The Arrival of the Storm

  Rin’s vision blurred as his strength gave out.

  His trembling arms, once fiercely protecting the child, finally failed.

  The small, fragile body slipped from his grasp, its warmth fading like the last ember of a dying flame.

  Above him, the Vice Leader loomed, her dagger raised high.

  A cruel smile curled her lips as she prepared to deliver the final blow.

  To end it.

  But then—

  WHOOOSH!

  A sharp wind howled through the battlefield, tearing through the blood-soaked chaos.

  It was cold. Unnatural. A chilling whisper that sliced through flesh and bone alike.

  The Vice Leader’s smirk lingered—until her body froze.

  Her eyes, once gleaming with malice, now widened in confusion.

  A thin, red line…

  Delicate. Precise.

  It traced across her neck.

  For a moment, the world held its breath.

  Then—

  SHLK.

  Her body split in two.

  Her upper half slid off her lower, collapsing onto the ground with a sickening thud.

  Dead.

  Silence.

  The battlefield stood still.

  Even the Bandit Leader—locked in combat with Cain—froze, his axe halting mid-swing.

  Cain’s instincts screamed—not just danger, but… familiarity.

  Wide-eyed. Disbelieving.

  And then—

  They saw him.

  A figure.

  Tall. Cloaked in wind.

  His very presence pressed down on the air, suffocating even the knights who had reached the 3rd Awakening.

  Rin’s vision swam, his consciousness teetering on the edge.

  But through the haze, he saw him.

  The man knelt beside him.

  Eyes sharp. Piercing.

  Power radiated from him—vast and untamed.

  His lips moved—

  A voice, low and commanding, echoed faintly through Rin’s ears.

  "You did well, b—"

  But Rin couldn’t hear the rest.

  Darkness claimed him.

  A Battle Beyond Reach

  The air trembled with each clash of steel.

  The Bandit Leader’s massive axe carved through the wind in a brutal arc, seeking to crush anything in its path.

  Yet—

  The mysterious man danced beyond reach.

  His movements were effortless, his sword whispering through the air in response.

  Cain stood frozen, his fists clenched tight.

  His own battles had always been desperate, each strike fueled by blood and sweat.

  But this?

  This wasn’t a fight.

  It was a lesson.

  "The Bandit Leader roared. His axe swung—a brutal arc meant to cleave stone."

  And yet—

  The mysterious man tilted his head.

  Just that.

  The blade missed by a hair’s breadth.

  For the first time, Cain saw his face.

  His breath caught.

  His mind screamed.

  “Why? Why is he here?”

  His grip on his dagger tightened as he watched.

  The mysterious man countered, his blade moving faster than Cain could follow. The Bandit Leader staggered, unable to even react.

  It wasn’t just skill.

  It wasn’t just power.

  It was something untouchable.

  Cain's heart pounded.

  He knew swordplay. He knew how to read movements. He had spent years sharpening his blade as a Hidden-Class Shadow Knight.

  And yet—

  His thoughts faltered as the truth hit him like a hammer.

  "How?"

  His knuckles turned white.

  "Isn’t his class…?"

  A class that had nothing to do with swords. A class known for something entirely different.

  And yet—

  Here he was.

  Using a sword better than Cain ever could.

  The Bandit Leader roared, swinging wildly, desperation seeping into his movements. But Cain already knew.

  Knew that it wouldn’t matter.

  Knew that the battle had already been decided.

  Because—

  The mysterious man hadn’t even used half his strength.

  Cain’s voice barely left his throat.

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  "He’s just... toying with him."

  His stomach twisted.

  His pride cracked.

  He thought he was strong.

  He thought he was special.

  But now—

  Standing in the presence of this man, watching an opponent he could never hope to defeat get played with—

  He understood.

  He was nothing.

  Not yet.

  A Child of Carnage and Despair

  Cain knew little of where he came from—

  Only that before the age of five, he had awakened in the heart of a battlefield.

