The four of them sat together at the campfire, and though the flames crackled quietly and threw the occasional spark into the night, the scene was anything but peaceful. No one knew what to say, and the silence between them wasn't the comfortable quiet of a rest stop, but the heavy silence of people who sensed that something fundamental had shifted. Only when a piece of wood cracked softly in the embers did Alvios lift his gaze and speak, his voice calm but audibly confused.
"My Aether flow... is supposed to have vanished. But I experienced all of it. I was fully conscious."
He lowered his head again and stared into the fire, as if the answer lay somewhere in there. His thoughts kept circling. If Raiiko was right, something had awoken in him that lay beyond his own understanding. What if he lost control again next time? What if this state overcame him once more without his noticing? And what if he hurt someone in the process — maybe even someone from his own group?
Viktoria immediately sensed where his thoughts were headed and, without hesitation, laid her hand on his. Her touch was warm and steady, and when she looked at him, there was no doubt in her face, only the same determined calm with which she herself walked through darkness.
"It'll be alright, don't worry. We'll find a solution."
With that small smile, neither forced nor exaggerated, she smothered his worst thoughts almost before they could take root. Alvios exhaled, straightened up, and nodded slightly, as if he had forced himself to remember that giving up had never suited him.
"You're right. Chin up."
He stood, turned to Raiiko, and pointed directly at him. Raiiko looked up, puzzled at first, not immediately understanding what Alvios was getting at.
"Train me."
The words came short and blunt, and precisely because of that they landed with full force. Raiiko sat for a moment with his mouth slightly open while Alvios already took a step closer and continued with more urgency.
"Raiiko, please, train me. You noticed the Aether shift, and you know meditation. There has to be something, anything, I can use to suppress this shift, or at least control it better."
A small, calm smile appeared on Raiiko's face, not amused, but almost warm.
"Of course I'll help you, Alvios."
Nouel and Viktoria stood up as well, and though Nouel crossed his arms as if to keep things sober, his decision had already been made.
"And we'll help you with combat training," he said in his usual clipped tone.
For a moment, the mood shifted. Alvios's eyes lit up as if someone had poured fresh oil onto his inner fire. He was instantly full of energy again.
"Alright, let's get started, everyone."
Before he could take even a single step, Nouel stopped his momentum with a precise chop to the head. Alvios flinched, eyes wide, clutching the spot indignantly.
"Ow. What was that for?"
Alvios's face showed pure shock; Nouel's showed nothing but exhaustion.
"Have you looked at the time? It's far too late. Leave it for today."
Viktoria was so delighted by the scene that she could barely hold back her grin. Alvios, however, wasn't discouraged. Raiiko sat quietly, listening, as if weighing not just the words but fate itself. He was ready to follow Alvios into the depths of his own flow, if it came to that. Nouel had already turned toward the inn, speaking on without losing his calm manner.
"Come on, everyone. A good rest does more for victory than blind eagerness. We still have two days. We'll continue tomorrow."
And so it was decided. The day drew to a close, bodies exhausted, spirits no less so. Two days remained until the next fight, and each of them sensed that the time would be needed.
The next morning, Raiiko and Alvios began early with a meditation exercise. The air was cool, and a morning freshness still lingered over the streets while the rest of the city slowly woke. They had found a quiet spot, far enough from the noise for Alvios to focus completely on the exercise. Raiiko sat cross-legged across from Alvios and spoke in a hushed, calm voice — more guidance than pressure.
"Alvios, this exercise is about finding your inner balance. Try to become one with the Aether."
Alvios watched him attentively and quickly understood that this was about more than mere patience. He had to be ready to feel the world, rather than simply standing opposite it. His weakness lay within reach, and if he wanted to understand it, he had to turn his gaze inward. Cold air circulated around them, and for a moment everything felt still enough that even the rustling of distant leaves sounded like a sign.
Raiiko closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His Aether flow was in harmony with the world, calm, smooth, and clear, as if he weren't fighting against it but had become part of it. There was something strange about watching him. Raiiko existed visibly before Alvios, and yet at the same time he seemed less like a body than a presence. He entered that state called meditation not with effort, but with the ease of someone who had walked this path for years.
