Ishara Veyl
She stepped into the training hall and saw Royushi Kairo across the room. He stood at ease by the sparring dummies, one hand on his wooden practice blade. He didn't notice her yet – head bowed, eyes wary. Royushi looked exhausted. No injury, but a subtle tension in his shoulders. That snapped her focus.
She watched him. One moment, his stance was precise, the next a purposeful misstep, as if he were testing himself. Ishara logged the pattern – deliberate inconsistency. A disciplined mind favored logic; she forced deep breaths and continued her own warm-up, keeping him in view at all times.
A strange warmth pulsed in her chest. Royushi's presence had always drawn her attention. She scolded herself: feelings were a luxury she couldn't afford. Stay focused, she reminded herself. Yet the reminder did nothing to still her heartbeat.
She recalled her own record-keeping mentality. Hard drills, precise charts – she hated guessing. Now her mind was racing with questions. Royushi's training record had been mediocre at best. Last week, everything had flipped. The Citadel's ledger now gleamed with new scores – faster reflexes, a Shuryoku control that shouldn't belong to him. Those figures were impossible. She placed a hand on the cool wall for support. Something in Royushi's training had changed overnight.
Master Dravik's voice echoed in her mind: questions don't solve themselves. She pressed her lips together. Maybe it was nothing – a one-time surge of performance. But doubt crept in. If someone was influencing him, she needed to know.
For a moment, Royushi tensed in mid-strike, as if he sensed her eyes. He glanced up and caught her stare. That heavy second felt like a punch in her gut. In it, Ishara realized: I've been watching him all morning. Too late to pretend nothing was wrong.
She slid into position behind the instructor and began the drill with measured calm. Fear prickled at her – if she'd arrived even a moment later, what would she have found? She forced down that panic. Only by watching could she learn the truth.
Heart pounding, Ishara reminded herself: You are a soldier. Show nothing. She kept her expression blank, lips pressed tight. But if this was something more, would she be too late to act? The doubt was there in the silence between her strikes. For an instant, she wondered if stepping forward would help, but her training kept her still. Only by watching could she learn the truth.
Sevran Axiom
Sevran sat in the observation chamber, bluish charts floating before him. Only Royushi Kairo's data had changed overnight – and Sevran had noticed. Others had counted Royushi out as a fluke or a nuisance. That had been their mistake.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, expression unreadable. Potential, he believed, was like hidden ore: raw and unrefined, waiting to be uncovered. Decades of watching had taught him to spot it amid rubble. He knew when something didn't fit – Royushi's figures now were that silent equation.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the progress bar for Royushi. It was surging upward. In the back of his mind, a memory stirred: once, Rikishu had shown that same spiraling, unpredictable growth. So it begins again, he thought. If Royushi followed a similar path, Sevran needed to claim control. Potential was not if, but when – and who would direct it.
Sevran projected a live feed of the training yard. Sensors traced faint Shuryoku flows; a sharp spike blinked beside Royushi's marker. He was pushing past official limits. The Citadel's records should have flagged that instantly. This late alert had come through Maris's secure channel – quick thinking, but already behind.
He tapped his console. Royushi's hologram materialized, performing strikes in slow motion. His form was nearly perfect, save one detail: a subtle off-balance tilt, like a coiled spring ready to snap. The numbers didn't lie. Royushi was accelerating every week. Sevran let himself nod. Unfinished property.
His voice remained calm: "Send a scout to the Citadel. I want eyes on Royushi Kairo's anomaly. Discreetly, at dawn."
"Understood, sir. Deploying now," came the crisp reply. Sevran gave no further comment. He only watched as his plan took shape.
He leaned back, letting the pieces fall into place. Royushi's hidden momentum, Ishara's watchful eyes, even the silent stirring of a legend far away – it was all aligning. He would not risk waiting to see how far Royushi could slip unchecked. No, this time he acted first. He allowed himself a small, sharp smile. The pieces were in motion now – and Sevran would ensure he wouldn't be caught unprepared. He straightened his jacket and left the chamber quietly, determination settling in each step. There would be no surprise this time.
Rikishu Kairo (Echo)
Far beyond the Citadel's reach, Rikishu stood alone in a silent void. No breeze, no voices – only darkness and memory.
He remembered her. The warmth of her hand in his, the promise in her eyes as the last sun fell behind the horizon. "I will return," he had whispered. She had believed every word.
Now every dawn that promise echoed unanswered in emptiness. Guilt pressed on his chest like a weight. A simple vow had been broken by war. Perhaps she still waited for his return on that quiet morning. Perhaps she had moved on without him. Both thoughts stabbed at his heart.
In the silence, he sensed the Citadel faintly: the distant clang of blades, murmured footfalls in stone corridors, even Royushi's steady breathing in a training chamber far away. He was part of that world, yet so very far.
He had always been calm for others. That same steady voice now guiding Royushi was once the voice that offered hope to countless soldiers in darker times. But in this emptiness, that facade cracked. A single tear slid silently down his cheek – a face that hadn't cried in years.
He reminded himself: duty was done. He had done what needed doing, sacrificed what had to be sacrificed. Yet the weight of what he had left behind settled in his bones. "I promised," he muttered into the darkness, the word trembling on his lips. The void offered no answer but infinite black.
Rikishu remained where he was, bound to the silence. Far away, Royushi trained under unseen guidance, Ishara Veyl watched over the Citadel, and Sevran Axiom moved his pieces with quiet conviction. And Rikishu waited – faithfully, desperately – hoping he hadn't been too late after all. He would not break that promise, no matter the silence.