Gazing into Fate Chapter 8: Revelations, a Fire Emblem + Kingdom Hearts Crossover fanfic

Chapter 7: Revelations

The Shepherds had made it this far, but the road ahead was still unclear. As night fell over their camp, the familiar sense of camaraderie that usually filled the air was replaced by a heavy silence—tension radiating between the flames of their campfire. Secrets, unspoken doubts, and the weight of the unknown pressed down on Adrian. He sat a little apart from the others, his mind churning with guilt and indecision.

His eyes drifted over to the fire, where Chrom stood, his back to Adrian, engaged in quiet conversation with Frederick and Robin. Occasionally, one of them would glance in his direction, their eyes filled with suspicion or concern. Adrian clenched his fists. He had kept his knowledge close for so long, believing it would protect them, but now... now it seemed like the cracks in his carefully constructed walls were widening, and they threatened to consume everything.

Something told Adrian that the hardest challenges were yet to come.

"Adrian."

The word snapped him out of his thoughts. Chrom stood before him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the fire. The prince's usual calm demeanor was replaced by a mixture of frustration and confusion, lines of tension etched into his features. It wasn't a question—it was a command.

Adrian swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small under the weight of the prince's gaze. Around them, the other Shepherds were watching, their expressions expectant, their silence pressing in on him. They had fought together, bled together, but now the secrets he had kept felt like a wall between them. The silence stretched on, thick and stifling, as they waited for him to speak.

"Tell us everything you know," Chrom continued, his voice low and firm.

Adrian took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always known this moment would come, but not like this—not under the scrutiny of every single person who had come to trust him. His gaze flicked to Robin, whose expression was unreadable, and then to Frederick, who stood with his arms crossed, his suspicion clear in his stance.

"I should've told you sooner," Adrian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've seen the future… and it's changing In ways I don't recognize."

The murmurs started immediately, rippling through the group like a wave. Chrom's frown deepened, his brow furrowing as he processed Adrian's words. Beside him, Frederick's eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he stepped forward, his posture rigid.

"You knew this, and yet you said nothing?" Frederick's tone was cold, the accusation clear. "How can we trust you, knowing you withheld something so critical?"

Adrian could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, a dull thrum of guilt that weighed heavily on his chest. "I didn't know how much I could change," he said, his voice shaky but resolute. "If I told you everything, it might have made things worse…"

Frederick scoffed, his expression hardening. "That's a convenient excuse. Lives were at stake—Emmeryn's life, the lives of everyone here! You could have prevented so much."

"I—" Adrian's mouth went dry, his words catching in his throat. How could he explain the burden of his foresight? The crushing weight of knowing things that were too dangerous to share?

"I thought I was protecting you," Adrian finally managed, his voice quieter now. "The future is fragile. If I revealed too much, it might have caused more harm than good. I couldn't take that risk."

The group fell into a tense silence. Lissa, standing near the fire, frowned. She was the first to speak, her voice soft but steady. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "We could have helped you, Adrian. You didn't have to carry it all on your own."

Her words were like a knife to his gut. Adrian met her gaze, seeing the concern in her eyes—not anger, not disappointment, but genuine worry. "I thought it was safer… for everyone," he whispered.

Frederick's cold voice cut through the moment. "Safer for whom?" he demanded.

"No," Adrian said quickly, shaking his head. "It's not that I didn't trust you. I trust all of you. But I was scared. If I said too much, I might make things worse. The timeline was already starting to fall apart."

Frederick was about to speak again, but Chrom held up a hand, stopping him. His expression was still stern, but there was a softness to his eyes that hadn't been there before. "I understand why you kept it to yourself, Adrian," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But keeping information like this—something that could change the fate of Ylisse—was dangerous. You have to see that."

Adrian could feel the weight of Chrom's words, but before he could respond, Robin spoke for the first time.