  The air had been thick with the stench of blood and death, the cries of the dying echoing in his ears. Bodies, twisted and broken, lay scattered around him.

  And amidst that desolation—

  He stood.

  Alone.

  A child who should have perished.

  It was there that Count Alden von Everhart found him.

  Cain could still remember the man’s gaze—piercing yet kind, seeing through the filth and fear that clung to his fragile body.

  “Where are your parents?”

  Cain had no answer.

  No memories.

  Nothing but a void where his past should have been.

  Yet, in that silence—

  Alden had seen something.

  Not just helplessness.

  Potential.

  Without hesitation, the Count had taken him in, raising him alongside his own son, Edwin.

  Cain had been given a life—a name, a purpose.

  But it came at a cost.

  Every hardship, every grueling lesson, every battle that tore at his body and soul—he endured it all.

  For him.

  For the man who gave him a place to belong.

  And now—

  That man’s only grandchild lay dying before his eyes.

  Rin’s small frame trembled, blood pooling beneath him, his breaths shallow and fading.

  Cain’s hands shook as he knelt beside him, his mind screaming in denial.

  “No… not like this.”

  He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding as the bitter taste of failure filled his mouth.

  “If I were stronger…”

  The words tore from his throat in a whisper, filled with rage and despair.

  “If I were as strong as him…”

  The mysterious man whose sword danced like death itself. The one who had made Cain realize how weak he truly was.

  “If I could just…”

  His vision blurred, his grip on Rin’s hand tightening.

  But he couldn’t stop it.

  Couldn’t stop death from claiming the only person who ever looked at him with innocent trust.

  “Rin…”

  His heart pounded, but his body refused to move.

  He wasn’t enough.

  Not yet.

  And because of that—

  The child who had given him a reason to fight was slipping away.

  “Please…”

  His voice was barely a whisper.

  But no amount of begging would change what was about to happen.

  The Night Ends in Whispers of the Dead

  A sudden gust of wind rushed past Cain, chilling him to the bone. His instincts screamed.

  He turned his gaze toward the mysterious man—the air around him shifting, crackling with unseen force.

  Cain narrowed his eyes.

  “So… now he’s serious, huh?”

  His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words lingered in the cold night air.

  Then—

  The storm came.

  A raging typhoon of wind erupted around the bandit leader, swallowing him whole.

  Screams.

  Shrieks of terror ripped through the night—but the bandits were no longer visible.

  Only their voices remained.

  The howling wind carried their final cries—desperate, fading, devoured.

  Cain stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t just power.

  It was an execution.

  Then—

  Silence.

  The wind faded. The storm dissipated.

  And where the bandits once stood—

  Only bones remained.

  The last remnants of their existence lay scattered beneath the early light of dawn.

  Cain exhaled, his heart still pounding, his fingers trembling.

  His eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the first rays of sunlight pierced through the darkness.

  A long, suffocating night had finally ended.

  He let out a quiet breath.

  “Finally… the night is over.”

  A Gift and a Promise

  As the wind settled, the mysterious man stood before Cain.

  A box.

  Small. Simple. Yet Cain could feel the faint hum of mana within.

  "This contains health potions," the man said, his voice cool and distant.

  "Give them to the injured. Especially…"

  His gaze shifted.

  "That boy over there… He’ll die if you delay."

  He pointed toward Rin’s unconscious form.

  Cain’s heart skipped.

  “Young Master…”

  But before Cain could speak, the man was gone.

  Vanished—

  Like the wind that had brought him.

  Cain rushed to Rin’s side, uncorking the potion and gently pouring it into his mouth.

  “Please… don’t die…” Cain whispered, his voice barely steady.

  His hands trembled as he cradled Rin’s small body.

  "I’m sorry, Lord Alden… I failed to protect him…"

  Guilt gnawed at Cain’s soul.

