In a pce shrouded in thick, endless fog, a faint soul wandered—its voice trembling as it called out into the void. "Where are you...? Why can't I find you...?"

  Suddenly, a bzing streak of fire tore through the air, striking the soul and splitting it down the middle. As its light began to fade like dust in the wind, the soul whispered with fading breath:

  "Brother... help me..."

  And just like that, it vanished—scattered like a sandfly in the breeze.

  "Sara!!" Eryx gasped, his chest heaving as he jolted awake, drenched in sweat. His breath came in sharp bursts, and his eyes were wide with panic. Sitting up in bed, he pressed his hands to his face, trembling.

  Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he whispered to the silence of them, "Are you alive, Sara...?"

  His voice cracked with grief, but beneath it burned a fire of resolve.

  "...If you are, I'll find you. If not… then I'll find your body—and I swear, to you and Mom, I'll take revenge on that god of fmes."

  The door to Eryx's room creaked open. Navia stepped in with a soft smile. "Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling now? Does it still hurt?"

  Eryx quickly wiped his tears, forcing a smile as she walked in. "I'm feeling great. Doesn't hurt at all. Honestly, it's like it never even happened. Thanks to you… You're a genius."

  Navia chuckled, clearly pleased. "It's good that you're okay. And thanks for the compliment!" She crossed her arms, looking proud. "Now, hurry up and get ready. We're heading out for your Syer Guild entry trial."

  "Alright," Eryx nodded as she turned to leave. But Navia suddenly paused and gnced back.

  "Your clothes are on that table—wear them. I'll be waiting outside, so don't take forever."

  "Got it. Thanks for the clothes," Eryx replied.

  "Oh, don't thank me," she said with a grin. "They're from the Captain. Nightsyer's gear. You're lucky—normally we'd have to pay for them. These cost, like, 4,000 Essnets."

  "Four thousand?!" Eryx's eyes widened.

  Navia ughed. "That's not that much—it's affordable for most. Ah, right, you're from a vilge. Makes sense now."

  Eryx rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "It's not like we were poor or anything… My mom was a Syer, and so was my dad. I just never bought stuff myself. My mom or sister always did it for me."

  Navia's pyful smile softened. "Sounds like you had a good family. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Honestly, I'm kind of jealous."

  She turned and waved. "Anyway—enough talk. Get changed and meet me outside. Don't be te!"

  "Okay," Eryx said as she stepped out.

  He walked to the door, gently closed it behind her, and stood there in silence for a moment.

  As Navia stepped out of the room and the door clicked shut behind her, she paused for a moment. Her smile faded slightly, repced by a soft, distant look in her eyes. Was he crying before I walked in?

  She let out a quiet sigh, her heart heavy. He must've seen his family in a dream… poor soul.

  Then, regaining her composure, she turned and walked down the hallway, her cape fluttering gently behind her.

  Eryx stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the csp of his crimson cloak. The hood framed his face, casting a faint shadow over his eyes. He let out a soft breath as his gaze drifted down to the rest of the outfit.

  The off-white shirt underneath peeked from beneath a dark vest, cinched tight by brown leather straps that crossed his chest. A small pouch hung from one of them, swaying slightly as he moved. His red belt, wide and sturdy, carried several more pouches—each hinting at a purpose yet to come.

  He ran a hand down his dark-fitted pants, his eyes catching the matching red wraps near the top of his brown ced boots. Fingerless gloves hugged his hands, and a pale band peeked out from his left wrist.

  Eryx tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I look like a real Syer," he murmured to himself. Then, after a pause, his smile faded just a little. I'll make sure I live up to it.

  Eryx stepped out, the crimson cloak settling over his shoulders like the memory of a promise long forgotten. The hood cast a soft shadow over his face, and the worn leather straps across his chest whispered of burdens yet to be understood.

  Navia turned, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. A flicker of something passed through her gaze—nostalgia, maybe… or foreboding.

  "…You wear it well," she said quietly, almost like a thought spoken aloud. "As if it remembers you."

  Eryx offered a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Clothes are just fabric. It's the weight behind them that shapes the man."

  Navia's lips curled. "How very poetic of you. Let's hope your sword hand speaks just as well."

  She turned, walking ahead with her usual confidence, but her voice lingered in the air like an echo. "Come now, Syer. The world won't wait for your legend to begin."

  As the morning light filtered through the stone arches of the courtyard, Navia paused, her arms folded as she gnced sideways at Eryx.

