The Silver Dawn

The moment Ariel closed his eyes, the world around him ceased to exist.

There was no sound. No wind. No feeling of the cold rooftop beneath him. Just an endless black expanse stretching infinitely in every direction.

Then, the moonlight came.

It was not a sudden burst, nor a gradual illumination—it was simply there, bathing the void in a soft, ethereal glow. The darkness gave way to an endless sea of shifting mist, swirling like silver vapor over the unseen ground.

Ariel found himself standing within it, weightless yet solid, as if the rules of reality were bending to accommodate his presence.

And then, he saw her.

The Moon Goddess.

She stood at the center of this world, balanced atop a single blade of moonlight.

The sword beneath her feet was thin, almost delicate, yet unwavering. It extended from the mist like it had always been there, as if it was a piece of the world itself.

She was short, yet her presence filled the entire expanse. Her long, silver hair cascaded past her back, flowing unnaturally, as if weightless. She wore a black tunic that shimmered like the night sky, shifting and blending into the darkness.

She was a paradox.

Soft yet sharp. Small yet vast. Beautiful yet terrifying.

Ariel couldn't breathe.

He had seen her before—fleeting glimpses in the depths of his soul. But standing before her now, truly facing her for the first time, he felt something primal stir within him.

She wasn't simply powerful.

She was something beyond comprehension.

A force of nature. A goddess.

His Legacy.

She regarded him with calm, unreadable silver eyes. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

"You have come."

Her voice was neither soft nor loud—it simply was, carrying the weight of something beyond mortal comprehension.

Ariel exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I don't think I had a choice."

The Goddess tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You did."

Ariel frowned. "Then why am I here... after all this time, why now?"

She did not answer immediately. Instead, she lowered her gaze, lifting a single hand.

The mist shifted.

A vision unfolded before him—fractured images, glimpses of battle, blood, and moonlit steel.

He saw himself, fighting, struggling, growing stronger, training until he could not move his body an inch. He witnessed his every defeat, his every victory.

The vision suddenly shattered.

The Moon Goddess lowered her hand. "Power is not granted. It is earned."

Ariel clenched his fists.

"If you seek this path, then you must prove yourself."

Ariel barely had time to react before the world around him collapsed.

The mist vanished, replaced by a vast battlefield of cracked stone, stretching endlessly beneath an open sky filled with swirling constellations.

Ariel stood at its center.

The battlefield rippled like water, shifting around Ariel as the last remnants of mist faded into nothingness. The stone beneath his feet was cold, cracked with age, stretching endlessly beneath a sky of swirling constellations.

Before him, his opponent emerged.

It did not walk or step forth from the mist—it simply came into existence, as though it had always been there, waiting.

At first, its form was blurred, shifting like a mirage. But then, it solidified—and Ariel felt his breath catch.

A young man stood before him, identical in build and frame.

His hair was a shimmering silver, flowing in waves down to his shoulders, each strand reflecting the glow of the moon. His skin was pale and smooth, unblemished by scars or imperfections. His robes, the same as Ariel's, flowed weightlessly, moving in ways that defied logic.

But his eyes were the worst part.

They were cold, metallic silver, empty and endless.

It was not just a reflection.

It was an ideal.

A version of him without weakness, without hesitation, without fear.

And then, it moved.

The moment the clone struck, the world around them exploded into motion.

Ariel barely saw the attack—just a blinding flash of silver as the blade carved toward his chest.

His instincts screamed.

He threw himself back, feeling the heat of displaced air brush his skin as the blade whistled past him, cutting through empty space.

The clone didn't stop.

It pressed forward, sword flowing in a seamless chain of attacks—relentless, precise, perfect.

Ariel blocked. Parried. Countered.

And failed.

Each time he tried to attack, the clone was already ahead of him.

Each time he adjusted, the clone adjusted faster.

Their blades clashed in bursts of silver light, the force of each strike sending shockwaves rippling through the cracked battlefield.

It stepped forward, blade raised in a flawless stance. No wasted movement, no unnecessary aggression—only lethal, precise execution.

Then it attacked again.

Ariel barely lifted his sword in time. The impact rattled his bones. Sparks of silver light erupted from their blades as their swords locked, pressure surging between them.

The clone didn't hesitate—it twisted its wrist, angling its sword in an unnatural, fluid motion.

Ariel's defense shattered.

The next strike came for his throat.

Ariel barely dodged, arching backward as the blade whistled past him. He felt the sting of wind against his skin, the promise of death trailing just inches behind.

Then, suddenly, the clone vanished.

Ariel's heart seized.

He spun wildly, sword raised, but—

Too late.

A boot slammed into his chest.

