Auren searched through out the game but Zevaros had vanished. He was gone as if the man had dissolved into smoke. He scoured the game network and even the forums but nothing solid.
Then out of the blue, a single message was sent to him by a random player. It was a location and when Auren arrived he found traces of Zevaros but not the man himself.
The realization settled heavy on him. Zevaros was not avoiding him rather this was deliberate. All this controlled information was to keep the chase alive.
Auren stared at the message once again for a long moment, then laughed under his breath. "Your doing this on purpose."
Yes, this had Zevaros' mark all over it. It was controlled, careful and the bait was laid out like a game of chess.
Far away, in another part of Caethiria, Zevaros leaned back against a carved obsidian chair. His game headset rested on his side. His aide knelt before him, speaking carefully.
"My Lord. The young prince of Blest Dominion seeks you. He digs through shadows for you with relentless hunger."
Zevaros' lips curved, though it was not quite a smile. He remembered the young man, silver hair that glowed like the moon. Cerulean eyes that met his gaze with stubborn will.
"I made an impact," Zevaros murmured. "Good."
"My Lord, shall we remain hidden?" The aide asked.
"No." Zevaros eyes glinted in the low lighting, " Give him crumbs. Enough to keep him chasing. I want to see how far he will go."
It began there, their strange silent game. Auren pressing deeper, untangling each fragment of falsehood to find the truth. Meanwhile, Zevaros was releasing just enough to lead him forward, measuring him with every step.
Inside the game, it played out in shadow through the game network, forums, rumors and the strange sightings.
Outside, in Caethiria, it was a dangerous dance. For Auren, he had to dodge his father afterall, Zevaros' existence is a wound wrapped in silence.
For Zevaros, because Auren is royalty and the last born of Fenrir Royal clan, his information was highly shielded and guarded making him struggle.
As the two destinies circled each other, Fenvaros a king for many years, found out about his last born son's recent activities.
That morning, 2 days before Auren returns to school, the training yard of the Fenrir household was a witness to something rare.
Auren stood there, never having been summoned at dawn like this during his holiday. Fenvaros stood in the center of the sparing ground, hair wild from the morning wind. A spear in his hand glowed faintly with streaks of lightning Primis.
Auren approached cautiously, obviously feeling that the atmosphere was not to his favor. The weight of his father's aura fell on him and without even speaking, Fenvaros' eyes told him everything.
He knew.
"You dare pry into the name I forbid?" Fenvaros' voice echoed like thunder. "Do you think the past is a toy for you to play with?"
Auren's chest tightened, but he refused to back down. "I wanted to know about him. About Zevaros."
The moment the name left his mouth, the air shifted. Fenvaros stared at Auren, then he lunged.
Auren barely raised his guard before the spearhead slammed against his arm with a force that rattled his bones. Pain flared but it was sharp and clean. This is the kind of pain meant to teach not destroy.
Fenvaros did not fight like a father at this point. He fought like a warlord testing a soldier. Auren quickly drew his training sword in defense.
"You think the world will answer every question you ask?" Fenvaros pressed forward, his strikes quick and merciless. "Some truths are poison, Auren. Some names are curses!"
Auren's breath came ragged, his blade sparking each time it clashed against the spear. He could feel his muscles straining, his body screaming for relief, but his spirit would not bend.
"Even poison has an antidote," he hissed between blows. "And curses can be broken!"
Fenvaros' eyes narrowed. The duel intensified. Auren was driven across the yard, his footing shaky, but he refused to fall. Every strike he blocked, every bruise he endure, he felt the softness buried under his father's fury.
Fenvaros wasn't trying to end him. He was pulling back at the last instant, reining his strength even as his expression stayed harsh.
Minutes stretched like hours until finally, Fenvaros stopped mid strike, his spear frozen just inches from Auren's liver. The boy's chest heaved, sweat dripping down his face but his eyes still blazed defiantly.
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Auren lowered his weapon and asked quietly, "If I had been born into his life, would you hate me too?"
Fenvaros stiffened. He thought of the twisted cruelty of Vezkar, the Seydra king, and of the bastard child he had mocked him with. He thought of Auren, his son, his precious last born and something inside him cracked. His grip on the spear slackened.
