City Guild — Late Morning
The sun hung low, its rays slipping gently through the large glass windows of the Guild's training arena. The air was still fresh, and the silence of the training space was only broken by the occasional gust of wind whistling between steel pillars.
Suddenly, in the middle of the open space, a silhouette appeared.
He didn't enter through a door or hallway. His figure simply emerged—out of the stillness and morning light—melding with the air before taking shape.
A long cloak, the color of blood, trailed behind him, sweeping the floor. A hood shadowed his face, and a pale white mask concealed his identity. The man walked calmly, approaching a small floating point of light at the center of the arena—a tiny gateway to Canis Majoris's fabricated dimension.
He stopped right in front of it.
His right hand slowly lifted, as if to touch the glowing point… but nothing happened. The dimension did not open itself to him.
"So only the dimension's master can decide who enters…" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper between the wind's passing.
Without hesitation, he gripped the light.
And crushed it.
In an instant, a blinding burst of light exploded outward, crackling with a sharp noise and unleashing a shockwave that rippled across the stone floor.
---
Inside the Light Dimension
Bright yellow encompassed everything. No sky, no ground—just an infinite space of color, soaked in an unnatural silence.
Canis stood calmly, eyes fixed on Aron, who was still catching his breath, his expression full of unspoken questions.
"Do you understand?" Canis asked softly, without context—perhaps their previous conversation had gone on too long to start over.
Aron nodded slowly. His face was serious, but traces of confusion lingered. "I do… but it's hard to believe."
Canis was about to respond when the dimension suddenly began to tremble. Fine cracks appeared in the golden sky, spreading fast in all directions like a mirror struck by stone.
Canis's face hardened. "Someone's out there… and strong enough to—"
The fractures burst. The light shattered, and the entire dimension seemed to collapse in a flash. In the blink of an eye, Canis and Aron were hurled back to the real world—as if flung from a void into gravity.
They landed on the stone floor of the arena.
Before them stood the figure in the crimson cloak.
Wind tugged at his cloak as his voice rang out from behind the mask—calm, but clear:
"…It's been a while, Majoris."
Canis was silent for a moment. Then he rose slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You bastard… where did you crawl out from?"
---
Guild Training Arena — Late Morning
The air grew heavy. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
The masked man did not answer Canis's question. He only turned slightly, his voice echoing from a place deep and far—calm, yet laden with meaning.
"What a pity, Majoris," he said softly. "You should have stayed in the shadows. Your decision to retire… was your wisest choice. For you, and for us."
Canis narrowed his eyes. "I haven't changed that decision," he said flatly. "I'm still a man who has stepped away from the battlefield. I haven't returned."
The man sighed, lifting his right hand into the air. The air around him rippled, and in an instant, a massive ball of flame—dense, blazing, like a miniature sun—formed in his palm.
"Your retirement is a blessing to this world," he said. "And if you truly intend to return… then we will erase you. Even if it costs us dearly."
Without warning, he hurled the fireball straight at Canis.
It shot through the air, lighting up the once-tranquil arena.
But Canis did not flinch.
In a swift motion, he drew a long sword from his back. The blade was blackened, cloaked in dark smoke that seemed to swallow the morning light. Without hesitation, he stepped forward—straight into the fire's path.
One strike.
A brief silence, then the fireball split in two and vanished into smoke, never touching the ground or burning a thing.
Canis stood firm, his breath steady. But when he looked forward again, the masked man was gone.
No footsteps. No trace. Only the slow stirring of the air, as if mocking the lateness of time.
Aron stood a few paces behind, still silent, trying to process what had just happened.
Canis slowly sheathed his sword. His eyes stared blankly at the spot where the man had stood.
"…They're still watching," he murmured.
{Chapter 8 end}