ONLINE: Blades of Eternity
Chapter 331 - 331: SCARS OF THE HEART

The darkness around Kaelen was oddly warm.

Not oppressive, not terrifying—just quiet. Peaceful. He felt… small. Lighter. And when he opened his eyes, he wasn't standing in the Hollow, nor among the whispering stone walls of the Nullcarvers.

He was in a hut.

A tiny, thatched-roof hut lined with dried herbs, wooden utensils, and old faded tapestries that fluttered in a breeze that carried the scent of warm bread and mountain air. In front of him, a woman with hazel eyes and dark ash colored hair was bent over a pot, humming a lullaby.

"Kaelen, sit properly or your food will get cold," she said warmly without turning.

The voice…

Kaelen blinked. His limbs were shorter. His vision lower. He looked down and realized with a faint gasp—

He was a child again. No older than five.

And across the small table from him, a tall man with a strong jawline and quiet eyes was pretending to sneak bites from his son's bowl when the mother wasn't looking.

"Papa!" little Kaelen giggled, trying to shield his bowl with tiny arms.

The man grinned, ruffling his hair. "Can't blame me for trying. Your mother's stew is better than anything at the manor."

"You mean better than what they make," the woman said, finally turning with a smile and two bowls. Her tone was playful, but something bitter hid behind it.

Kaelen couldn't stop smiling. Not as a boy. Not as the version of himself watching in the dream. That moment… that single, fragile bubble of joy—he had buried it deep.

And for a brief second, everything was right.

Until it wasn't.

Boom!!

The door exploded inward—splinters flying like knives. Kaelen's bowl clattered to the floor, stew soaking the mat. His mother screamed, pushing him behind her.

Dark-robed figures entered with dragon shaped insignias on their chests. Dragonyx crests.

"You were warned," one of them said, voice void of emotion.

"Please!" his father stepped forward, placing himself between the attackers and his family. "We left the family. We wanted peace!"

"And for that, you forfeit your blood."

The fight was short.

His father struck down one with a hidden blade, and his mother unleashed a flare of light mana—but it wasn't enough. The attackers were elite. Efficient. They showed no emotion when his father was impaled, no mercy when his mother was thrown into the burning hearth—

And Kaelen, the little boy, screamed.

He tried to run to them.

But a hand yanked him into the shadows just before a blade could follow. His screams echoed even after the vision was swallowed by black.

---

It shifted.

Kaelen blinked again—older now. Eight. Kneeling on a lush hillside beside a broad, strong man clad in silver-gray armor. His eyes were sharp, but kind. His voice carried wisdom.

"A sword is not forged only to kill, Kaelen," the man said, adjusting the boy's grip on a wooden training blade. "It is an extension of resolve. Of who you are. You wield it to protect that which you can't bear to lose."

Kaelen nodded, sweat on his brow, arms sore.

Across the field, a younger Lila watched curiously, occasionally clapping whenever Kaelen got a technique right.

Those were good days. Days of warmth, and focus, and hope.

But then…

The sky blackened. The flowers shriveled. And the next thing Kaelen knew, they were in a blood-soaked courtyard.

Flames danced across stone tiles. Screams echoed from far-off chambers.

His mentor stood in front of him and Lila—sword gleaming with blood and rain.

The same Dragonyx insignias approached.

"So, this is the hill you die on?" one of the attackers sneered.

"If it protects them, then yes," the mentor said calmly.

He fought like a storm.

Like a dying star refusing to fade.

But eventually, he too fell. Not before taking three with him.

Lila sobbed. Kaelen tried to move but was paralyzed. The scene burned itself into his memory like a brand.

"You can't run from what's in your blood," one of the Dragonyx murmured, looking at Kaelen. "You'll come back to us… one way or another."

And then—

Kaelen jolted upright, chest heaving. Sweat drenched his skin, plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.

He reached instinctively for his Blade of Eternity—then froze again.

It wasn't there.

The two broken halves still rested in their wrappings across the chamber.

Kaelen clutched his chest, trying to breathe, but the pain—the old pain—rushed back like a flood.

He could still feel the fire. The blood. The guilt. The helplessness.

The memories never truly left.

"They always take. They always kill what I care about…"

A soft voice came from nearby—Lila shifting under her blanket, sensing his unrest, but not waking.

