The wind was calm atop the highest rooftop of the Arkanveil estate.
Cool. Weightless. A breath between destinies.
The moon hung heavy and full, silver light spilling across the ancient tiles. The estate below was quiet—training yards silent, watchfires steady, and even the shadows seemed at peace.
Lucien stood at the edge of the roof, arms folded behind him, golden hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. His red eyes reflected the moonlight like twin flames, dim but unyielding.
Elric arrived without announcement. No movement wasted. No sound beneath his boots.
He didn't need to be called. He simply knew.
Lucien glanced over, then turned his gaze forward again.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then—
"This roof," Lucien murmured. "It's where I used to sit as a child. Pretending I was a hero. Or a villain. Or both."
Elric stepped forward, standing beside him. "You were always both."
Lucien laughed—soft, almost self-mocking. "I think I still am."
They stood in silence again, the weight of unspoken truths resting between them. The night wasn't for words, not really.
But even silence has its language.
Elric unbuckled the sheath at his waist. His blade—a weapon forged by blood and shadow—was laid gently on the tiles.
Lucien followed suit, laying his own sword down beside it. The steel shimmered faintly, not with light, but with purpose.
They turned toward each other.
No system interfaces hovered. No Traits flared to life. No shadows danced.
Just them.
One boy who had died in another world.
Another who had lived through too much in this one.
Reborn. Reforged. Reclaimed.
Elric was the first to speak.
"When I lost my parents… I thought I'd have to fight alone forever."
"You weren't wrong," Lucien replied. "You just didn't know the right people yet."
Elric looked at him. "You're one of them."
Lucien didn't flinch. "So are you."
No more words.
They stepped closer.
In unison, they knelt before their swords, not in weakness, but in reverence. Not to the weapons, but to what they represented—resolve.
Lucien placed his hand on his sword's hilt, fingers light.
"To protect what must be protected," he said, voice firm.
Elric followed, hand on his blade.
"To destroy what must be destroyed."
Two simple vows. Spoken beneath stars older than kings. Witnessed only by the moon.
But something shifted.
The air around them stilled, as if the world itself had paused to listen.
A gentle wind curled around their forms, stirring their cloaks like a blessing.
And deep within Lucien's soul, his Proficiency Panel flickered—one line glowing faintly:
> [Brotherhood Forged] – Passive Buff: Active.
> In the presence of a bonded ally, your resolve multiplies. When standing side by side, fear fades. Reaction time increases. Instincts sharpen.
> True strength is never alone.
Lucien blinked. A moment passed. He smiled—not with triumph, but with something softer. Relief.
He hadn't lost his humanity after all.
Elric looked up at the sky. "You think we'll make it?"
Lucien tilted his head. "I plan to. But if I fall…?"
"Then I'll burn everything in your name."
Lucien chuckled. "Let's try not to fall then."
They stood.
Side by side.
No longer just heir and butler. No longer just commander and soldier.
But brothers, forged by different fires, walking the same road.
Below them, the estate slept peacefully.
Above them, the stars shimmered like quiet applause.
The future did not roar.
It breathed.
And for the first time, Lucien breathed with it.