The sky above the Imperial Crest Academy bled indigo, stars veiled behind drifting clouds. Inside his quarters, Kael Ryuu sat on the edge of his cot, shoulders hunched forward, Kurozan balanced across his lap. His fingers brushed the dull blade's surface as if hoping for answers, but none came.
Silence had never felt so loud.
Everything Selai and Senn had revealed churned within him. The Obsidian Circle. The Void Crest. The possibility that his very existence was now a beacon drawing blades from both ally and enemy alike. Senn's words echoed:
"They won't care who you are. Only what you can become."
A tremor pulsed from Kurozan, faint but deliberate. The blade responded—not in voice, but in vision. Kael's pupils dilated as darkness swallowed the room.
---
He stood atop a crimson field littered with shattered swords and scorched banners. Above, the sky wept threads of golden light—Strings unraveling. A figure cloaked in pale flame faced a host of armored giants. They bore the insignias of both Empire and Circle.
"The Void is not a gift," the figure whispered. "It is a sentence."
Kael gasped. The memory receded.
---
Sweat slicked his brow as he returned to himself. Kurozan hummed lowly, like it too remembered. Kael looked down at his bare hands. Faint runes pulsed beneath his skin—living veins of energy etched by fate itself.
A knock broke the quiet.
Riven peeked through the door. "You're summoned. The Headmaster wants you. Now."
Kael stood, tucked Kurozan into its harness, and followed without a word.
---
The Hall of Strategies was carved into the mountain's heart, lined with obsidian pillars and floating glyphs. A long table stretched beneath an open skylight where magical light simulated stars.
Present were Selai, Senn, and the Headmaster—an ageless man in sable robes, his eyes storm-gray. Beside him sat Captain Hallen and two unfamiliar figures wearing military sigils Kael did not recognize.
"Kael Ryuu," the Headmaster greeted, voice neutral. "You've caused... quite a stir."
Kael bowed stiffly.
"We watched the footage of the Wastes," one captain said. "Your blade work is beyond your rank. But that final technique—"
"It's unrecorded in any Soulborne archive," Hallen interrupted.
Selai's eyes never left Kael.
Senn finally spoke. "I brought him in because I knew he was different. But even I didn't expect... this."
The Headmaster studied Kael for a long time. "There's a war brewing. The Wraithborn move faster than predicted. And there are whispers that the Circle stirs from within."
A pause. Then:
"We could use a weapon like you."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I'm not a weapon."
The Headmaster offered a cold smile. "That remains to be seen. You're dismissed."
---
He left without another word, heart thundering.
The academy grounds were quiet, cloaked in night. Kael cut through the courtyard toward the Arx Memoria's outer rim, where he often walked to clear his thoughts.
That's when the air shifted.
A blade whistled past his cheek. He twisted. A figure stepped from the shadows, cloaked, masked, dual daggers in hand. No crest. No aura. Just silence.
Kael reached for Kurozan. Too slow.
The assassin was fast—blindingly so. Kael's instincts screamed. He parried, evaded, rolled. A dagger nicked his shoulder, another grazed his ribs. Pain bloomed, sharp and immediate.
Then Kurozan pulsed.
A burst of pressure knocked the attacker back. Kael stood, Kurozan drawn, its edge burning dimly.
They clashed. Metal shrieked. Sparks lit the dark.
Then the assassin vanished into smoke, whispering: "The Circle watches. The last Soulborne will not remain hidden."
---
Kael stumbled back to his room, blood dampening his shirt. Riven was gone. Moonlight slanted across the floor.
There, on his desk, lay an envelope sealed in black wax.
He didn't touch it. Not yet.
He just stared, the words from earlier ringing in his ears.
"The Void is not a gift. It is a sentence."
And the sentence had begun.