The atmosphere inside CELEN War Room was glacial. High Commander Veylan, a man whose stern features looked as if they were carved from granite, presided over the polished obsidian table. Zairen stood to his right, his red eyes unreadable. Natasha, her arms crossed, vibrated with barely suppressed fury. Around the table sat the Guild Masters – formidable figures the country's diverse operational arms.
"They evaded our forces. However, the intel recovered from their abandoned staging ground presents… an interesting deviation." Veylan stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. His gaze swept across the assembled leaders.
A holographic display flickered to life above the table, showcasing schematics of a C.E.L.E.N. vault, with a specific, high-value artifact highlighted. "We initially believed their incursion into the training facility grounds last week was to steal the Goldscale Core arrifact. It appears we were mistaken."
Zairen spoke, his voice a low counterpoint. "The recovered data suggests their target was not the artifact… it's as if they came just to make a scene, or perhaps a distraction, but it seems like they have an interest in some of the young recruits currently on their training"
Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Kairo."
Veylan nodded slowly. "Precisely, the timeline aligns with young Virel's Awakening. The operatives made a fake attempt to seize the Shard, which they could have. Instead, they observed, and then withdrew. The question is, why? And If their target was indeed Kairo Virel, why didn't they act? Why not capture him? Or eliminate him?" A tense silence filled the room. The implications were disturbing.
"This connection, however tenuous," veylan continued, steepling his fingers, "presents an opportunity. Varric Virel's son… He could be the key to flushing out his father and the other Red Traces." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "I propose a period of passive surveillance. Allow Kairo Virel a degree of operational freedom, monitored, of course. Use him as… unwitting bait."
Natasha slammed her hand on the table. "Absolutely not, High Commander! He's a student! A child, practically. You're talking about painting a target on his back, using him to draw out some of the most dangerous rogues we has ever faced!"
"He is also potentially one of the most powerful assets we have, or a significant threat, if his development mirrors his father's trajectory," veylan retorted, his voice hardening. "His unique nature already makes him a target. We would simply be… observing the inevitable interaction."
Zairen remained silent, his expression a mask, but a subtle tightening around his eye betrayed his disapproval. He understood the strategic imperative, the desperate need to understand and neutralize the Red Trace threat, but the thought of Kairo being knowingly endangered sat ill with him.
The master of Eclipse Sentinels guild, a scarred veteran named Marcus Thorne, grunted. "The boy's a perfect bait, no doubt. Since he's the son of our terget. If he can draw them out, it saves us resources hunting them in the shadows."
The Iron Vanguard guild's representative, a slender woman with eyes that seemed to see too much, countered: "The ethical implications are severe, high Commander. And if the Red Traces perceive him as bait, as it is a predictable move, they might alter their tactics, become even more unpredictable."
The debate raged for several more minutes, the political currents shifting subtly with each argument. Finally, veylan raised a hand. "The option of using Virel as active bait remains on the table for future consideration, should circumstances dictate. For now, however, we will pursue a more… discreet approach." His gaze fixed on the Master of Starweave Syndicate guild, "You will deploy your elite Assassin-Type etherborn. Their objective is to locate the Red Traces, observe their activities, and identify their current motives and resources. No direct engagement unless absolutely unavoidable. We need intelligence above all." The cloaked figure nodded once. "Consider it done, High Commander."
The tension in the room eased, but only slightly. The decision to use Kairo had been deferred, not dismissed. And Zairen knew, with a chilling certainty, that the future held little room for ethical comfort.
At that time, early morning, Kairo stood in the center of his private training chamber, the sterile scent of recycled air a familiar backdrop. Six days. Six days he'd spent looking inward, wrestling with the very essence of his Etheron core, forging a new foundation within himself. And now, as he rolled his shoulders and stretched, he could feel the profound difference. The change wasn't just in the immense thrum of his Level 9 core or the crisp biting chill of his more deeply bound Ice Elemental Type. It was etched into his very physique. The weak child-like appearance he'd had before was completely gone. His training had sculpted him. His shoulders were broader, his arms and chest now defined with lean, hard muscle that spoke of newfound strength. He looked less like the sometimes-hesitant boy who'd stumbled out of the Awakening Trials and more like a young man, his features sharpened, his gaze carrying a depth of focus that was very noticeably mature, and he even grew slightly taller. The "kid" everyone knew was a fading memory; in his place stood someone driven, someone who had tasted power, pain and most importantly, immense loss.
He took a deep breath, the cool energy of his ice affinity a comforting presence. Time to see what this remade body could do.
