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A new start
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By: Funeral Bell


After the battle with Luther, everyone chose to go their separate ways. Albel had originally plan to be the only one returning back to Elicoor—seeing as he's originally from there—but that quickly change from unintentionally overhearing a conversation between Sophia and Fayt. He hid from the scene at an audible range; it would be awkward if he kept walking like nothing when hearing chocking sobs from the brunette.

"Are you sure…Fayt?" the pale green eyes pleaded with tears rolling down her cheeks, she cupped onto Fayt's hand tightly.

"You'll be fine, Sophia. You don't need me." He gently whispered, ruffling her brown locks with a sheepish grin, "I want to go back with Albel."

Crimson eyes widened, he stepped back and took the trail back to his room.

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After arriving, they made it to the mining town of Kirlsa. The pair rested for a good day in Woltar's manor; Albel woke up bright and early and came close to the newly placed mirror. His reflection made him scowl; his fingers touched his gelid collar and made its way to the gauntlet. Underneath the two items held old burns never shown in public after the incident, the scars that kept reminding him of his dreaded past. At night proved no better consolation, nightmare after nightmare reflected his actions from long ago that caused the death of his father.

Albel shook his head. There is already the defeat of The Creator, his title will no longer be 'Captain of the Black Brigade,' instead it will be switched to the Dragon Brigade with Vox gone.

And yet…those accomplishments meant nothing.

Now with Fayt accompanying him—and nor will the swordsman ask the blunette for his reason—it was time to start new.

A knock on the door left his fingers still residing on the artificial arm.

"Ready to go, Albel?"

Albel redirected his eyes on the mirror; he closed his eyes and unhooked the hinge on the back of his collar. It fell on the floor with a loud thump—considering how thick the metal is—the door creaked open and the blue haired had his arms crossed, back facing away from door.

The man glanced at his gauntlet, under there is just a burnt arm and not too lost. His other hand could well provide the ability to wield a sword and never less of a threat to opponents or victims. Albel smirked as he removes the metal plates on his shoulders connected to the gauntlet, and then dumping the artificial arm on his bed.

Fayt took a few steps forward, hearing the echoes of Albel's footsteps out of his room. Emerald eyes greeted him to this cheerful morning along with a smile, "Someone took their time."

"Hush it." Albel said - no hostility included. "Let's get going."