towards him slowly, their steps measured and deliberate, the very air around them seeming to grow heavy with menace.
The taller one, who had effortlessly dispatched Lira, finally broke the silence. His voice, filtered through the mask, was smooth and chillingly calm, yet laced with a hint of amusement. "Well, well. Look what we've got here."
Kairo's heart hammered against his ribs, but he held his ground, the Rimefire flickering around his fists. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice tight but steady.
The figure ignored his question, its masked head tilting slightly as if examining a curious insect. "The boss's kid is here," it continued, the same calm, almost conversational tone sending a jolt of pure shock through Kairo. "What a delightful surprise."
The boss's kid? Kairo's mind reeled. My… father? The implications hit him with the force of a physical blow. These weren't random enemies. They knew him. They were connected to his father. A thousand questions exploded in his mind, but one fought its way to the surface. "What do you want?" he managed, the words feeling thick in his throat.
The masked figure chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Want? Such a fleeting concept for beings like us, little spark. We are merely… agents of consequence. Shepherds guiding the current, perhaps. Or perhaps we are the storm that ensures the river carves its destined path." The cryptic words offered no comfort, no clarity, only a deeper sense of foreboding.
They were toying with him, Kairo realized. He couldn't let them see his fear, his confusion. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not now. He took a deep, imperceptible breath, pushing down the turmoil, and a mask of an entirely different kind settled over his features. The shock and fear vanished, replaced by a carefully constructed facade of overconfident, almost arrogant amusement. A devil-may-care smile stretched his lips.
"Well, in that case," Kairo said, his voice suddenly light, almost swaggering, the Rimefire around him flaring with a mock theatricality, "I guess I gotta thank Dad. It's not every day he sends a couple of high-class, free training dummies all the way out here just for me to test my new skills on."
"Backup could take minutes, minutes I don't have if I hold back," he thought, his mind racing. "I need to go all out. Stall them. Hurt them if I can."
The decision made, Kairo didn't hesitate. With a guttural yell, he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a concentrated torrent of Rimefire Breath straight at the taller figure.
Simultaneously, the second figure – slighter, clearly female from her build – exploded into motion. She sprinted towards him with inhuman speed, a wickedly curved, katana-like sword in her hand, its dark blade glinting. Kairo reacted on pure instinct. Swiftbane and Kryll's Frostfang Dirk snapped into his hands from his inventory, one in each, just in time to meet her devastating downward slash with a desperate, crossed-blade block. The impact shivered up his arms, the force behind her strike immense.
Meanwhile, the male Red Trace had sidestepped the ice flames with almost contemptuous ease, the chilling torrent hissing past him to slam into the far wall, encasing it in a rapidly expanding shell of black ice. Kairo found himself locked in a furious exchange with the female operative. Her katana was a blur, each strike precise and powerful. He parried and deflected, his two daggers – one familiar, one new and chillingly cold in his grip – working in a desperate concert. After a few sharp clashes that sent sparks flying, a flicker of movement behind her caught his eye. The male figure was sprinting towards him now, one hand outstretched, dark red and black gravitational energy coalescing around it, seeming to devour the very air as it pulsed.
"Two-front attack!"
There was no time to think. Kairo activated Assassin Dash, a violet blur ducking under the female operative's next sword stroke. As he passed beneath her, he snapped his elbow upwards, a vicious, gauntlet-clad strike into her stomach. He heard a sharp intake of breath from her as he continued his motion, launching himself into a desperate backflip just as the dark gravity wave tore through the space where he'd been a microsecond before. The attack thudded into the arena floor, ripping up chunks of padding and metal.
He landed lightly on his feet a dozen paces away, chest heaving. The male figure lowered his hand, the dark energy receding. He let out a soft, almost appreciative sound. "Wow. I'm impressed," he said, his masked gaze fixed on Kairo. "You really are the boss's kid." He then glanced at his female companion, who was clutching her stomach but already straightening up, her katana held ready. "Go," he ordered her, his voice suddenly devoid of any amusement. "Finish the primary objective. I'll take care of this kid."
She gave a curt nod and, without a word, sprinted towards the emergency exit his friends had taken.
"Oh no, you don't!" Kairo snarled, then launched himself forward with Assassin Dash, aiming to intercept her, daggers leading.