"Adrian's right about one thing—the timeline isn't set in stone anymore. We've seen it with our own eyes. But if we're going to navigate this, we need to do it together," Robin said, his voice thoughtful but serious. "We need to move forward as a team."

Frederick, ever skeptical, crossed his arms. "Trust is fragile, Robin. And Adrian's secrets have already damaged that trust."

"I agree," Chrom said, nodding. "We move forward together, but no more secrets. We need to face whatever's coming as one."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, though the tension still lingered like a cloud that refused to disperse. Maribelle's voice, sharp as ever, broke through. "If Emmeryn had been in more danger because of what you kept from us, how would you have explained that?" she asked, her tone unforgiving.

Adrian winced at her words, feeling the sting of her accusation. Before he could respond, Virion's voice cut through the tension, unusually calm. "There's merit to Adrian's caution," he said, his tone measured. "Timing is everything, especially in war. Perhaps he feared revealing too much too soon."

Sully snorted from the back of the group. "Yeah, well, I'm still pissed. But I get it."

Adrian could feel the weight of their scrutiny still pressing down on him, but the worst of the storm seemed to have passed. He stood up straighter, determination hardening in his chest. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "From now on, I'll tell you everything I know. No more hiding."

Adrian took a breath, feeling the weight of what he was about to share. The Shepherds stood around him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern.

He began, firmly. "I will tell you this—my foresight isn't all-knowing. It's only limited to what the next wielder of the Gazing Eye has experienced."

The group stayed quiet, their focus on Adrian's every word. Robin, as always, was calculating, already trying to understand the full implications of what Adrian was saying.

"The Gazing Eye can only see into futures where it exists," Adrian continued, his voice steady. "It can see the past and future, but only in places where it's been present in time."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "It was supposed to be forged from the eye of the Master of Masters... but I don't think that's the case here, not anymore. It was passed to me, just as I will pass it to others. Through it, I can see everything that will ever come to pass."

There was a noticeable shift in the room as the group processed his words. Adrian could sense the unease but also their growing curiosity.

"And how did you come to possess this 'gift'?" Robin asked, his tone sharp but not accusatory.

Adrian's gaze hardened slightly. "It wasn't a coincidence. It was given to me by Naga herself."

The Shepherds exchanged glances, their skepticism clear. Adrian anticipated this and quickly followed up. "If you don't believe me, then mark my words: if the war in Plegia goes as it should, in two years' time, everything will be revealed at the Mila Tree."

A tense silence followed, broken only when Robin, his expression thoughtful, raised a question. "Wait... if the next wielder is from the future, that means they've been watching us, haven't they? Watching you."

Adrian didn't respond directly, but his eyes locked with Robin's for a moment. He wasn't going to offer the name they were searching for. Not yet.

For now, he'd given them enough to ponder. Too much too soon, and trust wouldn't grow—only doubt.

The tension hadn't fully dissipated, but the Shepherds had little time to dwell on the confrontation. As the days passed and they traveled further into the cold, unforgiving expanse of Regna Ferox, the air grew heavier with anticipation.

They had made it this far, but Adrian couldn't shake the feeling that his confession had only bought him time, not trust. His eyes often drifted toward the horizon, where snow-covered mountains loomed ahead, and an eerie sense of foreboding lingered in the air.

The towering stone gates of Regna Ferox loomed before them, imposing and guarded by watchful Feroxi soldiers. The Shepherds approached cautiously, Chrom stepping forward to speak on behalf of the group.

"We seek an audience with Khan Flavia," Chrom said, his voice steady and diplomatic.

The guard raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And who are you to request such an audience?"

"I am Chrom, prince of Ylisse, and these are my Shepherds."

There was a tense moment as the guard considered his words, his eyes scanning the group for any signs of deceit. Finally, he signaled for the gates to open. "The Khan will see you, but you'll need to prove yourselves first."

