Ouroboros

Xilian opened his eyes to a glass dome filled with warm sunlight.

No one had cleaned it in ages. Grime and standing water covered the glass, along with autumn leaves from the year before that had yet to fully rot.

Xilian tried to sit up, but sharp pain shot through his entire body in protest.

He looked around. A map of White Cliff Town hung on the wall, weapon racks bristled with sharp longswords, and a half-open ammunition crate revealed brass casings that gleamed softly in the light.

"The Armory?"

This was White Cliff Town's equipment room, near Torchlight Lighthouse. It was practically Nuen's home, and the place where Xilian usually trained.

"I... I'm still alive?"

Thinking back to the last moments before he lost consciousness, Xilian remembered holding out until dawn. The morning light had driven away the Grey Fog and burned the sinister Demons to snow-white ash, leaving nothing behind.

Xilian let out a long breath. He was just about to roll over and enjoy the life he had somehow kept in a more comfortable position when he heard chains rattle.

"Huh?"

Xilian turned his head. A shackle encircled his wrist, chained tight to a spike in the wall.

Only then did Xilian realize he wasn't lying in a bed at all. He had trained in the Armory for nearly ten years. If there had been a bed here, wouldn't he know?

He was lying on a blanket. Someone had thrown another one over him, apparently as a token concession to his many injuries.

"Something's... something's wrong."

An inexplicable sense of danger rose in Xilian's chest. It felt as though he had escaped a tiger's den only to stumble into a wolf's lair.

"Oh..."

All at once, the tension and panic vanished from his face. "I made it to dawn, but the Grey Fog still engulfed me. Chaos must have tainted me."

Having figured that out, Xilian relaxed a little and closed his eyes peacefully. He looked perfectly at ease. All he needed was a shovelful of grave dirt over his face... as if!

Ignoring the pain, Xilian forced himself upright. First he lifted his shirt to see whether his hard-earned eight-pack had turned into a sixteen-pack. Then he checked whether he had grown any extra toes.

Once he was sure everything looked normal, Xilian opened his mouth and pushed his fingers deep into his throat. He poked until he gagged, but felt nothing resembling an extra wisdom tooth.

"Maybe... I'm fine?"

Xilian collapsed weakly onto the blanket and kept trying to reassure himself.

He had never been one to dwell on things. Before long, he calmed down and fell quiet.

Slowly, he raised his shackled left hand and opened his palm. Apart from calluses earned through years of training, it bore only shallow cuts, some old and some new.

Xilian studied his palm. Just before Chaos had swallowed him completely, he seemed to remember a light shining from it. Then Chaos's hold on him had vanished.

The molten-gold Ouroboros Mark.

"Was I seeing things?"

Xilian rubbed his palm hard, but found no mark. His skin had merely turned red from the rubbing.

Footsteps came from outside the Armory.

A young, rough voice broke the silence first, edged with impatience.

"It's been two days, and there's still no sign of life from Xilian. He's not actually dead, is he? We'd better not be wasting our time keeping watch here."

"Maybe," said another voice, younger and curious. "Maybe Chaos corrupted him into a Demon, and the sun burned him to ash."

"Would you two shut up!"

A girl's voice, angry and anxious, cut in. "Do you want Xilian to die that badly? Isn't he your brother? How can you say something so heartless?"

"Come on, Ava. You know we call each other brothers, but we're not related by blood. No need to get so worked up."

The rough voice answered carelessly, with a hint of mockery.

"Besides, how many of our brothers have died already? Look, it's my turn to be the eldest now. People die all the time. Xilian might not have gotten lucky either."

Ava was left speechless.

"Xilian might really be all right," the younger voice offered cautiously. "Didn't Teacher examine him carefully when he brought him back? There were no signs of Chaos corruption. Maybe he just hasn't recovered yet."

"But Teacher couldn't say for certain that Xilian was fine. Otherwise, he wouldn't have tethered him here like livestock."

The rough voice dismissed the argument, deliberately stressing "tethered."

The voices drew nearer. Heavy footsteps followed, and the door creaked as it was shoved open. A tall figure strode toward Xilian.

Xilian neither closed his eyes to play dead nor showed any joy at having survived.

Honestly, after hearing what his two brothers thought of him, he felt too stifled to look happy, let alone celebrate his survival with them through tears.

Xilian stared expressionlessly at the doorway. The face that came into view was as rugged as the voice.

Tim Sofluowa.

He was one of the orphans Nuen had taken in and the leader of the Soflova Brothers. Only a few years older than Xilian, he was powerfully built, like a hulking black bear.

