When Kenshin opened his eyes, the world was quiet.
He was not in the dungeon, and he was not on the cold cobblestones of the courtyard.
He was lying on a soft bed in a spacious, sunlit chamber within the upper towers of the sanctuary.
He looked down and realized someone had carefully dressed him in a clean, loose linen sleep-shift.
His skin was free of blood, though his vast network of jagged scars remained visible.
He sat up quickly, his racing heart hammering against his ribs.
The memories crashed into his mind like a falling wave—the dungeon, Horuto’s bleeding chest, the sight of Null’s black-and-white mask, and the suffocating panic that had swallowed him whole.
Kenshin threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.
He had to know what happened.
He took a step toward the heavy oak door.
“Do not move. You are in your chambers.”
Kenshin jumped, spinning toward the doorway.
Asami was leaning against the wooden frame.
She looked exhausted.
Her armor had been removed, replaced by a simple dark tunic, and both of her shoulders were heavily bound in thick white bandages.
Her icy blue eyes were fixed on him, carrying a cold, heavy judgment.
“What…” Kenshin’s voice broke, his head throbbing as he tried to piece the fragments together.
“What happened down there? There was blood everywhere, and… and Horuto was injured, and—”
“We were attacked,” Asami interrupted, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.
“By the Master’s own son. Takashi.”
Kenshin’s dark-green eyes widened.
“Takashi? But why? Wait, what happened after I fainted? You were fighting Null, right?”
Asami remained quiet for a long heartbeat, her jaw tightening.
“Null is here. He is in our deepest subterranean vault, bound in heavy chains. But you are not permitted to go down there.”
“Cannot go there?” Kenshin stepped forward, his fists clenching.
“But why? I have questions to ask him! He tortured me for eleven years!”
He tried to walk past her, but Asami swiftly shifted her stance, completely blocking the doorway despite her bandaged shoulders.
“I said you cannot go there,” Asami hissed, her eyes narrowing.
“You have already made enough of a mess. You rushed into that dungeon completely blind. We all could have died down there because of your sheer stupidity and panic.”
Kenshin froze, the harsh truth of her words acting like a physical blow.
He slowly took a step back, the phantom scent of the dungeon receding from his mind.
“How is Horuto?” Kenshin asked quietly, his voice hollow.
“The highest-tier healers are keeping him alive,” Asami replied, looking away.
“But there is no recovery yet.”
Asami turned her back on him, preparing to leave the doorway.
“You hate me, right?” Kenshin asked.
Asami paused.
She did not turn around to look at the scarred teenager.
She stood there for a long moment, the silence stretching between them.
“So much,” she whispered.
With that, she walked away, her footsteps fading down the polished stone corridor.
-Break-
Kenshin sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.
The blood, the betrayal, and the illness of his own mental state rang loudly in his skull.
He was a weapon forged in absolute darkness, yet he had frozen when it mattered most.
After several moments of self-loathing, Kenshin stood up.
He could not just sit here while the man who had shown him kindness lay dying.
He slipped out of his chambers and began to explore the massive sanctuary.
Guards in brown and blue cloaks cast him wary glances, but no one stopped him.
He eventually found his way to an open sparring yard near the armory.
Weapons of all kinds were racked along the stone walls.
Making sure no guards were watching, Kenshin quietly stole a sharp, jagged steel dagger from a wooden table and slipped it under his linen sleep-shift.
He hurried back to his chambers, locking the heavy oak door behind him.
Why am I like this?
Kenshin thought, staring at his reflection in a tall bronze mirror.
Zenjiro locked me in that vault.
Null poured alchemy into my veins for a decade.
If I thrust this dagger into my heart, I will live.
If Null regenerates…
I regenerate.
An insane, desperate idea began to form in his mind.
He needed to test it.
He walked over to the washbasin in the corner of the room, which was filled with clean water.
Taking the stolen dagger, Kenshin intentionally sliced a deep, horizontal gash across his own palm.
He did not flinch.
Pain was an old friend.
He held his bleeding hand over the wooden basin.
A heartbeat later, Kenshin watched as the skin on his palm sizzled with steam, knitting back together perfectly.