"Wow, he's not moving a single muscle," Alvios murmured to himself before trying to do the same.
He, too, closed his eyes, but before long his brow furrowed.
"Why isn't anything happening?"
Raiiko's voice came quietly, almost muffled, without him needing to open his eyes.
"Alvios, try to relax. For now, it's enough to keep your thoughts calm."
Alvios followed his teacher's words and sank deeper into the exercise. Slowly, very slowly, his consciousness sank into the world around him, and for one brief, barely graspable moment he actually managed to feel the core of his flow. It wasn't much — more a pulse, a distant inner glow — but it was there. Then he was jolted awake by an overwhelming presence, and when he opened his eyes, Raiiko stood before him, giving him a serious look.
He said nothing. He only looked at Alvios, and it was precisely that silence that made the whole thing unsettling.
"Raiiko... what's going on? Why did you shake me awake?"
Raiiko turned away, sat back down in his meditation posture, and remained silent a moment longer. Alvios sensed immediately that something was wrong.
"Raiiko? Did I do something wrong?"
He kept pestering him with questions, but Raiiko only answered once he had sorted things out internally.
"Let's try again," he murmured quietly. "Only this time, try not to fall asleep."
Alvios's face turned red. He lowered his gaze and set his hands apologetically on his knees. Even though he had managed to feel his flow for a brief moment, he was clearly still at the very beginning.
So he took up the meditation posture once more.
At first there was again a flicker of light in a room made of nothing, then darkness. Alvios listened to the world, but there was only blackness. Then, within that darkness, a spark of light appeared again, followed shortly after by a flash. When Alvios opened his eyes wide again, he saw Raiiko directly in front of him — saw the serious look — and only in the next moment noticed that he was already being pinned to the ground by Raiiko and his shadow-monk staff, Umbra Ignis, one of his arms held fast.
"Well, awake again?"
Alvios's mouth hung open. He was utterly bewildered that this situation had escalated again in such a short time. Raiiko helped him to his feet, without any anger, without disappointment. If anything, he looked relieved.
"Raiiko, what happened?"
Alvios tried, agitated, to understand what was going on. To him, it had all been just a brief moment of concentration. He hadn't felt anything, hadn't noticed anything, hadn't seen anything coming, until Raiiko already had him pinned to the ground.
Raiiko calmly placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Alvios, forget what Nouel said. I'll be taking over your combat training as well."
Now Alvios understood even less.
"It's as I feared. When you try to meditate, you give your second Aether flow free rein."
Those words hit differently. Heavier. More concrete. No one could say exactly what flowed through him in those moments. But one thing was certain: it was strong enough to become dangerous.
"When I realized that same black-and-beige aura appeared on the second attempt too, I tried to wake you immediately."
Raiiko sat back down, crossed his arms, and looked at Alvios with a steady gaze. His voice stayed calm, but the concern in it was unmistakable.
"If I hadn't dodged, I wouldn't be here right now."
Alvios's eyes widened.
"That can't be right. I was only in meditation for a few seconds. How is that possible?"
His voice grew louder with every word. Then it sank back down again.
"I almost killed Raiiko..."
He murmured it more to himself than to the others. Bit by bit, panic crept in. Thought after thought tormented him. The mere idea that, in the worst case, he could kill a comrade at any moment without even noticing, ate away at him. He drew back his arm and struck himself full-force in the face.
Raiiko's mouth fell open in surprise, but a small smile followed shortly after, as if Alvios had shown less self-hatred with that blow than sheer resolve.
Alvios raised his head again.
"Raiiko, let's both give it our best. I want to get to know my inner self better. I won't let this power dictate my life."
And so the decision was made. Together they moved on to combat training and trained hard well into the afternoon. Strikes, footwork, stance, balance, breathing. Everything that could help stabilize the body was repeated, over and over, until the sun stood noticeably higher and even the shadows had grown shorter.