The impact launched him off his feet, sending him crashing onto the stone floor. His back slammed against the ground, the air ripped from his lungs.

He rolled to the side just as the clone's blade stabbed down, piercing the ground where his skull had been a moment ago.

Ariel gasped, struggling to regain his breath, but there was no time.

The clone was already moving again. 

Ariel scrambled to his feet, raising his blade just as the clone lunged again. Their swords met in a blinding storm of silver light and steel.

Each strike was precise. Each movement measured. The clone fought without effort, without strain, as if battle itself was an art it had perfected.

Ariel, by contrast, was barely keeping up.

He parried, dodged, countered—but he was always a step behind.

Each attack he made was countered instantly.

Each movement he took, it mirrored—only better.

Ariel gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling in his chest.

How am I supposed to win?

This was not an enemy that could be overwhelmed. It had no weaknesses, no flaws, no hesitation.

And Ariel—he was flawed. He wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough.

His footwork wavered. His grip tightened in frustration.

And in that moment, the clone punished him.

It twisted into his guard with unnatural speed.

Its elbow slammed into his ribs, hard enough to break something.

Ariel choked as pain shot through him, his body folding from the blow.

Then, before he could react—

A knee drove into his stomach.

The force of it lifted him off the ground.

Ariel's vision blurred from the pain, but he barely managed to block the next sword strike, staggering backward.

his breathing turned ragged. His arms ached from the force of each impact, his muscles screaming for relief.

But the clone…

It was still calm.

Unshaken. Unburdened.

And it was winning.

Ariel moved on pure survival, dodging just in time to avoid another lethal strike.

But his reactions were slowing.

His body weighed him down, sluggish with exhaustion.

I can't… keep up.

He could feel it—the slow, creeping inevitability of defeat.

If he didn't find a way to win soon—

No.

Not win.

Survive.

A final strike came.

Ariel lifted his sword too slow.

The clone's blade ripped through his defense, slicing deep across his torso.

Agony.

Ariel gasped as white-hot pain lanced through him, blood spilling onto the stone.

His vision blurred.

His knees buckled.

His sword slipped from his grasp.

He collapsed onto one knee, gripping his wound as his breath came in short, shaking gasps.

The clone stood above him.

Sword raised.

No hesitation.

No emotion.

Just the inevitable conclusion.

Ariel's mind screamed.

Is this it?

Was this how it ended?

Had he fought for nothing?

Had he—

No.

Something stirred deep inside him.

A flicker of something primal, vast, and endless.

He had felt it before—in fleeting moments of battle, in the cold glow of the moon.

But now, it called to him.

Something beyond instinct.

Beyond thought.

A state of absolute stillness.

And then, he understood.

The world around him slowed.

The pain in his body faded into the background.

The silver light of the battlefield grew sharper, clearer.

And for the first time—Ariel saw everything.

'Ah this is true clarity'

The clone moved.

Ariel did not think.

Did not plan.

He simply existed.

And in that moment, everything aligned.

The clone's sword descended in a killing strike.

Ariel stood.

With effortless grace, he turned his body at the exact moment necessary.

The blade missed him entirely.

A counterattack surged forward—but Ariel had already moved before it happened.

His mind was clear.

His body was weightless.

He was not adapting.

He was simply being.

The clone hesitated.

For the first time in the battle, it did not understand.

And in that brief moment—Ariel struck.

His sword became an extension of himself, moving with the inevitability of the moon's light.

A single, precise stroke cut through the clone's chest.

Silver light erupted from the wound, splitting across its body like fractured glass.

The perfect warrior staggered.

Then, its body collapsed into dust.

The battlefield shattered.

Ariel was breathing hard, his body trembling. He still held his sword, but there was no longer anything to fight.

The battlefield had vanished, replaced once more by the endless mist.

And then—

The Moon Goddess appeared before him.

She was closer this time, standing not at a distance, but directly in front of him.

Balanced atop her blade of moonlight, she crouched slightly, leveling her gaze with his.

For the first time, her presence did not feel distant or unreachable.

It felt real.

Ariel, still kneeling, barely had the strength to move.

The Moon Goddess simply watched him, her silver eyes unreadable, but no longer entirely detached.

Then, she reached forward.

Without hesitation, she placed a single finger against his forehead.

Ariel barely had time to react before silver light flooded his vision.

It didn't burn. It didn't hurt.

It simply was.

For the briefest moment, he felt as though he could see everything.

The shifting constellations, the vastness of the moon's glow, the silver threads that wove together the fabric of his own being.

Then, her voice echoed in his mind.

"You have taken the first step."

Ariel barely had time to process the words before everything vanished.

And then—

He woke up.