Nyxborn-The Forgotten Etherium

Vael's breath was uneven. His stance, once steady and unshakable, wavered.

Renar didn't move.

He watched, waited—and hoped.

"You remember me."

Vael didn't answer.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade. His body screamed to attack, to finish the mission—but something held him back.

Something he couldn't understand.

Something he wasn't supposed to feel.

A memory, flickering at the edge of his thoughts—

"Vael, we hold this line together. No matter what happens."

A promise. A battlefield. A war that had been erased.

Vael's breathing hitched.

He didn't know this memory.

And yet—it was there.

Like an echo in his soul, refusing to be silenced.

"Stop."

The word left his lips before he could think. Before he could question why.

Renar exhaled. A chance.

"You know me, Vael."

Vael flinched.

His fingers trembled around his sword.

Renar took a slow step forward. Careful. Controlled.

"You don't have to do this."

Vael froze.

Something inside him—something buried deep, sealed away—cracked.

"I do." His voice was quiet. Hoarse. Uncertain.

"Why?" Renar asked.

A pause.

Then, finally—Vael looked at him.

Not as a hunter. Not as a reclaimer.

But as a man staring at a stranger who shouldn't exist—who should be gone.

And yet—wasn't.

"Because if you exist—" Vael's voice wavered.

"Then what else have I forgotten?"

A shuddering breath.

A battle raging inside his own mind.

And then—

A new sound.

A sharp, cold click.

Renar's instincts screamed.

He lunged—

Too late.

A crossbow bolt whistled through the air—

And buried itself in Vael's back.