"No," he said at last, voice rough. "I would hate the man who forced that life upon you. Not you."
The fire of his wrath dimmed. Auren smiled faintly despite his bruises. For the first time in the duel, Fenvaros let the father show through the warrior. He dismissed the spear and turned away.
"Do not mistake my restraint for approval," he said firmly. "But... I will not stop you from walking this path. Just remember some fires consume."
Auren bowed his head in gratitude, though his lips curved with secret triumph. He has endured the stom and his father relented that was enough.
By evening, Auren was back in his chamber, nursing sore arms and a restless eagerness. The bruise of his father's blows still throbbed beneath his skin but his thoughts were elsewhere. On the man with golden eyes. On the one who refused to leave his mind.
Auren pulled the sleek headset over his head and logged into Mortal's Heaven. The shift was always strange, one breath he was in Caethiria and the next he was a mortal fighters standing in the heart of a digital plain.
The grass rippled in endless waves a sky too blue to be real stretched overhead. Auren checked the mailsand didn't find another location pin so he looked up to search when he saw him.
Tall, broad shouldered and musculine. Long black hair whipping with the wind, eyes like molten gold that caught sunlight and burned. It was Zevaros.
Auren smirked, "So you decided to show up."
Zevaros tilted his head, the faintest curve it amusement touched his lips. "Dare to challenge me again?"
"Why not? It's only a game," Auren shot back, rolling his shoulders. "Besides, I could use a warm-up."
The ground cracked beneath then as they moved at once, blades ringing in the open air. Zevaros' strikes were as precise and merciless as always, forcing Auren back step by step.
But Auren was no pushover. His years of training with his family, his teachings in the Nexus Academy and even his personal effort translated his once instinctive movements into flowing techniques.
Still, it was no contest. Zevaros outclassed him. Every time Auren thought he had an opening, Zevaros was already there, countering with effortless grace. Within minutes, Auren was on the ground, his chest heaving, his pride battered but not broken.
Zevaros loomed above him, smirking down with infuriating calm. "Didn't... expect you to last."
Auren glared at him before bursting out in laughter despite himself, "You fiend. You didn't even break a sweat."
Zevaros extended a hand. Auren hesitated, then took it, letting the taller man pull him back to his feet. The moment lingered longer than it should have, their eyes locking, an unspoken recognition passing between them.
"You're curious about me," Zevaros said casually, though his gaze was sharp.
"Maybe." Auren shrugged, brushing grass off his shoulders. "I hear all sorts of things. Some say you're Vezkar's perfect tool. Others say you're just his...remains."
Zevaros' gaze darkened. "And I have heard about you too. Fenrir's spoiled last born. A dual bloodline as well as an arrogant brat wrapped in silk and fire, never knowing what it means to bleed."
Auren snorted. "You saw me bleed just now."
"That was play," Zevaros replied. "Bleeding in silence, with no one to mend you. That is something else entirely."
For a while, they stood trading truths wne tearing down lies. Auren admitted he had thought Zevaros untouchable, hidden away in shadows.
Zevaros confessed he had expected Auren to be a shallow brat. Not someone who fought with teeth bared even when losing.
"Are you really born from spite?" Auren asked unabashed.
"Yes. I'm not his tool though. Lies travel faster than truths."
"Why do you use a Katana?" Auren asked curiously.
"Because it was the first weapon my hands touched." Zevaros answered a smirk on his face.
They talked for a long time and as the digital sun began to set , Zevaros spoke again, his tone softer.
"If you want to see me outside this game, attend the Inter-Academy Games. I am an upperclassman at Genesis Academy and we're the hosts this time round."
Auren's pulse quickened. "Genesis, huh? I'm in Nexus and school is 2 days."
Zevaros chuckled low, the sound rough but strangely warm, "I'm going back today. Try not to embarrass yourself before then."
When they finally parted, it felt strangely heavy. Auren removed the headset, blinking against the evening light streaming into his room. His mind was clear but his heart clouded.
Zevaros had noticed him and Auren was certain. This was only the beginning.