He was halfway to her, a blur of motion, when he slammed into an invisible wall. His momentum vanished. He hung suspended in mid-air, unable to move, a terrifying, crushing pressure enveloping his entire body as if the air itself had solidified around him. He could barely even twitch his wrists; his daggers felt like lead weights. Panic flared. He twisted his head with immense effort, his eyes finding the male Red Trace. The man stood calmly, one arm outstretched towards Kairo, his fingers slightly curled as if physically gripping him in an invisible fist. When Kairo's gaze snapped back towards the exit, the female operative was gone.
He was trapped.
Anger and desperation warred within him. He glared back at the male figure. With all the strength he could muster against the crushing gravity, Kairo twisted his wrists in a final, defiant act. Both his daggers launched from his paralyzed hands, spinning end over end directly at the Red Trace's masked face.
The man didn't even flinch. He sidestepped the incoming daggers with fluid ease, then casually moved his outstretched arm to the left. Kairo was instantly, violently, flung sideways. He slammed into the arena wall with bone-jarring force, a cry of agony torn from his lips as stars exploded behind his eyes and the world tilted into blackness.
The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through Kairo's already battered body. He tasted blood, metallic and warm. "Shit…" he coughed, a trickle of red escaping his lips. He tried to push himself up, his limbs screaming in protest, his mind desperately scrambling for a plan, any plan. He needed to find an opening, a weakness…
But before he could even fully form a coherent thought, a shadow fell over him. He felt, rather than saw, the man right beside him, a silent, predatory presence. There was no time to react, no time to even turn his head. A brutal punch, delivered with cold precision, slammed into the side of his face. The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain. Kairo went airborne again, landing heavily on the padded floor with a sickening thud. His vision swam, dark spots dancing before his eyes. He could barely make out the blurry outline of the arena. He fought to get his arms under him, to push himself up, every instinct screaming to get back into the fight, but his body was a leaden weight. Just as he managed to get to his hands and knees, another wave of that crushing dark gravity slammed into him, sending him skidding backwards across the floor like a discarded toy.
He lay there, gasping, the hope of even standing again starting to fade into a dull, throbbing despair. The man walked slowly towards him, his footsteps unnervingly calm in the otherwise silent arena.
"I did admire your confidence, kid," he said, his voice still holding that chillingly smooth tone. "You have spirit. But you are still so very, very weak." He stopped a few feet from where Kairo lay. "I genuinely wish circumstances allowed me to extinguish you right now. It would be… satisfying. But the boss has other plans for you, it seems. Plans for later." A dry chuckle. "You're lucky."
With that, the figure turned and walked towards the gaping hole where the door had been, his silhouette framed for a moment before he vanished into the corridor.
Kairo remained on the ground, every inch of him screaming in pain. Helpless. He could hear the distant, muffled sounds of the facility, but they felt a world away. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision. Just as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, the entire facility abruptly blared to life. Emergency sirens wailed, and stark red lights began to pulse rhythmically, painting the wrecked arena in bloody strokes.
"Thank god," was Kairo's last coherent thought, a wave of relief washing through the pain. "They made it… I hope Zairen… and the others… can handle this…"
Then, everything went black.
* * * He woke to a persistent, gentle beeping and the dull ache that was now a familiar companion. He blinked, his eyes slowly focusing on the sterile white ceiling of the infirmary. Turning his head, a wince escaping him, he saw them – Natasha, Tarek, Mira, Orren, and Lira, all clustered in the small room, their faces etched with worry. Lira was propped up in a chair, a nasty bruise blooming on her temple, but she offered him a weak smile.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Tarek said, his usual boisterousness subdued, though a hint of relief was in his voice. "Look who decided to rejoin the land of the living."
Mira elbowed him gently. "Give him a second, Tarek. How are you feeling, Kairo?" Her usual sharp smirk was replaced with genuine concern.
"Like I went a few rounds with a grav-truck… and lost," Kairo rasped, his throat dry. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness and pain made him reconsider.
"Easy there, champ," Natasha said, her voice surprisingly gentle, though her eyes were stern. She stepped closer. "You gave everyone quite the scare. I'm proud of how you fought to protect your team. But don't ever pull a stunt like that again; engaging hostiles of that level on your own is suicide. You understand?"
