The cave loomed before them, its entrance jagged like the mouth of some sleeping beast. The air was damp, carrying the scent of wet stone and something faintly rotten. Water dripped from the ceiling, the sound echoing through the tunnel, making it feel even deeper than it was. The ground was uneven, slick with moss and patches of loose rock.

  Shun seemed to be in a deep thought. His face was pale, it looked like his eyes were dead. He was thinking about his father.

  Shun had told himself it was the only way. That it had to be done. But standing in the darkness of the cave, surrounded by silence, the weight of that night pressed down on him harder than ever.

  His fingers curled into fists, the phantom sensation of the knife still lingering in his grip, as if his hand remembered even when he wanted to forget. He could still hear it—the ragged breathing, the struggle, the moment when his father’s body jerked before finally going still. The warm, sticky feeling of blood on his hands. His own breath, sharp and uneven, as the world around him spun.

  He had acted on instinct. He had told himself it was to protect Fiol. But now, in the cold and quiet, he wondered—was that really the only reason?

  Shun and Rakk were exploring the caves rather Rakk brought him here to show something.

  Rakk: You are silent.

  Shun: I still have nightmares about that day.

  (Shun was talking about the day when he killed his father to save Shinjiro and his younger brother Fiol)

  Rakk: It’s gonna be okay.

  Shun: Why did you come there?

  Rakk: The place where you lived is another dimension created by the king. They use the people who live their, sacrifice them for aethereal powers. I had come for you.The result would not have been different if I had come or not.

  Shun: Why did you choose me?

  Rakk: You are one of the candidates. That’s why.

  Shun: Why did you bring Shinjiro then?

  Rakk: I told you he interfered and was lost. But I helped you find him.

  Shun: He’s also got into a lot of trouble due to me.

  Rakk: He has passed the first stage trial of the Aetherblades . He will be safe with them.

  Shun: With who?

  Rakk: The Masters.

  Shun: I see.

  Rakk: (flatly) Why can’t you get over it?

  Shun: (softly) I don’t know.

  Rakk: (sighs)I have been telling everyone that you need time but it has been a year now.

  Shun: I know.

  Rakk: You feel like you are being forced to do something. That’s why I have brought you here.

  Shun: For what?

  Rakk stepped closer, resting a hand on Shun’s shoulder. “Strength is what you’ll need for what comes next.”

  (A loud growling, the sound reverberating through the cavern walls)

  Shun: What was that?

  “Do you feel it?” Rakk’s voice was low and steady, a sharp contrast to the chaos in Shun’s mind. “The fear is what makes them invincible. The Arcanor”

  Shun’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the hulking figure of a Monster, its glowing crimson eyes piercing the darkness. The creature stood still, its presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier, harder to breathe.

  Shun tightened his grip on his dagger, sweat forming on his brow.

  “Why is it here?” Shun asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Shun’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the hulking figure of a Monster, its glowing crimson eyes piercing the darkness. The creature stood still, its presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier, harder to breathe.

  Rakk: Run ! Now!!

  Shun’s breath came in ragged gasps, his feet pounding against the uneven stone floor of the ancient ruin. The dim glow of torches barely illuminated the massive, cracked walls, casting jagged shadows that stretched like grasping hands. The Arcanor’s presence was suffocating—its deep, guttural growls echoed from all directions, slithering into his mind like a whisper he couldn't ignore.

  Arcanor: Run, little child. But you can not outrun yourself.

  The voice wasn’t just in his ears—it was in his head. A twisted, monstrous version of his own thoughts, creeping into his memories, his regrets. His past.

  He turned sharply, sliding against the damp stone. The Arcanor was there, just a breath behind him, its monstrous form shifting unnaturally. A blur of obsidian black, towering over him, its eyes glowing like molten embers. But it didn’t strike. It didn’t pounce. It just… watched.

  Arcanor: You hesitate. Just like that night.

  Shun’s stomach twisted. That night. The night everything changed. His vision blurred, the ruin fading. He wasn’t here anymore. He was back in that small, candlelit room, his younger brother crying behind him, his father standing in the doorway, shadowed, drunk, furious.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Father: You think you can protect him?