The sim activated, the stark walls of the chamber dissolved, replaced by a dynamic three-dimensional grid. Dozens of small, erratically moving targets began to materialize and dematerialize throughout the space, some zipping at high speeds, others phasing in and out of view. Kairo's eyes narrowed. His hands moved, not with conscious thought, but with honed instinct. A flick of his wrist, and a shard of razor-sharp ice, no bigger than a throwing knife, shot out, unerringly striking a distant, rapidly blinking target. Another gesture, and a spray of icy pellets, like a shotgun blast of frozen fury, took out a cluster of targets near the floor. He conjured miniature blizzards to engulf evasive targets, slicked virtual surfaces to send predicted paths awry, and launched lances of crystalline ice that pierced the very center of the most challenging markers. Each movement was economical, each strike precise, He was in the zone, a state of pure focus, when the codex suddenly snapped him back
[URGENT QUEST: A SECOND CHANCE]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours (Countdown Initiated)]
[Failure to comply or refusal to engage will result in penalty.]
[ACCEPT QUEST] – [MORE DETAILS]
The grid of light reflecting in his intent eyes. A fierce, almost predatory grin spread across his face, a flash of the intensity his friends had sometimes glimpsed. "It's about damn time, Codex" he growled, a thrill coursing through him, the fear was still there, a cold knot deep inside, but now it was overlaid with a burning determination. "Accept!"
[QUEST ACCEPTED. DEPLOYMENT IMMINENT.]
The air in front of Kairo shimmered, then seemed to rip open with that familiar, stomach-lurching feeling of a portal taking shape. He stepped through.
Everything spun for a moment, then his boots hit solid ground. He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly getting used to the heavy darkness all around him. He found himself standing in a long, grand hallway. The stone walls were incredibly tall, so high they disappeared into the shadows way up above, giving him the sense he was inside some huge, ancient, and deathly quiet castle.
A thick, crimson carpet, the color of old blood, stretched down the middle of the corridor, swallowing the sound of his footsteps. On either side, stern-faced knight statues stood like silent guards in shadowy alcoves, and Kairo couldn't shake the feeling that their stone eyes were watching his every move. The only light came from ten fancy-looking torches mounted on the walls. Their flames burned with a strange, flickering blue glow that threw long, dancing shadows everywhere but did almost nothing to fight back the deep, oppressive darkness. The air was cold, still, and thick with the smell of dust and something else… something metallic that made him feel faintly uneasy.
[LOCATION: THE SANCTUM OF SHADOWS]
[OBJECTIVE: DEFEAT THE BEING BEHIND THE GREAT DOOR.]
Kairo's gaze was drawn to the far end of the hallway, as he walked forward, Swiftbane drawn, its faint silver-red glow doing little to illuminate the oppressive darkness beyond the eerie blue torchlight. Minutes stretched on, and a sinking feeling settled in Kairo's stomach. This wasn't just a hallway; it was a maze, a sprawling labyrinth designed to confuse and disorient and there was no sign of the "Great Door" yet.
He rounded another corner, his senses on high alert, and then froze. A figure materialized from the shadows ahead as if stepping out of the very stone. Slender, agile, with eyes that seemed to gleam with predatory amusement in the dim blue light. It was her. The female Red Trace operative he'd faced before.
A jolt of shock, then a grim understanding, passed through Kairo. So that's what the Codex meant by "a second chance" This quest really is about a rematch. A surge of adrenaline, mixed with the memory of their last encounter, tightened his grip on the dagger.
He was about to launch himself forward, to unleash the icy fury he now commanded, when reality itself seemed to stutter. One moment she was a dozen meters away, the next, a fraction of a second before his eyes could fully process the impossible speed, she was right there. "Wh- Ho- How did she get here this fast-" The thought was a mere fragment in his mind. And a fraction of a second later, a searing pain ripped through his chest as her sword slashed him open.
He gasped, a choked sound, feeling his lifeblood spill onto the crimson carpet. then his vision faded into an encompassing blackness. He was dead.
Then, with a violent, disorienting wrench, he gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was standing, completely unharmed, at the very entrance of the long hallway where he had first arrived. The red carpet stretched before him, the knight statues stood silent sentinel. He looked down at his chest, expecting to see a grievous wound, but his combat suit was pristine, his skin unbroken.
He looked up. The ten torches still lined the walls, but one of them, the one nearest to him on the right, was no longer burning with a blue flame. It was extinguished, a cold, dark sconce. "What… what the hell just happened?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. He was sure he'd died. He'd felt it. But here he was, alive and whole. And she… she was never that strong, never that impossibly fast. The memory of her speed was a terrifying, new variable.
But the objective remained: find the Great Door. Defeat the being behind it. He had to keep going. Shaking off the lingering phantom pain and confusion, Kairo gritted his teeth, pushed himself up, and started over, venturing back into the labyrinthine corridors.
This time, after several cautious turns, another figure stepped into his path. The man. The tall, imposing Red Trace who had been with the woman, the one whose casual brutality Kairo remembered all too well from that day he overwhelmed him. A knot of cold fear tightened in Kairo's stomach; the memory of how easily this man had beaten him before, leaving him for dead, was still vivid. This time, Kairo decided, he wouldn't wait.