Kaelen didn't move. He remained seated, knees drawn to his chest, the boy in the dream and the young man now suddenly one and the same.

He was still that little boy, in many ways. Still trying to prove he wasn't broken beyond repair.

Still chasing a blade that might never be whole again.

While Kaelen sat still in the dark, trying to regulate his breathing. The air was cold in the Nullcarver Hollow, yet strangely fresh. He wiped the sweat from his brow, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to him like cobwebs in his mind.

But then he noticed something… off.

A faint silhouette, sitting alone on a jagged stone slab at the edge of the training ground. The figure wasn't asleep like the others. His form was rigid, unmoving. His eyes seemed to be locked onto the moon that hovered faintly beyond the cracks in the ancient hollow's ceiling.

It was Kelvin.

Kaelen hesitated for a moment, his instincts flaring with curiosity. Kelvin was never the type to show weakness. If anything, his composure had only grown colder since they first met. Still, something about the eerie calm in his posture—almost lifeless—tugged at Kaelen's attention.

With quiet footsteps, Kaelen made his way across the rough stone, eventually stopping just behind the slab.

"…Couldn't sleep either?" he asked quietly.

Kelvin didn't turn to look at him. His voice was low and smooth, as if he had expected Kaelen all along.

"You talk in your sleep, you know."

Kaelen blinked, caught off guard.

"Said something about… blood… fire… and don't take them from me again." Kelvin's voice didn't carry mockery. It was disturbingly calm. Detached. "Sounded like hell."

Kaelen felt a lump rise in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond, but Kelvin cut him off before the words could form.

"You don't have to explain. We all carry a scar," he said, still gazing up at the moon. "Sometimes deep enough to swallow you. Sometimes quiet enough to forget… until it comes back in the middle of the night, like a ghost you never buried."

The words lingered, and Kaelen—who was always quick to speak, quick to fight—found himself silent.

Then, after a long pause, he asked the only thing that came to mind:

"What about you? Do you have one?"

Kelvin's fingers twitched slightly at his sides. The quiet stretch that followed wasn't just silence—it was hesitation. Vulnerability, barely restrained.

Then, finally:

"My mother died giving birth to me."

Kaelen's breath caught.

Kelvin's voice continued, low and almost bitter.

"She was the light of our family. I never knew her, but I saw how everyone changed after she was gone. Especially my father. He never said it outright… but I saw it in his eyes. The resentment. The guilt he couldn't place anywhere else."

"And your sister? You kind of have spoken about her in both the rookie competition and in the battle convention" Kaelen asked, careful now.

Kelvin gave a bitter chuckle—just one.

"She was the only one who didn't look at me like I was a walking curse. She used to braid my hair when I was small. Said I'd be stronger than Father one day." He paused, knuckles clenching slightly. "Then both the Pacesetters and my damned father came."

"The First Magi. Alen," Kaelen muttered, eyes narrowing.

Kelvin nodded.

"He was the one who convinced my father to hand her over. Said she had a rare affinity… said she'd be 'trained to be a hero.'" Kelvin spat the last words like poison. "She screamed. She cried. I tried to stop them. I was just a kid. I couldn't do anything."

He finally turned to look at Kaelen. The moonlight carved shadows across his cheekbones, but didn't dull the cold, distant fury in his eyes.

"I remember the way her hand slipped out of mine when they dragged her away. That was the last time I ever saw her."

"And your father?" Kaelen asked gently.

Kelvin's jaw tightened.

"The day after she was gone, he called me the price he paid for her death despite being the cause of it. Told me that I had taken everything from him—his wife, his daughter, his legacy. I stopped being his son that day."

For a while, the silence stretched again—only now, it was heavy. Loaded with two lifetimes of pain colliding under the same moon.

Kaelen stepped forward and sat beside Kelvin on the slab.

"You've carried all that… alone?"

Kelvin scoffed, then sighed. "There was no one else to carry it. Not in that house. Not in the academy. Not until…"

He trailed off.

Kaelen looked up, eyes softer now. "Not until?"

Kelvin glanced sideways at him, something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

"Not until this dumb journey. With you. With them."

Kaelen gave a low, almost pained chuckle. "Dumb, huh?"

Kelvin smirked faintly.

"Absolutely."

They both sat there for a long time after, the silence no longer burdensome—but shared.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Kaelen didn't feel like he was carrying his burdens alone.

And perhaps… neither did Kelvin.