"Oathsworn?" Fallen's deep voice carried through the rain as he approached, his towering silhouette darkened by the misty downpour.
Jassin raised a hand, his tone calm and commanding. "Be at peace, Ukari. A tiger of Cordia and his teacher will suffice to protect the Angel of the Red Sands."
Fallen hesitated for only a moment, casting a wary glance toward Akash. The younger man straightened under the weight of that gaze, determination hardening his features. "Go, Fallen. Gather the others. We'll have more than enough time together once the battle begins."
Fallen gave a small grunt of acknowledgment before turning back toward the encampment, his massive scythe resting casually on his shoulder.
The rain continued to fall as Jassin and Akash began their walk. The narrow path ahead led toward the mountain pass, the only way to the Spire. Akash rolled one of his shoulders, the dull ache from training still lingering.
For a time, their only companion was silence. It was how these moments always were after training—an unspoken ritual of quiet reflection, of walking side by side and letting the lessons settle.
But this time, Jassin broke the silence. "When the battle begins, focus only on your breathing. There won't be time to think. Just breathe, and move."
Akash tightened his jaw, exhaling through his nose. "I'll be fine, Jassin."
He tried to keep his voice steady, but a flicker of irritation crept in. Ever since he had taken the title of the Angel, everyone treated him as if he were made of glass. Too important to die. Too influential to fail. Did they truly believe he wasn't capable of handling himself?
Jassin's hand rested firmly on his shoulder, his grip both grounding and steadying. "The first kill will be the hardest," Jassin said quietly. "It's the first of many trials. But I know you, Akash. You'll endure."
Akash fought back a shudder, his thoughts drifting to the thing inside him—the inhabitant that tugged at the edges of his mind. He swallowed hard and nodded, meeting Jassin's gaze. "I won't falter."
"Good." Jassin's lips pressed into a thin smile, though his eyes seemed distant.
The rain poured harder, drumming against their armor. Akash brushed his wet hair back, tying it into a messy knot at the base of his neck. "Battles in this weather..." he began, his voice trailing off.
Jassin abruptly stepped off the path, motioning toward a clearing ahead. "This place will do."
Akash paused, frowning as he followed. "Why bring me here?"
The clearing was quiet, save for the whisper of rain and the rustle of reeds bending under the wind. Flowers dotted the field, their colors muted in the gray light. Jassin stepped into the center of it, turning his face toward the rain. His eyes closed, and for the first time, Akash saw a rare, genuine smile spread across his teacher's face.
"This rain," Jassin said softly, "reminds me of Cordia."
Akash tilted his head, confusion etched across his features. The Vice-Paramount rarely spoke of Cordia, much less with fondness. "What about Cordia?"
Jassin's voice carried an unusual warmth as he replied, "I think of it often. When I die, I wonder... what will I leave behind?"
Akash blinked, startled by the unexpected shift in tone. Jassin was a man of strength, of unwavering certainty. To hear him speak of death, of legacy, was unsettling.
"I had another apprentice once," Jassin continued, his eyes still closed as the rain ran down his face. "He was my heart."
Akash stayed silent, sensing the weight of his teacher's words.
"When I lived in those harsh, bitter lands, all I cared about was leaving something that would last," Jassin said, his voice quieter now, tinged with both sorrow and humor. "Karnen devours men. Death comes swiftly under those gray skies. Legacy is all we have to push back against the cold."
A soft laugh escaped him, and for a moment, Akash glimpsed a man burdened by memories that refused to fade.
"What made you leave?" Akash asked, his curiosity pushing through the somber air.
Jassin's hand tightened around the hilt of his Annealed blade. "Regrets," he said simply.
"And your first ward?" Akash pressed, his voice softening.
Jassin finally turned, his raven hair plastered to his face. His eyes, though sharp, carried a deep, unspoken grief. "You remind me of him," Jassin said, his tone both fond and haunted. "His name was Sojin. He was my first ward."
Akash waited, sensing there was more.
Jassin's gaze drifted to the horizon. "Everywhere he went, that boy smiled. People joked he was the only warmth in all of Cordia. He stood against the impossible, defiant to the end. Always smiling."
"I would've liked to meet him," Akash said softly.
Jassin's expression tightened, his jaw clenching briefly before he nodded. "Sojin died smiling. Just as I expect you to."
The statement struck Akash harder than he expected. It wasn't just the words—it was the way Jassin said them. There was pride there, but also pain.
"I still miss that damn boy," Jassin muttered under his breath, his voice almost breaking.
Akash didn't know what to say. The rain fell heavier, filling the silence between them.
Jassin exhaled deeply, his composure returning. "When this is over, I hope you'll visit Cordia. Take the challenges of the Kuraokami. If it's allowed, drink under the Dragon's Blood tree, where the hot springs flow. Have one for me."
"You talk like you won't be there with me," Akash said, his voice tinged with frustration.
Jassin shook his head, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "Dead men have only their regrets to shake the tombs. My resting place will not stir. Nor will any of my wards."
Akash opened his mouth to protest, but Jassin cut him off.
"If I do fall," Jassin said firmly, "the Annealed blade will be yours. That is your right."
"But I still can't beat Veneres, or Fallen, or even you," Akash admitted, his voice tinged with doubt.
"That desire for perfection will guide you," Jassin said, his voice steady. "You still lack a true goal, but it will come in time. Besides," he added with a faint chuckle, "Akash Dorher, the Blademaster. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Akash couldn't help but grin, his hand slamming into his open palm. "Then you'll see me accept that title!"
Jassin shook his head, his smile softening. "Troublesome ward. Stick close to the Ukari. They—"
Akash raised an eyebrow, and Jassin relented with a chuckle, clapping him on the back.
"If we both survive," Jassin said, "we'll share Cordia's finest drink in those hot springs. And who knows? Maybe by then, you'll even give me a real challenge."
Akash smirked. "You'd better be ready, old man."
They stood there for a moment longer, the rain falling steadily around them, before turning back toward the camp. Neither said it aloud, but they both understood the unspoken truth: battles could take lives, but legacies could last forever.