  "Before we set foot in the Guild… you'll need a weapon," she said pinly. "The trial won't be forgiving. Not everyone walks out in one piece."

  Eryx nodded slowly, pulling the hood a little tighter over his head. "I already have something in mind."

  But then his expression shifted, and a low realization slipped from his lips. "W–Wait. I… I don't have any Essents."

  Navia raised a brow, the corner of her mouth tugging upward in a knowing smirk. "You think I'd let you walk in unarmed?"

  She reached into her satchel and produced a small leather pouch, the soft jingle of crystal coins unmistakable.

  "Captain left these with me. Said it's part of your initiation—consider it a gift or an investment."

  Eryx blinked, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders like his new cloak. "He really… thought that far ahead?"

  Navia turned on her heel, tossing a gnce over her shoulder as she began walking. "He's a Nightsyer. He always thinks ten steps ahead."

  They made their way through the winding cobbled streets until they reached a modest, iron-framed shop. Above the door, a single rune glowed faintly—a mark of craftsmanship.

  The scent of oil, steel, and old magic lingered in the air.

  Navia nodded at the door. "Well, go on. Choose something you won't regret drawing."

  Syer's Guild Weapon Shop

  Through the gss panels lining the shop's walls, weapons of every kind gleamed under protective enchantments—swords, spears, gives, and things less easily named. Each is encased in crystal-clear dispys, both outside and in, giving passersby a taste of the arsenal within.

  Eryx stepped inside alongside Navia, his boots sinking softly into the red velvet carpet that bnketed the entire floor. The interior was warm and smelled of oiled steel, old wood, and a faint trace of blood memory. Rows of polished wooden counters stretched along the side walls, weapons carefully sealed behind gss or mounted with delicate magic upon the stonework.

  At the far end, behind a sturdy oak counter, stood a tall man in his forties. His greying hair was slicked back, and his presence carried the calm sharpness of someone who'd once wielded what he now sold.

  "Ah, Miss Navia," the man said, his voice low and smooth like aged wine. "Didn't expect you today, and with company no less."

  "Just helping him get his first weapon," Navia replied casually, nodding toward Eryx. "He's taking the Guild trial soon. A fresh recruit for the Nightsyers."

  The man blinked once, then chuckled softly. "Already with the Nightsyers, is he? Even before the trial? Hah... Captain Ats doesn't hand out that title easily. You must be something special to catch his eye."

  He turned his attention to Eryx. "So, young man, what's your weapon of choice?"

  Eryx paused, eyes flickering over the glowing racks of bdes and warhammers. Then, thoughtfully, he said, "Do you have… an axe connected to a dagger by a chain?"

  Marcel arched a brow, intrigued. "Ah… a taste both brutal and clever. You're from Esforia, aren't you? That nation favors such weapons—versatile, ruthless."

  He stepped away from the counter and moved to one of the side walls, unlocking a reinforced gss case with a small iron key that glowed faintly as it turned.

  "There's only one in stock," he said as he lifted it out gently. "It's not a 'blessed' relic, but it does carry a minor enchantment. Enough to make it feel weightless in the hand of its chosen user. It's soul-bound upon first wielding—rendered useless to anyone else until its owner perishes."

  He id the weapon down with reverence: a sleek bck axe with a curved edge, chained by a flexible silver link to a thin, jagged dagger. A set made for movement—throwing, swinging, and close combat—it was elegant, dangerous, and unusual.

  "I'll take it," Eryx said without hesitation, his voice steady.

  From behind, Navia's eyes widened. "W-Wait, seriously? That one?"

  Navia stared at Eryx, wide-eyed. "Do you think you'll be able to use that properly? Maybe… maybe you should go with something safer. A spear, a sword—or even try casting magic."

  Eryx ughed lightly, confidence dancing in his eyes. "Don't worry. I've practiced with this kind of weapon before. My father's friend used to visit from Esforia City—he taught me how to wield it. I fell in love with it instantly."

  He gnced down at the chained axe-dagger set gleaming on the counter, admiration in his gaze." I even killed a Seeker-rank demon with one when I was twelve," he added with a smirk. "So yeah… I think I'll be fine."

  Navia blinked, then let out a small breath, her lips curling into a smile. "Very well, I believe you. Killing a demon at twelve, huh? That's… actually kind of cool."

