Thorne lay sprawled on the ground, trapped beneath a crushing weight. The midday sun burned down from above, a searing light that blurred the edges of his vision. His chest felt tight, as though the air itself pressed down on him. His body wouldn’t move—each limb heavy, too weak to lift even a finger.

  A shadow passed over him.

  She was there.

  Rhea’s greatsword caught the sunlight, reflecting its blinding glare right into his eyes. She stood tall, her face unreadable, staring down at him like a predator observing its prey. The heat from the sun baked his skin, but the cold dread creeping into his bones was worse. Thorne’s breath hitched, his throat dry as he tried to form words.

  He managed a ragged whisper. “Rhea... what are you doing?”

  Her silence was louder than words. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, but she made no move to strike. Thorne’s mind raced, struggling to make sense of her stillness. He was helpless, lying broken in the dirt, and she just stood there.

  “Are you here to finish it?” The words felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. His body refused to respond, pinned down by an invisible force. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Rhea’s lips twitched, her expression cold and detached. “I don’t need to.”

  Thorne’s brow furrowed, confusion mixing with fear. “What...?”

  She knelt down beside him, bringing her face close to his. Her breath was warm against his skin, but there was no warmth in her gaze. “You’ve already sealed your fate, Thorne.” Her voice was calm, steady—too steady. “It’s over.”

  His heart pounded in his chest, a wild, frantic beat that made his ribs ache. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to lose,” she said, each word cutting deeper than the last. “One by one, you’ll lose everyone you care about. And when that happens, I’ll be there. Watching.”

  The knot in his chest tightened, panic clawing at him. “No...”

  “All I have to do is sit back and enjoy the show.” She stood up slowly, her sword gleaming in the sun. Her figure blurred, distorted by the blinding light, but her words were sharp as ever. “It’s already started.”

  The world around him twisted, the sunlight warping into shadows. The ground beneath him dissolved into darkness, and Rhea’s figure faded into the void. His breath came faster, panic rising in his throat as the darkness closed in, suffocating him.

  He tried to move, tried to scream, but the weight pressing down on him was unbearable. His mind was slipping, sinking deeper into the void.

  Then a hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him back.

  *

  “Thorne! Snap out of it!”

  A hand shook him roughly, dragging him from the suffocating darkness. His eyes flew open, and he gasped for air, blinking into the dim light of Jonah’s shop. Shelves were toppled over, and the usual clutter of supplies lay scattered across the floor, but it was unmistakable. He was inside.

  Thorne groaned as the ache in his body flared up again. Every inch of him felt bruised, and his ribs screamed in protest. He tried to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back down.

  “Stay still,” Darius said, kneeling beside him. His voice was firm, but the relief in his eyes was unmistakable. “You took a serious hit.”

  Thorne blinked, his mind still clouded by the remnants of the dream. “How long…?”

  “A few hours,” Darius replied, his tone calming. “We weren’t sure if you’d wake up.”

  Jonah’s voice cut through the background, light and sarcastic as always. “I was ready to pawn your stuff off if you didn’t make it. But I see you’re still kicking—barely.”

  Thorne winced as he shifted, his side throbbing with pain. His gaze flicked down, and he noticed the thick, smelly paste smeared across his skin. Two empty health potions lay discarded beside him. He blinked, trying to piece it together.

  “That’s Ben’s doing,” Darius said, nodding toward the young man. “He’s been running around like a man possessed, patching you up.”

  Thorne’s eyes found Ben, who was hurriedly moving about the shop, gathering herbs and supplies, nodding to himself. The man was in full work mode, completely absorbed in trying to keep Thorne in one piece.

  Thorne let out a shaky laugh, the pain in his ribs forgotten for a moment. The notifications flashed before his eyes, the ones he had seen just before blacking out.

  Skill Level Up: Veil of Light and Shadow!

  Skill Level Up: Stealth Strike!

  Skill Level Up: Acrobatics!

  Skill Level Up: Combat Reflexes!

  Skill Level Up: Backstab!

  Skill Level Up: Lethal Flurry!