If they turned my blood into something that refuses to die…
Kenshin thought, staring at the crimson water, could my blood force someone else to heal?
He picked up the wooden bowl, intending to rush straight to the healers.
He opened his door but immediately stopped.
The corridor was heavily patrolled.
If they saw him carrying a bowl of his own glowing blood, they would likely lock him in a cage right next to Null.
He set the bowl down on a small table and walked out of the room empty-handed.
He needed to find out exactly where Horuto was being kept.
As Kenshin walked down the grand, sunlit corridor, a deep voice called out from behind him.
“Kenshin.”
Kenshin turned.
Master Brados was walking toward him, his heavy mantle swaying with each step.
“Y-Yes, Master,” Kenshin replied, instantly tensing.
Brados stopped in front of him, his dark eyes carrying a heavy, sorrowful weight.
“What you did earlier was foolish. Do you realize that? You nearly got yourself killed, and you endangered Asami as well.”
Kenshin lowered his head, staring at the polished marble floor.
“I know. Forgive me, Master.”
Brados stepped closer and placed a large, calloused hand on Kenshin’s shoulder.
The gesture was firm, yet undeniably gentle.
“Kenshin, I told you that you are like a son to me now,” Brados said quietly.
“As you can see, my own son… my own flesh and blood, betrayed me. I do not want you to be like him. I do not want you to disobey me, and I do not want anything bad to happen to you.”
Kenshin looked up, surprised by the raw vulnerability in the ancient warrior’s voice.
“I understand, Master.”
“Good,” Brados murmured.
A faint, sad smile touched the edges of his grey-white beard.
“Next time, try to call me your father.”
Kenshin’s eyes widened.
The word caught in his throat like a jagged stone.
For his entire life, ‘Father’ meant Zenjiro.
It meant betrayal, cold stares, and the heavy iron door of a dungeon.
But looking at Brados, Kenshin saw none of those things.
He saw a man who had just lost his biological son to darkness, yet was still offering his warmth to a broken stranger.
“F-Fa…” Kenshin swallowed hard, forcing the word out.
“Father.”
Brados’s smile deepened slightly.
He gave Kenshin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to leave.
“Wait,” Kenshin called out suddenly.
“Where is Horuto?”
Brados paused, glancing back.
“Why do you wish to know?”
“I just… I want to see him,” Kenshin said truthfully.
Brados analyzed the boy for a long moment before nodding.
“Top tier, eastern wing. There are healers stationed outside. Tell them you have been granted permission by the Master.”
Kenshin bowed his head in thanks and quickly hurried away.
-Break-
The eastern wing smelled strongly of crushed herbs and magical miasma.
Kenshin approached a set of heavy double doors guarded by two sanctuary soldiers.
He repeated the Master’s words, and after a brief hesitation, the guards allowed him to pass.
He stepped into a massive infirmary.
Several guards who had been injured during Takashi’s betrayal were resting on cots.
Kenshin walked further in, spotting a unique, highly decorated archway at the back of the room.
As he stepped toward it, a sharp voice stopped him.
“What are you doing here?”
Asami stepped out from the shadows near the archway, her arms crossed carefully to avoid her bandaged shoulders.
“I am just checking on Horuto,” Kenshin replied evenly.
Asami’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you not to come.”
“I received permission from the Master,” Kenshin shot back, his own stubborn pride flaring.
“Is it a crime to care about the man who gave me food when I was starving?”
Asami remained quiet.
She scrutinized him for several heartbeats before letting out a tired sigh.
“Be quick. Or I will throw you out myself.”
She stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
Ten high-tier healers, draped in long, flowing robes, stood in a circle around a central stone slab.
Horuto lay motionless on the slab.
The healers’ hands glowed with brilliant green runes, casting a steady, rhythmic magical light over Horuto’s pale body.
A young female healer stood slightly apart from the circle, monitoring a set of crystal vials.
“Has he shown any recovery?” Kenshin asked her in a whisper.
The girl shook her head sadly.
“No. The blade bypassed his armor and severed major aura pathways. There is no improvement yet.”
