Chapter 12: The Truth Begins
1860 Words
Torvin's office was on the top floor of the Iron Vanguard guildhall — a sparse room with a single window overlooking the eastern wall of Aethermere. No decorations, no trophies. Just a desk, two chairs, and a map of the Shattered Expanse pinned to the wall with iron nails.
Kael had never been inside it before.
"Sit," Torvin said. He closed the door behind them and remained standing, his back to the window. The light from outside silhouetted his scarred frame, making his expression unreadable.
Kael sat. His Probability Eye calculated: chance this meeting is about the dungeon tampering — 41%. Chance it's about his class evolution — 34%. Chance it's something else entirely — 25%.
"I've been watching you since you were four years old," Torvin said.
Kael's breath caught. He hadn't expected that.
"You were in the Aethermere orphanage. Small, quiet, didn't cry much. The caretakers said you just... watched. Like you were studying everything." Torvin's voice was steady, but Kael could hear the weight beneath it. "I visited every month. Dropped off coin, clothes, supplies. Anonymous. The caretakers thought I was a charity donor."
"You knew me," Kael said slowly. "Before the Academy. Before everything."
"I knew your parents."
The room went very quiet.
Torvin sat down across from him. For the first time since Kael had known him, the guild leader looked tired. Not physically — tired in the way people look when they've carried something too heavy for too long.
"Your parents were researchers," Torvin said. "Part of a team studying the boundary between dimensions — the barrier between our world and what we now call the Veil. The Sundering hadn't happened yet. The System didn't exist. We were just... scientists. Chasing theories."
"Who was on the team?"
"Your father. Your mother. Me." Torvin paused. "And a man named Maelis Cross."
Kael's Probability Eye flickered. The name triggered something — a resonance, faint but unmistakable, like a bell struck in a distant room. He didn't know why.
"We were close," Torvin continued. "Four people, one goal: understand what lay beyond the dimensional barrier. Your father was the theorist. Your mother was the experimentalist. Maelis was the engineer. I was the field operator — the one who went into dangerous places and came back with data."
He stopped. His hand rested on the desk, and Kael noticed the missing ring finger — the one Torvin had lost in a dungeon.
"What happened?" Kael asked.
"The experiments accelerated. Maelis found a way to thin the barrier — to create a stable window into the space between dimensions. We thought it was a breakthrough." Torvin's jaw tightened. "It wasn't. The barrier didn't just thin. It shattered. The Sundering wasn't a natural disaster, Kael. We caused it."
Kael's mind went very still. The orphanage. The empty crib where his parents should have been. The three years of growing up alone, thinking they'd died in some random catastrophe.
"Your parents tried to close the rift," Torvin said. "They succeeded — partially. The barrier restabilized, but the damage was done. The System appeared. Mana flooded the world. And in the final moment, as the rift was collapsing, your parents were pulled through."
"Pulled through," Kael repeated. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
"Into the Veil. The dimension on the other side of the barrier." Torvin met his eyes. "They didn't die, Kael. They're trapped. On the other side of the rift they helped create."
For a long time, Kael didn't speak. He sat in the chair, staring at the map on the wall — the Shattered Expanse, the dungeon gates, the distant silhouette of the Obsidian Abyss. His PER picked up his own heartbeat: elevated. His LUK, for once, had nothing to calculate.
"Why are you telling me this now?" he said finally.
"Because of your class." Torvin leaned forward. "The Voidwalker isn't random. The Void energy that powers your skills is the same energy that exists in the Veil. Your class was designed — by someone who understood dimensional mechanics better than anyone alive."
"Maelis Cross."
"Yes. He survived the Sundering. Entered the Veil. And from the other side, he's been... doing things. The dungeon tampering. The Shadow Trade. The Nexus Gate project. It all traces back to him."
Kael's hands tightened on the armrests. "You're saying the man who destroyed the world is also the one who gave me my class."
"I'm saying your father is trapped in the Veil because of Maelis Cross's experiments. And I'm saying your class — the Voidwalker — was designed to be a key. A way to reach the other side."
"A key to what?"
"I don't know. Maelis didn't share that part." Torvin's expression darkened. "But I've spent three years watching you, Kael. Watching your stats, your growth, your class evolution. And every time your Voidwalker does something new — something that shouldn't be possible — I think: he's getting closer to whatever Maelis designed him for."
Kael stood. His chair scraped against the stone floor.
"I need time," he said.
"I know."
"Don't tell anyone. Not yet."
"I won't."
Kael walked to the door. Then stopped.
"Torvin. Thank you. For watching over me. For telling me the truth."
Torvin nodded. His steel-blue eyes were bright. "Get some rest, Ashford. You've got a tournament to prepare for."
Kael didn't get rest.
He went to the training grounds instead, running drills against enchanted dummies until his arms ached and his PER screamed at him to stop. The Void energy in his core pulsed with each heartbeat — steadier now, more defined, like it was listening.
Your parents didn't die. They're trapped in the Veil.
