The sound of Drakoria's bustling streets faded as Chevie returned to his quarters.
The katana—his new weapon—rested carefully on a low table. He had yet to name it, but the faint hum of energy from its blade seemed to echo the anticipation in the air.
His conversation with Selene lingered in his mind, her words resonating more than he cared to admit.
"Strength attracts attention," he repeated to himself, pacing the room.
Her offer to guide him if he returned to Kaelith weighed on him.
The Empire's power was undeniable, but the thought of entangling himself further in its web didn't sit well.
Not to mentioned the fact that the mission itself is suspicious.
Kaelith should be able to handle this Gate and General Vorran said that the team will also include some best Gatewalkers of Kaelith but for some reason, there was none.
For now, his plan was clear: return to Avenridge and prepare for what lay ahead.
The events of the day replayed in his mind, but his focus kept returning to the blade.
It had been with him through everything today, its silent strength a constant companion.
"What are you called?" he murmured again, half-expecting the sword to answer.
As if in response, the runes on the blade glowed brighter for a moment before dimming again.
Chevie's lips curled into a faint smile.
"I think I know," he said softly. "You'll be called Echo's Edge."
The name felt right—like a promise, a connection to the power within and the mysteries that lay ahead.
Chevie ran his fingers along the blade once more, his resolve hardening.
Chevie woke early the next morning, the first rays of sunlight piercing through the heavy curtains of his room.
The katana's faint glow greeted him, its energy still unfamiliar yet comforting.
The imperial guards escorted him to the departure platform, where a sleek transport vessel awaited.
Standing at the edge of the landing pad was Selene, her silver hair catching the light like strands of silk.
She was dressed in travel armor today, less formal but no less imposing.
"You're leaving already?" she asked, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Yeah," Chevie said, adjusting the strap of his pack.
"I've got things to take care of back home."
Selene nodded. "Elthera might not be as flashy as Kaelith, but it has its strengths. Don't forget that."
Chevie smirked. "I won't."
As the vessel's engines roared to life, Selene took a step closer.
"Chevie, one last thing. If the Gates have taught us anything, it's that the world is bigger than we imagined. Don't limit yourself to what you know. There's more out there."
He met her gaze, nodding. "Thanks, Selene. For everything."
She stepped back as the boarding ramp lifted, her figure shrinking into the distance as the transport ascended.
Chevie leaned against the window, watching the sprawling city of Drakoria fade into the horizon.
Elthera, Avenridge City
The familiar rolling hills of Elthera came into view as the transport descended.
Avenridge was smaller and quieter than Drakoria, but to Chevie, it felt like home.
His apartment was exactly as he had left it: modest, slightly cluttered, but comfortable.
The katana found its place on a stand near the window, the runes catching the afternoon light.
Chevie unpacked quickly, eager to resume his training and test his new weapon.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he ventured out into the city.
The streets bustled with life, vendors calling out to sell their wares, children laughing as they chased each other through the alleys.
A sense of normalcy blanketed the chaos that the Gates often threatened to unleash.
At a small tavern near the edge of the city, Chevie met a familiar face: Nolan, a local craftsman and one of the few people Chevie trusted.
"Chevie!" Nolan greeted, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Back from another adventure?"
"Something like that," Chevie replied with a grin.
"Needed to stop by and see how you were doing."
The two settled into a quiet corner, sharing drinks and exchanging stories.
Nolan's insights into the local news—rising Gate activity near Elthera's borders and rumors of a rogue Gatewalker—were troubling but unsurprising.
"You've got to be careful," Nolan warned, his voice low.
"The DDA's been keeping an eye on anyone with unusual abilities. Word is they're cracking down."
Chevie nodded, though he kept his concerns to himself.
If the DDA was tightening its grip, he needed to stay under their radar.
As Chevie left the tavern, a faint vibration pulsed through the air, sending a chill down his spine.
He paused, scanning his surroundings.
The streets were still lively, but something felt… off.
Then he saw it—a faint ripple in the sky, barely noticeable to the untrained eye.
But to Chevie, it was unmistakable.
A dimensional disturbance.
Without thinking, he gripped the hilt of his katana and sprinted toward the source.
The disturbance led him to the outskirts of the city, where the energy was stronger, more erratic.
A small crowd had gathered, murmuring nervously as they watched the swirling energy coalesce into a faint, glowing fissure.
Chevie pushed through, his presence drawing attention.
"Is it a Gate?" someone asked.
"No," Chevie muttered to himself.
The fissure pulsed again, sending out a wave of energy that knocked several people off their feet.
Chevie gritted his teeth, raising the katana instinctively.
Its runes flared to life, absorbing the brunt of the energy.
Before he could react further, the fissure expanded, and a shadowy figure began to emerge.
The crowd screamed, scattering in all directions.
Chevie stepped forward, his grip tightening on the blade.
The dark fissure pulsed in the air, its edges jagged and unstable.
Chevie's katana, Echo's Edge, vibrated faintly in his grip, resonating with the erratic energy.
Around him, the streets of Avenridge were a mix of chaos and confusion as people fled, leaving the area eerily quiet save for the crackling hum of the fissure.
But what caught Chevie off guard wasn't the anomaly—it was the familiar figure approaching through the haze.
"Captain Alvara?" Chevie's voice carried both relief and confusion.
Selene stepped forward, her crimson armor gleaming in the dim light.
Her silver hair flowed like liquid starlight, and her violet eyes were sharp and focused.
She held her halberd with an air of authority, the weapon's edge glowing faintly as it picked up traces of the anomaly's energy.
"Chevie," she said, her voice steady but urgent.
"We need to talk. But first, let's handle this."