Kenshin stared at Horuto’s lifeless, pale face.
My blood, Kenshin thought.
I have to try it.
But he knew the healers would never allow a stranger to pour untested, corrupted blood into their dying patient.
He needed absolute authority.
He needed Brados.
Kenshin quietly slipped out of the infirmary and navigated the winding corridors until he reached the inner sanctum.
He stood before the heavy, ornate doors of the Master’s private chambers.
The door was slightly ajar.
Kenshin reached out to knock, but he froze.
From inside the chamber came the muffled, quiet sound of a man weeping.
Kenshin cautiously pushed the door open an inch and peered inside.
Master Brados was sitting heavily on the edge of his bed.
In his large, trembling hands, he held a beautifully painted portrait on a stretched canvas.
It depicted a much younger Brados standing proudly beside a smiling little boy with light green eyes—Takashi.
A single tear rolled down the ancient warrior’s weathered cheek, disappearing into his grey-white beard.
Brados’s thumb gently traced the painted face of his son.
“Why… my son?” Brados murmured, his voice breaking under the crushing weight of a father’s grief.
Kenshin stood completely paralyzed in the doorway.
He stared at the weeping Master, his mind flashing back to his own childhood.
Had Zenjiro ever cried for him?
When the heavy iron door slammed shut, leaving five-year-old Ritsu to the horrors of Null, had Zenjiro sat in his grand estate and shed a single tear over a painted portrait?
Kenshin pushed the dark thoughts away and gently knocked on the wooden frame.
Brados stiffened.
He quickly set the canvas portrait face-down on the bedside table and hastily wiped his eyes.
He took a deep breath, composing his authoritative posture, and looked up.
Kenshin stepped fully into the room.
“Fa… Father. I have an idea to cure Horuto.”
A faint glimmer of hope sparked in Brados’s dark eyes.
“What is it?”
“I do not know if it is going to work,” Kenshin said rapidly, stepping closer.
“But I want to test it. What if we introduce my blood into Horuto’s body? If Null can regenerate, and I can regenerate, maybe there is a chance my blood carries the properties needed to heal him?”
Brados remained quiet, his keen mind processing the volatile alchemy required for such an act.
“It is highly dangerous,” Brados said slowly.
“Gladeon bloodlines do not mix easily, especially not with the miasma you carry. But… it is our absolute last hope. Very well. Tell a healer to extract a vial of blood from your arm and—”
“I already bled myself,” Kenshin interrupted quickly.
“I have it ready in my chambers.”
Brados’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise.
“Very well. You have my permission. Go tell a guard to summon Asami to the infirmary. We will do this immediately.”
-Break-
A short while later, Asami arrived at the medical chamber.
She looked at the wooden bowl of crimson-glowing water in Kenshin’s hands, then turned her incredulous gaze to the Master.
“You cannot be serious,” Asami said, her voice laced with disbelief.
“Why would we trust this? We do not even know what kind of foul alchemy runs through his veins!”
“Because he is my son now,” Brados answered firmly.
“And we are out of options.”
Asami clicked her tongue, her jaw clenching.
She turned on her heel, marching toward the doorframe.
She stopped abruptly and glared over her shoulder, her icy blue eyes locking onto Kenshin with a murderous intensity.
“I will personally execute you if anything happens to Horuto because of your tainted blood, Kenshin,” Asami promised.
With that, she stormed out into the corridor to wait.
Brados watched her go, a small, knowing sigh escaping his lips.
“Do not mind her, Kenshin. She loves Horuto.”
Kenshin blinked, completely caught off guard.
“Eh? Ehhh? Ehhhhhhhhh?!”
Brados tilted his head slightly to the right, a look of genuine confusion crossing his weathered face.
“Is something wrong?”
“Never mind,” Kenshin muttered, shaking his head rapidly to clear the bizarre image of the terrifying, purple-lightning warrior experiencing romance.
“For now, I am going to give this blood to the healers.”
With the Master’s absolute authority backing him, Kenshin handed the glowing crimson bowl to the lead healer, praying to whatever entities watched over the Endlerworld that the horrors of his past could finally be used to save a life.