The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the ghetto, bathing the broken streets in a cold, silvery light. The usual clamor of the markets had died down, and the streets were eerily silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind through the narrow alleys. It was the kind of silence that always made Raden uneasy, as if the world was holding its breath.
He sat perched on the rooftop of the old shoe factory-turned-school, his legs dangling over the edge, staring out at the distant silhouette of the imperial castle. The city seemed endless, sprawling in all directions, with the heart of it pulsing with the fires of industry and magic. But here, in the ghetto, it felt like time had stopped, like the city had forgotten about them—the forgotten children who had no magic, no power, no place.
But that was about to change, wasn't it?
Raden's thoughts drifted back to Kacmebrow's offer. The Mage Breakers, elite and ruthless, were waiting for him. They had made it clear: he could be a weapon. But in exchange for that power, he would have to leave everything he knew behind, and that meant the ghetto, his friends—his life. There was no going back from that.
A soft creak behind him made Raden freeze. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He felt the presence before he saw the figure stepping out of the shadows, cloaked in black with the insignia of the Mage Breakers—a broken sword overlaid with the emblem of the imperial eagle.
"You're still here," Master Kacmebrow's voice came, smooth as silk and cold as ice.
Raden stood up quickly, his pulse quickening. "I didn't think you'd come tonight. I thought you'd give me more time."
Kacmebrow's green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, his expression unreadable. "Time is a luxury we don't have, boy. The empire's enemies don't wait for indecision. You will either stand with us or against us. The choice is yours. But there is no middle ground."
Raden opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the mage raised his hand to silence him.
"There is one more thing you need to understand before you make your decision," Kamebrow continued, his tone darkening. "The Red Rabbits are a problem, and their leader, Jimmy the Butcher, has been making waves in the wrong places. The Watch turns a blind eye, but that won't last forever. We are going to eliminate them tonight."
Raden's heart skipped a beat. He had heard the stories about the Red Rabbits—heard about how they ruled the streets with iron fists and blood-soaked hands. But he had never really believed that the Mage Breakers would go after them. The Rabbits were just a gang—nothing more, nothing less. Or so he thought.
"Wait," Raden said, his voice tight. "You're saying you want me to help wipe out Jimmy the Butcher and the entire gang?"
Kacmebrow's lips curled into a thin smile. "Not help, boy. You'll be leading the charge."
Raden's stomach twisted. He had never killed anyone before. The thought of it—of taking a life—left him feeling cold inside, but he knew the stakes. The Mage Breakers were not a force you defied. Not unless you were ready to die.
Kamebrow stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "It's a necessary step. You'll understand soon enough. Tonight, you will make your choice, Raden. Either you stand with us and burn away the filth from this city, or you'll become another casualty of the empire's indifference."
Raden swallowed hard. The weight of the decision was heavy, and the darkness seemed to close in on him. He was no hero—no savior. He was a kid from the ghetto, no different than any other orphan scraping by. But standing there, facing Kamebrow, he realized something: the world didn't care about who he was. The empire, the gangs, the mages—none of them cared about him. If he didn't take this chance, he would be nothing.
His mind raced, but in the end, there was no real choice. He turned and looked toward the horizon, where the castle loomed, the place that had promised him a future.
"I'm in," he said, his voice steady.
Kamebrow gave him a single, approving nod. "Good. Meet me at the designated location in an hour. The Red Rabbits won't know what hit them."
Meanwhile, in the heart of the empire, Jay's training had taken an unexpected turn. The mage academy was a world away from the broken streets of the ghetto, and though Jay had always dreamed of this, of being someone important, he had not anticipated the cost.
Shara was his primary instructor, her demeanor still distant, though her lessons had grown more intense with each passing day. The castle had its own rules, and Jay was learning quickly that power was both a gift and a burden.
Today's lesson was about control—something that Jay still struggled with. He stood in the training hall, surrounded by candles that flickered in the dim light. In front of him was a target, a simple wooden figure.
"Concentrate," Shara said, her voice sharp. "You have the power. Now, you must learn to channel it."
Jay closed his eyes, focusing on the magic within him. He could feel the surge of energy, the raw power coursing through his veins. It was always there—waiting to be tapped into. But the more he tried to control it, the more it threatened to consume him.
His pulse quickened. Sweat beaded on his forehead. And then, with a snap of his fingers, the magic exploded.
The target was obliterated, the wood splintering into a thousand shards that flew across the room. The candles flickered violently as the magic surged out of him. Jay's breath caught in his throat as the room filled with the remnants of his outburst.
Shara didn't flinch. "Better," she said, her voice colder than before. "But control is still lacking. You cannot afford to lose yourself. Not in battle. Not in life."
Jay dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. His body was shaking from the force of the magic, but there was something else in the air—something electric. The castle, the training, the magic—it all felt like a dream he couldn't wake up from. But there were no sweet dreams here. Only a harsh reality.
"Focus, Jay," Shara's voice broke through his thoughts. "What happens if you lose control in the field? What happens when you're out there, facing an enemy? You won't have time for mistakes."
Jay nodded, though his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere far away, on the streets of the ghetto, where the memory of Raden was still fresh in his mind.
As night fell over Kadiean, Raden made his way to the abandoned warehouse where Kamebrow had instructed him to meet. The ghetto was eerily quiet, but Raden could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm.
When he arrived, Kamebrow was already there, flanked by several Mage Breakers, their dark robes blending into the night. They didn't speak as they gathered, their eyes glowing faintly with the magic coursing through them. Raden's heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow. He had never been in a fight like this before. He had never killed.
But tonight, that would change.
Kamebrow looked at him, his eyes cold but calculating. "Tonight, you'll prove your loyalty to the empire. Tonight, you'll make your mark."
And with that, the signal was given. The Mage Breakers moved like shadows, silent and deadly, toward the Red Rabbits' hideout.
Raden swallowed, stepping forward, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He had chosen a side, and now there was no turning back.