[Arbiter]

A sharp, relentless ringing filled Claude's ears as he stirred from unconsciousness. Every sound felt distant, muted under the thick, throbbing hum that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He cracked his eyes open, vision swimming in fractured shapes and blurs of light. Slowly, the colours resolved into dull hues, and the rough outline of trees and sky took shape above him. 

"Hey, kid?" a voice cut through the haze, dragging his focus to the right.

There, standing in worn armour that looked like it had seen far too many battles, was a knight. His hair was dirty blonde, streaked with strands of grey, and he had a scruffy, almost unkempt look. His eyes were half-lidded and his expression bordered on apathetic, as though he'd rather be anywhere else. 

The knight's hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword, and he shifted his weight lazily as he sized up Claude. "You awake, kid? Looks like you took a real beating back there."

Claude nodded slowly, still trying to shake off the haze in his head. The man's relaxed manner and drawling tone made it hard to tell whether he was friend or foe, but the knight's nonchalance was nevertheless grounding.

He understood that at least for now, he was out of immediate danger.

"What… where am I?" Claude's voice was raspy.

"You're just on the outskirts of Littourborg," the knight replied, scratching the back of his neck. "City's been evacuated. You'd think they were expecting the end of the world, the way folks scrambled out of there."

Claude only half-heard the knight's words. As he moved, he noticed that his injuries—broken ribs, torn muscles, the searing burns from acid—had all but disappeared. His body felt… whole.

But how? 

The knight's lazy eyes narrowed as he noticed Claude's distraction. "Don't think too hard about it. Lord Arbiter took care of your injuries," he added, shrugging as though it were a trivial detail. "Seems he took a real interest in you. Lucky kid."

Claude's expression shifted slightly.

"Guess I'm s'posed to bring you to him," the knight continued, stretching and cracking his neck before extending a hand down to Claude. "He's probably waiting to meet you."

Claude took the hand, rising to his feet, eyes still clouded with questions he didn't yet care to voice.

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The knight led Claude through the dense forest until they reached a secluded clearing.

There, an old man stood, his skin tanned and clothed in a flowing white robe adorned with silver-threaded symbols that shimmered faintly in the afternoon light. 

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his accent foreign to Claude.

The old man examined Claude with a curious, discerning gaze. "I must say, it's rare for a mere Mage Apprentice to disrupt the plans of the Plague Bearers," he added. "You may not realise it yet, but you've done Elysium a considerable service."

The elderly man continued, "Olivier was a Sentinel, someone we've been tracking for years. For him to fall here…" He trailed off, shaking his head before he continued. "He was once part of the revolt in Saint-Aubéry, the duchy that tried to overthrow the boy-king Louis VII. Well... we all know how well that turned out."

After a moment, the old man's expression softened, as if he'd remembered something. "Ah, but where are my manners?" He offered a small, formal bow. "I am Zal, an Arbiter mage from Elysium. Graduate of the School of Biomancy. Now serving with the Inquisition."

He studied Claude, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, boy—how did you come to possess magic? Elysium has all but unified mage society, yet you—a stranger to us—bear our power." His gaze sharpened. "Who taught you?"

Claude remained silent as he weighed his options.

He knew little of mage society. Too little.

Was it smart to reveal Raymond as his mentor?

Claude was unsure.

But, if he didn't, what else could he say?

He also couldn't afford to keep silent, not now, not with... that still fresh in his mind. A flicker of memory—the barest glimpse of what he'd seen that day—brought a glint to his eyes. He wanted—no, needed—to know more.

"Raymond," he said finally.

At the mention of the name, Zal fell into an immediate silence. "Raymond…" he murmured, the name lingering on his tongue. "Yes, I know of him. A mortal. Unable to tread the path of magic. Recruited from the capital, Valéronne. A rare talent in the royal academy eventually brought into Elysium's fold."

"What happened to Raymond?" Zal asked. "Why is he not with you…?"

"He's dead," replied Claude, the words leaving his lips almost without his own realisation. As they settled in the open air, he felt a strange, dizzying sensation, his mind flitting through memories—fragments of all that he had endured. All the things he had overcome.

Subspace anomalies. Journeys through realms unknown. Battles against a cultist conspiracy.

Yet, as this unsettling realisation took hold, the flames that burned within him only blazed hotter, fiercer.

He understood that he was still too weak. He needed strength, enough strength to protect himself. Enough strength to allow him to learn about the nature of this world. The subspace. And, that... eye.

Meanwhile, Zal stood motionless, the weight of the words crushing him as if the air itself had turned to stone. Raymond is gone. The thought echoed in his mind, hollow and ceaseless.

Memories surged forward—a younger Raymond, a younger him. Their joys. Their sorrows. And, their fervour for knowledge.

The Arbiter clenched his fists. Raymond was not just a friend—he was a confidant, almost like a son. But this accursed world had robbed him of the last person that he could consider family.

Zal's fists clenched, his sorrow turning briefly to anger. At the world, at fate, at himself. He should have been there. He should have protected him.

'I should not have let him leave Elysium to chase that childish dream of his!' But as quickly as the anger flared, it dissolved, leaving only the hollow ache of loss.

And as Zal's gaze lingered on Claude he resolved to himself. 'I will not let your memory fade, Raymond. I will see that your death was not in vain. Your student... I will do my best to protect him.'

Using his years of experience, he recomposed himself and looked at the Mage Apprentice before him.

The boy's calm demeanour, that stillness in his eyes—traits uncommon in one so young, especially after encountering a bunch of cultists and having lost their loved ones.

How could someone his age appear so unaffected? He thought of how the boy in front of him had almost encroached on the pinnacle of mage apprentice.

It typically took decades of disciplined study to achieve even a fraction of it, even he himself only became a pinnacle apprentice in his mid-thirties.

The only other possibility surfaced in Zal's mind—a method so seldom used it had nearly slipped into obscurity.

Painful. Suicidal. Pointless.

These were the words most often uttered by those who knew of it.

The method in question?

Stimulating mental energy through battle, forcing the mind to its limits in the thick of battle, stretching one's strength at the expense of mind, body, and sometimes even sanity.

Few dared to pursue it. Why would they, when the peaceful, tried-and-true path of steady study promised the same power with none of the scars?

Zal did not want to even imagine what kind of life this boy had led up till now. "I have seen many walk the path of magic." He sighed as he realised what he ought to do. "Some with unyielding resolve, others consumed by ambition. Few, however, possess the raw potential I sense in you. What you have accomplished at this young age of yours is rare—almost unbelievable."

Opposite him, Claude remained indifferent. All he just wanted to know was...

What would happen to him now?

"I am not sure whether Raymond had time to explain Elysium to you." Zal exhaled, his tone softening. "Elysium is a sanctuary for learning, a bastion of knowledge. It is a place where those with potential are cultivated. But it is not without its dangers—its demands. I can offer you the chance to join, though this decision will ultimately be left to you."

Claude's silence stretched between them. Zal allowed it, giving Claude the space to process his words. And then, finally, he pressed on.

"Come to Elysium. There, you will find the answers you seek. And perhaps... you may find peace within yourself."

The boy across him gave a small nod, much to the relief of the Arbiter. Having the boy in Elysium would allow him to monitor Claude and ensure he was stable of mind.

Yet unknown to Zal, Claude's thoughts were spiralling in an entirely different direction as he realised that he might soon be embarking on a new path. 

A path that could explain what he had seen.

Eternity.

Perhaps... I could...?