The march back to the Empire was a march of shame.
Draven walked at the front, armor cracked, cloak torn, face dark with something heavier than defeat. Captain Vosk limped behind him, one arm in a sling, followed by barely two hundred surviving soldiers.
Once they had been a proud force of a thousand.
Now… they were ghosts returning from a grave.
The gates of Aurelon Empire opened silently, as if the capital itself were mourning the loss of so many men.
No one spoke.
No one dared ask.
Everyone already felt it—the weight of failure.
**Inside the Imperial Throne Hall**
The cold marble floor reflected the towering pillars and golden banners of the Empire. At the far end sat Emperor Raizen Aurelon, the ruler of the strongest kingdom in the continent.
His silver crown flickered with runic light. His eyes were sharp, merciless.
He looked at Draven, Vosk, and the remaining survivors kneeling before him.
"Commander Draven," Raizen said quietly. "Where is the Vise-Commander Aran?"
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Draven bowed his head. "Aran… betrayed the Empire. He sided with a dragon. He tried to kill me."
The Emperor's fingers curled around his throne.
"And the dragon?"
Draven's jaw tightened. "Alive. Protected by ancient mountain beasts."
Murmurs spread through the hall.
A dragon was terrifying.
Beasts answering its call? Even worse.
Emperor Raizen stood from his throne, his presence filling the hall like a storm.
"Aran… my own Commander… betrayed me for the sake of a blind child."
Draven swallowed hard.
Raizen's voice sharpened. "Bring me every member of his family. His wife. His parents. His kin. I will question them myself."
The entire hall froze.
Captain Vosk whispered, "Your Majesty, the boy is only a newborn—"
Raizen's gaze snapped toward him like a blade.
"A traitor's seed grows into a traitor."
That single sentence made every soldier lower their head in fear.
"Go," Raizen commanded. "Bring them. Now."
The drums of the Empire thundered.
The hunters went out.
Aran's house stood in a quiet corner of the Commander's district. His wife, Lyria Vale, rocked their blind son in her arms, humming a soft lullaby.
The baby boy with clouded eyes reached up a tiny hand, feeling her face.
"Soon… your father will return," she whispered with a broken smile.
But instead of her husband…
Heavy footsteps arrived.
"Open the door! By Imperial order!"
Her heart froze.
She held her son tighter.
Soldiers smashed the door open. Lira staggered back, shielding the child with her body.
"Lyria Vale of Aran Vale," the captain barked. "By command of Emperor Raizen, you and every member of your family are under arrest for treason."
"Treason?! My husband is a loyal commander—"
"He tried to kill Commander Draven. He protected a dragon. He abandoned the Empire."
"No… no, that's impossible—!"
Two soldiers seized her arms.
The baby started crying, blind eyes trembling with fear.
"Please!" Lyria begged. "At least let me keep my child—!"
"Take the boy," the captain ordered coldly. "The Emperor wants the bloodline secured."
A soldier reached for the baby.
Lira screamed.
But then—
"Stop."
A frail, shaking voice cut through the chaos.
An old woman stood in the doorway behind the soldiers. She looked like nothing more than a harmless elder, wearing a simple shawl, leaning on a wooden stick.
No one recognized her.
"Who are you?" the captain barked.
The old woman's eyes narrowed.
"I am no one worth remembering."
The soldiers laughed.
But then—
The air shifted.
The woman moved once.
Just once.
And every soldier felt an invisible force brush past their throats… like a cold blade.
They froze.
The captain stepped back. "W-What… what was that…?"
He didn't realize his hands were shaking.
The woman walked toward Lyria slowly.
"My child," she whispered, "give me the boy."
Lyria held her son tightly. "Who… who are you?"
The old lady placed a gentle hand on the baby's forehead.
For the first time, the crying stopped.
The baby smiled peacefully.
The old woman spoke softly:
"I promised Aran long ago… that if the day ever came the Empire turned on him… I would protect his blood."
Lyria eyes widened. "You… knew my husband?"
The old woman sighed, pain in her gaze.
"I knew him better than he ever knew himself."
Then—
Her soft expression vanished.
She looked at the soldiers.
Her aura erupted.
Invisible pressure slammed into the room like a tidal wave. Soldiers collapsed to their knees, gasping for breath, armor cracking under sheer force.
"Listen well," the old woman said, voice like thunder.
"If any of you chase this child… you will die before you take a single step."
The captain trembled. "W-Who are you?!"
She turned away, cradling the infant gently.
"I am the last person Emperor Raizen ever wanted to see again."
She vanished into the shadows with the child before anyone could react.
The soldiers collapsed in fear.
Lira fell to the floor, tears streaming, knowing she would never see her son again.
But he… was safe.
