The world held its breath, suspended at the edge of silence. Darkness stretched around them like a shroud, refusing to interfere with the looming duel. Even the shadows seemed to flee, frightened by the palpable tension in the air.
Gaël felt every heartbeat resonate within him, not in fear, but in tune with the silent call of the Severance. Before him, the humanoid mass of the monstrosity loomed, tall and misshapen. Four arms hung from its torso: two limp, dragging along the ground like forgotten chains; the other two, long and segmented, moved with a disturbing grace, almost perverse, limbs caught between life and the impossible.
Its entire body oscillated between existence and erasure, as if struggling to remain tangible. The left side of its chest was nothing more than living shadow, fluid, ever-shifting, while the right side was covered in jagged white bone plates, fractal and ever-breaking, reshaping in a loop so out of sync it was painful to watch.
Where a face should have been, there was only a vertical maw, gaping wide, cleaving its skull from brow to chin. No eyes. No gaze. Just that impossible mouth, sucking in air with reverse wheezes, as though devouring the very sounds around it. With every breath, the silence grew heavier.
Then, it shattered.
A roar of visceral power tore through the air, shaking the ground beneath them as the Altered lunged at Gaël with supernatural speed.
Gaël didn't think, he drew his blade, carving a bright arc of steel through the air. The impact rang out like a thunderclap, sending a shockwave that cracked the stones beneath their feet. But to his horror, the monster's corrupted flesh resisted the strike. The Altered recoiled slightly… then let out a hollow, inhuman laugh, laced with savage mockery.
Gaël clenched his jaw, cursing himself. He had struck like a mere warrior, neglecting the deeper intent that guided the Way of the Severance, the surrender to the cut.
'Cut with your mind, not your arm,' he reminded himself.
His blade had to become more than steel.
The sinister crack of bone signaled a second assault, faster, and crueler. Gaël inhaled, searching for that familiar resonance, that faint whisper of the Severance. He had to embody his intent. Hear the blade's song.
He struck again.
This time, the cut came silently, fluid as a breath of wind. The creature froze, its strangled cry caught in its deformed throat.
A moment suspended, beyond time. Then its torso slid apart, neatly split in two, crashing heavily to the ground. Just like that. No flourish. No spectacle. When the strike comes, it must be perfect, and end the fight.
Silence returned abruptly.
Gaël exhaled slowly, still feeling the subtle vibration of the Severance echoing within him.
The Brothers of Fenrir stood in silence, encircling him, visibly impressed. Kaien broke the heavy quiet, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Tch. Not bad, kid."
The warrior who had spoken to him earlier stepped forward, his expression both solemn and respectful.
"That... was a real cut," he said, staring at the bisected corpse. "You're worthy of standing among us."
Gaël didn't answer right away. His body still hummed with the echo of the Severance.
The warrior's words struck something deep in him, even if he knew, he wasn't meant to join the Brothers of Fenrir.
Aside from a few straggling Infested still creeping through the alleys, the battle was over. The creatures had begun retreating into the Abyss.
The horde had been repelled by the defenders of the Lower City, yet no cheer broke the stillness. Faces remained grim, etched with exhaustion and the urgent need to clean the carnage before the scent of blood summoned worse things.
Gaël collapsed to the ground, breath ragged.His arm, the one that had delivered the final blow, still trembled from fatigue and strain. Every pulse of his body resonated with the Severance's echo, like the lingering note of an ancient song he had yet to master.
They had driven back the assault, but at what cost?
That horde had come for himn drawn by the resonance he had awakened by walking the Path of the Severance.A cold shiver ran down his spine. This power he was conquering… was it truly a gift? Or was it a curse in disguise, a call to darkness he could no longer ignore?
"Well, that was interesting," purred a sly voice in his mind.
"Our young prodigy of the blade passed his little trial with flying colors... Maybe you should wear a bell around your neck next time, help them find you faster," snickered Nyx, perched nearby, his black-furred form watching with mockery gleaming in his eyes.
Gaël shot him a tired glance but didn't reply. He didn't have the strength to argue, not even with a creature whose sarcasm was as natural as breathing. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his mind before standing again.
They couldn't stay here.
Brann was gone. And yet, his shadow lingered in every corner of Gaël's mind. But this wasn't the time for mourning. Cassandre had returned, and with her, Astraea, the beautiful girl who haunted his dreams… and Kaëlan, his childhood friend.
Seeing them there, standing before him after everything he had endured, filled him with a strange mix of relief and apprehension.
He had no idea what awaited him at the Academy. Likely a harsh reprimand. Maybe worse. But at least he could rest, for a while, far from the screams of the Infested and the twisted silhouettes of the Umbra.
A sound of footsteps caught his attention.
Kaëlan was approaching, his lean frame outlined in the gloom, tousled brown hair whipped by the cold night breeze. His bright blue eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion, flickering somewhere between admiration and disbelief.
The young man, whose shoulders had broadened since Gaël's departure, carried a large shield strapped to his back.
"That was... impressive," he finally said, his voice filled with genuine awe. "Especially with that hunk of scrap metal."
His gaze dropped to Gaël's blade, chipped, battered by the fight, yet still thrumming with an unseen brilliance only those who knew the Severance could feel.
"So… it's true, then? They say you're becoming one of the Swordbrothers?"
Gaël hesitated. He didn't know how to answer, but he could still feel the Severance thrumming inside him, rooted deep in his bones. It wasn't a choice anymore. It was a truth etched into his flesh.
"I think… yeah," he finally said, his voice hoarse, worn.
Kaëlan nodded slowly, eyes never leaving him. Then, without a word, he extended a hand.
Gaël paused for a heartbeat before taking it, feeling the firm grip of his friend ground him in the present. With a fluid motion, he rose, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles.
"You know," Kaëlan added with a crooked smile, that half-smirk he always used when levity became a weapon against fear or solemnity," a Brother of the Sword may be a master of the cut… but he tends to forget even the sharpest blade still needs a shield."
With a confident gesture, he tapped the broad shield strapped to his back. Its polished steel surface reflected the stars above, like a mirror of the night sky.
"I think you might need me, Gaël."
Gaël looked at his friend… and then at that shield, massive and resolute, a stark contrast to the slender elegance of his own weapons. A blade could cut, but a wall could withstand the storm. In the battles ahead, he'd need more than the certainty of the Severance.
A tired smile crept across his lips.
"Then let's fight together, Kaëlan."