For the first time in many years, Morix felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Not fear.
Not weakness.
But stagnation.
No matter how fiercely he swung his blade, no matter how intensely he trained, the growth that once shot through his body like wildfire… had stopped.
All his life, discipline and relentless effort had carried him forward faster, stronger, higher than anyone of his age. That path had made him a Sword Master before he'd even tasted true defeat.
But now?
His strength was… unmoving.
Morix lowered his blade, sweat dripping down his chin, and exhaled slowly.
"Is this truly a problem… or simply the limit of this world?"
His voice echoed softly in the empty grounds.
He had fought countless battles, crushed enemy generals, ended wars with a single charge… but not once, not even once, had he met someone capable of pushing him to his limit.
Victory had become routine.
Power had become lonely.
The thrill of battle the heartbeat of every warrior had faded long ago.
Perhaps that was the real reason his growth stopped.
So, seeking the excitement he had long lost, Morix made a decision.
A reckless one.
A selfish one.
A long-awaited one.
He would travel to Seraphyne.
A kingdom whispered about in taverns and scrolls where warriors were said to be born with iron wills, and even a common soldier could rival Elydria's knights.
If anyone could awaken the warrior within him… it would be found there.
Morix wrapped a black cloak around his shoulders, mounted his horse famed for rivaling a Sword Saint in speed and rode under the silent moon.
For three long days, hooves echoed across plains, forests, and rivers until
Seraphyne.
A land far different from the rest of Aurethion.
The moment Morix crossed its gates, he slowed his horse and let his eyes wander in subtle awe.
The streets were paved with smooth ivory stone, glimmering under the sunlight.
Laughter spilled from marketplaces, voices of merchants and children weaving together like cheerful music.
Colorful banners danced in the wind, and fountains of shining crystal water decorated every plaza.
There were no slums, no starving faces, no misery hiding in alleyways.
Instead, he found:
Children practicing sword swings under the guidance of cheerful elders
Perfume-scented bakeries selling pastries warm enough to fog the glass
Warriors sparring openly in small rings, surrounded by cheering crowds
Scholars reciting poems beneath blooming sun-orchid trees
Couples dancing casually in the streets without shame or fear
Seraphyne breathed a prosperity that felt almost unreal.
Morix stepped among the people, his cloak concealing his identity as he walked with a rare sense of peace.
How long had it been since he'd seen a land so… alive?
"A nation like this…" Morix whispered, "…the world deserves more of them."
But fate does not wait for a warrior to finish his admiration.
As Morix crossed one of the vibrant plazas, a figure in a white cloak suddenly collided with him.
The stranger stumbled back and fell onto the polished stone.
Morix barely moved.
Instinctively, he reached out his hand.
The stranger accepted and the moment their palms touched
A spark.
Electric.
Familiar.
Unmistakable.
A flood of memories burst into Morix's mind
The dream-garden.
The faceless girl's laughter.
Her trembling hands reaching out to him.
Her voice calling his name across countless nights.
Every dream he had ever seen every moment, every emotion hit him like a crashing storm.
His vision blurred.
His head throbbed violently.
His knees buckled.
"What?!"
His world turned black around the edges.
The figure in white caught him in a panic, supporting his weight with surprising strength.
"Oh goodness are you alright, gentleman!? Did you faint from exhaustion?"
The stranger's voice was soft, tender, and full of concern.
It was the same voice.
Morix's breath hitched.
His throat tightened, unable to form words.
His eyes though fading filled with tears.
It was her.
The girl of his dreams.
The voice he had heard since childhood.
The laughter that guided him through lonely nights.
The warmth he thought he had imagined.
She was real.
He desperately tried to lift his head, to see her face
But consciousness slipped from him like sand.
His vision collapsed into darkness.
And Morix, the undefeated Sword Master of Elydria…
…fainted in her arms.