After only a few steps, Rintal collapsed onto the shore.The pain flared up again, burning through his body.

  In his palm, the inverted cross pulsed crimson — like a living wound that bled not blood, but memories.The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and wet earth.

  Slowly, gasping for breath, he lifted his head and looked toward the crumbling silhouette of the castle.

  A flash of lightning split the sky — and for a brief, blinding moment, he saw himself.

  In the mirror of the darkness stood a man of medium height, his black hair shaved short at the sides but longer at the top, falling forward like a shadow over his face.His eyes were dark brown — the color of dried blood.

  Scars webbed his body, each one a story no one would ever hear again.

  The black leather thief’s armor clung to him — slim, flexible, the armor of survival and stealth.In his hand was a dagger — Areday’s gift.

  Then the vision shattered.

  It was as if someone had ripped time itself away.

  Rintal was no longer on the shore — he was a child again, back in the orphanage.Cold stone beneath him.The air filled with the echoes of laughter and screaming — neither lasting long.

  The older boys surrounded them again, their fists raining down until both he and Areday fell to their knees.

  Blood filled his mouth. His nose dripped red.

  When neither of them would bow, lick boots, or beg, they were thrown into the street — left to face the winter night alone once more.

  And still, Areday smiled.

  “Laugh, Rintal… even if they win today, that doesn’t mean they’ll always keep us down.”

  “What does it matter? They’ll come again tomorrow. And we’ll be on the ground again,”Rintal spat blood, his voice hollow.

  “Maybe so… but better on the ground than on our knees. One day we’ll leave this place.We’ll see the world — free, untamed, without chains.”

  Areday looked to the sky as he said it, and the stars shimmered in their two brown, boyish eyes.

  “If angels won’t watch over us, then we’ll watch over each other.We won’t be thieves forever.”

  “I’ll always be a thief. It’s not like I have a choice,”Rintal muttered bitterly.

  “The world doesn’t ask,” Areday said softly, his gaze burning with quiet fire.“But we still choose. And when we start over… we won’t steal. We’ll dream.”

  Their childlike smiles slowly faded, as though the wind itself had blown the memory away.

  Rintal’s breathing turned ragged as he returned to the present.

  He stood on the blood-soaked ground, the fog creeping up to the edge of the forest.

  And within that fog — something watched.

  A shadow.

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  Loran — one of the infamous Sons of the Dawn.

  His black uniform blended with the night — a long coat of dark fabric that reflected no light.On his chest, silver thread formed the symbol of a rising sun, circled by black daggers — the merging of dawn and shadow.

  His face was half-hidden behind a mask, his cold eyes glinting like death itself.

  Rintal never heard the footsteps.

  Only the swing of the blade — then steel tore into his back.

  Pain throbbed through him; his body faltered.

  Before he could fall, instinct made him twist, but Loran was already striking again.

  “Weak little bastard,” Loran hissed, his kicks slamming Rintal to the ground.“The Master sends his regards — the seal you carry was never meant to be yours.”

  Rintal tried to fight back, but his body betrayed him.

  Then, as Loran raised his sword once more, the seal on Rintal’s left hand burned bright red.

  An unseen force ripped through the air — throwing Loran’s arm backward in a shockwave.

  Rintal’s wounds began to knit themselves together — just enough for him to move.

  He rose to his knees, eyes burning like embers.

  His left hand lifted — blue light flickered around the seal.

  Every strike that came his way was hurled back, the energy rebounding with each blow.

  Loran grew angrier, his attacks more violent, until his own strength began to turn against him.

  “Let’s see who’s weak now, you bastard,”Rintal breathed.

  He struck with his dagger as the inverted cross on his palm flared bright.

  Each counter left a burn on Loran’s armor — until one slash found a gap beneath his ribs, tearing through.

  “Didn’t think a thief could fight like that,”Loran laughed, blood dripping from his lips.“But you won’t last long.”

  Rintal stared him down, silent.

  Then Loran slit his own palm.

  From the back of his hand, bone blades erupted like fangs.

  His eyes turned pure white — blind, yet aware.

  Violet veins pulsed across his body.

  He lunged again — faster, stronger, unstoppable.

  There was no sound to his movement.

  Rintal barely managed to parry with the seal — blow after blow raining down like a storm.

  Damn it… if this keeps up, I won’t survive long in this state.

  He backed away, panting, while Loran hunted him like a beast — merciless, tireless, bound only by command.

  The sand sprayed beneath their feet.The sea foam froze around them.The wind howled.

  Rintal knew he couldn’t win in open combat.

  Loran was faster. Stronger.The bone blades had nearly sliced through his armor multiple times.

  I can’t break his body… but I can break his mind.

  He stepped into the shallow water.

  “Running, thief?” Loran taunted.

  “No,” Rintal said quietly.“Just leading you home.”

  He dropped a small metal sphere into the sand — one of Areday’s old smoke bombs.

  It released no ordinary smoke.

  A mirrored, oily mist spread out, warping light itself.

  The fog and smoke fused into one — twisting reality around them.

  “Where are you, rat?” Loran growled.

  “Here…” came a voice from the right.“No, there,” whispered another from the left.

  Rintal pulsed the seal’s glow rhythmically.

  Red light flickered in several places at once.

  Loran’s blind eyes tracked the phantom lights — losing focus.

  That’s enough.

  Rintal slipped in close — silent, precise.

  The dagger drove deep beneath Loran’s ribs, right where the armor split.

  Poison burned through flesh.

  Loran fell to one knee, blood spilling from his mouth.

  “Thief… filthy trick…”

  “Survival isn’t a trick,” Rintal whispered.“Only those who’ve never been broken call it that.”

  With a final strike, he buried the blade in Loran’s neck.

  He kicked the body into the surf.

  The fog swallowed him whole.

  Rintal fell to his knees, gasping, clutching his bleeding chest.

  The seal’s glow faded.

  But the voice remained.

  “…waiting for you…”

  Stronger than he should have been.Healing too fast.

  Half-conscious. Half-haunted.

  Rintal rose and walked toward the forest —toward the castle beyond the mist.