The owner of the younger voice entered behind Tim.

He was a boy slightly shorter than Xilian: Mick, the youngest of the Soflova Brothers.

Unlike Tim, with his cropped hair and bulging muscles, Mick was fine-featured and slender. His soft, fluffy blond hair made him look even younger.

When Nuen had first brought Mick home, he had been so young and frail that Xilian had mistaken him for the little sister the Soflova Brothers were finally getting.

Xilian looked coldly at his two brothers. The older and younger brother returned the same cold stare, until Tim, as the eldest, lost control of his expression and burst out laughing.

Xilian knew it. They had spoken that loudly on purpose.

Though they were called the Soflova Brothers, none of the three were related by blood, and Nuen had never presented himself as their adoptive father.

They were more like students training together than brothers. Tim, however, loved the feeling of family and always called them brothers.

Tim put on a look of surprise and waved enthusiastically, an exaggerated grin on his face.

"Well, little brother, it's good to see you alive. Your big brother was worried sick."

Xilian glared at him. "That wasn't what you were saying a moment ago. Don't pretend you care."

"Don't bother arguing with him. You know he's always making stupid jokes just to get a rise out of people."

Mick tried to smooth things over, wearing a helpless little smile.

"You brat," Xilian snapped. "You think I didn't hear what you said? Don't think I can't get you just because you hid behind him."

"Xilian!"

The clear voice rang out again, and a pair of small hands pushed the brothers aside.

The girl still had a youthful innocence to her face, with a few freckles across her nose. Her long hair was tied behind her head, and she wore a plain white dress.

Her chest rose and fell slightly. Her eyes glistened as though she might cry, full of worry and concern.

Xilian met her gaze. His heart seemed to beat faster, and his cheeks warmed.

Compared with his two unreliable brothers, the girl at least looked like she cared about him.

"Oh, Ava. Good morning."

It took all of Xilian's effort to come up with those few words.

He had never been good at talking to girls, even though he had known Ava for years.

Ava was the daughter of White Cliff Town's mayor. She had played with the Soflova Brothers since childhood and was the only young person in town who could keep them in line.

Her method was simple. Whenever the three brothers did something out of line, she told her father, the respected mayor, who then went to someone even more respected: Nuen.

Nuen made sure the brothers learned what it meant to show respect.

"I'm so glad you're all right."

Ava rubbed her eyes, the tip of her nose turning red. Unlike the three trained brothers, she wasn't nearly as hardened.

To show how happy she was, Ava took two steps forward and was about to hug Xilian when Tim lifted her with one hand and set her back down beside him.

The three of them stayed where they were, looking at Xilian from a distance.

Xilian frowned. "The way you're looking at me makes me feel like a block of cheese that spent the whole summer fermenting in a dark corner until it grew mold."

"You are covered in mold. You just can't see it."

An aged voice came from outside the door. Perhaps their senses were playing tricks on them, but everyone felt the room grow colder.

The smiles vanished from Tim's and Mick's faces. They straightened up and stood rigid. Ava struggled to contain her emotions and copied them, standing as neatly as a soldier awaiting a general's inspection.

Xilian froze at the sound of the voice. Fighting through the pain, he tried to move.

When he realized he couldn't stand, Xilian settled for kneeling on the blanket. He raised his head, squared his shoulders, and waited to be examined.

Each approaching footstep struck like a hammer against his heart. The man's arrival made the air unbearably tense and oppressive.

A fearsome figure slowly came into view.

He was a man of contradictions.

He had a sturdy build and an unmistakable air of strength. Yet when he stepped up to Xilian, his voice was as hoarse and deep as an old man's. Time had carved lines into his face, and graying hair hung loose around it, lending him a weathered, cold severity.

Xilian had once jokingly called him "properly fermented homemade hooch with razor blades mixed in."

No one had ever been able to make sense of Xilian's phrasing.

The man had not said another word since entering. He simply looked down at Xilian and studied him.

Xilian summoned his courage and met the man's eyes.

"Teacher."

The word had barely left his mouth when a breeze brushed his face. A bandage-wrapped cruciform longsword rested against his neck, its cold edge catching the light and flashing straight into his eyes.

Xilian could not count how many Demons that sword had slain in the past ten years, let alone guess what battles it had seen before then.

"Teacher... I came back alive."

Xilian spoke one word at a time, his gaze unyielding.

Nuen's brow furrowed, as though Xilian were a riddle he could not solve.

"Everyone out."

His voice was low and sharp.