  The shop owner, Marcel, looked between them, stunned for a moment. His grey brows lifted."If that's true…" he muttered, voice a touch deeper, "then perhaps this weapon has found its rightful user after all." He pced a hand on the counter. "Very well. The price must be paid first. Then come with me to the back—I'll guide you through the binding ritual. You'll become its master."

  Without hesitation, Navia stepped forward and handed over the required Essents. Marcel gave her a respectful nod, then turned and walked toward a side door.

  "This way."

  Training Room – Syer's Guild Weapon Shop

  The door opened to a quiet, modest space. Stone walls, smooth and slightly worn from years of use, surrounded a ft, open room about the size of a small hall. The floor was marked with faint circur patterns—ritual symbols faded by time and training.

  A few weapon racks lined the edges of the room, though most were empty. There was nothing fshy here. Just silence, stone, and space. The air smelled faintly of metal and incense.

  In the center stood a low pedestal, built from dark wood and surrounded by three standing candles, their fmes already lit and steady—no wind, no flicker.

  "This is a soul-binding room," Marcel expined as he stepped inside. "It's not for sparring. It's made for one thing—helping a weapon choose its wielder."

  He turned to Eryx, eyes sharper now. "Are you ready to cim Whisperwind?"

  Eryx nodded, stepping forward without hesitation. "I'm ready."

  Eryx stepped toward the pedestal, his boots pressing softly into the aged floor, the red carpet now repced with the cold touch of stone. Whisperwind y across the wood—its chain coiled like a serpent, the axe head gleaming with a quiet menace, the dagger curved like a fang.

  Marcel moved with solemn precision, walking around the pedestal as if tracing unseen lines. "This is not a weapon you merely hold," he said, voice calm yet heavy, "it is a will you must bind. You do not command it—you resonate with it. If your resolve is weak, if your purpose falters… it will turn cold and remain dormant, nothing more than a sharp tool."

  He paused before Eryx and held out a thin bck cloth.

  "Tie this over your eyes. In this moment, you must not rely on sight. You must feel."

  Eryx obeyed. Darkness bnketed his vision.

  The old man continued. "Extend your hand. Speak your name—not the one the world gave you. Speak the name you carry in your soul."

  Eryx hesitated for a moment, then pced his hand upon the weapon's hilt.

  "…Eryx of Ashveil," he whispered. "Son of Alina. Bearer of a forgotten oath."

  The air grew still.

  The fmes of the three candles bent inward, their tips reaching toward the boy. The chain on the weapon rattled—slightly—though no wind blew. A quiet hum filled the room, low and unnatural, like a heartbeat buried beneath the earth.

  Marcel watched, eyes narrowing. "Now speak your will. Why do you seek this weapon?"

  Eryx's voice came, soft but unwavering."To protect what's left. To avenge what was taken. And… to carve a path no god can ignore."

  The chain fred—just once—with a faint red glow.

  A breath ter, Eryx gasped. The weight of the weapon disappeared—not because it had vanished, but because it had accepted him. The grip molded subtly to his hand, the presence of the axe and dagger felt not like a burden, but an extension of his arm. The name Whisperwind etched itself somewhere deep within him.

  Marcel nodded, satisfied."You are now its Wielder. The link has been made. No other hand can command it—not while your soul still burns."

  Eryx removed the blindfold and blinked at the weapon, now resting silently in his grasp. The chain dangled, light as air, yet pulsing faintly with his heartbeat.

  Navia stood at the doorway, quiet, a subtle awe in her gaze.

  "You weren't bluffing…" she said, then grinned. "Guess I've got to start keeping up with you now."

  Eryx smiled, eyes never leaving the bde."Let's head to the trial."

  As Eryx turned to leave, Whisperwind resting comfortably in his grasp, Marcel raised a hand, his voice calm but firm."Hold it, young Syer. You're not walking through the city with that weapon drawn like some feral brute."

  Eryx blinked, pausing mid-step. "Huh?"

  Marcel chuckled, walking over with the poise of a man who had taught this lesson a hundred times. "Close your eyes. You've formed a bond with Whisperwind—not just physically, but spiritually. Now you must anchor it within your inner world."

  Eryx frowned slightly, but obeyed.

  "Imagine a space," Marcel said slowly, his voice dropping into something nearly hypnotic. "A pce inside you. It could be a room, a sky, a battlefield… whatever resonates with your soul. That space is now your Sanctum. Picture Whisperwind resting there—floating, waiting, chained to your will alone. Will it stay?"