  “I’m weak… So weak…”

  But then—

  A cough.

  Faint, but unmistakable.

  Rin was breathing.

  His wounds were healing. Slowly. But surely.

  Cain’s eyes stung. Relief washed over him, but so did something else—

  Resolve.

  "I will never be weak again…"

  His jaw clenched.

  "I, Cain Zephyr, swear—"

  “I will protect the Everhart family.”

  “I will become so strong that my name will echo across continents, remembered for eternity as a great knight.”

  His promise echoed in the quiet dawn. Silence filled the air, his heart pounding louder than his words. But the promise echoed in his soul.

  Cain stood, handing out the last of the potions, his voice steady as he ordered the injured to return with Rin, Lucien, and Elysia to the County.

  Though his body screamed with pain and his wounds bled freely, he stayed behind. While others sought safety, Cain remained—tending to the wounded villagers, helping rebuild what little remained.

  He couldn't leave. Not yet.

  Not while there was still work to be done.

  The night was over.

  But, the wind carried whispers of something… darker. Unseen. A storm that would shatter peace and drown the world in chaos.

  A New Dawn

  Rin’s eyes fluttered open.

  A familiar ceiling greeted him, its ornate carvings bathed in the soft glow of mana lamps. The air carried the faint scent of herbs, soothing yet foreign.

  His body felt… light.

  Where… am I?

  Fragments of the battle flickered through his mind.

  The Vice Leader’s relentless strikes.

  The cries of the villagers.

  The helpless child trembling in his arms.

  And then—

  The wind.

  He should be dead.

  Yet, there was no pain.

  His fingers trembled as he slowly sat up, confusion swirling like a storm within him.

  Then—

  The door burst open.

  “RIN!”

  Elysia’s voice cracked with emotion as she rushed toward him.

  Her silver eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her breath ragged.

  “You’re awake! You’re really awake!”

  Her voice—so full of raw relief—stirred another.

  “…Rin?”

  A trembling whisper.

  His mother.

  Lady Seraphina von Everhart sat slumped in the chair beside his bed, her hand still clutching his as if afraid he would disappear again.

  Her exhausted gaze met his—

  And she shattered.

  “Rin!”

  For a moment, no one moved. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of fabric as she rose…

  She threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his frail frame, pulling him close as if to shield him from the world itself.

  Her body trembled.

  “I thought I’d lost you…”

  Tears soaked his shoulder as she clung to him, unwilling to let go.

  Lucien entered next, his ever-composed face breaking into an unguarded smile of relief.

  And then—

  His father.

  Count Edwin von Everhart.

  A man of unwavering discipline, always composed—yet now, his breaths were heavy, uneven.

  His eyes—

  Filled with guilt.

  “My son…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  Rin had never seen his father like this.

  “We should have never let you go alone,” his mother wept, her grip on him tightening.

  “We should have been there—”

  “We should have killed those bastards ourselves.”

  His father’s fists clenched, knuckles white.

  The air grew thick with emotion.

  Grief. Relief. Overwhelming love.

  Rin’s vision blurred—not from exhaustion, but from something deeper.

  In his past life…

  Had anyone ever cried for him?

  Would anyone have cared if he had died?

  "Memories flickered—cold hospital rooms, silent farewells. No warmth. No tears. Just… emptiness."

  No.

  But here—

  They wept for him.

  They were relieved that he was alive.

  For the first time…

  He wasn’t just existing.

  He was wanted.

  Tears fell, silent yet unrelenting.

  “…Rin?” His mother’s voice wavered.

  He forced a smile, though his lips trembled.

  “I’m fine…” he whispered.

  But the weight in his heart told another story.

  His mother pulled him into another embrace, her warmth enveloping him.

  And for the first time in both lives—

  Rin felt truly loved.

  Yet, as the warmth of his family surrounded him… deep within, something stirred. The Unfulfilled Path had not forgotten.

  [End of Chapter]