The rain had started when Kaelan crossed the academy’s last gate.

  It wasn’t late.

  It wasn’t dangerous.

  Just inconvenient.

  He carried a bag slung over his shoulder — sealed papers from the Student Council inside — and the usual irritation of having been “the most available.”

  —Great —he muttered.— Trophies, reports… and rain on top of it.

  He took the side path, the shortest way home.

  That was when the Resonance tightened.

  It didn’t pulse.

  It didn’t vibrate.

  It closed, like a muscle anticipating impact.

  Kaelan stopped cold.

  —…No —he whispered.— Not now.

  The alley was empty.

  Dark.

  Too quiet even for the rain.

  One more step.

  And then he saw it.

  A man in a priest’s robe was backing away, slipping on the wet pavement. His eyes were wide, one hand raised, the other clutching something against his chest.

  Not a devil.

  Not an angel.

  Human.

  —P-please… —he stammered.

  Kaelan stepped forward without thinking.

  —Hey—!

  He never finished the sentence.

  The blade went through the priest from side to side.

  There was no holy light.

  No epic sound.

  Just flesh, bone… and a wet noise.

  The body hung there for a second before collapsing to its knees.

  Kaelan felt the air leave his lungs.

  —…Shit.

  The Resonance exploded.

  Not because of the death.

  Because of what the killer was holding.

  Zelzan pulled the sword free with a motion that was almost elegant. The blade gleamed even under the rain — perfect, clean, alien to the world it had just broken.

  Excalibur.

  Kaelan stepped back.

  His demonic body screamed rejection.

  The Resonance, however, roared.

  Not attraction.

  Absolute alarm.

  —Another witness? —Zelzan said, finally turning toward him.— What bad luck.

  Kaelan didn’t answer.

  He couldn’t stop staring at the sword.

  Not the edge.

  What was wrong about it being there.

  —You’re not a priest —Zelzan continued, curious.— Not human either… interesting.

  Kaelan swallowed.

  —That… —he said, voice tight— shouldn’t be here.

  Zelzan smiled.

  —Oh? Shouldn’t it?

  The Resonance opened again.

  Not as a vision.

  As an echo.

  An emotional impact that wasn’t his.

  Snow.

  Metal.

  Children’s screams cut short.

  Kaelan grabbed his chest, gasping.

  —What… the hell…?

  A metallic sound rang behind him.

  —Zelzan!

  Kaelan turned just as a blond figure burst into the rain, demonic sword in hand.

  When Kiba arrived beneath the rain, Kaelan said nothing.

  Not because he didn’t want to.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Because his body didn’t respond.

  Kiba’s eyes locked onto the sword.

  And the world stopped.

  There were no words.

  No warnings.

  No time.

  Kaelan felt something close in his chest — a bitter, delayed certainty.

  Too late.

  Kiba wasn’t breathing the same.

  He wasn’t advancing.

  He wasn’t retreating.

  He was simply… standing there, looking.

  Excalibur vibrated.

  Not with light.

  With recognition.

  The air thickened, as if the alley had decided not to let anyone leave.

  Zelzan noticed.

  And smiled.

  —…No… —he whispered.— Not again…

  Kaelan understood too late.

  He had arrived first.

  He had seen the death.

  But Kiba was the real target of this scene.

  And now the three of them were there.

  —Ah… —Zelzan murmured.— Now this is better.

  Kaelan stepped forward.

  Not to attack.

  Because there was no exit anymore.

  The canon had begun.

  But this time… someone had arrived too early.

  The rain fell heavier.

  Not because the sky had changed, but because no one was breathing the same.

  Zelzan rotated his wrist and Excalibur traced a slow arc, almost lazy, leaving an impossible trail in the wet air.

  Kiba didn’t respond.

  He couldn’t.

  His eyes were fixed on the sword, pinned to it as if an old wound had been reopened.

  The Resonance burst open, like someone had ripped an internal gate apart.

  They weren’t full memories.

  They were sensations.

  Cold metal in small hands.

  Orders shouted from above.

  The idea that living only mattered if the sword worked.

  Kiba clenched his teeth.

  Excalibur descended.

  Not as an attack.

  As a decision.

  Kiba raised his demonic sword on reflex, but Zelzan had already read the movement before it happened.

  The clash was asymmetrical.

  Not strength against strength.

  Authority against resistance.

  The impact threw Kiba against the wall with a dry crack. The air tore out of his lungs as if someone had ripped it away by hand.

  He didn’t fall immediately.

  He held himself upright for a second… and only then collapsed.

  Zelzan didn’t follow.

  He didn’t need to.

  —Still breathing —he said, almost disappointed.— Good. Good toys don’t break quickly.

  Kaelan felt the Resonance react like a cornered animal.

  It didn’t vibrate.

  It didn’t warn.

  It panicked.

  THM.

  A brutal discharge.

  Not clear images.

  Intent.

  Survival.

  Optimized violence.

  Kill before being killed.

  Kaelan stepped back instinctively.

  —This… —he gasped.— This isn’t normal.

  Zelzan turned his head slightly.

  —Of course it isn’t —he replied.— Normal is dying without understanding why. I learned.

  He walked toward Kiba.

  Every step was calculated, precise, no wasted energy. There was no anger in his posture. No hurry.

  It was the walk of someone who had been through this too many times to feel excitement anymore.

  Kiba tried to stand.

