The sounds of the battle outside were deafening. Kaito stood on the balcony of Caelum's Edge, overlooking the sprawling battlefield below. The once-pristine grasslands had been stained red, the cries of soldiers ringing out as war machines crashed into each other. Fires lit up the horizon, and smoke billowed into the sky, thick and suffocating. The imperial army clashed with the rebellious forces, their desperate fight for control shaking the very earth beneath Kaito's feet.
Isolde stood beside him, her gaze cold and unwavering as she watched the destruction unfold. She had changed into her battle attire—dark, flowing armor that reflected her regal status but was designed for speed and efficiency. Her sword, a sleek blade of polished steel with mysterious runes etched along its length, was strapped to her back. She seemed unfazed by the chaos around her, her composure unshaken by the bloodshed.
Kaito, on the other hand, felt sick to his stomach. He had never seen war firsthand—never witnessed the kind of violence that tore through men and women like this. His thoughts kept racing back to his life before—his home, his family, his plans for the future. All of it seemed so far away, so irrelevant now. The world he had been thrust into was unforgiving, and he was nothing more than a pawn in a game he didn't understand.
"Why did you bring me here?" Kaito asked, his voice heavy with confusion. "I don't belong in this war. I don't even belong in this world."
Isolde turned to him, her eyes sharp but not unkind. "You belong here because the throne belongs to you now, whether you accept it or not," she said, her voice cold but not without a trace of compassion. "The sword chose you for a reason. You are the key to this empire's future."
Kaito clenched his fists at his sides. "But I…" His words caught in his throat. "I don't want to be the key. I just want to go home. I don't know anything about ruling or fighting. I can barely even hold a sword."
"You will learn," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "We all must. War doesn't wait for you to catch up. It forces you to move, to adapt, or be left behind."
Kaito looked down at his hands, the calluses on his palms from years of training and study, not from battle. Yet, somehow, the sword—the sword of Ashes and Flame—felt like a part of him. It wasn't just a weapon. It was an extension of his very will, humming with energy when he thought of it. And somewhere deep inside, he knew that he couldn't just walk away.
The distant roar of a battle cry brought him back to the present. The enemy forces were advancing on the fortress gates, their war drums echoing in the distance. The situation was more dire than ever. The rebellion had begun its final push, and the imperial army was struggling to hold its ground.
"I need to speak with my commanders," Isolde said, her voice hardening. "There are decisions to be made."
Before she could turn to leave, Kaito grabbed her arm. "Wait. What do I do? I don't even know where to begin."
Isolde met his gaze, her eyes softening for a brief moment. "You will do what you must. You will fight if you must. And when the time comes, you will sit upon the throne. If you survive."
The last words hit Kaito like a ton of bricks. If you survive. He hadn't thought about that. War was a ruthless beast, and there was no guarantee that anyone, let alone a clueless outsider like him, would make it through unscathed.
Before he could respond, a loud explosion rocked the fortress, shaking the ground beneath them. The walls trembled, and the sound of steel on steel reached their ears as the gates began to crumble.
Isolde's eyes narrowed. "It's begun," she said, turning to Kaito. "Stay close to me. You may not be a soldier, but if you want to survive, you must act like one."
Kaito's heart pounded in his chest as he followed her down the staircase, through the narrow hallways of Caelum's Edge. Soldiers rushed past them, their armor clanging, their faces grim. But Isolde didn't flinch. She moved with purpose, as if she had been born for moments like this. She was a leader, a ruler—someone who had seen war before and knew how to survive it.
They reached the war room just as a messenger burst through the door, his face pale with fear.
"My princess, my lord, the rebels have breached the outer walls! We are outnumbered!"
Isolde's eyes burned with fury as she turned to the commander, a grizzled man with a scar running down his face. "We will hold the line at all costs," she said, her voice calm but commanding. "Kaito, you need to prepare."
"Prepare? How am I supposed to prepare for this?" Kaito asked, his voice rising with panic.
"There's no time for hesitation," Isolde said sharply, pushing a sword into his hands. "You will fight. You will learn. Now, move."
Kaito gripped the hilt of the sword, its weight unfamiliar in his hands. He had no idea how to fight. But the look in Isolde's eyes told him there was no other choice. This was the moment he had been thrust into this world for. The weight of destiny hung heavy on his shoulders, and though fear gnawed at him, something else surged inside him—a flicker of determination.
As they donned their armor and prepared for the oncoming storm, Kaito couldn't help but wonder what had brought him here. The throne, the war, the sword—all of it felt like a strange dream, one that he couldn't wake from. But in the back of his mind, a whisper tugged at him.
This is your fate, Kaito. Whether you accept it or not.