The crowd held its collective breath as the Syndicate officer's hand hung in the air, poised to deliver a silent command that would end the life of the man on the platform. The enforcer's energy-infused blade gleamed in the sunlight, inches away from the prisoner's neck. A hushed tension gripped the market square, broken only by the desperate gasps of the man being held down.
Kain Vallis's chest tightened. His feet felt rooted to the ground, every fiber of his being warring with itself. He had promised himself he wouldn't fight—not like them, not with violence. But the weight of Sera's desperate plea still hung in the air.
"You can't just stand there!"
His pulse pounded in his ears. The officer's hand twitched slightly. The blade rose higher.
Kain exhaled sharply. Not like them. But I can't do nothing.
He stepped forward, pushing through the edge of the crowd. "Wait!" he called, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
The officer froze, turning his cold, unyielding gaze toward Kain. The enforcer holding the blade paused mid-swing, his muscles tense like a coiled spring. All eyes shifted to Kain, a ripple of confusion and curiosity spreading through the gathered townsfolk.
"And who are you to interrupt justice?" the officer asked, his voice calm but heavy with authority. His hand dropped to his side, but the tension in the air remained razor-sharp.
Kain held his ground, stepping closer to the platform. "Someone who knows this isn't justice."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Sera, still standing at the edge of the square, watched with wide, terrified eyes. Kain ignored the stares, ignored the way his heart hammered against his ribs. He focused on the officer, on the man's sharp, calculating gaze.
"This man is innocent," Kain continued, nodding toward the prisoner. "You're punishing him for something he didn't do."
The officer raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the platform with measured precision. "Innocent?" he repeated, his tone almost amused. "He was harboring a rogue Eidon user—an act of treason against the Syndicate. Do you deny it?"
Kain hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I deny that he deserves death for it."
The officer stopped a few paces from Kain, his imposing frame casting a shadow over him. The crowd watched with bated breath, tension thick in the air. "The law is clear," the officer said, his voice low and cold. "The Syndicate exists to protect the people. Harboring a rogue Eidon user endangers the lives of everyone in this town. The penalty is necessary to maintain order."
Kain's jaw clenched. "Necessary for who? Him?" He gestured toward the prisoner, who was slumped forward in the enforcer's grip, his face pale and streaked with dirt. "The people in this crowd? Or just for the Syndicate to keep its grip on everyone here?"
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd. Someone muttered, "He's got a death wish," but Kain didn't flinch.
The officer's eyes narrowed. "You speak as if you know better than the Syndicate."
"I don't need to know better," Kain replied evenly. "I just need to know that this isn't right."
The officer studied him for a moment, as though trying to determine whether he was worth engaging. Then he tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're bold. Foolish, but bold. Tell me, stranger: do you speak from conviction or desperation? Do you believe you can actually stop this?"
Kain didn't blink. "I believe someone has to."
The officer's smirk faded. He turned to the enforcer on the platform and gestured sharply. "Remove him."
The crowd stirred as the enforcer hauled the prisoner to his feet and shoved him toward the edge of the platform. "We're done here," the officer said, turning back to Kain. "But I'll remember your face. Interfering with the Syndicate's work is a dangerous game, stranger. You should tread carefully."
He didn't wait for a response. With a curt gesture, the officer signaled the enforcers to leave, and the group began making their way out of the square. The crowd watched in stunned silence, unsure whether to cheer or run.
Kain exhaled, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as the enforcers disappeared from sight. The crowd began to disperse, murmurs of disbelief and curiosity filling the air. Sera ran up to him, her face pale but relieved.
"You did it," she whispered. "You stopped them."
Kain shook his head. "I delayed them. That's all."
The prisoner, still trembling, stumbled forward and grabbed Kain's arm. "Thank you," he rasped, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "I don't know why you—"
"Don't thank me yet," Kain interrupted. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing toward the direction the Syndicate officers had gone. "They'll be back. And next time, they won't give us a chance to talk."
The man nodded weakly, his grip loosening. "Then I'll leave. I don't want to bring trouble to this town."
Kain sighed. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know," the man admitted. "But anywhere is safer than here."
Before Kain could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "You're a damn fool, stranger."
Kain turned to see an older man approaching, his face lined with years of hard labor and worry. He carried himself with an air of authority, though his tone was more weary than angry. "You think you've done something good here?" the man asked, gesturing toward the prisoner. "All you've done is paint a target on our backs. The Syndicate doesn't forget."
Kain's gaze hardened. "So you'd rather stand by and let them kill innocent people?"
The older man scowled. "Innocent or not doesn't matter when you're dealing with them. What matters is survival. And you've just made it harder for all of us."
Kain didn't flinch under the man's glare, but a flicker of doubt stirred in the back of his mind. He glanced at Sera, who was watching the exchange with a mix of fear and confusion, and then back at the older man.
"I'm sorry," Kain said after a long pause. "But I won't stand by and let them destroy lives."
The man shook his head and walked away, muttering under his breath. The weight of the moment settled over Kain like a heavy cloak. He knew the man was right about one thing: the Syndicate wouldn't forget this. They never did.
Later that evening, Kain and Sera sat by the edge of the town, away from the prying eyes of the locals. The stars above were faint, barely visible through the haze of the day's tension. Sera sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"Are they going to come after us?" she asked quietly.
Kain sighed. "Probably."
"Then why did you do it? You said it yourself—they'll come back."
Kain leaned back against the trunk of a tree, staring up at the faint stars. "Because if I hadn't done something, no one else would have. And people like that officer? They thrive on fear. The more people let them get away with this, the stronger they become."
Sera didn't respond immediately. She picked at a blade of grass, her brow furrowed. "But what if you can't stop them? What if no one can?"
Kain turned to look at her, his expression softening. "I don't know if I can stop them, Sera. But I can try. And if enough people try, maybe it'll be enough."
She frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Do you really believe that?"
Kain hesitated, then nodded. "I have to."
Sera stared at him for a moment longer, then looked away. The faint shimmer of her Eidon flickered briefly around her hands before fading again.
"I don't want to be scared anymore," she whispered.
Kain watched her silently, his chest tightening. He thought of Velstrine, of Talia, of the promises he'd made to himself in the years since that day. He didn't have all the answers, but he knew one thing: he wouldn't let fear win.
"You won't have to be," he said softly. "Not while I'm here."
Sera didn't say anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. It was small, barely there, but it was a start.