For the first time in weeks, the mountains did not echo with screams only the steady hum of the recovering camp.

Smoke drifted lazily over the ruined outposts, mingling with the faint shimmer of purified Shinrei. Soldiers moved like shadows of what they once were — tired, broken, yet alive.

Alive because of three names whispered through the frost:

Lito Corzedar. Khael Corzedar. Arden Corzedar.

Banners that once hung in despair now fluttered again under the pale sun.

In the heart of the ruins, Khael stood near the remnants of the last Lunaris cache, eyes half-closed, his aura still pulsing faintly. The air shimmered around him faint dragon motifs forming and fading, as if the land itself exhaled through him.

Lito stood nearby, overseeing the healers. The once-retired general's presence restored the soldiers' discipline.

"Gather the survivors," he ordered, voice even but commanding. "Treat the corrupted soil with the Bloom seal. No more traces of the Dust remain."

Khael turned to his father. "That should stabilize the Shinrei field. Within days, the balance will return."

Lito nodded. "You did well, Khael."

Before Khael could respond, a faint groan echoed through the smoke. A surviving enemy officer was dragged forward armor scorched, hair matted with blood.

Vael Dran.

Two soldiers forced him to kneel, but Lito raised a hand.

"Let him speak."

Vael's eyes, once burning with ambition, now carried the dull gleam of defeat. His breath came ragged.

"You… destroyed everything…" he rasped, his voice trembling between anger and disbelief. "Months of preparation, resources… all gone. You don't understand—"

Khael's gaze was cold, but not cruel. "Make me understand, then."

Vael laughed hoarsely, though it sounded more like choking. "Varos and I… we were ordered to cripple the Northern Corps. To sow chaos. The Council wanted control of the Veinwalker funding, they said a few lives were necessary sacrifices to test the Dust formula. They called it progress."

He coughed, spitting blood.

"But you… you turned it against us. You made our science look like madness."

Khael's voice was quiet, calm but it cut deeper than any blade.

"Because it was madness. You weaponized souls. Shinrei is not meant to be forced, nor sold."

Lito's eyes darkened, old anger surfacing from years of restraint. "And you call yourself soldiers? You played gods with men who trusted you."

Vael's lips twisted in faint defiance. "You think you saved them? You only delayed the inevitable. The Council will continue their research. You can't stop knowledge."

Khael stepped closer, his aura flaring for an instant, the wind shifted, and even the wounded soldiers felt their hearts stutter.

"Knowledge without wisdom is just destruction with a prettier name."

Vael faltered under that gaze, the Dragon Knight's presence wasn't violent, but it unmade arrogance itself.

He looked down, realization dawning in his fading eyes.

(So this… this is what true power feels like…)

He exhaled once, and never drew breath again.

As the soldiers carried away the fallen, Arden approached. His armor was dented, his hands bandaged, but his stride carried quiet confidence.

"Varos has been captured," he said. "He tried to destroy the remaining caches when he realized we'd countered their plan. The healers subdued him before the reaction could spread."

Khael nodded slightly. "Then it's over."

Arden looked at him truly looked and for the first time, his tone carried pride.

"Not just over. It's a victory that made sense. You predicted every outcome, Khael."

Khael shook his head. "We did it. Without your command, I couldn't have stabilized the Dust in time. You kept everyone alive long enough to make it count."

Arden's lips curved into a rare smile weary, proud, human. "And Father's wind kept us from breaking apart. I guess… the old man still has it."

Lito approached, hearing them both, and chuckled softly. "Old man, huh? I'll take that as respect."

Khael grinned. "It is, Father. You were terrifying out there."

Lito smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. "You too. That decoy maneuver was risky but flawless. You've learned the art of war, not just the art of combat."

"Because of you," Khael said quietly. "And because of Arden."

Lito placed a hand on both their shoulders.

"And that's why you're both my sons."

He turned to Arden. "You led like a true commander. Every man here would follow you again."

Then to Khael. "And you… you turned the tide not just with strength, but foresight."

Arden's lips curved slightly. "I just followed your example, Father. The Wind General's lessons never fade."

For a brief moment, They stood there, three generations of strength and wisdom condensed into one moment as the surviving soldiers gathered around. The wind carried faint echoes of their voices, grateful, reverent, alive.