Kairo managed a weak nod. "Understood. What… what happened after I passed out? The Red Tr— the intruders… Lira, are you okay?"
Lira waved a dismissive hand, though she winced. "Just a headache the size of Tarek's ego. They got me good, but I'll live. Thanks to you."
Orren spoke up, his voice grave. "Commander Zairen and the response teams were mobilized almost immediately after we got out and raised the alarm. But… we were too late. They had already accomplished whatever their goal was here. There was a brief confrontation as they were exfiltrating, but they managed to escape."
"They got what they wanted?" Kairo asked, a knot forming in his stomach.
Natasha nodded grimly. "They did. We're still assessing the extent of it."
"Well," Kairo said, letting out a slow breath, "thank god everyone on our side is safe, at least."
Mira suddenly let out a snicker, the tension in the room lightening a fraction. "Speaking of those masked freaks… you should have seen the female one when Zairen's team engaged them at the evac point. She was barely running, clutching her stomach and actually coughing up blood. Looked like she was about to keel over."
A faint, tired grin touched Kairo's lips, despite the throbbing in his head. "Yeah," he said, a spark of his old bravado returning. "I think I gave her a little something to remember me by. Lost the overall fight, but I was pretty badass handling both of them for a while there, wasn't I?"
Tarek clapped him on the shoulder a bit too enthusiastically, making him wince. "Damn right you were, freak!"
The familiar banter started to return, a welcome warmth after the chilling encounter.
The infirmary door hissed open, and Commander Zairen walked in, his long black coat seeming to billow around him. His red eyes, sharp and assessing, took in the scene under the pulsing red emergency lights.
"Team," he said, his voice low but firm, "I need a moment with Kairo and Natasha. Alone."
Tarek hesitated, glancing at Kairo with concern. "You good, Kai?"
Kairo nodded, managing a weak thumbs-up. "Yeah, go on. I'll catch up later."
As the others filed out, Natasha crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Kairo. "Alright, champ," she began, her voice sharp but not unkind, "how'd you know they were Red Traces? Orren said you shouted it before anyone else even clocked them."
Kairo's throat felt tight. He pushed himself up slightly in the infirmary bed, wincing as it creaked beneath him. "They… they mentioned my father," he said, his voice low, his eyes flicking between Natasha and Zairen. "The guy, the taller one, he said something like, 'The boss's kid is here.' Like they knew who I was."
Zairen's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing behind his outwardly calm demeanor. He exchanged a swift, loaded glance with Natasha, whose jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Varric," Zairen stated, the name hanging in the air more as a confirmation than a question. He stepped closer to Kairo's bed, his hands clasped behind his back. "They hit the main equipment chamber. Took the 'Goldscale Core' artifact—a dark, gold-veined stone. It was recovered from an SS-Rank Dragon Veilspawn by the Iron Vanguard Guild a few months ago."
Natasha looked sharply at Zairen, her expression serious and concerned. "All this chaos for one artifact? What does it even do?"
Zairen's reply was measured. "We've been studying it. From what we've gathered, it's not the kind of artifact used for crafting equipment. We never figured out its precise purpose."
Natasha's frown deepened. "Could it be what's powering their… unusual… rituals?"
Zairen shook his head, his voice grim. "Perhaps. We don't have enough information. What's deeply concerning is that they're clearly on the move now, no longer operating solely in the shadows. We can't afford to treat this as a situation where we have ample time to react."
A new intensity sparked in Natasha's eyes. "Have you heard from the High Commander yet? When do we make our move?"
Zairen let out a slow breath. "I have. That's partly why I'm here. We're to report to the main facility for an emergency briefing with him and the major guild leaders tonight."
Natasha's expression shifted from concern to a palpable hunger to bring the fight to their enemies. Then, her gaze snapped back to Kairo, sharp and piercing. "And you," she said, leaning forward slightly. "How the hell do you suddenly have an Ice Elemental Type? That wall you made, those flames… you didn't have that yesterday. Explain."
Kairo's heart hammered. "My last training session… the dungeon… I fought some polar bears. They dropped three items. When I put them together, they… somehow gave me this ice element."
Natasha looked momentarily confused, then turned to Zairen. "Artifacts that can unlock elemental types? Could the Goldscale Core the Red Traces took be something similar?"
