The sharp clack of wooden swords echoed across the courtyard.
Leonhard's strikes were firm but restrained, letting Asrial match his pace.
"You've improved," Leonhard said, lowering his sword. "But you're holding back."
Asrial exhaled slowly, gripping his sword tightly. "I've… been thinking."
"About what?"
"The woman in crimson flames. The one who burned my village. The one who took my sister." Asrial's voice darkened. "The Crimson Witch."
Leonhard's eyes sharpened. "You remember?"
"Every detail. The fire. The screams. The cold look in her eyes. She commanded them… she burned everything without hesitation." His fists trembled. "She's part of the church, isn't she?"
Leonhard sighed heavily, setting his sword aside. "Come with me."
---
They sat beneath the shade of the training hall's roof. Leonhard's voice turned low, as if the wind itself might carry his words to unwanted ears.
"The Church of the Broken God… most people think they're fairy tales. Old stories used to scare children into obedience. I used to believe that too."
Asrial's eyes narrowed. "But you don't anymore."
Leonhard nodded. "No. Not after what happened to your village. The Crimson Witch wasn't just a soldier or a mad pyromancer. She was something else—someone with power far beyond the common world."
He paused, carefully choosing his next words.
"The church operates in the shadows. Their influence seeps into every corner of the continent—noble families, merchant guilds, even royal courts. Entire cities could be working for them without realizing it."
Asrial's fists tightened. "How can something that big stay hidden?"
"Because they don't leave witnesses. And because those who serve them either vanish, or they climb the ranks of society while wearing masks of loyalty."
Leonhard's face darkened. "The church is ruled by a woman whose name no one knows. They call her the Queen of the Dead. Under her, five bishops lead separate branches of the church. Each controls their own followers, their own methods."
Asrial's heart thudded. "And the Crimson Witch is one of them."
Leonhard nodded. "I used to think the bishops were a legend… but now, I'm certain. They exist. And they're moving."
His eyes locked onto Asrial's. "You've stumbled into something far bigger than you realize. The church doesn't just kill villages—they shift kingdoms, topple dynasties, rewrite history."
A bitter smile tugged at Leonhard's lips. "We're not ready to face them head-on. Not yet. If you plan to fight them, you'll need to grow stronger. Much stronger."
---
Later that day, Asrial found himself sparring with Theresia in the courtyard.
"Why do you always space out, Asrial? Focus!" she chided, charging at him with her wooden blade.
He deflected her strike with ease, stepping to the side as if reading her movements before they happened.
"Sorry. My mind's just been… busy."
She huffed, lowering her sword. "You're always so mysterious."
Asrial smiled faintly. "Have you fully mastered your elemental attribute yet?"
Theresia summoned a sphere of water, but it wobbled, the surface trembling.
"I'm still learning. I can shape water, but I lose control when I get distracted."
Asrial raised his hand, summoning not only fire but wind, earth, and water, each element swirling smoothly around his palm.
Theresia's eyes went wide in disbelief. "Wait—what—are you serious?! Four elements? You… that's impossible!"
Her voice shook as she pointed at him. "Everyone's born with one attribute. Just one! There've been rare outcasts in history who could control two elements, but four? Even in legends, that's unheard of!"
Asrial dispelled the elements quickly, his gaze calm but firm. "Please. Don't tell anyone."
Theresia bit her lip, then slowly nodded. "You can trust me. I swear on my sword. I won't betray you."
A strange warmth flickered in Asrial's chest. "Thank you. Let me help you with your water attribute."
They spent hours training together. Asrial guided her gently, teaching her to move with the flow of the water instead of forcing it into rigid shapes.
"Water isn't like fire. You can't command it with raw willpower. You need to feel it. Adapt to it."
Theresia followed his lead, slowly stabilizing the water sphere in her hand.
"I did it…" she whispered, a spark of pride in her voice.
"You did," Asrial said softly.
They sat under the evening sky, a quiet bond forming between them. For the first time, Asrial allowed himself to relax, even if just briefly.
But deep down, he knew. The peace wouldn't last.
---
Elsewhere, in a grand chamber shrouded by black drapes, whispers filled the air.
A robed figure knelt before a tall woman, her face hidden behind an intricate silver mask.
"The village was cleansed. But there was a survivor… a boy. We thought him a shell, a discarded vessel."
The woman's voice was cold, distant. "But he awakened."
"Yes, my Queen."
The woman's fingers tapped against the armrest of her throne. "How curious. The echoes still cling to him… perhaps our ancient threads remain woven through his fate."
A low, unsettling smile crept across her lips beneath the mask.
"Let him grow. Let him crawl toward us. He will come… and when he does, we shall welcome him home."