  Excalibur reacted first.

  It didn’t shine.

  It didn’t sing.

  It weighed.

  The air thickened, as if gravity had condensed around the blade.

  Kiba felt the same weight he had felt as a child: expectation, pressure, the idea that failure was not an option.

  —No… —he whispered through clenched teeth.— Not again…

  Zelzan smiled.

  —It always comes back —he said.— Even if you change sides. Even if you dress like a devil. The sword reminds you who you were when no one defended you.

  He attacked.

  Not a wide cut.

  A short strike, meant to kill without drama.

  Kiba raised his sword barely in time. The impact shattered his balance.

  The second strike came anyway, opening his side with surgical precision.

  Blood.

  Real.

  Kaelan shouted.

  Not Kiba’s name.

  He shouted because the Resonance opened completely.

  THM.

  THM.

  This time it wasn’t borrowed memory.

  It was understanding.

  Zelzan wasn’t improvising.

  Zelzan knew exactly how to break someone like Kiba.

  —Kiba! —Kaelan shouted.— Don’t listen to it! It’s not the sword, it’s him!

  Zelzan turned his wrist without looking at him.

  —Too late —he said.— It’s already inside.

  Excalibur descended again.

  Kiba screamed, collapsing to his knees.

  Not from physical pain.

  From saturation.

  Kaelan felt real terror climb his throat.

  Not fear of Zelzan.

  Fear of the idea that this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  Zelzan shouldn’t dominate this fight.

  He shouldn’t be this intact.

  He shouldn’t have this much control.

  This wasn’t the canon.

  This was worse.

  Zelzan stepped forward for the final blow.

  And that was when Kaelan moved.

  Not strategy.

  Desperation.

  He struck the ground with all his demonic strength, breaking Zelzan’s perfect rhythm. The pavement cracked, water splashed, the clean line of movement twisted slightly.

  A microscopic error.

  But Zelzan felt it.

  He turned toward Kaelan with a crooked smile.

  —Ah… —he murmured.— You weren’t in the script.

  Excalibur lifted toward Kaelan.

  Not to kill him.

  To test him.

  The Resonance screamed like never before.

  Kaelan dropped to his knees, his body shaking.

  —This… —he gasped.— You’re not supposed to die here…

  Zelzan’s eyes widened.

  For the first time, genuinely interested.

  —Oh?

  The distraction was minimal.

  Enough.

  Kiba lifted his head.

  And this time he didn’t look at the sword.

  He looked at Zelzan.

  He advanced with everything he had left.

  No technique.

  No style.

  Pure determination.

  The swords clashed one final time.

  Excalibur hesitated.

  Not because of Kiba.

  Because of Zelzan.

  For the first time, the weapon didn’t obey enthusiastically.

  And Zelzan felt it.

  His eyes widened slightly.

  —…Son of—

  Kiba ran him through.

  Not clean.

  Not elegant.

  A desperate push mixing rage, pain, and survival.

  Zelzan fell backward, gasping.

  He didn’t die immediately.

  He looked at the rain.

  Looked at Excalibur, vibrating alone.

  And smiled.

  —So… —he whispered.— In the end… one of you did learn.

  He died with his eyes open.

  Silence.

  Excalibur remained stuck in the ground.

  Active.

  Wrong.

  Without a master.

  Kaelan stared at it, trembling.

  Not with triumph.

  With absolute fear.

  Because he understood something he couldn’t say out loud.

  Zelzan had lost.

  But he hadn’t been weak.

  And his death had changed the rules.

  The rain became rain again.

  Kiba collapsed to his knees, gasping, his demonic sword shaking in his hands.

  Kaelan reached him immediately.

  —Breathe —he said.— Keep breathing.

  Kiba didn’t look at him.

  —I… shouldn’t have seen it…

  Kaelan looked at the sword stuck in the mud.

  Alone.

  Active.

  Wrong.

  He didn’t think it shouldn’t be here.

  He thought something worse.

  If I leave it here… someone else will see it.

  That was all.

  No destiny.

  No heroism.

  Pure disaster management.

  —Shit… —he muttered.— Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  He removed his soaked coat.

  Then his shirt.

  He wrapped the sword without looking at it directly.

  The contact was immediate.

  Pain.

  His demonic body rejected the object violently. His skin burned, his muscles tightened to their limit.

  But something inside him neither accepted nor rejected it.

  It held it.

  Kaelan collapsed to his knees, gasping.

  —This… —he said through his teeth— is going to cause problems.

  He returned to Kiba and lifted him as best he could.

  —I’m getting you out of here.

  Kiba didn’t respond.

  But he gripped Kaelan’s sleeve tightly.

  The rain kept falling.

  And without either of them knowing it yet…

  Nothing was ever going to fit the same way again.

  They walked.

  Kaelan didn’t know for how long.

  What he did know was the exact moment the adrenaline left.

  Halfway down a normal hallway, under fluorescent lights that carried no drama, his body simply demanded payment all at once.

  His fingers stopped responding properly.

  His knees took a second longer than usual to calculate each step.

  He didn’t fall.

  But he came close.

  That was how it always was, he thought.

  Not during.

  After.

  He tightened his grip on Kiba’s arm, adjusting carefully so the other boy wouldn’t notice.

  

  

  yet. Some weapons don’t care about timing. And some choices change the rules without asking.

  following the story — things are only going to get heavier from here.

  Thanks for reading.