The sun rose over the floating castle of Aetherion like fire piercing mist. Below the clouds, smoke curled from the battlefield, the price of the night's attack still etched into the land.
Riku sat alone on a balcony overlooking the eastern valley, bruises fresh, armor still scorched. In his hand, the Arcblade flickered faintly, as if still tasting shadowblood.
He didn't feel like a hero.
He felt like a kid who had just survived something he couldn't yet understand.
"You disobeyed a direct order."
Aria's voice broke the silence. She stepped forward, arms crossed, but her eyes held no anger—only concern.
"I saved that girl," Riku said quietly.
"Yes. And you could have died doing it," she replied, stepping beside him. "You're brave. I won't deny that. But bravery without control is chaos."
He didn't respond.
After a moment, she softened her tone. "You awakened a deeper form of the Arcblade last night. The council's already talking about it."
"The blade changed," he murmured. "It... felt alive."
"It is alive. It responds to the will of the Herald. That power you unleashed—it wasn't just instinct. It was the bond beginning to form between you and the weapon."
She turned toward him fully now.
"I need you to understand something, Riku. This world—Aetherion—isn't a dream. And you're not a player in a game. Every time you raise that sword, someone's life depends on you."
Riku met her gaze. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"I know," Aria said gently. "Neither did I."
They stood in silence for a moment, two souls from different worlds bound by fate and war.
Then came the knock.
The doors behind them opened, revealing Lord Vael—the red-maned warrior of the council. His armor clanked with every step, and his voice carried weight.
"The boy's ready."
Aria arched a brow. "Too soon."
"The Shadowborn commander has been identified. He crossed into the lower realm through the cracked seal. We've confirmed his location." Vael's eyes turned to Riku. "And he carries a weapon nearly identical to yours."
Riku stood. "The man in the forest…"
Vael nodded grimly. "You saw him."
Riku clenched his fists. "He looked like me."
"He is like you," said a new voice—high and musical.
The child mage floated into view, her glowing orbs pulsing like tiny stars. "The one you saw… he is the Shadow Herald. The dark half born from the same rift that brought you here."
Aria's expression froze.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
"Balance," the child said simply. "The Arcblade cannot exist without its counterpart—the Umbrafang. Two blades, two wielders. One destined to save Aetherion. The other… to end it."
Riku's voice was quiet. "Then what am I?"
Aria placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You're the one who decides."
---
Later that night, Riku stood before a massive gate deep within the Flame Castle.
This was the Sanctum of Trials—a chamber reserved for warriors chosen by fate. Inside, he would face illusions, memories, and monsters born from his fears. If he passed, the Arcblade would fully awaken.
"If you fail," Aria warned, "the blade will reject you."
"Sounds like fun," he muttered, managing a smirk.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
"No," he admitted. "But I have to be."
The gate opened.
And the Trial began.
---
Inside, he saw her.
Aki—his sister. Alone, crying in the dark. Then gone. Replaced by shadows of the students he'd tried to protect. Then fire. Screams. A burning Tokyo skyline.
His knees buckled.
"Riku."
A voice called from within.
It was his own.
From the far side of the chamber walked a mirror image of himself—dressed in dark armor, eyes like burning coals.
"You don't belong here," the double said. "You're not a warrior. You're just a scared boy who couldn't even protect his world."
Riku gritted his teeth, eyes blazing. "Maybe I'm scared. But I chose to fight. That's more than you'll ever understand."
The Arcblade surged with light in his hand.
And the duel began.