The first sound Kael recognized wasn't his own breathing—muffled, irregular—but the sound of drops.

Plink.

Plink.

Their echo reverberated through the cave, as if each drop were a hammer pounding inside his skull.

He opened his eyes slowly. The light was dim, orange, coming from a torch burning a few meters ahead, fixed to a crevice in the rocky wall. The flames flickered, casting shadows that lengthened and twisted like figures.

Kael tried to stand. The momentum died instantly as the weight of the chains pulled him back.

He was on his knees. His legs were bound, his ankles encased in thick shackles attached to the floor. His arms were stretched out to his sides, chained to hooks fixed to the cave walls. There was no room to move, not even to take a deep breath. Every attempt to move made the chains creak, as if mocking him.

Only then did he notice the iron mask covering his mouth. Tight, heavy, it clamped down on his jaw, leaving only the barest openings for breathing. It was cold against his skin, and the metallic taste invaded his tongue. The sensation was suffocating.

Kael took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment.

These wretches. They were afraid.

First they severed his connection to mana, then bound him with ropes, then chains, and now a mask. As if each barrier was a wall against what he could do. As if they recognized that if he made the mistake of letting it loose for even a second, they would be annihilated.

The irony of this almost drew a laugh from him, muffled behind the iron. But along with the cynicism came the weight of truth: his body was still empty. The river of mana that always pulsed beneath his skin remained dry. As if his very essence had been forcibly ripped away.

He opened his eyes again. He surveyed the cave.

It wasn't large. The ceiling was low, dripping constantly. The walls were uneven, covered in slime and cracks that resembled veins pulsing beneath the stone. The floor was damp, with shallow puddles reflecting the torchlight. The moisture clung to his skin like cold sweat.

There were marks on the floor—deep scratches made by dragging chains. Kael recognized the pattern. Others had been imprisoned here before. It wasn't improvised. This cave was used for imprisonment, interrogation. Perhaps torture.

He tugged on the chains once, just to test. The iron groaned, but didn't give. Each link was covered in engraved runes, symbols of restraint that glowed faintly whenever he pushed. They weren't just chains. They were living bars.

Kael leaned his head back against the cold stone. The silence of the cave enveloped him, broken only by the endless dripping. And it was in this silence that the thoughts came.

The memories.

The attack. The brutal blow that had thrown him against the stone. The five figures in the smoke. The woman with gray eyes. Her calm voice. Her order to keep him alive.

Her.

Her image emerged more clearly than any other. The hood falling, revealing black hair with blue highlights. The scar above her eyebrow. The smile that was not of pleasure, nor of hate—but of certainty.

Kael closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember every last detail.

It didn't matter where he was trapped, nor how empty he felt. He had to hold on to that image. Because it was she who held the answers.

A different sound interrupted the cycle of drops.

Footsteps.

Slow, rhythmic, approaching through the narrow corridor of the cave. The echo multiplied each beat, transforming it into a drum that made the air vibrate.

Kael looked up, his breath quickening. The shadows shifted before the figure appeared.

First, the silhouette. Tall. Impeccable posture.

Then, the glow. The reflection of the torch lit her gray eyes.

It was her.

The woman entered unhurriedly, letting her soaked cloak drag on the ground. The smell of rain still clung to her, mixed with the metallic odor of dried blood. She approached until the torchlight revealed every feature of her face.

Kael stared at her with all he had left: silence and fury.

She didn't smile this time. She just watched him, her head slightly tilted. She walked around him, as if assessing a sculpture. Her boots splashed water with every step.

"Awake." Her voice broke the silence, soft but sharp. "Good."

She stopped in front of him, her eyes fixed on his.

"Do you know why you're still alive?"

Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. The mask prevented him.

She arched her eyebrow, as if expecting an effort, a sign that he would try to communicate anyway. It didn't come.

"I see it in your eyes," she said, moving closer until her shadow covered him. "You don't accept weakness. You don't accept being here. And that's exactly what makes you interesting."

