Chapter 16 – Brothers of Rift and Void
The Academy grounds were louder than usual, filled with restless chatter.
Ever since the decree that dungeon-type rifts would be classified as Academy-sanctioned missions, rumors spiraled like wildfire.
"Did you hear? Three Hunters didn't make it out of the last dungeon test."
"They're sending students in? Are they insane?"
"Or preparing us early… if this is war training, then the board is moving faster than we think."
Whispers circled the training halls, the canteens, even the dorm rooftops. Students spoke in fear, in awe, in reckless eagerness.
But one corner of the courtyard remained quiet.
A Sister's Worry
Redmond sat cross-legged beneath a silverleaf tree, eyes half-closed, posture steady as though in meditation. His breathing was calm, but his thoughts were anything but.
A voice broke through his silence.
"Brother."
He opened his eyes. Clara stood before him, her long hair tied back in a braid that swayed with her steps. She plopped onto the bench beside him, legs swinging as she tried to match his composed posture—only to fidget seconds later.
"They say the dungeon rifts swallow people whole. That once you're inside, even the light bends differently." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Are you scared?"
Redmond smirked faintly. "Of course not. I've lived through worse."
Clara pouted. "You always say that. It's like you want to sound old and mysterious."
"Maybe I do," Redmond replied, voice dry.
She squinted at him. "Then at least promise me you won't go in alone. Even a shadow needs someone to hold it down."
The words made him pause. He stared at her, realizing—like he always did—that Clara carried pieces of their mother's warmth.
Before he could answer, another voice sliced across the courtyard.
"You're still as dramatic as ever, Red."
Raynar's Return
Redmond's expression hardened.
At the edge of the courtyard stood Raynar, his twin. His presence was unmistakable—upright, sharp-eyed, his uniform neat as if discipline itself stitched it together.
Clara's face lit up. "Raynar!"
She ran to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He softened at once, ruffling her hair with a hand that was steady but calloused.
"You've grown sharper, Clara," he said. "Talking back to nobles already, I hear?"
She giggled. "Brother Red doesn't answer properly. But he promised me he's not scared of the labyrinths!"
Raynar's gaze shifted to Redmond, eyes narrowing. "Still hiding behind silence?"
Redmond stood slowly, brushing dust from his coat. "Or maybe I just don't waste words anymore."
Clash of Brothers
Raynar smirked. "Then don't waste this chance."
He dropped into a stance, fists coiled with intent. The air around him shifted—the quiet authority of someone who had trained relentlessly.
"You. Me. Now."
Clara squeaked. "Wait, don't—!"
But the clash had already begun.
Raynar struck first, jabs precise and rhythmic, the tempo of a soldier drilled in hand-to-hand combat. Redmond moved fluidly, dodging by fractions, countering with sharp, minimal strikes.
"You're still too defensive," Raynar muttered between blows.
"You're still too reckless," Redmond shot back.
Their limbs blurred. A punch redirected, a kick narrowly avoided, a sweep that forced Raynar off balance. Clara watched with both awe and worry.
"Don't break the courtyard again!" she cried.
The brothers ignored her, lost in their rhythm. No Origin Talents flared—only raw skill, body against body, memory against memory.
Finally, Raynar launched a heavy kick. Redmond caught it, twisted, and both staggered back at the same time.
They stood panting lightly, neither victorious, neither broken.
Talk of Talents
Raynar was the first to break the silence. He tapped his chest.
"My Origin awakened fully last cycle. Blutz Vein. It hardens when struck—bone, blood, muscle. Physical or energy, it all gets absorbed and reinforced. A living barrier."
Clara's eyes widened. "That's amazing!"
Raynar gave her a small smile. "It is. But… every strike I take feeds back into me. If I overuse it, my veins swell, my body shuts down. A wall that shatters itself."
Then his eyes turned sharp again, locking onto Redmond. "Now you. Don't think I didn't feel it just now. The void still lingers in you."
Redmond's hands curled unconsciously. His chest tightened with memories he tried not to revisit. His mother's laughter. The flash of unstable light. Her last look at him before everything went dark.
"…Void Access."
The words fell heavy. Clara tilted her head in confusion, but Raynar froze.
"My body absorbed the instability," Redmond continued, voice low. "It merged with me. I don't create wormholes anymore. I am the passage. My cells, my veins—they're tied to it. The void doesn't answer me like an ally. It waits, like a predator, for me to slip."
Raynar clenched his fists. "So that's your curse."
Redmond's lips curled in a bitter smirk. "Or my weapon."
Clara tugged his sleeve gently. "But doesn't that hurt, Brother?"
He looked at her and softened, kneeling so his eyes met hers. "It does. Every day. But it reminds me why I can't afford to lose."
Raynar's arms crossed. "Then don't. Because the next time we fight, I won't hold back. And neither will the world."
Shadows of the Past
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Clara broke it, her eyes bright.
"Mother would scold you both if she saw this."
Both twins stiffened.
Raynar's gaze darkened. "…She would. She always did when we fought. Remember when she caught us brawling in the orchard?"
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Redmond's lips. "She made us hold hands for an hour straight."
Clara giggled. "And you both sulked like children!"
Raynar's voice lowered. "I still remember… when she told me not to fear pain. That her talent—gravity—was born from repulsion. That she turned rejection into strength."
Redmond's chest ached. His mother's voice echoed in his memory: 'Even if the world pushes you away, Redmond, draw it close. Pull what rejects you, and make it yours.'
He exhaled slowly. "I still hear her. Every time the void stirs."
Raynar swallowed hard, his composure cracking for the first time. "…She carried everything that day. For both of us."
"And paid the price," Redmond finished, voice low.
They didn't speak further. Clara, though too young to understand the full weight, felt the shift in their silence. She reached out and grabbed both their hands firmly.
"Then don't fight each other. Fight for each other."
A Bell and a Storm
The brothers exchanged a long stare. For the first time in years, not of hatred, but of acknowledgment.
And, faintly, they both smiled.
The Academy bells tolled overhead—summoning all students to the Grand Hall for the first Dungeon Mission briefing.
The storm outside the courtyard had only just begun.