When they all gathered again later at the inn, they discussed how to proceed. Viktoria and Nouel had also trained diligently. Viktoria had even learned a new ability and rubbed her nose proudly, while Nouel looked as though he had to babysit a small child who took far too much joy in becoming dangerous.
Viktoria and Alvios made tremendous progress that day, and even though their paths through training differed, both clearly sensed that they would no longer face their next fight with the same uncertainty as before. They now had a better sense of what they were capable of, and that knowledge alone gave them a new kind of calm — not yet complete, but enough to give them a sense of direction. As evening slowly settled in and the sunlight sank ever lower over the rooftops, hunger eventually made itself known, and so they soon sat together again around the campfire while Nouel returned from hunting with a wild boar, which they roasted with relish and then ate together.
After that, there was little time left for carelessness or idle talk. From this point on, everything grew noticeably more serious, for Alvios had to learn to keep his inner self in check before it could surface again at the worst possible moment. When they returned to meditation training, Raiiko no longer sat down, but deliberately positioned himself beside Alvios, Umbra Ignis loosely in hand, his gaze watchful and sharp.
"You'll meditate," he said calmly, "and I'll wake you the moment I see the aura. For as long as it takes, until it no longer appears."
The plan was set, and Alvios didn't object. He took up the meditation posture, closed his eyes, and let his breathing deepen until the sounds of the outside world grew quieter, step by step. Once again he slid into that strange space of nothing, that place without ground, without sky, without direction, where only what lay deeper than ordinary thought revealed itself. Before him stood his own likeness again, blurred and barely tangible, as though made only of an unsteady memory. The figure tried to tell him something, but before Alvios could even understand what it wanted to say, Raiiko woke him again. A dull, light tap from Umbra Ignis, the shadow-monk staff, struck him on the head, and he flinched, startled, his hand reflexively clenching into a fist.
"Damn it, didn't manage it again," he muttered, frustrated, but instead of dwelling on it, he immediately began again. Raiiko's stern gaze couldn't be distracted by anything. Every blink, however ridiculous it might have looked from the outside, was calculated, because he knew exactly that a single careless moment could be enough to unleash something in Alvios that neither of them yet understood.
When Alvios slid into meditation again, something in that empty space felt different this time. A figure stood there again, but it was no longer his own blurred likeness. Now Viktoria stood before him. She gently reached out her hand and closed her eyes, as if simply waiting for Alvios to come to her. His steps felt heavy, and though he couldn't speak it aloud, the same question kept forming in his thoughts, again and again.
Viktoria. What are you doing here?
He couldn't speak in this kind of meditation, so all that remained was to walk slowly toward her. When he finally reached her, he took her hand, but at first nothing happened. Only his vision began to blur slightly, as if the space itself were losing its shape beneath his feet. He still held her hand. Then her face began to distort, faintly at first, then more and more, until her familiar features were almost unrecognizable. He still held her hand. Alvios suddenly couldn't breathe, as if someone had severed his Aether flow and forcibly brought every inner motion to a stop. He still held her hand. Then her skin began to burn. The surroundings burst into flame, fire devouring everything that had just been still and empty, and in the middle of that burning hell, Viktoria smiled gently at him. He still held her hand, until she finally crumbled to ash.
"Don't worry, my prince. I'll always watch over you."
As he stood before her, her voice distorted, growing strange, distant, and yet far too close at the same time.
"Alvios, wake up."
He opened his eyes gently and needed a moment before he was truly back. Raiiko stood before him, looking genuinely astonished, for this time no aura had appeared. Alvios had managed to end the meditation by his own strength.
"Did you—" Raiiko began, but Alvios was already slowly shaking his head.
"No, I think I just managed the meditation, I think. But there... was something else."
He had seen something that, at this point, remained utterly incomprehensible to him — something almost unimaginable, more feeling than memory.
"It was blurry, and I can barely remember any of it."
Alvios looked up at Raiiko. He spoke calmly, but still stumbled over nearly every second word, as if language and memory were wrestling against each other. Then he looked deep into his eyes and suddenly began to cry, without his expression really changing.
"It... all... burned."
