High upon the broken wall of the fallen dynasty, its prince, and rightful heir, sat in silence, watching over the corpse of his homeland.

  Callum waited.

  The stone beneath him was cold, cracked by ancient violence, yet he sat as if it were a throne long abandoned. In his hand, an apple rose and fell in a slow, absent rhythm, tossed upward, caught again as gravity reclaimed it. He repeated the motion without thinking, his attention fixed on the ruined castle below.

  His gaze lingered on the great gate.

  There, before the entrance, stood the shattered obsidian statue of his mother.

  Callum’s eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened, and he bit his lip as a quiet, unfamiliar ache settled in his chest. It was not grief, not fully. Grief had burned itself hollow years ago. This was something colder, heavier, a sorrow that no longer screamed but refused to leave.

  The apple fell into his palm once more. He took a bite, the sharp sweetness flooding his senses, painfully alive against the dead silence of the ruins.

  With his free hand, he raised his fingers to his ear and activated the earpiece.

  A sigh answered him immediately.

  Callum let out a faint chuckle, rolling his eyes as he chewed.

  “Let me guess,” he said lightly. “You’re about to ask if I eliminated the target.”

  Rikin’s voice came through clean and cold.

  “Did you?”

  Callum leaned back against the parapet, staring up at the sky for several long seconds before answering.

  “I did not.”

  On the other end, Rikin’s eyes narrowed as he studied the feed.

  “And why exactly,” he asked evenly, “do you believe you’re allowed to make that decision? You do realize you’re endangering far more people than necessary by doing this, correct?”

  Callum did not respond right away.

  He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked toward the gate just as a figure emerged from the shadow of the castle. A woman stepped into the light, skin grey as ash, hair dark as night, cradling an infant with pale skin and pale, unfocused eyes.

  She looked down at the child and smiled.

  It was a small smile. Fragile. Sorrowful.

  Callum’s eyes softened, just barely. A faint smile appeared on his own lips.

  “If she truly is what you believe,” he said quietly, “then I’ll take full responsibility for whatever happens next.”

  He inhaled once. The smile vanished.

  “But she is my family,” he continued, voice sharpening. “A knight of Pendragon. The last vessel of Excalibur. One of my heroes.”

  His tone turned cold, each word measured.

  “So if you even consider attacking her without my consent, I will not let that go unpunished. Understood?”

  Silence answered him.

  Minutes passed as Callum continued to watch Artoria disappear into the distance.

  On the other end of the connection, Rikin pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily. Staff members nearby exchanged uneasy glances as he finally spoke again.

  “…I understand,” Rikin said. “But if she kills even a single human, Callum, you will be held responsible. Even someone like you can’t escape that.”

  Callum smiled faintly and let out a slow breath. He leaned back and allowed himself to fall onto the stone, staring straight up at the pale sky.

  “When have I ever avoided responsibility?” he replied.

  Rikin chuckled once.

  “Fair enough. Then tell me, now that she’s alive, are you finally planning to track him down?”

  The smile vanished instantly.

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  Callum’s expression hardened into something complicated, something burdened by memory. He remained silent for a long time before answering.

  “No,” he said at last. “It wasn’t his fault. If it were, I’d be dead already.”

  Rikin’s brow rose.

  “You’re certain? He’s the one responsible for your dynasty’s fall.”

  Callum clenched his teeth.

  The memory surged forward, unbidden.

  The castle gates exploding inward.

  Elders and paragons charging without hesitation.

  Five paragons, slain in seconds.

  His father.

  The king.

  Turned to obsidian stone.

  It should have been impossible. His dynasty had been prepared. Strong. Unyielding.

  And yet,

  Still, one truth remained undeniable.

  “It was his creator,” Callum said, voice low and iron-hard. “Our true enemy. She’s responsible, not him. He lost control because of her cruelty.”

  His fingers dug into the stone beneath him.

  “If I kill him, then I’m no better than that maniac… Nebula.”

  The line went quiet.

  After a long pause, Rikin spoke again.

  “…Understood. I’ll honor your wish.”

  The connection cut.

  Callum closed his eyes.

  His thoughts drifted back to the first day, the day everything ended. He had been five years old. Newly awakened. Barely aware of what power even meant.

  Then the silver being had torn through the castle gate.

  The elders rushed it.

  It raised a single arm.

  They turned to stone.