  Shun: No… not now. Not here.

  But the past had its claws in him. The scene played out again. His father’s staggered steps. The smell of alcohol and sweat. The way his brother clutched his shirt, shaking. The knife. The weight of it in his hand.

  Father: You’re weak.

  Shun’s breath hitched. The Arcanor moved closer. He could hear it now—not just in his head, but around him, its deep voice overlapping with his father’s, whispering the same words.

  Arcanor: You’re weak.

  Shun clenched his fists. No. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He had fought. He had won. But then why… why was the weight of that night still crushing him?

  Father’s voice: You should’ve let me kill him. You were never strong enough to protect anything.

  The ruin darkened. The torches flickered and died. Shun was drowning in his own memories, sinking deeper, the weight of his own guilt pulling him under. He had done it. He had killed his father. But had he truly saved his brother? Or had he condemned him to a life of shadows, just like his own?

  The Arcanor’s laughter rumbled through the ruin.

  Arcanor: You fear the truth. That’s why you keep running. But the past never leaves, Shun. It only waits.

  A sudden pressure—like a clawed hand—gripped his throat. His body froze. He wasn’t in control anymore. The darkness wrapped around him, suffocating. He gasped, struggling, but it wasn’t his body that was weak. It was his mind. His will. He could feel the Arcanor tightening its grip, dragging him deeper into himself, into his fears.

  A new voice cut through the chaos, sharp, unwavering.

  Rakk: Tch. Enough of this.

  Shun: No!! I had to do it!! It was the only choice! Stop lurking in my mind!!

  Arcanor’s form twisted, its presence warping the very air around it. Its silver eyes flared, locking onto Shun like a predator claiming its prey. Without a sound, it raised one clawed hand, the shadows around it writhing like living tendrils.

  Then, it struck.

  A pulse of dark energy shot forward, invisible but suffocating. The moment it touched him, Shun froze. His breath caught in his throat. His body wouldn’t move.

  The moment it hit him, it felt like a thread had been pulled from deep inside his skull, unraveling his thoughts, his memories—his very sense of self. The cave around him faded, swallowed by a suffocating darkness that wasn’t just emptiness, but something alive, something digging into his mind like claws scraping against stone.

  Then, the voices came.

  His father’s voice—sharp, cruel, laced with that same hatred that had poisoned Shun’s childhood.

  "Ungrateful wretch."

  Shun flinched. He wasn’t in the cave anymore. He was home. His father loomed over him, the dim candlelight casting long shadows on the wooden floor. The air smelled of alcohol and iron.

  "You think you saved him?"

  Shun turned. Fiol. His little brother stood there, but his face—his face was wrong. Empty. Cold.

  "You didn’t save me. You just made sure I’d grow up with a murderer for a brother."

  Shun stumbled back, shaking his head. No. No, that wasn’t true.

  His hands trembled, and when he looked down, they were covered in blood—not fresh, but dark and dried, crusted into the lines of his palms.

  His father’s blood.

  His breath came in sharp gasps. His chest ached. He had already lived this once—why was he being forced to live it again?

  "You hesitated," the voice taunted. "You hesitated, and even now, you wonder. Would you have done it if you had another choice?"

  Shun clutched his head. Stop. Stop. Stop.

  But the voice didn’t stop. It wasn’t his father anymore. It wasn’t Fiol. It was something deeper, something older. A whisper curling through the cracks of his mind like smoke.

  "You belong to us now."

  Shun fell to his knees, his vision blurring, his breath shallow. No. He was stronger than this. He had to be. But the darkness pressed in, suffocating, endless—pulling him into the past he had tried so hard to outrun.

  A rough hand grabbed Shun’s collar, yanking him back into reality. He gasped, staggering forward, his legs trembling. The torches reignited as if someone had commanded them to. The weight on his chest lifted, just slightly. He looked up—Rakk stood before him, arms crossed, watching him like he had expected all of this to happen.