He thought about the orphanage. The empty bed where his mother should have been. The years of wondering why he was different, why his stats didn't make sense, why the System had given him a class that bent probability and stepped through space.
Now he knew. He wasn't random. He was designed.
"Kael?"
Ren's voice. Kael turned. His best friend stood at the edge of the training grounds, holding a new shield — iron-banded, heavier than his old one. His expression was concerned.
"Torvin told you something," Ren said. Not a question.
"He knew my parents."
Ren was quiet for a moment. Then he walked over and sat on the bench next to Kael. "You don't have to tell me."
"They're alive. Somewhere in the Veil. The Sundering wasn't an accident — it was caused by a research team. My parents were on it. So was Torvin. And someone named Maelis Cross."
Ren absorbed this. "So the dungeon tampering, the Shadow Trade, the Nexus Gate project..."
"It all connects. To one man. On the other side of the barrier."
Ren looked at him. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to get stronger. I'm going to find out what Maelis Cross wants with my class. And I'm going to get my parents back."
Ren nodded. "Then I'm coming with you."
"Ren—"
"Don't." Ren's voice was firm. "You're not doing this alone, brother. Whatever's on the other side of that barrier, we face it together."
Kael looked at his oldest friend. The boy who'd shared a bunk with him in the orphanage. The man who'd tanked a B-rank boss with a cracked shield and never complained.
"Together," Kael said.
They were scheduled for a C-rank dungeon run that afternoon — a routine training mission, supervised by a junior Iron Vanguard member. Kael's squad: himself, Ren, Elara, and one additional student assigned by the Academy.
The additional student was Caelen Dravon.
"Torvin's orders," Caelen said flatly when they met at the dungeon entrance. "Apparently my father thinks I need to learn teamwork."
Kael's Probability Eye calculated: chance Caelen is genuinely here for training — 23%. Chance he has ulterior motives — 77%.
"We clear the dungeon, we go home," Kael said. "No drama."
"I don't create drama," Caelen said. "I create results."
They entered.
The dungeon was the Crystalline Warren — a C-rank labyrinth of quartz tunnels and mana-crystal formations. The monsters were Crystal Golems — slow, tanky, with high defense but predictable attack patterns.
Kael called patterns. Ren tanked. Elara attacked from range. It should have been routine.
It wasn't.
On the second floor, Caelen volunteered to scout ahead. "I'm faster than all of you. I'll check the next corridor and report back."
He disappeared around the corner. Thirty seconds later, his voice echoed back: "Clear. Come on."
Kael's Void Sense pulsed.
"Stop," he said.
Ren and Elara froze.
"There's a cluster of monsters ahead," Kael said. "Six Crystal Golems, not one. Level 16 to 18. He's leading us into a pack."
Caelen's voice called again: "What's taking so long?"
"He lied," Ren said quietly.
Kael's Probability Eye calculated: chance of survival if they walk into the pack — 52%. Not fatal, but dangerous. Chance Caelen did this deliberately — 89%.
"New formation," Kael said. "Ren, shield wall at the corridor entrance. Elara, Blizzard down the tunnel — don't aim for the golems, aim for the floor. Make it slippery. I'll Void Step behind them and call the patterns."
They moved. Elara's Blizzard coated the quartz floor in frost. The Crystal Golems charged — and immediately lost their footing, sliding and crashing into each other. Ren held the entrance, his new shield absorbing hits that would have cracked his old one. Kael Void Stepped behind the pack and called targets — "Elara, the big one on the left! Ren, bash right! Now!"
The fight lasted four minutes. The golems fell.
When they reached the third floor, Caelen was waiting. He looked at them — at Kael, at the shattered golems behind them — and said nothing.
"You knew," Kael said.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Six golems. Level 16 to 18. You called it clear."
Caelen's jaw tightened. "I miscounted."
Kael's Probability Eye calculated: chance Caelen is lying — 97%.
"Next time you miscount," Kael said quietly, "I'll know."
He walked past Caelen and into the third floor. Behind him, Ren followed. Elara followed. Caelen stood alone in the corridor for a long moment before he followed too.
They cleared the dungeon. Rating: B+. EXP gained: 1200. Not enough to level — Kael needed fifteen thousand for Level 16 — but the progress felt good.
The numbers didn't matter. Not tonight.
Kael sat on the Academy roof, looking out over Aethermere. The city hummed below — merchants, Hunters, ordinary people living ordinary lives. Somewhere out there, the Shadow Trade was selling Dungeon Modifiers. Somewhere in the Undermarket, Maren was hiding. And somewhere beyond the Veil, his parents were waiting.
His Void Sense pulsed. The Void energy in his core resonated — faintly, steadily, like a second heartbeat.
The Void remembers, child. And it has been waiting for you.
Now he understood. The Void wasn't just remembering. It was calling.
He pulled out the black card with the broken circle symbol. The silver emblem caught the moonlight.
Tomorrow. He'd try the Whispering Flask one more time. And if Maren wasn't there, he'd find another way.
His parents were alive. That changed everything.
- Writer