  Skill Level Up: Bloodletting!

  Skill Level Up: Primal Aether Manipulation!

  Skill Level Up: Aether Surge!

  Character Level Up: Level 39!

  But there was more. Something bigger.

  Trait Evolved: Lunar Champion (2/5)

  He remembered what had happened right before the explosion—he had absorbed the aether from the golem, drained it dry, leaving it a hollow shell. The raw energy had rushed into him, empowering him, evolving his Lunar Champion trait. He’d felt the surge of strength as the aether filled his core, turning the tide of the battle in his favor.

  Silverlight Strikes

  Description: You can imbue your weapons with the silver glow of the moon, adding a light-based damage effect to your attacks. The strength of the extra damage increases with the brightness of the moon.

  Jonah’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Damn, I thought he was dead a minute ago,” Jonah’s voice rang out from the other side of the shop. “But look at him now, lying there with a stupid grin on his face. Gotta say, it’s not a good look.”

  Ben continued to scurry around the room, pulling jars of herbs and salves back to the shelves. Thorne noticed how exhausted the boy looked, but he wasn’t stopping. It was like he had one mission: trying to keep everything and everyone in order.

  “You can thank him later,” Darius said, glancing at Ben with a half-smile. “Kid’s been working nonstop.”

  Thorne nodded, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the vision he’d had. Rhea’s words echoed in his mind, chilling him to the bone. You’ll lose everyone you care about. He glanced at Darius, then at Jonah, a knot tightening in his chest.

  He couldn’t shake it. The words felt too real.

  “You didn’t see her, did you?” Thorne asked, his voice low. “Rhea. After the battle.”

  Darius frowned, his expression puzzled. “Rhea? You mean the big girl with the even bigger sword? Short blonde hair?”

  Thorne nodded, his heart picking up speed. “Yeah. You know her.”

  Darius shook his head. “No. You were all alone when I found you. Knocked out cold. No sign of her.”

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  Thorne’s stomach twisted. He’d been sure she was there—sure he’d seen her. But if Darius hadn’t seen her… He forced the thought away, but the knot in his chest remained.

  “Probably just hit my head too hard,” Thorne muttered, pushing himself up despite the soreness in his body. “Forget it.”

  Jonah smirked. “Yeah, clearly. That dumb look on your face is definitely a sign. Either way, let’s avoid any more aether beasts, alright?”

  Thorne forced a grin, but Rhea’s words lingered, gnawing at the back of his mind. The vision felt too vivid to dismiss, too personal to ignore. He could still hear her voice, cold and certain.

  You’re going to lose everyone.

  Thorne’s eyes trailed to Darius who didn’t look much better than him. He had his right hand in a sling and his face sported several patches of dried cream.

  “How are you?” Thorne asked as he checked his friend for any more wounds.

  Darius glanced down at him, his expression softening. “I leveled up! I felt it right after I blocked that punch. Something clicked.”

  Thorne raised an eyebrow. “You leveled up too?”

  Darius nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Yeah. Got the notification right after the fight.”

  Thorne smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Good. You’ll need it.”

  Jonah groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Of course. These guys nearly die, and instead of learning a lesson, they get stronger. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to get a good deal on boots.”

  Thorne laughed despite the pain. “We are fine.”

  He turned, eyeing Ben, who was quietly attempting to clean up the mess in the shop now that Thorne was back on his feet. “Alright, Ben, let’s get to work. This place looks like an aether storm hit it.”

  Ben glanced up from the clutter, nodding but barely paying any attention as he focused on tidying up.

  Darius watched Jonah for a second, then turned back to Thorne, his expression shifting. His usual smile faltered, replaced by a more serious, reflective look. “You know, if it weren’t for you, we would’ve lost a lot more people today.”

  Thorne shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. He had never received... gratitude. He’d done what he had to do, that was all.

  Darius continued, his voice softer. “Today... I lost a lot of my friends. Good men. But it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in.” His words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the lingering relief of survival.

  Thorne nodded quietly, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He didn’t know what to say. He had never been in a situation like this. He was accustomed to the guilt that always followed the victory.