The Emperor's wrath would not reach him.
Not today.
Not ever—if the old woman had her way.
10 years later.
The Dawnfall Empire was thousands of miles away from Aurelon, separated by mountains, beast territories, and five borders.
No one here knew his name.
No one here knew his bloodline.
And that was exactly why the old woman had brought him.
Inside the small, quiet orphanage on the outskirts of Dawnfall City, a young blind boy swung a wooden sword with trembling arms.
Swoosh!
Swoosh!
Every swing was clumsy.
Every stance was off balance.
But the boy didn't stop.
His empty eyes stared ahead, unseeing—but his expression was firm.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The old woman—known to the orphanage as Grandma Ysara—watched him from a shade tree. Her long white hair danced in the afternoon breeze.
"Your breathing is uneven again," Ysara said.
The boy exhaled sharply. "Then I'll fix it."
He tried again.
But he stumbled over a small pebble and fell face-first into the dirt.
The other orphans laughed.
"Blind kid fell again!"
"He thinks he can learn swordsmanship? Even normal kids can't!"
"He can't even see the ground!"
Ysara's cane cracked against the dirt.
Every child went silent.
"Mock him again," her voice was icy, "and you'll train as hard as he does."
The kids shut their mouths instantly and ran away.
The boy wiped blood from his lip and stood up, still clutching the wooden sword.
He looked in Ysara's direction—even though he could not see her.
"Grandma."
"Yes?"
"Why must I train if I have no talent?"
Ysara's eyes softened.
"You may lack talent…" she said gently,
"…but your will is rarer than any divine gift."
The blind boy lowered his head.
"But the Academy only accepts geniuses. Children with spiritual veins. Children with powerful families."
"Yes," Ysara nodded. "All true."
"Then why tell me to try? Everyone knows I won't be chosen."
Ysara walked up and touched his shoulder.
"Because your father was a fool who believed in destiny…"
"…but your mother believed in defying fate."
The boy froze.
"Father…? Mother…? Who were they?"
Ysara's lips tightened.
She looked away.
"That is not a story for today."
The boy clenched his fists.
"Then why am I training? Why make me fight against fate if I'm destined to lose?"
Ysara leaned down and whispered,
"You are not training to become chosen…"
"…you are training so that when destiny comes for you, you'll be strong enough to stare back at it."
The boy felt something stir inside his chest.
A small flame.
A painful flame.
A flame he never understood.
Ysara looked at him with an expression that held sorrow and pride.
"Ten years ago, when I saved you… you were crying silently, as if the world had stolen something from you."
She placed her hand on his head.
"So I gave you a name."
The blind boy lifted his head.
"Yes, you also tell me if I feel alone then I should remember my name"
She smiled.
"Yes. Kael Arclight."
"Arclight…" Kael repeated softly.
It felt warm.
It felt strong.
It felt… familiar.
Every morning, Kael woke before sunrise.
He ran laps around the orphanage, counting his steps and measuring distance through sound.
He practiced sword swings until blisters covered his palms.
He meditated even though he couldn't sense spiritual energy like other children.
He practiced balance by walking on narrow wooden beams.
Every night he collapsed on his bed exhausted.
The other kids had warm families to visit on holidays.
Kael had only training.
And Ysara's voice guiding him:
"Again."
"Faster."
"Lower your stance."
"Straighten your spine."
"Listen to the world. Listen to the wind. Let your ears become your eyes."
Eventually…
Kael could hear footsteps thirty meters away.
He could predict attacks from sound alone.
He could sense wind changes around swinging blades.
He grew stronger.
Not through talent.
But through pain.
A flyer was nailed to the orphanage board one morning.
"DAWNFALL EMPIRE
ACADEMY SELECTION EXAMS
— 1 Month From Now —"
Children screamed with excitement.
Every orphan hoped for a new life.
Kael touched the paper with his fingertips.
"Grandma… can I try?"
Ysara's eyes widened slightly.
"You understand the Academy only accepts one out of every hundred?"
"Yes."
"You understand they reject anyone without spiritual talent?"
"Yes."
"You understand they will mock you, challenge you, humiliate you?"
Kael took a deep breath.
"Yes."
Ysara's face slowly softened.
"Then why do you still want to go?"
Kael lifted his blind eyes.
"Because… it's time I stop running from a world I cannot see."
Ysara's heart trembled.
*So soon… fate is coming for him again.*
She hid her worry and nodded.
"Very well. I will prepare you."
Kael bowed deeply.
"Thank you… Grandma."
As he stood up, the golden sunset sunlight hit his face.
His blind eyes reflected the light like glass.
He couldn't see it.
But the world could.
And someday soon—
It would fear the boy who was blind.
Because Kael Arclight…
was finally stepping toward destiny.