  Callum had been behind the throne, too afraid to look, until rage drove him forward. He attacked with everything his small body could muster. It did nothing.

  Then the being stopped.

  It looked around at the ruin it had caused.

  And fell to its knees.

  It stayed there for a long time.

  When it finally spoke, eight voices echoed from within it, each one a child’s voice, all speaking in unison.

  “I am sorry.”

  Callum opened his eyes, staring at the sky as fury boiled beneath his calm exterior.

  Nebula had done this.

  She had murdered children, used their souls to create a weapon that destroyed everything he loved, then discarded it when it broke.

  That was unforgivable.

  But his revenge would not be blind.

  No.

  He would cut the rot at its source.

  Like a true hero should.

  Vale and Nym moved in opposite directions around Evelyn, circling her like predators assessing their prey. The short, dark-haired instructor remained calm, her slight smile betraying none of the deadly skill she possessed. The task was simple in theory: land even a single strike on Evelyn. But for Vale, this was anything but simple.

  He glanced at Nym as she maintained her rhythm, circling and waiting for her cue. Korin was stationed at the back, observing as usual, but Vale wasn’t in the right headspace to fight. His mind buzzed with too many questions, too much fear, and lingering memories he couldn’t shake. Concentration was a luxury he no longer had. And Evelyn… she was a nightmare to face.

  Evelyn could manipulate shadows, twisting them into weapons, puppets, and traps at will. Every step she took could become a deadly snare. The sheer unpredictability of her power made Vale’s hesitation almost instinctual.

  Nym narrowed her eyes, exhaling sharply, and dashed forward. Her fist shot low, aiming straight for Evelyn’s face. But before contact could be made, a shadow surged from the ground, reaching for where her arm would have been. Nym leapt back with the foresight only a skilled warrior could muster.

  “Ha!” she hissed in frustration, barely landing back on the starting line.

  Vale watched silently, unable to act. Even though this was a team exercise, his mind refused to engage. His body felt heavy, almost as if some invisible weight pinned him in place. Nym’s frustration was palpable.

  Evelyn’s voice cut through the tension, smooth and teasing.

  “Not coming, huh?”

  Vale remained silent, only half-aware of the situation around him.

  “Fine,” Evelyn muttered with a shrug, and suddenly her form vanished into the shadows.

  Vale’s eyes widened. Instinctively, he reached out with his senses, attempting to detect her Aether presence. For a moment, clarity struck, and he spun on his heel, kicking with precision. But his kick was intercepted by a deep, writhing shadow rising from the floor. It wasn’t Evelyn.

  Before he could react, a hand grabbed his arm from behind. Evelyn’s voice, amused and sharp, pierced his thoughts.

  “Wrong one,” she taunted.

  The pull of her strength sent Vale hurtling through the air. He collided with Nym, but she sidestepped just in time, watching him fly past her. Steel met his back, and the wall absorbed the force with a loud clang. Vale let out a low, frustrated growl, crumpling to the floor.

  Nym strode toward him, annoyance written across her features. Vale pushed himself upright, only to cough faintly from the impact.

  Nym reached him, her hand extended. Vale glanced up, hesitation flickering across his face, but he grasped her hand. She pulled him to his feet with a firm tug, and he awkwardly patted the back of his head.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice quiet but sincere.

  Nym’s response was immediate, a sharp slap to his shoulder. Vale’s eyes widened, and for a moment, confusion replaced everything else. 'Why?' he wondered, his mind racing.

  Without warning, Nym seized his armor, pulling him closer until his head snapped back to meet hers. She gritted her teeth, staring him down for a heartbeat, then released him. Her gaze shifted back to Evelyn, but she glanced at Vale once more, her expression sharp yet challenging.

  “So,” she said, her voice cool but laced with expectation, “are you going to help or not?”

  Vale’s eyes flicked downward, scanning his hands as if searching for courage. Thoughts and fear collided in his chest. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze, meeting Nym’s eyes. His nod was small but resolute.

  “Good,” she said, a faint smile breaking through her usual stern demeanor.

  Vale fell into step beside her, still catching his breath.

  “Are we going to need it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Nym chuckled, a low, confident sound.

  “Yes,” she said, her tone serious now. “Very much.”

  She shifted her stance, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. Evelyn appeared from the shadows with a fluid motion, her smile both welcoming and deadly. The two combatants faced each other, tension humming in the air, while Vale followed Nym’s lead, bracing himself for the fight that was about to erupt.