Kael felt anger pulse, but he didn't look away.

She lifted a hand and ran her fingers through the chains binding his arms. The runes glowed in response to her touch.

"You killed trained men. Not by luck. Not by accident." Her voice lowered, almost a whisper. "No one does that without carrying something greater within them."

She took a few steps back, turning around again.

"That's why you're here. I don't want a dead rat. I want to know what you're hiding."

Kael tilted his head slightly, the iron creaking. If he could speak, he would spit out the truth: that she and all her kin were nothing but vermin. But the mask condemned him to silence.

And perhaps it was for the best.

Because deep down, behind the anger, there was a shadow of fear.

Not because of captivity. Not because of pain.

But because, for the first time, someone had disarmed him so completely.

She stopped in front of him again. Silence returned. Only the sound of dripping water and the flickering of the torch.

Then, slowly, she smiled. "Let's see how long it takes for you to give me answers."

The hours slipped away like blood through stone.

Kael had no sense of time, only the endless rhythm of the drops echoing through the cave. Plick. Plick. Plick. The sound was so constant it seemed to drive him mad, like silent torture.

His legs throbbed, numb from the weight of the chains. His shoulders burned with tension. The iron mask crushed his jaw, forcing him to breathe only through his nose. The metallic taste permeated his mouth.

He didn't sleep. He couldn't. Each time exhaustion threatened to close him, the damp chill of the stone jolted him back to wakefulness.

It was only when the sound of footsteps returned that the cycle broke.

The same slow, steady cadence echoed in the corridor. Kael's heart raced—not out of fear, but out of anticipation.

She entered.

Her cloak, still damp, but now less heavy, dripping only in occasional rivulets. The flame of the torch highlighted the cold glint in her gray eyes. She walked unhurriedly until she stopped in front of him.

For a moment, she just watched him silently. Then she raised her hand.

Her fingers brushed the side of his mask, and the sound of iron breaking free echoed loudly in the cave. The weight fell, dragging across the stone floor. Air rushed into Kael's mouth like a brutal release, burning his dry throat. He coughed, his chest rising and falling in spasms.

She didn't move. She just waited.

When he caught his breath, he lifted his face. His voice was hoarse, laced with sarcasm:

"I don't know, damn it... I'm here, not with her."

The following silence was thick, as if even the drops had stopped to listen.

Then came the impact.

The crack of her palm against his face echoed like an explosion. Kael's head whipped to the side, his skin burning. The taste of blood filled his mouth as his tongue smacked against his teeth.

He took a deep, slow breath and slowly turned his face back to hers. His eyes burned, not with pain, but with fury.

She, however, didn't seem agitated. Quite the opposite. The slap had been calculated, cold, emotionless. Her gray eyes held the same unwavering calm, as if she'd simply corrected an insolence.

"Funny." Her voice was low, controlled. "But I'm not in the mood for jokes."

Kael spat blood onto the ground. "Fuck you."

A flash of something flashed in her eyes—maybe impatience, maybe interest. Hard to tell.

She moved closer, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. Her scent was a mixture of iron, smoke, and rain.

"Where. Is. The princess?"

Kael kept his eyes fixed on hers. He could feel the heat of his own blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Her body felt destroyed, empty of mana, chained like an animal. But the only thing she revealed was the same insolence.

"Are you deaf? I'm not with her."

The answer was spat out like venom.

For a moment, silence. Then she straightened, taking a deep breath.

She didn't hit again. She didn't scream.

What she did was worse.

She smiled. A small smile, almost imperceptible, but it held a promise.

"Then let's see... how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She turned around, her cloak dragging on the damp floor. She stopped at the exit of the corridor, without looking back.

"I have all the time in the world."

Kael just smiled. "Do you really?"

"You should just get out of there already," Umbra told him mentally.

"Yes, use my divine power and kill them all," Ahri said. "I'm already fully recovered."

'Just wait... until I know who you are.' Kael thought as he watched her disappear.