Zairen considered this. "I doubt their primary goal is simply acquiring more power for themselves. They're aiming for something much bigger. And figuring that out has to be our top priority from now on." His tone was dry when he turned back to Kairo, though a flicker of something akin to approval crossed his face. "You held your own against Red Traces, kid. Incredibly stupid, but undeniably brave." His gaze, usually so stern, softened almost imperceptibly, though it remained probing. "Your father's shadow complicates things, Kairo. But you are not him. I believe you proved that today." He paused, then added, "Rest now. We'll handle the fallout. Natasha, let's go."
Natasha gave Kairo one final, searching look. "Don't do anything else dumb while you're recovering, champ. That's an order."
They turned, and the infirmary door hissed shut behind them, leaving Kairo alone in the beeping quiet, the red emergency lights still painting the room in unsettling hues.
He exhaled, sinking deeper into the bed, pain throbbing in his ribs. His mind spun, a storm of questions. What's Dad planning? And while he was lost in these thoughts, the Codex chimed softly.
[HOST RECOVERY TRAINING AVAILABLE]
[DESCRIPTION: Etheron core-centered meditation exercises to enhance energy control and circulation. Optimizes Etheron pathways, critical for Elemental Type mastery. Non-physical, ideal for recovery.]
Kairo's eyes lit up, a grin tugging at his lips despite the ache. "Training without moving? Hell yeah." The idea of refining his Ice Type—his Cryokinesis—while stuck in bed was perfect. He could already feel the nascent frost power under his skin, eager to be shaped.
But before he could start, his thoughts spiraled back to Varric. What's your game, Dad?
His hand drifted to his suit pocket, fingers brushing the cold shard Varric had given him during their last, tense meeting. He'd kept it hidden, a secret even from Natasha. He pulled it out. The shard glinted in the infirmary's dim light, an obsidian-like fragment with faint crimson veins, pulsing with a faint, inner warmth. Why'd you give me this?
As he stared, the Codex chimed again, unprompted, its familiar grid overlaying the shard in his palm.
[ITEM DETECTED: NOCTARUM PRISM GEM]
[RANK: ??? — ARTIFACT FRAGMENT]
[DESCRIPTION: A fragment imbued with primal pyro-ether, originating from a Dragon-class Veilspawn. When combined with its counterpart, the "Crux of the Umbral Sun," it grants an eligible host the Hellfire Elemental Type. Host must be Level 10 to activate.]
Kairo's breath caught, a surge of excitement mirroring the thrill he'd felt with the Frostfell shards. Hellfire? The idea of wielding scorching, red-hot flames, far stronger than normal fire, set his pulse racing. But the source—Varric—soured the excitement. Can I even trust you? His father's betrayal, the Red Traces' attack, the chilling "boss" taunt—it all screamed danger. Yet, the shard's unexpected warmth in his palm felt… strangely compelling.
Then, it pulsed, glowing a deeper crimson, brighter than before. The Codex chimed urgently.
[NOCTARUM PRISM GEM REACTING]
[COUNTERPART PROXIMITY DETECTED]
Kairo's eyes widened. Proximity? His mind flashed to Zairen's words—"gold-dark stone, Dragon Veilspawn." The artifact the Red Traces took from the equipment chamber. It's gotta be the second piece! The coincidence was too stark, Varric's unseen hand too clear in all this. He planned this. Did they really steal it? Or was this all a setup? But why? To empower me, or to manipulate me further?
He gripped the Noctarum Prism Gem, a new resolve hardening his gaze. I need answers. But first, Level 10. The Codex's recovery training was his immediate path forward. The equipment chamber, and the stolen Goldscale Core, could wait. He'd find a way to investigate, but only when he was ready.
Kairo eased himself off the bed, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles, and sat cross-legged on the cool infirmary floor. He closed his eyes, the Codex guiding his posture—spine straight, hands resting lightly on his knees, breathing slow and deep. The meditation began, his Etheron core a pulsing star in his chest. He visualized its flow, the newly acquired ice energy now a cool, sharp wind, circulating through his pathways, mingling with his base Etheron.
I need to get stronger, he thought, a fierce excitement cutting through his doubts and fears. Strong enough to face whatever Dad's planning. Strong enough to protect my friends.
The infirmary faded from his awareness, his focus narrowing to the icy pulse within, the Codex's hum a steady, guiding presence in the quiet dark.