  Darius chuckled softly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s weird. I had never seen you fight before today. Honestly, I could barely follow your movements—those fleeting moments when you were even visible, that is.”

  Thorne kept his gaze on the floor, his jaw tightening.

  “What level are you, Thorne?”

  The question hit him like a hammer, and for a second, Thorne didn’t respond. How could he tell him? Darius was only level sixteen—Thorne’s Veil Sense had told him as much during the battle. And here he was, more than twenty levels higher than him. How could he explain that?

  Thorne finally lifted his head, his voice low and careful. “High enough.”

  Darius smirked but didn’t push. “Yeah, I’d say so. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. You were a shadow, moving so fast… delivering death with every strike. I guess that little guild of yours did something right.”

  Thorne met Darius’s gaze then, his eyes locking with his friend’s, but he didn’t speak. Instead, his Tactful Deflection skill activated, and he shifted the conversation. “You should train more, Darius,” he said, his tone firm. “And I mean really train. Not just waving your sword around with your drunken guard friends. These creatures… they’re not going away. One wrong move…”

  Darius’s face darkened as Thorne’s words hit home. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “I know. Peter was the best of us… and yet... I... We lost him.”

  Thorne’s chest tightened. Peter. He had seen him during the battle, one of the men who had stood against the golem. One of the men who hadn’t made it. He had met the guy on the rare occasions he visited the tavern along with Darius.

  They stayed like that for a moment, the silence heavy between them, filled with shared loss.

  “Alright, you two!” Jonah’s voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade. “What are you doing? Ben’s given you both enough potions to heal a bull! Now get off your asses and help me clean this place up. That creature made a mess of my shop, and I need some help!”

  Ben huffed, slapping Jonah’s head lightly in frustration as he moved past him with a broom.

  Jonah yelped, rubbing the back of his head. “Will you stop doing that?! I swear, if you keep this up, I’ll get as dense as that one!” He pointed dramatically at Thorne, his voice full of mock outrage.

  Ben raised his hand again, clearly intending to give Jonah another slap, but this time Jonah ducked, stepping quickly out of the way.

  Thorne smirked, the heaviness of the moment lifting just slightly. Jonah always had a way of cutting through the tension, even when things seemed bleak.

  Darius let out a small, tired laugh. “I’ll help in a minute, Jonah. Let me catch my breath.”

  Jonah sighed, glancing between the two of them. “Fine, fine. But don’t think you’re getting out of this. I want my shop back in order. It’s the least you can do to repay Ben’s hard work. The kid’s been slaving away keeping you alive.”

  Ben huffed again, shaking his head as he moved toward the back of the shop, still working tirelessly to put everything back in order.

  Thorne watched them both, a faint smile lingering on his lips. For a moment, the knot in his chest loosened, the weight of the day fading into the background. But Rhea’s words, cold and distant, still echoed in the back of his mind.

  You’ll lose everyone you care about.

  No!

  Thorne shook his head, pushing the thought away. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He wouldn’t let anyone take away the people who mattered. Not now. Not ever.

  *

  Thorne sat on the edge of the lighthouse, his feet swinging lazily through the large hole in the crumbling wall, watching the sea shimmer under the pale light of the moon. The cold night air stung his bare skin, but he welcomed it. The moonlight poured over him, wrapping his body in a soft, silvery glow, slowly mending his wounds. His Lunar Regeneration skill worked quietly, knitting his flesh back together and reinvigorating his muscles.

  Thanks to the health potions Ben had poured down his throat and the natural magic of his new ability, his body was almost fully healed. But no potion or skill could erase the aether fatigue that weighed on him. The battle with the golem had taken a toll far deeper than physical injuries. He’d pushed himself too hard, burned through too much raw aether, and his body felt the aftermath. It would take days to recover fully.

  A quiet creak of wood announced the arrival of Sid. Thorne frowned as he glanced over his shoulder, watching the old assassin climb the rickety ladder to the lighthouse. How did he find me? This was supposed to be his hideout, tucked away where no one else would bother him.

