The wind carried the scent of steel and rain as Reiji and Kaede moved through the northern valley.
Every step was swallowed by mud, every breath condensed into mist. The world had become a graveyard painted in monochrome, where even the birds refused to sing.
Eclipse Hold lay ahead—a fortress carved into the spine of the mountain, built during the First War as both prison and sanctuary. Its silhouette loomed against the storm clouds, the faint glow of distant lights flickering like dying stars through its hollow windows.
Kaede's cloak fluttered in the wind as she climbed beside him, her voice barely audible through the storm. "The last supply line ends here. After this… there's no return."
Reiji didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the fortress, sharp and distant. The ghosts of those he had killed still lingered somewhere in his mind—Arven's voice, the soldiers' faces—echoes in the rain.
They reached the ridge overlooking the valley, and Reiji crouched, signaling her to stop. Below them, a procession moved through the ruins of the old northern road: armored soldiers, banners half-torn by wind, and at their center—machines of war bearing the insignia of The Court of Shadows.
Kaede's breath caught. "They're mobilizing already…"
Reiji's eyes narrowed. "Not mobilizing. Marching."
Dozens of units advanced in silence. No battle cries, no chants, just the steady rhythm of boots on wet stone—mechanical, methodical, merciless. It was not an army of men. It was an army of obedience.
Reiji whispered, "The war's already begun."
Kaede swallowed hard. "Then what do we do?"
"We move ahead of them," Reiji said, his tone calm but sharp. "We'll reach the Hold before they do. Whatever they're guarding, it's not meant for the world to see again."
The storm intensified as they descended the ridge. Lightning flashed, illuminating their path—shattered statues of forgotten heroes, broken cannons half-buried in moss, names erased by time.
By the time they reached the outer perimeter of Eclipse Hold, the rain had turned to sleet. The air was colder, thinner—each breath felt like swallowing shards of glass.
Kaede shivered beneath her cloak. "You sure we can breach it without alerting them?"
Reiji knelt beside the ancient gate mechanism, tracing a gloved hand across the rusted sigils carved into the metal. "They built it to keep shadows out," he murmured, pulling a small fragment of an old insignia from his pocket—the insignia of the Vanguard. "They forgot what happens when shadows come from within."
The gears shifted with a low metallic groan, and the gate creaked open just enough for them to slip through.
Inside, the fortress was a labyrinth of corridors lined with empty cells and walls carved with scripture long abandoned. Torches flickered faintly in iron brackets, burning with a pale, unnatural light.
Kaede whispered, "This place… feels wrong."
Reiji nodded once. "It should. It was built on the bones of the first traitors."
As they advanced deeper, faint voices began to echo through the halls—indistinct whispers, neither human nor spectral. Kaede froze, gripping her dagger. "Reiji, those aren't echoes."
He raised his hand, signaling silence. The whispers grew clearer: orders, coordinates, mechanical voices reciting something like a prayer.
They turned the corner—and froze.
Rows of figures stood inside the great chamber, motionless. Dozens—no, hundreds—of humanoid constructs, their armor sealed, faces hidden behind glass visors filled with shadow. Each bore the same sigil as Reiji's former unit.
Kaede's eyes widened. "Vanguard…?"
Reiji stepped closer, his boots echoing faintly. "No. Copies."
At the far end of the chamber, a single figure stood on a raised platform, overseeing the silent army. The flicker of lightning through the broken ceiling revealed his face—one Reiji had hoped never to see again.
"Commander Rahl," he whispered.
The man turned, his silver hair untouched by time, his eyes sharp and cold as a blade. "Reiji," he said calmly, voice echoing through the chamber. "You shouldn't have come here."
Kaede took a step back, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest. "Who—who is he?"
Reiji didn't answer. His silence was enough.
Rahl smiled faintly. "You always were the hardest to erase. But I suppose even ghosts find their way back to the light they hate."
Reiji's voice was low, restrained. "You led the first purge. You made us kill our own. Now you build an army of shadows?"
Rahl's smile faded. "You call it betrayal. I call it preservation. The world doesn't need will—it needs order. And order requires silence."
Reiji's hand moved to his blade. The whisper of steel being drawn cut through the storm. "Then I'll silence you first."
The constructs stirred at once, their eyes igniting with red light. The chamber erupted in chaos.
Kaede moved first, throwing a blade into the neck of the nearest construct before rolling under another's strike. Sparks burst across the stone floor as Reiji met the first wave head-on, every movement deliberate, clean, and lethal.
Metal clanged against metal, echoing like distorted music. Kaede spun through the storm of steel, her breath ragged, each strike carving a path through impossible odds.
"Reiji!" she shouted, blocking a blow that sent her skidding across the floor. "There's too many—"
"Then stop counting," he replied coldly.
He moved like a specter, cutting through the synthetic soldiers, his reflection flickering in their shattered visors. The crimson glow of their eyes dimmed one by one, replaced by the flicker of torchlight and blood.
But for every one that fell, another emerged.
From the platform above, Rahl watched, expression unreadable. "You're fighting shadows of yourself," he said, voice calm amid the storm. "Every cut you make only proves how far you've fallen."
Reiji looked up, his blade dripping red and oil. "Then I'll fall until nothing remains."
He leaped onto the platform, their blades colliding in a burst of light and sound. Sparks rained like fragments of dying stars, illuminating faces carved by war and regret.
"You taught me loyalty," Reiji said through clenched teeth, forcing Rahl back. "Now you'll learn what it costs."
Rahl countered with brutal precision, striking Reiji's shoulder. "Loyalty is a myth," he spat. "Only silence lasts."
They clashed again, every blow a memory. Every step a fracture in the world they once fought for.
At last, Reiji disarmed him, the Commander's weapon clattering to the ground. Rahl fell to one knee, blood running down his face, eyes still calm.
"You think killing me will change anything?" he whispered.
Reiji raised his blade. "No. But it will remind the world that I was here."
The strike was clean. Silent.
When it was over, Reiji stood among the ruins of the chamber, surrounded by the corpses of his past—both flesh and metal.
Kaede approached slowly, her expression torn between exhaustion and awe. "It's over…"
Reiji didn't move. "No. It's beginning."
He looked toward the far gate—the northern exit of the fortress. Beyond it, the horizon burned faintly crimson.
The march had already begun.