The news spread fast.
The Second Prince of Larethian had awakened a blade — not a bow, not a staff, not a divine artifact — but a cursed, ancient-class soul gear that distorted time and fate.
Some called it a miracle.
Others… called it heresy.
Deep within the Silverleaf Academy, the most prestigious magical institute of the elven world, whispers rippled through marble halls and arcane libraries.
"A blade born of soul and fire?"
"Impossible. The gods forbade such things after the War of Paradox."
"Chrono Severance… isn't that a name from the Mythical Banishments?"
In hidden corners, the old families gathered.
House Ardyn, the stormcallers.
House Virell, the mirrorbinders.
House Kaeryn, the fangs of the moon.
None trusted the Second Prince now. He was too dangerous. Too… unpredictable.
Meanwhile, Aelric continued to train.
He didn't care for politics.
He cared only for mastery.
Every dawn, before the sun kissed the treetops, he sparred against wind illusions of ancient swordsmen — mimicking their forms, countering their tempo, slicing through their delayed afterimages with Temporal Sever.
Every dusk, he sat beneath the Moonwell Tree, meditating in stillness, conversing silently with his soul gear.
> "You are not a weapon," he said once.
"You are the last scream of my legacy."
Chrono Severance pulsed in response.
But he was not alone in his rituals.
Someone was watching.
A girl — hidden in moonlight, draped in robes of emerald silk, a curious tilt to her head and magic crackling at her fingertips.
She approached him one evening, silent as shadow.
> "You fight like a god with broken hands," she said, grinning. "It's oddly beautiful."
Aelric opened one eye. "…You're stalking me."
"Hardly," she said. "I'm studying you. There's a difference."
He sighed. "And you are?"
> "Princess Alenthia Viridell. First in magical theory at the academy. Third in illusions. And very bored."
Aelric didn't smile. "You're the daughter of House Viridell?"
"The one and only." She bowed. "And you? The Blade Prince?"
"…Just Aelric."
She stared at him. "Your soul burns too loudly for just that."
From that moment on, Alenthia began visiting him nightly — sometimes with questions, sometimes with theories, sometimes just to sit in silence.
And in her presence, Chrono Severance vibrated differently.
Strangely.
Softly.
Like a sword recognizing not an enemy…
…but an anomaly.