  Sid pulled himself up the last rung and, without a word, sat down next to Thorne, flinging his legs over the edge of the broken wall. “You do know I’m an assassin as well, right?” Sid said, giving him a bland look. “My job is to track people.”

  Thorne snorted softly, turning his gaze back to the black, restless sea below. Right. It was a reminder that no matter how far he advanced, no matter how many skills he unlocked or how strong he became, there were always those who could find him.

  He wasn’t untouchable. Not yet.

  They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves far below and the occasional whistle of wind through the cracks in the stone.

  After a few minutes, Sid broke the silence. “Why are you half-naked?”

  Thorne shrugged, his voice casual, though his mind was far away. “Got a new skill.” The moonlight continued to wrap around him, healing what was left of his wounds. But it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered him. His thoughts kept drifting back to the battle, back to the moment when everything slowed down, and Rhea’s words echoed in his mind, over and over again. You’re going to lose everyone you care about.

  Sid glanced sideways at him. “Then why do you look so gloom? I would’ve thought you'd be hopping for joy after getting a new power-up.”

  Thorne remained silent for a moment, staring down at the waves crashing against the rocks below. The sound was soothing, but it didn’t quiet the storm inside him. Finally, he turned to Sid, watching the older man’s profile—the deep lines of age etched into his face, the white strands running through his once-dark hair, the way his shoulders slumped slightly, as if carrying the weight of years.

  “Is there anything you’d like to share?” Thorne asked, his voice steady but probing.

  Sid frowned, turning to face him with a look of genuine confusion. “Like what?”

  Thorne kept his gaze sharp, searching for any hint of deceit. “Some hidden enemy of the guild. Some threat I should know about.”

  Sid’s frown deepened, but after a moment, he shook his head. “Not that I know of. Besides, I’m sure Uncle shares more of his plans with you than he does with me.”

  Thorne studied him for a moment longer, confirming that Sid was telling the truth—at least as far as he knew. Sid wasn’t someone who could hide lies well. He wasn’t one to play those kinds of games.

  Satisfied, Thorne turned back to the sea, watching the moonlight shimmer on the water. The silence returned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  “Is this about your last trial?” Sid asked quietly after a few moments. “About your next move?” His voice was gentle, almost fatherly.

  Thorne shook his head. “No.”

  Sid tilted his head, looking at him curiously. “Don’t feel guilty for leaving the guild, you know. No one will hold it against you.”

  “I’m not,” Thorne said flatly. And he wasn’t. There were too many secrets, too many betrayals. He had seen enough to know that leaving was his only option. But that didn’t mean everything was clear.

  Sid watched him closely, but then Thorne asked, “What even is the last trial? I keep hearing about it, but no one tells me anything.”

  Sid shrugged, though there was a slight hesitation before he answered. “The ultimate test of loyalty.”

  Thorne groaned, leaning back on his hands. “Please don’t tell me it’s another torture session.”

  Sid chuckled, a rare sound from him. “Not quite. It’s… different.”

  Thorne stole a glance at his teacher, narrowing his eyes. “Then what is it?”

  Sid hesitated again, but this time he shrugged it off. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. You’re leaving the guild anyway.” He sighed, then told him what the trial entailed.

  As Thorne listened, his expression darkened. It wasn’t torture, not in the traditional sense, but it was close enough. He shook his head sadly when Sid finished. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from the guild.”

  Sid gave a small, rueful smile. “What can I say? It’s a tested process. Most assassin guilds do something similar.”

  Thorne grunted in response, but an idea formed in his mind. A plan that, if it worked, could get rid of at least one of the problems hanging over his head. He turned to Sid, his lips curling into a smarmy grin. “You know,” he began slowly, “I never really took advantage of the fact that you’re my teacher. Or that I’m the boss’s favorite.”

  Sid raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “What are you getting at?”

  Thorne leaned in slightly, his voice low but full of mischief. “Can I ask for a favor?”

  Sid’s smirk widened. “Depends on what you have in mind.”

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