  Eryx's breathing slowed. In his mind's eye, he saw a vast, dark field under a blood-red sky, where a single weapon stood pnted into the ground, its chain whispering in the wind.

  He opened his eyes.

  The weapon was gone from his hand.

  "What the—? Where did Whisperwind go?" he said, looking at his empty palm in shock.

  Navia giggled, clearly amused. "Rex. That's your Soul Storage. Any time you need it, just picture the weapon in your hands—visualize it, call to it, and it'll answer."

  Eryx looked down at his hand again and focused. He imagined the weight, the chain, the bite of the steel.

  In a fsh of crimson mist, Whisperwind reappeared, resting in his grip as naturally as breathing.

  "Whoa…" he muttered in awe.

  Marcel gave a small nod of approval. "The bond is real. As long as your will is sharp, that weapon will always find you. Now, be wise—tools like these are extensions of who you are. Don't draw it unless you intend to fight."

  Eryx smiled and let out a low breath. With a flicker of thought, Whisperwind vanished again into the field of his imagination, its presence now etched into his soul like a silent sentinel.

  Navia bumped him lightly with her elbow. "Alright, mister edgy weapon guy. Ready to head to the Guild?"

  Eryx gave a confident nod. "Yeah. Let's see what this trial's got for me."

  "Now it's time for your trial. After that, you'll officially be ranked a Fledgling in the Ironfangs css," Navia said brightly as she walked alongside Eryx, her mood light and cheerful.

  "Wait, how do you know I'll be in Ironfangs? I haven't even taken the trial yet," Eryx asked, blinking in confusion.

  Navia fshed a knowing grin. "Your weapon says it all. If you'd picked a mana caster, you'd be in Spellrunners. But a weapon like yours—an axe-dagger hybrid—falls under Ironfangs. That css covers swords, axes, warhammers, bows... basically, raw combat tools."

  "What about Starborn?" Eryx asked, a spark of curiosity lighting up his voice. "My mother once told me... my father was one of them."

  Navia's pace slowed slightly, her tone shifting into something more thoughtful. "Starborn are... different. They're Syers who can manifest weapons directly from their mana core. No forging, no holding—just summoning. Fire core? You create weapons from fire. Water? Same idea. But it's insanely difficult. You'd need a massive mana reserve to sustain it, or you'll pass out cold after just a few swings."

  She continued, gncing sideways at him, "You can't jump straight into it either. First, you'd have to master at least one path—Spellrunner or Ironfang. But if you can master both, and maintain weapon creation for a full day without colpsing? That's when you're eligible to become a Starborn. When that happens, the guild automatically promotes you to Ascendant."

  Eryx listened intently, his mind racing with possibility.

  "In your case, you'll start as Ironfangs, and I'm already in Spellrunners," Navia said with a pyful smirk. "But hey, if you can master casting and weapon forging, you could follow your father's path. Me? I've got a crystal mana core—two cores, actually—so I can give it a try too. Although... healers aren't allowed to become Starborn, even if they can form weapons. Guild's rule. Healers are too important to risk."

  Eryx grinned. "Then let's help each other. I'll help you become a Starborn, and you'll help me train."

  Navia ughed, light and genuine. "Heh, sounds like a deal! You're pretty cool, Eryx. I think we'll make a good team."She stopped walking and gestured ahead. "Well, here we are—Syer's Guild."

  Together, they stepped through the heavy doors, ready to face whatever the trial would bring.

  Meanwhile, outside the Syer's Guild...

  Two men watched from the shadows of a narrow alley. One adjusted the brim of his hat, voice low and cold.

  "Keep your eyes on that boy. He's Alina's and Andres's son. He cannot be allowed to move freely within our pns."

  The second man nodded. "Understood, sir. But what about Ats? Is he still a threat to us?"

  A silence followed, sharp and weighty.

  "Ats is more than a threat. That man is the bde of the current age—the closest anyone's come to Andres. He could stand alone against gods... and that's exactly why we won't let him interfere."

  The two cloaked figures stood in silence, their presence like a shadow never meant to exist.

  The front man gave one st look at the guild's doors."He mustn't stray from our design. Not yet."

  With that, both figures turned.

  No footsteps were traced. Not even a shift in the air.

  By the time a passing breeze swept through the alley, the two had vanished—like ghosts that had never been there to begin with.

  And so, the first thread of fate quietly tightened around Eryx… unaware that his trial was only the beginning.

  —End of Chapter 2—