Raiiko's expression changed. Without haste, he placed his hand on Alvios's shoulder, and though he didn't understand everything, what he saw was enough for him not to press the matter further.
"That's enough for today, then. Rest up, tomorrow's going to be a demanding day."
With every step, Raiiko withdrew further into the shadows, as if leaving the rest of the conversation to the darkness. Alvios, meanwhile, slowly made his way back to the inn, still trying along the way to hold on to the images from the meditation, but the harder he tried, the more they faded. Only the fire remained. The feeling of it. The burning. The sense that he had seen something terrible without being able to grasp it.
"A clear head," he murmured to himself. "That's what I need right now."
When he climbed the stairs to the rented room and opened the door, to his surprise no one was there. Nouel and Viktoria were probably still at combat training. Lost in thought, he still couldn't get the fire out of his head, and without looking around further, he let himself fall onto one of the beds and fell asleep shortly after.
The next day, a new morning broke over Aeridor, and even in this not particularly hospitable place, brisk activity stirred at once. The streets were full as they set out, and they could barely push their way through the crowd flowing like a single stream toward the arena. Today was a big day: the beginning of the first duels. As they reached the arena, the air smelled of sweat, Aether, and that peculiar anticipation of battle that seemed to delight not just the spectators, but even the spirits of the ancestors themselves.
The sixteen participants were already in the arena, waiting eagerly for what the king would announce. He stepped forward, raised his voice, and, in his usual theatrical manner, spread his arms wide.
"Hello, everyone. I bet you've all been looking forward to the tournament, haven't you?"
The mood was excellent, and through the king's good-humored energy the arena itself seemed almost to tremble. With both hands raised, leaning back slightly, and after a deep breath, he announced that the following participants would face each other in duels, and the winner of each would advance to the next round. Whoever won once would have to face the winner of the following match in the next round. The tournament's paths branched like a tree, until only two contenders remained for the final.
Then the king paused. He reached behind his throne and pulled something out.
It was a jug.
For a moment, all the participants seemed to have the same thought.
A jug?
"The next candidates will be drawn!"
Nouel and Raiiko, sitting up in the stands, exchanged a glance carrying equal parts confusion and quiet mockery. Nouel leaned slightly toward Raiiko and whispered dryly.
"Is that really a king? There's Aetherium, ancient powers, currents — and he uses a jug for the drawing."
Raiiko held a hand slightly over his mouth, because a small smile was unavoidable.
The king reached quickly into the jug and, with a serious look, drew out two slips of paper.
"The first match to open the duels will be: Arthur against Ogor!"
The crowd reacted at once. Some cheered, some murmured, others were already jeering before anyone had even entered the arena. Nouel spoke quietly on.
"Raiiko, that guy down there with the long hair — you see him?"
Raiiko didn't need to look twice.
"Yes, I see him. That's the son of that succubus woman, the one with the human up there."
Nouel's look turned smug.
"Indeed. If Alvios ever ends up facing him, that could be fun."
Half human, half succubus. And his opponent was a Saurakai named Ogor, whom Alvios had briefly encountered on the battlefield before, before he'd been kept from truly measuring himself against him. Now all the other participants were asked to leave the arena and take their seats in the stands.
Arthur now stood directly across from Ogor, while a tense stillness swept through the arena. The dwarf king explained that this tournament was fought under categories. That didn't simply mean the fight would take any form at random — the decision over the form of combat was carried by the spirits of the past that dwelled within the arena, by the echo of fallen warriors whose consciousness and Aether still lingered in this place. It could be a fight using Aether, a fistfight, or even something that, at first glance, didn't look like a fight at all. It wasn't some anonymous stream that decided, but the ancient ancestors whose memory rested beneath the arena.
The dwarf king raised his voice.
"Oh spirits of the past, watch over us. Tell us, how shall these brave warriors fight?"
In that moment he was no longer merely a king, but a medium, a conduit connecting this world and the next. His eyes opened wide, a bright blue glow lit up within them, and several voices seemed to find their way to the surface all at once. Viktoria reached, trembling, for Alvios's hand.