Later that evening, when the northern sky blazed with streaks of crimson dusk, Khael stood alone by the cliffs. The wind tugged at his cloak, the faint shimmer of dragon scales visible along his arm under the dying light.

He looked down at the recovering camp, men rebuilding tents, healers weaving Shinrei seals over the wounded, Arden commanding from afar with calm precision.

(Brother… you've grown.)

He smiled faintly, closing his eyes. (Father's right. We fight as a family — not to win… but to protect what should never be lost.)

Behind him, the sound of boots approached, Lito and Arden.

Lito looked out across the valley. "Again, you did well, both of you."

Arden crossed his arms. "We all did."

The horizon shimmered faintly where the Eclora Mist had fully cleansed the land, and the once-cursed field bloomed with fragile white grass.

"The world will remember this day," Arden murmured. "But they'll never know how close it came to breaking."

Khael nodded. "Maybe it's better that way. Peace doesn't need applause."

Lito placed a hand on both their shoulders, eyes turning toward the sky. "No… but those who fought for it will remember. And that's enough."

The wind rose gentle, vast, endless. It carried away the ashes of battle, the last traces of corruption, and the unspoken bond of a family that had faced the impossible together.

For the first time in a long while… the north breathes freely.

Meanwhile

And beside it stood three figures.

"Finally we're here!"

Kaen Suro threw his arms into the air, his voice carrying across the barren wind like a small explosion of life. His stomach growled audibly in protest.

"I swear, if I don't eat in the next five minutes, I'm going to start chewing my own aura!"

Rael Eluron didn't even glance at him. He adjusted the white-gold scabbard at his hip, expression calm, aristocratic, and absolutely unimpressed.

"Perhaps if someone hadn't set our carriage on fire in an attempt to 'warm up lunch,' we wouldn't be walking for three days."

Kaen turned with mock offense. "Hey! I didn't set it on fire. It… spontaneously combusted. My Shinrei just got excited, okay?"

Lira Valenne sighed softly, the sound like a bell amid chaos.

Her silver hair glimmered in the light, her hands folded in quiet patience. "Kaen… your Shinrei doesn't get 'excited.' You burned an entire wagon full of supplies. Including the bread."

Kaen groaned dramatically. "You're all obsessed with details! The past is the past! What matters is food! Civilization! Something edible that's not dirt and regret!"

Rael exhaled slowly through his nose, muttering, "You are the embodiment of regret."

"What was that, shiny prince?"

"Nothing a commoner would understand."

A single spark jumped from Kaen's aura a crimson flicker that warped the air around him.

Rael's Shinrei, in turn, pulsed in silver-green waves, slicing through the tension like glass drawn across silk. The ground cracked faintly between them, dust spiraling upward as both forces clashed in restrained defiance.

The air itself began to hum.

And then a hand, pale and steady, rose between them.

"Enough."

Lira stood there, eyes sharp now despite her soft voice. The faint shimmer of Bloom-type Shinrei radiated from her cool, refreshing, undeniable. It swallowed the tension like rain quelling wildfire.

Kaen clicked his tongue, grinning even as the heat dimmed around him.

"You're no fun, Valenne."

"And you're no chef," she countered. "Now focus."

Her gaze turned toward the valley ahead, where a stretch of green and silver mist marked the edges of a settlement.

Wooden rooftops clustered under the hill, framed by windmills and flowering terraces.

"We're entering the Florene Petalglade region," she continued. "The village of Tildaroot. Reports say their crops wither overnight, and their wells hum with Shinrei distortion. The Council wants us to confirm if it's a natural anomaly…"

Her tone darkened slightly. "…or another remnant of the Curse."

Kaen's grin faltered, replaced by something quieter a flicker of memory.

"That stuff again, huh…"

Rael's eyes narrowed. "If it's the same source then, this isn't a coincidence. Someone's seeding corruption intentionally."

"Then we burn it out," Kaen said simply, fire curling faintly from his fingertips.

Lira looked toward the horizon, her expression unreadable. "Let's hope it's that easy."

The three of them began walking toward the village flame, steel, and light weaving together against the dying sun.

And somewhere in the wind, faint and distant, the echo of a dragon's roar brushed the air a whisper of the legend whose shadow still shaped the world.

(Khael Corzedar… the Dragon Knight… your story reaches farther than you know.)

To be continue

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