The envelope opened with a soft tear.
Kahel unfolded the thick parchment inside, the paper cold against his fingers. Silver ink gleamed faintly under the weak lamp light.
There was no greeting. No explanation.
Only a time, a place, and a symbol.
"East Forest. Stone Hollow. Midnight. Three days."
Beneath it, the same broken circle-and-blade seal marked the bottom of the letter.
No signature. No second chance.
Kahel leaned back in the old wooden chair, letting the paper fall to the desk.
Three days.
Three days to prepare.Three days before everything changed.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the qi circulate through his body. Still rough. Still incomplete. But stronger than it had been just a month ago.
Still not enough.
He'd seen Varen.He'd fought a rogue.He'd met Liora, someone trained in techniques he had never even heard of.
If the Association had fighters like them at the bottom, what would the top look like?
Kahel stood, stretched out his arms, and began to plan.
Training wasn't enough now.
He needed sharpness. Focus.He needed to cut away hesitation like a blade cuts flesh.
The next three days blurred together in a cycle of brutal repetition.
Kahel woke before dawn and pushed his body to the edge of collapse. He honed his senses under pouring rain. He practiced dodging thrown stones at full speed. He struck trees until the bark shredded and his fists bled through the wrappings.
He meditated at night, drawing qi through his body, forcing it into smoother channels.
By the second day, his punches left cracks in solid oak.
By the third, his steps barely disturbed the fallen leaves beneath his feet.
Still, he felt the weight of something bigger pressing down. A tension that hadn't been there before. As if the world itself had noticed his decision and was waiting to see if he survived it.
On the evening of the third day, Kahel sat with Mia in their living room.
Cartoons played quietly in the background. She laughed at something on the screen, a high, clear sound that pulled at his chest.
Mia was his anchor. His reason.
He wasn't stepping into that world just for revenge anymore.
He was stepping in to protect.
If power was the only shield strong enough to survive what was coming, then he would seize it without hesitation.
"Kahel?"
He looked down. Mia was holding out a cookie.
"You've been super serious again. You need sugar."
He took it, smiling faintly.
"Thanks."
She grinned and turned back to the TV.
Kahel watched her for a moment longer, burning the image into his mind.
No matter what happened, she would never be touched by the darkness he was about to walk into.
He would make sure of it.
Even if it broke him.
When the clock struck eleven-thirty, Kahel stood by the door, tying the laces of his boots.
He wore a plain black hoodie and jeans, clothes that wouldn't draw attention. His hair was tied back tightly.
He tucked a small, hidden blade into his waistband. Just in case.
Mia slept soundly in the bedroom.
He hesitated only once, just once before stepping outside and locking the door behind him.
The night air hit him like a wave of cold steel.
Clear skies. A silver moon. No sound but the soft crunch of gravel underfoot.
Kahel walked.
He crossed empty streets, passed darkened houses, and finally entered the treeline east of Vouille.
The Stone Hollow wasn't marked on any modern map.Only old farmers and hikers even knew about it, a natural dip in the land, ringed by tall stones blackened by rain and time.
It had always felt… different.
Tonight, that difference burned against his skin.
When he reached the Hollow, the first thing he saw were the torches.
Six of them. Stuck into the earth, forming a wide circle.
Inside the ring, figures waited.
At least five, maybe more. Shadows against the firelight.
As Kahel approached, one figure stepped forward.
It was Varen.
He wore a light training uniform now, black with silver trim. His silver hair caught the firelight like a blade.
"You came," Varen said, smirking. "Good."
Kahel said nothing.
Another figure stepped into the light, a woman with short-cropped red hair and a scar down one side of her face. She wore the same uniform, but her bearing was heavier. Authority radiated from her with every step.
She looked Kahel up and down with a soldier's gaze.
"You're the stray," she said.
"I'm Kahel."
"Names don't matter yet," she said coldly. "Only strength does."
Varen tossed something toward Kahel. He caught it easily.
It was a cloth band with the broken circle-and-blade symbol stitched in black thread.
"Put it on," Varen said. "Tonight's simple. Enter the circle. Prove you deserve to stay."
Kahel stared at the circle of fire.
At the figures waiting beyond it.
At the world he had been chasing for so long.
He tied the band around his left arm.
Then he stepped into the light.
Above, hidden in the trees where the fire couldn't reach, Jalior watched.
His arms folded.
His eyes cold.
"No turning back now," he murmured.
The boy had taken his first real step into a world of blood, law, and iron will.
The first of many.