The three froze.
Then the armored man moved.
Not a full step.
Just a shift of weight. One hand gripped the hilt of the sword with glacial patience. No system alert, no aggression. Just presence.
But the presence was overwhelming.
The waterfall behind him dimmed for a moment. Shadows lengthened, not from the moon, but from something older.
[System Alert !]
→ Entity Identified: BRAM → Classification: Forgotten Warrior → Alignment: Obscured → Sigil: Dark Emberbrand → Threat Level: Severe → Status: Caution Advised. Target Capable of Controlled Burn Collapse. Legacy Modifier Detected.
Gilger's smirk was gone. "Okay, okay, now I'm not sure this was a great idea."
Rin had drawn her blade without realizing. Her stance was lowered, focused. Not ready to strike — but ready to survive.
Lumen's hands hovered near his threads, his sword strapped across his back.
He had trained with it alongside Rin.
But he had never used it.
Never needed to.
Until now.
Suddenly — a blur.
Bram moved.
No warning. One step forward, then his hand slammed the ground. A burst of burning sigil-light carved in spirals around his feet.
[Dark Emberbrand: Ignition Wake]
The ground shattered beneath him — flame lines streaked outward in jagged bursts.
Lumen dodged left, threads snapping from his hands to grip a ledge above. Rin vaulted straight over the blast with Weightstep, using the air like a stepping stone. Gilger vanished with a flicker of smoke, reappearing behind a pillar.
Each escaped.
But barely.
"Now!" Lumen shouted.
He and Rin struck together — a practiced duo.
Rin rushed forward, blade glinting under the moon. Lumen's threads lashed out, anchoring the armored man's arm.
Rin slashed low. Lumen yanked the thread. Their timing was near-perfect.
Bram tilted slightly.
The blade passed — but missed. The thread snapped from the sheer resistance.
He didn't counter.
Not yet.
But he noticed.
Gilger leapt in next — a sharp whistle escaping his fingers. Illusory spikes shimmered in the air and darted toward Bram's eyes.
He turned.
Rin returned on the side — Blade Echo fanned out behind her as she struck twice, once high, once mid.
Gilger mimicked her motion with fake projections.
For a moment, the field was chaos — illusions, threads, blade trails.
Bram stepped through the confusion like water.
His blade hissed once — fire caught its edge.
The attacks failed to land.
Lumen and Gilger flanked next.
Gilger conjured a prism of smoke — distorting Bram's line of sight. Lumen circled, using thread anchors to leap around, sending bursts of Threadshot aimed at joints.
"Right leg!" Gilger shouted.
Bram turned — blocked the threads with a piece of his burning cloak.
Rin dove from above.
Trio synchronized.
Bram raised his hand.
[Dark Emberbrand: Second Flame]
A surge of heat. The space around him shimmered.
Their attacks broke on a pulse of red light.
They backed off, panting.
Gilger's breath wheezed. "He's… he's not serious."
"What?" Rin asked, eyes sharp.
"He's playing with us. Like we're toys. He hasn't even used half a move yet."
Lumen didn't argue.
They regrouped.
Silence again.
Then — Bram tilted his head. The fire behind the visor seemed to brighten.
A smirk.
Not visible.
But felt.
And they knew:
Round two would not be the same.
The echo of their trio clash still hung in the chamber when Bram moved again.
Not fast.
But inevitable.
He stepped forward, boots cracking against the old stone, and in the same motion, drew his blade fully. The greatsword shone black-red, the edge rippling like molten glass cooled too quickly.
[System Alert !] → Skill Detected: Smolder Arc (Dark Emberbrand - Tier II)
→ Warning: Magmatic residuals may induce systemic trauma.
Lumen's threads shot up instantly, weaving a defensive snare—but the heat surged through like wind through dry grass. The sword swung low—not fast, not wild, just right—and tore through the air in a smoldering crescent.
The trio split.
Rin vanished left, her Weightstep kicking up dust in reverse ripple.
Gilger hurled a mirror sigil illusion—one of himself sprinting forward, while he dove into a roll.
Lumen pulled hard on two threads and vaulted back, but the edges of Bram's swing still caught him, a grazing heat slicing his coat.
Rin struck first.
She dashed in low, feinting right before her blade flipped in a clean upward arc. Bram didn't block—he simply pivoted, the swing missing by inches.
Lumen joined her. His threads darted in, not to trap, but to anchor—tugging at Bram's greaves, slowing motion. Rin's blade connected this time—lightly—but Bram's backhand counter hit her shoulder and launched her sideways into a cracked pillar.
"Rin!" Lumen shouted, darting to her side.
Gilger chose that moment.
He appeared above Bram—having rebounded from the upper wall—and dropped three sparkling glyphs mid-air.
"Hope you hate migraines," Gilger grinned.
They exploded—a silent flashbang of fractured light.
Bram didn't flinch.
His hand raised—not to block, but to grasp one of the illusions—and he crushed it between plated fingers. Then he thrust his palm outward, and embers exploded in a straight line, catching Gilger mid-air and hurling him down like a falling star.
All three lay bruised now.
But none stopped.
They regrouped—Rin limping, Gilger coughing, Lumen bleeding from his brow.
"You good?" Lumen muttered.
"Define good," Gilger wheezed. "Because my ribs are arguing with me."
"I've had worse," Rin growled, eyes blazing.
They moved together.
This time with rhythm. Rin led, sword spinning low. Gilger mimicked her steps, his illusory echoes dancing around Bram. Lumen anchored his threads to their weapons—amplifying their range, tugging them mid-strike to unpredictable angles.
It worked.
Bram's sword hissed as it deflected, the great black steel singing against Rin's blade and glancing off Gilger's projected clones. One strike even drew blood from Bram's shoulder—just a flicker, a moment.
Then Bram planted his foot.
Everything shifted.
He spun—a perfect spiral—and released a shockwave of black-red embers that detonated across the floor. The stone cracked. Thread snapped. All three were hurled back.
Rin hit a pillar again, her arm hanging limp.
Gilger rolled twice, coughing up blood.
Lumen crashed against the far wall, the breath driven from his lungs.
He slumped to the ground, vision spinning.
And there—fluttering from his pocket—
The scarf fell.
The one the old woman had folded for him.
The one her husband used to wear.
It floated gently, landing near Bram's feet.
The armored man stepped toward it. His blade lowered just a fraction.
He stared at the cloth—small, grey-blue, like winter caught in cotton.
Bram froze.
For a breath.
For a moment that wasn't long—but felt old.
Something in his posture tilted, like a weight shifting in the armor.
But it passed.
Lumen didn't see it all.
His vision blurred. His ears rang.
Rin was already rising again, dragging her sword in one hand. Gilger leaned against a wall, fingers glowing with broken sigil light.
"Is he… toying with us?" Gilger rasped.
Lumen forced himself up, teeth grit. "He's not trying to kill us."
"What?" Rin snapped.
Lumen stared at Bram—who stood still again, unreadable behind the black mask and cracked plate.
"If he wanted us dead," Lumen said slowly, "we'd be dead already."
[System Sync] → Data Conflict Detected: Entity patterns resemble controlled combat training. → Warning: Unknown variable: emotional restraint.
Lumen first time notices system window during fight and confused,"Emotional restraint" he said
Gilger spat. "So what? He's pulling punches?"
Rin coughed. "No. He's testing us."
Lumen's fingers curled tighter around the thread in his palm.
He looked down at the scarf. Then up at the man who had paused for it.
A crack had formed.
Not in the mask. Not in the armor.
But in the rhythm.
And Lumen felt it.
The fight wasn't over.
But something had begun to shift.