The rain hadn't stopped for three days.
Each drop seemed to echo Taiji's thoughts—cold, unrelenting, and heavy with memory. The old training ground, once vibrant with the sparks of Arden, now lay quiet. Damp grass pressed against his boots, and the carved stone dummies stood silent, their cracks a testament to years of hard blows. His fingers curled into fists.
He had stood here once—his father. A towering man wreathed in darkness, respected by all, feared by many. Taiji could still remember the way his voice boomed during lectures, the way his eyes glowed faintly when he spoke of destiny and power. That was before the change. Before the screams. Before the blood.
His mother's blood.
Taiji's eyes lowered to his right palm. A faint red pulse shimmered along the lines of his hand, the familiar tingle of Blood Arden. It still surprised him how natural it had begun to feel. The same energy that had once disgusted him now pulsed through his veins like a second heartbeat.
He hated that he needed it.
Two years had passed since that night. Since his father left their family in ruins and embraced the path of a God Seeker. Since Taiji, despite his hatred for Darkness, realized the only way forward was through mastering the very thing that shattered his life.
"You're early," came a voice behind him.
Gyeon stood at the edge of the field, his breath fogging in the chill air. Icy blue strands of crystallized water clung to his fingertips as he twirled a thin dagger of ice between them. His hair was messy as always, and his smirk—unearned.
"Could say the same to you," Taiji replied flatly, turning back toward the dummies. "You ready?"
Gyeon shrugged. "Ready to lose? Always."
The rain thickened. Mud squelched beneath their boots as they circled each other. Taiji's mind stilled. This wasn't about winning—it was about control.
Blood shimmered along his arms, forming jagged tendrils that danced with each heartbeat. Gyeon moved first, water coiling around his arms and legs, launching him forward with fluid grace. Ice clashed with blood in a sharp hiss, steam rising where they met.
Taiji dipped low, sweeping Gyeon's leg. Gyeon flipped, launching an ice spear midair. Taiji batted it aside with a crimson lash, his own blood hardening at the last second to deflect it.
"You're getting better," Gyeon said between breaths. "Your blood's moving faster."
"I've been practicing," Taiji muttered, catching his breath. "You still leave your left side open when you rush."
"Only because I trust you not to kill me."
They traded blows—ice and blood, water and red. Each movement more familiar than the last. Gyeon knew every weakness in Taiji's technique, and Taiji could read Gyeon's rhythms like a song he'd heard a hundred times.
But as the duel wore on, Gyeon noticed something different.
Taiji's eyes weren't focused on him. They were distant—haunted.
"You're thinking about him again," Gyeon muttered, dodging a slicing whip of blood. "You know it's gonna drive you mad."
Taiji didn't answer. Instead, he poured more Arden into his limbs, pushing beyond what he should have. Blood erupted from his back like wings, momentarily lifting him above the field. He crashed down hard, slamming into Gyeon and knocking them both into the mud.
Gyeon groaned. "Okay, damn. Maybe don't actually try to kill me next time."
Taiji sat up, breathing hard. The rain masked the tears at the edge of his eyes.
"I can't stop thinking about it. If I'm going to find him, if I'm going to stop him—I need to be stronger. I need to understand what he became."
Gyeon laid back in the mud, staring up at the grey clouds. "Then let's go find out together. You said it yourself—we leave tomorrow, right?"
Taiji looked at him. His rival. His only real friend. The one who stuck around even after learning the truth.
He nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow, we start heading west. Toward Noctirith. Towards My Father."
"And toward answers," Gyeon added.