"My prince, hold my hand."
"Don't worry," Alvios said quietly. "It looks like the spirits are speaking through him now."
Bright voices echoed through the entire arena. Voices that had once belonged to warriors fallen in the great battle. Then their decision took shape in clear words.
"Let the battlefield tremble. Let weapons speak."
With that, the category was set. Only weapons projected by the Aether, lying on the ground or hanging on special racks, could be used. The contenders' main weapons were collected, and in the same moment wooden posts shot up from the ground, hung with weapons of every kind. They were made of Aether, and yet they looked tangible and real.
The time had come.
The fight could begin.
"Begin!" the king shouted.
Ogor reacted first and ran quickly to one of the wooden posts to grab a weapon. A spear immediately caught his eye — exactly the kind of weapon his race had a particular fondness for. Arthur, on the other hand, merely looked around and remained standing without any urgency, as if he wanted to make clear, through that posture alone, that he needed no weapon to win. Ogor grabbed the spear, an elaborately forged shaft, seemingly made of steel though in truth still made of Aether, and charged at Arthur with uneven, aggressive steps.
Arthur didn't care in the slightest. He kept standing there, looking at his fingernails. The first frontal spear thrust missed him by a hair's breadth, and when Ogor also attacked with his tail, Arthur dodged again. It grew closer and closer, yet Arthur just kept standing around, looking about as if searching for something only he understood.
The crowd began to grumble.
"What's wrong with him?" said a young woman in the stands.
The cheering gradually turned into open complaint. A man in his mid-thirties even jumped up and shouted:
"You wanna pick flowers or fight?"
The legends watched, transfixed, but Ogor was thoroughly displeased with his opponent's behavior.
"Are you mocking me, worm?" he hissed, his tongue clicking, and dropped into a serious fighting stance.
Nouel was already bored.
"Raiiko, wake me when he actually starts. He's the son of legends, after all. It's only a matter of time before he stops standing around like an idiot."
Raiiko gave a brief nod of agreement and could barely wait himself. Ogor attacked again, faking a frontal strike before trying to break through from the side. Arthur simply grabbed the spear, redirected its path with a minimal movement, and in the same instant delivered a kick to Ogor's gut. The Saurakai dropped to his knees.
A critical hit.
The fight was, essentially, already won.
And yet Arthur simply took the spear in his hands, tossed it aside, turned around, and ran off in the opposite direction.
The crowd raged with fury.
"What is this? You call that a fight, you runt?" a dwarf shouted from among the spectators.
A woman whose race no one could immediately place shouted just as contemptuously:
"And you're supposed to be the son of a legend? Then you can hardly be their blood relation!"
Bit by bit the mood grew ever more heated. The crowd looked almost ready to storm the arena themselves, just to beat Arthur up on principle. A bead of sweat ran down Raiiko's forehead.
"Nouel, did you—"
But when he looked over at him, he noticed that not only Nouel but Alvios and Viktoria too stood there with their mouths open. All three of them had, essentially, the same thought.
Oh man, what an absolute idiot.
Arthur kept running, until he finally stopped abruptly, lifted an elegantly placed sword off the ground with his foot, and caught it in one flowing motion. Ogor looked up, bared his teeth, and then suddenly burst out laughing.
"You're funny. All that fuss just for this?"
Up in the stands, even the dwarf king couldn't help but smirk. He sighed quietly and turned to the succubus woman.
"My dear, don't tell me your son still hasn't grown out of that."
The woman closed her eyes briefly, smiled slightly, and crossed one leg over the other.
"My husband and I have tried so often, but you know how they are at that age."
Her husband burst out laughing, and the dwarf king joined in. Despite his age, Arthur was a highly gifted fighter, yet he'd suffered more than one defeat because he insisted on fighting exclusively with swords. In his own words, every other weapon was merely a cheap copy of the original. The origin, and even the Aether itself, he claimed, took the shape of a sword, and he would sooner die than fight willingly with any other weapon. On top of that, he was remarkably devout.
"Ah, the young ones," the dwarf king laughed. "They always manage to surprise us."
