“Growth demands sacrifice. Sometimes, the price is a limb. Sometimes, it’s something far harder to live with.”

  ---

  The blade hissed as it cut through the humid air. Kael moved with urgency, dancing between worn training stumps. His shoulders ached, each breath shallow, but still he pressed on.

  This wasn’t just training anymore. It was an obsession. A promise made to himself—to never be powerless again.

  And as usual, Kurozan sat quietly nearby, its polished black edge gleaming faintly in the dappled light. Kael spoke to it between drills.

  “I know. I overstepped the last swing. Again.”

  Of course, the sword didn’t answer. It never did. But lately, he found it easier to confide in the weapon than in anyone else.

  Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was focus.

  Maybe there was a thin line between the two.

  ---

  “You’re improving,” came Senn’s voice from the tree line.

  Kael stopped mid-strike, panting. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  Senn stepped forward, his long coat flapping in the breeze. “Because you’re finally aware of your flaws. That’s progress.”

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  Kael dropped to one knee, catching his breath. “So, what now? More drills?”

  Senn crouched beside him. “No. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  ---

  Veyna Mor’Kash stood like she owned the clearing. Which, to be fair, she probably did. Empire brass, hardened warrior’s stance, and that stare—calculating and impersonal. Kael felt like she’d weighed and measured him before he even said a word.

  “This the kid?” she asked.

  Senn nodded. “Kael Ryuu. Trained hard. Fights harder.”

  “I like him already.”

  Then she gestured to a box beside her—sleek, military-grade alloy with an Imperial seal. “I also came bearing gifts.”

  Senn blinked. “For me?”

  “You served. You bled. You lost. The Empire finally made something that might help with the last part.”

  She opened the case. Inside lay a new prosthetic arm—obsidian-black, rune-etched, humming softly with crestlight energy. Unlike his old one, this looked… complete. Elegant. Alive.

  Senn stared at it for a long time.

  Kael watched his mentor’s expression shift—recognition, hesitation, pain.

  ---

  “I told her no,” Senn muttered later, sitting on the well’s edge after Veyna and Kael had stepped aside.

  “She asked you to return?” Kael asked.

  “Not the first time.”

  “And the arm?”

  “Symbolic. A leash. Or maybe an apology.”

  “Will you use it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  ---

  When Kael departed with Veyna, Senn remained in the clearing. Alone now, with the box at his side. The prosthetic gleamed in the fading sun.

  Memories returned—vivid, unwelcome.

  A scorched field. Screams. Riel, his sister, consumed by corrupted crestlight. She had looked at him like she still remembered him. Like she wanted him to stop her.

  He did.

  Blade to heart. A single, fatal thrust.

  Then the blast tore through the air—and his arm—leaving behind silence and guilt.

  And Veyna… Veyna had been there, watching it all unfold.

  Senn reached for the box.

  His fingers hovered.

  Not yet.

  But maybe soon.

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