The night was quiet— deceptively so. The lanterns in Pompom Village flickered softly outside the windows of Maglina's inn. Inside, Solis lay in his rented room, the sword skills book still open on the nightstand, his shield leaning against the wall.
Sleep came to him not in waves, but like a sudden fall.
In his dream, there was nothing but void. He found himself standing in a world painted entirely in darkness— an expanse with no sky, no floor, just a still, consuming black. Each step made no sound, and soon, Solis lost any sense of direction. His heart began to beat faster, his breath shaky.
Then, faintly, a red hue glowed ahead.
A figure.
Translucent. Glimmering. Its form flickered like flame, shaped like a mirror of Solis himself— same height, same posture. Solis approached, wary yet drawn by something deeper than curiosity. There was something familiar in the way the figure stood, something inside him that pulled him forward.
The figure raised its arm and spoke in a voice that was both echo and whisper:
"Go to the Veil. Retrieve. That blazing. Sword."
The arm extended, open palmed. A strange warmth radiated from it.
Solis reached out his own hand, a thread of hesitation tugging at the back of his mind. He didn't know what he was reaching for, but something about this felt inevitable.
Just before their hands could touch—
Clink.
A sharp noise jolted Solis awake. His eyes snapped open, heart racing. He turned toward his window.
A figure crouched outside.
Razille.
He stumbled out of bed, rushing to the window and opening it. "R...Raz.... what the hell are you doing here?" he whispered harshly.
Razille pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh! Don't make noise." Her voice was urgent. "Where is Phill?"
Solis blinked. "What? Why are you—"
"Just get him. Now."
But the question was cut short as screams echoed from outside.
Then came the fire.
The inn shook with chaos. Shadows flickered against the walls. Solis peeked through the window. Dark figures in black cloaks— dozens of them— were moving through the street, blades drawn, torches lit.
Razille's eyes widened. "Oh no. They already attacked. Solis, we have to get to Phill. Right now. He's in big danger."
"What is going on?" Solis demanded to know. But Razille had already moved.
Sparing no time, Solis rushed after her.
Downstairs, Ada and Vaidya were already by the hall.
Razille didn't stop. "No time! Find Phill. Now!"
No one asked questions. Something about her tone— desperate, urgent— shut down all argument.
The team split.
Solis and Ada took to defending the guests and workers. Screams rang from all corners of the inn. The black-cloaked attackers poured in through windows, doors, even the roof. Blades clashed. Steel rang.
Ada's sword carved a clean arc through one of the attackers as she shoved a terrified couple toward the back door. "Go! Follow the others!" she yelled.
Other Postknights (Rank D) were helping civilians to get out of this place. Unharmed.
Then she spotted Maglina. The innkeeper was cowering beneath the staircase, one of the cloaked figures raising a knife toward her.
"Ada!" Maglina screamed.
Ada launched forward, blade-first, tackling the attacker before he could land the blow. She kicked him off, following with a swift jab to his side. "Get behind me!" she ordered.
Once safe, Ada turned to Maglina. "Where's Phill?"
Maglina's eyes were wide with fear. "Leader Hamad— he took him. Said it was for his safety. Left through the cellar door an hour ago."
Ada exhaled with relief. "At least he's not here."
But then, the walls of relief collapsed.
More figures were surrounding them— six, maybe more. Cloaked in black with obsidian-masked faces, they surged into the inn's hall like shadows brought to life. Their hands flickered with glowing runes— evidence of low-grade offensive magic, aimed with deadly precision.
Solis tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, but not to strike. The blade gleamed only to deflect the first arc of crackling fire aimed for his chest. Sparks danced in the air as the steel met flame. He twisted his wrist, guiding the blast away toward the stone hearth.
He ducked beneath a swipe of a dagger, spun on his heel, and slammed the hilt of his sword into the attacker's temple with a precise thud. The man dropped like a puppet cut from strings.
Another cultist charged from the side, swinging a short axe. Solis stepped in— not away— absorbing the momentum with his new shield. The wooden edge cracked slightly, but it held. Using the rebound, he drove his fist into the man's gut, then followed with a knee to the face. The attacker crumpled.
More were coming. Screams echoed from the hallway beyond, furniture clattered, and smoke began to curl near the windows— something was burning.
Solis pivoted toward Ada, who had just launched a chair into the path of a spell. One of the cloaked assailants went sprawling from the force. Another raised a wand toward her— too late. Solis sprinted in, parried the attack with the flat of his sword, then twisted the weapon out of the man's hand and landed a crushing elbow to his chin.
His breathing was controlled. Focused. A storm brewing just beneath the surface.
A bolt of frost shot toward him— he raised the shield. It shattered into a brief sheet of ice, but he held steady. Then he dashed forward, ramming the shield into the caster's midsection, sending him tumbling over a bench.
One of the enemies tried to grab Maglina. Solis didn't hesitate— he leapt, slammed his foot into the man's side, and knocked him clean off his feet. Maglina scrambled behind a toppled table.
A heavy thud cracked from behind— another tried to blindside Solis. But he had read the footstep pattern. He turned and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's knee. The cultist screamed, falling to the ground. Solis followed with a strong downward punch that knocked him unconscious.
Solis's clothes were scorched in places, his arm stung with a gash from a stray blade, and sweat beaded down his forehead— but he held firm. The new shield was dented but intact, its leather straps burning against his skin with each impact it absorbed.
Around them, flickers of panic and resistance danced in the firelight. The inn had become a battlefield.
He glanced quickly toward Ada, who was holding her own near the front entrance, her wooden blade cracking against enemy weapons, parrying and disarming with fluid, brutal grace.
They didn't have much time. He could already sense it— more enemies would come.
But for now, he stood at the eye of the storm, his body firm, breath steady, and his will unshaken.
They were surrounded.
Only a few tenants remained. The rest had either escaped or been ushered out.
Ada looked toward Solis, eyes narrowed. "Any ideas?"
Solis held his sword at the ready, gaze steady. "I'm going to use my Aura Release technique."
"What?"
"When I unleash it, it'll distract them. You take Maglina and run. Go wherever Razille and Vaidya went. I'll follow."
Ada gritted her teeth. "You better."
Solis gave her a firm nod. "Wait for the moment. You'll know when."
He took a deep breath, centering himself. The memory of the red figure echoed in his mind. The Veil... that blazing sword...
Not now. But soon.
He tightened his grip on the blade and stepped forward, toward the center of the enemy's ring.
His body began to glow faintly. Orange wisps of energy shimmered from his skin.
His eyes narrowed.
Let them come.