Beside him, Shrodmir's face twitched slightly, because he knew perfectly well those words were meant for him just as much.
Back in the arena, the atmosphere slowly began to shift. Arthur spun the sword through the air a few times, as if testing the blade's balance, while Ogor had fully straightened up again. The Saurakai bared his teeth and let his tail strike restlessly against the ground, for even though he had mocked the situation before, he now understood that this fight wouldn't be as easy as he'd first thought.
Ogor grabbed a shield hanging from one of the wooden posts and pulled an axe from its rack as well. Both weapons were made of Aether, yet they looked so real that one could hardly believe they weren't forged from ordinary steel. Without further hesitation, he charged forward.
Arthur charged to meet him as well.
He was faster.
The weapons met with a loud clang, and sparks immediately flew through the air. The metal looked deceptively real, so real that even seasoned fighters could barely tell whether it was an ordinary weapon or an Aether projection.
Ogor blocked with the shield while simultaneously trying to land a diagonal blow with the axe against Arthur's hip. But Arthur turned, let the blade of his sword slide over the axe, and used the momentum to land a cut against Ogor's shoulder. The hit was clean — not deep enough to end the fight immediately, but clear enough to show who was in control here.
Ogor snarled furiously, spun around abruptly, and attacked with his tail, which shot through the air like a whip. Arthur stepped back half a step and let the attack pass through empty air. He immediately followed up, aiming a quick thrust at Ogor's foot, but the Saurakai yanked the shield down and blocked the attack.
In doing so, Arthur briefly ended up in an unfavorable position. He was slightly hunched over, and that was exactly the moment Ogor wanted to use.
"Now I've got you!"
Hissing, he swung the axe back and brought it down with full force.
Arthur rolled aside at the last instant and narrowly escaped the blow. When he got back to his feet, a different expression lay on his face. The previous calm was gone.
Shrodmir, watching from the stands, leaned forward slightly and murmured quietly:
"Oh dear... that's it, then."
Because Arthur had a very peculiar quirk.
If his armor got dirty.
Then he grew furious.
And when Arthur truly grew furious, hardly anyone could stop him anymore. Even the tides would have retreated before what came next, and even the legends would have regarded this moment with a certain respect, had it ever turned against them.
Arthur looked down at his armor.
Dust.
Sand.
A dark stain on the bright metal.
Slowly he lifted his head and looked over at Ogor with a murderous gaze.
The Saurakai grinned broadly, baring his sharp teeth.
"Hey, what's wrong? Scared of losing?"
Ogor had no idea what he had just unleashed.
Arthur slowly raised an arm and glanced briefly down at the ground, as if addressing the wind itself. Then he spoke, in a quiet, calm voice that nonetheless carried across the entire arena.
"Kill Igdramyr."
In the next moment, he vanished.
Viktoria blinked in surprise.
"Hey... where did he go?"
Raiiko immediately raised his hand and pointed behind Ogor.
Alvios needed only a moment to see it too.
"Oh shit."
Nouel propped himself up on one arm against the stands and looked down into the arena with a half-bored expression, saying not a single word.
Then it happened.
In the next second, a gigantic fountain of blood shot into the air.
The cut had been so fast that many spectators hadn't even seen when Arthur had moved at all. The blade of his sword had torn open Ogor's torso from the side, and the attack had been executed with a precision that left little room for doubt.
For a brief moment, the arena became a bloodbath.
Ogor staggered one more step forward, as if his body hadn't quite understood the blow yet, and then fell heavily to the ground.
Silence spread.
The dwarf king stood and looked out over the battlefield.
"The fight is over," he finally announced in a loud voice. "The winner is: Arthur."
In the stands, reactions immediately split. Some spectators looked shocked, others grimaced in disgust, while many others cheered enthusiastically, as if they had been waiting for exactly this moment. The voices of the crowd swelled into a tremendous roar that smothered any uncertainty at once.
Arthur still stood calmly in the arena.
The sword in his hand was covered in blood.
And yet he looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
As if this fight had been just one more step on a path he had walked for a long time.