AK : RISING MYTHIC

The sun had only just begun to rise over the Mythic Base. Pale, drowsy light brushed the courtyard with its faint golden warmth, but the mood in the air was off—cooler than usual, as if something unspoken had settled like fog.

Arslan stepped into the dining hall with slow, silent steps. His face was unreadable, hood pulled over his head, shadowing his eyes. The usual energy around breakfast was alive—Vaelith sipping hot tea, Zhalya cracking jokes with Tarric, Seris nudging Yuna over some private joke—but it all felt distant, irrelevant.

Seris spotted Arslan immediately and gently elbowed Nirela, grinning.

Nirela looked up, heart skipping for a fleeting second.

But Arslan didn't look at them.

He didn't even glance.

He walked to the table, picked up his plate, turned, and left without a word.

No greeting. No nod. Nothing.

"He didn't even..." Nirela whispered, blinking. Seris raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell's up with him?" Yuna muttered under her breath.

The courtyard felt quieter once Arslan had gone.

---

The air cracked with the sound of exertion—fists hitting wood, blades cutting air, bodies tumbling and colliding with dirt.

Arslan had been training for hours. He had arrived before anyone else and showed no sign of slowing.

His movements were mechanical—precise, aggressive, brutal.

He pounded a boulder into fragments using only his fists, then reconstructed it with dark energy shaping, only to shatter it again.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Sweat drenched his shirt. His arms were bruised. But he didn't stop. Didn't flinch. Didn't whisper for Kar'Thael. Not once.

No one approached him.

Even Milo, bold as he was, hesitated.

The others noticed. They trained as usual—some awakening new abilities, others pairing up to test their control—but everyone stole glances at Arslan.

Too quiet. Too cold.

Vaelith whispered to Caelis, "He hasn't spoken since that morning."

Caelis nodded. "Something's off."

Dinner brought chatter, laughter, and the warm scent of food.

Yuna had brought extra bread for everyone. Ravik and Orien were laughing over a misfire in one of Orien's pulse attacks. Even Elyra cracked a rare smile.

But as Arslan approached the food table, silence rippled through the courtyard.

He didn't pause.

He didn't acknowledge anyone.

He picked up his plate, turned, and walked off toward the halls again.

Nirela took a step forward, opened her mouth to speak—but the words never came. Arslan had already disappeared around the corner.

"He didn't even look," she said softly, not realizing she had spoken aloud.

---

The moon was high.

Silver light stretched across the empty ground like a dream. Wind rustled the nearby trees with soft whistles, and lanterns glowed faintly on the training poles.

And there was Arslan.

Alone.

His movements were sharper now, more deliberate—but slower. Not from precision. From exhaustion.

Still, he moved.

Shadow Merge. Spiral Recoil. Phantom Rift. Crimson Verge.

Every technique cycled through with methodical control—but no creativity. No evolution. No feedback.

No Kar'Thæl.

Arslan didn't call for him. Not once. His lips were tight, sealed.

When his energy finally gave out, he slumped to one knee and stared at the cracked ground.

He didn't sigh.

He didn't whisper.

He stood back up... and began again.

---

Day Two – Breakfast

The next morning mirrored the first.

Same silence. Same avoidance.

This time, Arslan didn't even stop at the food table. He walked past the courtyard entirely, boots quiet on stone, heading straight to the training grounds.

Seris, now visibly annoyed, muttered, "He's got a problem, and it's affecting all of us."

"Something happened," Yuna added. "He's isolating again. It's worse this time."

"He won't even look at Nirela," Zhalya pointed out.

Nirela didn't speak. Her fingers clutched the edge of her plate.

---

The sun blazed directly above now, sweat clinging to every Mythic Knight as they trained across the field.

Tarric worked on lightning arcs. Ismere honed her blood echo techniques. Tharion was perfecting an advanced shockwave strike. Their camaraderie was strong—laughs echoed between pairs, compliments were shared freely.

And there was Arslan.

Still alone.

Still silent.

Still relentless.

He struck at moving targets with Shadow Blades and reshaped his Dark Shield dozens of times. His arms shook by midday, but he showed no pain. His eyes were hard—focused, distant, almost hollow.

Vaelith tried to wave at him once.

No response.

Maelis looked toward Nirela, silently urging her to try.

She shook her head.

---

This time, Arslan arrived even later.

Everyone else had eaten. The courtyard was quiet, just soft conversations over fading light. Lanterns had been lit. Fireflies hovered in the grass.

He stepped in, picked up his food, and began walking away without a glance.

"Arslan," Nirela called gently.

He didn't pause.

He vanished into the hall once more.

A second night.

The same cold routine.

No Kar'Thæl.

No sparring. No whisper. No mocking. No laughter.

Arslan worked through his skills again and again, his expression unreadable beneath the sweat-soaked strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

He practiced teleporting through Phantom Rift—barely holding his landing.

He struck a dummy with Crimson Verge—only to drop to a knee, breath stolen.

Still, he didn't stop.

Still, he didn't ask for help.

Still, he didn't speak.

When he collapsed beside the training pillar, his head tilted to the stars.

He closed his eyes—not in meditation.

Just to escape the noise inside.

And again, he rose.

And again, he fought.

The two days has been passed, but no change in Arslan's behavior... He is ignoring everyone even Kar'Thael....

Kar'Thael didn't whisper a single word in these days...He wants to realize Arslan that A single pain can ruin someone's life, a bad feeling can lead to someone's life break..

But Arslan didn't realize a single word, as he just wants to save his father.

Another night of silence.

Kar'Thæl said nothing.

Arslan spoke to no one.

Even in his sleep, he tossed restlessly.

But pride held him still.

He wouldn't reach out.

Not yet.