He lunged, launching a barrage of jagged ice shards towards the operative. But the man moved with disdainful ease, one hand casually swatting the ice projectiles aside as if they were bothersome insects. They shattered harmlessly against the stone walls. Before Kairo could even register the failure of his attack, the man closed the distance. A powerful hand shot out, gripping Kairo's neck with crushing force. A sickening snap, and darkness consumed him once more. Dead.
Again, he woke up at the hallway's entrance. Another torch was out. Only eight now burned with blue fire. A grim realization began to dawn. This "Urgent Quest" was different. Horrifyingly different. Apparently, he couldn't truly die here; he just kept respawning. A bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth. He moved again, driven by a desperate need to understand, to overcome. And so the cycle began. Each foray into the maze ended in a brutal, swift death. Sometimes it was the woman, her speed a dizzying, untouchable blur. Sometimes it was the man, his strength overwhelming. They were toying with him, their power levels far beyond anything he could currently match, far beyond what he remembered. Each death was a fresh agony – a sword through the heart, a crushed windpipe, bones shattered, limbs torn. The physical pain, though erased upon respawning, left phantom aches and a growing mental toll. Frustration, rage, and a creeping despair gnawed at him.
With each respawn, another blue torch flickered out, plunging the starting point of the hallway into deeper gloom. The mocking silence of the castle seemed to press in, heavier each time. He lost count of the deaths after the fifth torch went dark. He fought with everything he had – but it was never enough. They were simply too strong, too fast.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dying and returning, he found himself standing at the entrance, trembling not from cold but from the sheer mental exhaustion and the lingering ghosts of countless fatal blows. He looked up. Only two torches remained lit, their pale blue flames casting a pitiful, desperate light in the oppressive darkness. That's when he realized. The torches represented his "lives", and only Two chances left. Two more deaths before… before what? He didn't want to find out if the respawns would stop when the last torch died. The risk of actual, final death suddenly felt terrifyingly real.
A new resolve, born of desperation, hardened his eyes. Fighting them head-on was suicide. He had to change his approach. He went again. This time, as he rounded a familiar bend and saw the female operative materialize, her lips curved in that same, chilling smirk, Kairo didn't try to engage. He erupted.
"Now!" he roared, slamming his hands towards the ground. Massive spikes of jagged ice erupted from the stone floor, racing towards her like an avalanche. Simultaneously, he unleashed a torrent of his ice flames, and he didn't wait to see if it hit. As she instinctively moved to evade the chaotic assault, Kairo triggered Assassin Dash, then immediately poured all his focus into Stealth Mode. He became a whisper of displaced air, a shadow within shadows, sprinting past her exposed flank as fast as his enhanced legs could carry him. He didn't look back, just ran, twisting through the labyrinthine corridors, pushing his speed to its absolute limit. He heard an enraged shriek far behind him, but he kept going until he was sure he'd lost her in the maze's depths. He skidded to a halt, chest heaving, then immediately activated Phantom Stride. A near-perfect duplicate of himself shimmered into existence, then sprinted down the corridor ahead. Kairo, still cloaked in Stealth, followed close behind his decoy.
As they rounded the next corner, the male Red Trace stood waiting, an impassive sentinel of death. Kairo's afterimage, acting on his pre-set mental command, didn't hesitate. It launched itself forward, drawing two newly materialized throwing knives from its belt – a trick Kairo had been practicing with his inventory – and hurled them at the man's face while simultaneously conjuring a chaotic blast of ice and illusory flames. The man moved, a flicker of contempt in his eyes. He deflected the knives with a contemptuous backhand, the illusory attacks dissipating against his aura. He lunged, his hand outstretched to deliver another killing blow to the decoy. The afterimage shattered into motes of light just before impact. The Red Trace paused, a flicker of surprise finally crossing his features as he realized the deception. He turned, his gaze sweeping the corridor. But Kairo was already gone, having used the brief distraction to sprint past unnoticed, his Stealth holding. He could hear the man's heavy footsteps begin to pound the floor behind him, the pursuit now furious and direct. Then, up ahead, he saw it. Bathed in a slightly less oppressive gloom at the end of a long, straight stretch of corridor – a massive, dark wooden door, intricately carved with unsettling, coiling patterns. The Great Door. "Finally!" Kairo gasped, a surge of desperate hope flooding through him. He poured every last ounce of his speed into reaching it, the sound of his pursuer growing closer. He slammed into the door and pushed. With a deep, groaning creak of ancient wood and rusted metal, the colossal door gave way just enough for him to slip through. He threw himself into the darkness beyond and, with a grunt of exertion, shoved the heavy door closed just as he heard the male Red Trace roar in frustration from the other side.
A heavy thud echoed as the door settled back into its frame, plunging Kairo into a new, uncertain darkness. He was in.