  Rakk: You panicked. Lost yourself. Almost let it consume you.

  Shun: ...I—

  Rakk: You think you’re the only one with ghosts in your head?

  Shun gritted his teeth. He wanted to argue. But the truth was heavy. He had let his past control him. He had almost lost himself because of it. And yet, despite everything, the Arcanor was still watching, still waiting. It had tested him. And he had failed.

  Arcanor: (chuckling) You will fall again.

  Shun took a slow breath. No. Not this time.

  The ground rumbled. The shadows deepened. And then—a blood-red glow bathed the world. The Red Moon had risen.

  The Arcanor’s form flickered. Its body, once looming and solid, seemed to blend into the darkness itself. Its voice lowered, shifting into something almost ancient, a whisper that sent chills down Shun’s spine.

  Arcanor: The time is near. We will rise soon.

  And then—it was gone. The darkness receded. The ruin fell into silence.

  Shun stood there, chest rising and falling, his hands clenched into fists. He could still feel the weight of its words. The cold grip of his past. But this time, he didn’t let it drown him.

  Rakk: (smirking, walking forward) You’re learning. But next time, try not to almost get yourself killed, yeah?

  Shun exhaled, steadying himself. He looked up at the Red Moon, its crimson glow painting the ruins in eerie light. Something was coming. He could feel it. And this time—he wouldn’t run.

  Shun: I overcame it.

  Rakk: Good.

  (A messenger arrives there)

  Shun: (to himself) The past will not haunt me anymore. I will move forward.

  (The messanger leaves)

  Rakk: What were you thinking?

  Shun: Nothing.

  Rakk: I have some news for you. We will go to see your friend tomorrow.

  Shun: Really? Where?

  Rakk: The courtyard. It’s a public trial for a criminal who was allowed to participate in the Aetherblade trials,

  (scene change)

  “Why was he allowed to participate when you knew he was a criminal?” , a cold voice

  The Masters were present there and The cold voice was the Royal Judge, Aethus Donadus

  Aethus Donadus: "I will ask once, and I expect truth. Why was this boy allowed to participate in the trials?"

  Silence. The judge’s gaze lingered on Iris first, then Gin, then Reyna, expecting an answer. Iris sighed, crossing her arms.

  Iris: Because he earned his place.

  Aethus: (scoffing) Earned? A commoner with no formal backing, no recognition, no legacy?" (He steps forward, his boots clicking against the floor.) "You insult the sanctity of these trials.

  Gin: (grinning slightly) Is that what this is about? Bloodlines? Nobility? I thought the trials were about strength.

  Aethus: (coldly) Strength without order is chaos. (His gaze sharpens.) And chaos leads to ruin. (He gestures to Shinjiro, his voice thick with judgment.) This boy—this anomaly—should not have been granted entry.

  Shinjiro shifts, finally meeting Aethus’s gaze. His voice is steady, calm.

  Shinjiro: If I was unworthy, I would’ve died in the first round.

  Aethus: (mocking tone) Oh? And yet, the only reason you live is because the others hesitated.

  (His eyes narrow.) Tell me, what will you do when hesitation kills you?

  Shinjiro: (firmly) I don’t hesitate.

  Aethus steps closer, looming over him.

  Aethus: You should. Because hesitation is what separates a warrior from a mindless beast. (He turns back to the masters.) And that is exactly what you have unleashed—a reckless, desperate child who fights like a cornered animal. He has no control, no discipline. (His voice lowers, dangerous.) "And you still vouch for him?

  Reyna: (calm but firm) We do.

  Aethus exhales sharply, shaking his head.

  Aethus: Then I have no choice. (He straightens, adjusting his robes.) "A formal trial will be held tomorrow. Shinjiro’s participation will be judged under the laws of the Imperium." (His voice grows colder.) And if he is found unworthy… (He glances at Shinjiro one last time.) He will be removed. Permanently.

  The air thickens. The torches flicker. The weight of his words settle on the room.

  Gin: (smirking despite the tension) Big words. But let's see if you actually have the authority to back them up.