As the massive gates creaked open, revealing the city beyond, the Shepherds were led through its fortified streets. Regna Ferox was a city of warriors—strong, sturdy, and built for battle. The clang of metal on metal rang through the air as warriors trained in open courtyards, preparing themselves for whatever might come next.

Adrian's stomach churned with unease as they approached the arena. He knew what was coming—what had to come. Chrom would face Lucina, still hiding behind her guise as 'Marth.' But something felt off. The timeline was already warping in ways he hadn't predicted. What if it happened again?

Inside the arena, the roar of the crowd echoed through the stands as Chrom and Lucina—still posing as 'Marth'—faced each other. The clang of steel filled the air as their swords clashed in a deadly dance. Chrom was relentless, his movements sharp and precise, but 'Marth' held her own, her blade flashing in the midday sun.

But Adrian wasn't watching the fight. His attention was elsewhere—on the shadows that lingered at the edges of the arena.

And then, a figure emerged.

The roar of the crowd fell to a hushed murmur as the figure landed gracefully in the arena, their cloak billowing out behind them. The Feroxi warriors, who had moments ago been shouting for blood, now stood in stunned silence. Even the Shepherds, hardened by battle and accustomed to the strange, stared in confusion. The figure was an enigma—a dark silhouette draped in armor and a cloak that looked far too familiar.

Adrian's heart clenched as he realized who it was.

Lucina—still fighting under the guise of "Marth"—took a cautious step back, her eyes wide with shock. Even she hadn't anticipated this sudden intrusion. Her stance faltered, the gleaming blade of the Falchion dipping slightly as the tension in the air grew thicker.

"Who... who is that?" Lissa whispered, glancing toward her brother, her voice tight with unease.

Chrom stood motionless, his sword still raised, but his eyes fixed on the newcomer. He shifted his stance slightly, ready to defend himself at a moment's notice, but the confusion on his face was plain. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice low, "but it looks like we're about to find out."

Robin, ever the tactician, scanned the figure with narrowed eyes, his mind already spinning through strategies. "They aren't part of the Feroxi. Their stance… it's too practiced. Like a warrior from another world."

The crowd began to stir once more, whispers filling the stands as the tension mounted. The Feroxi murmured to each other, wondering if this was part of the test or something far more dangerous.

Adrian, however, didn't need any more time to guess. His heart was pounding, his grip tightening on the hilt of his Keyblade as he recognized the posture, the familiarity of the armor. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him as he took an instinctive step forward.

"No… it can't be…"

Before anyone could react further, the hooded figure raised their hand. With a flash of light, a Keyblade appeared in their grasp—a weapon unmistakably similar to the Gazing Eye that Adrian himself wielded. The arena went deathly silent as the light from the Keyblade illuminated the hooded figure's face.

"Owain?" Adrian's voice barely carried over the hushed crowd, but the shock in his tone was palpable.

The hooded figure—Owain—let the cloak fall to the ground, revealing his unmistakable face. His youthful features were set in a solemn expression, but there was still a glint of something familiar in his eyes. A flicker of that dramatic flair Adrian knew all too well, tempered now by a deeper sadness.

"Father," Owain said, his voice calm but filled with unspoken sorrow. His gaze swept over the Shepherds, the crowd, and finally settled on Chrom, Lucina, and Adrian. "I didn't expect it to come to this so soon. I hoped… I hoped I wouldn't have to interfere, but the future I come from is already unraveling."

Lucina lowered her sword further, her confusion now matching the shock on Adrian's face. "Owain?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, caught off guard by the presence of her cousin. She hadn't expected him to appear—not yet, not now. And especially not like this.

Chrom's eyes flickered between Adrian and Owain, trying to piece together the puzzle. "Another one… from the future?" he asked, his voice carefully measured.

Owain gave a slow, grave nod. "Yes. I come from a future where everything falls apart. And I've come to make sure it doesn't happen here."

The crowd, realizing the gravity of the situation, began murmuring once more, this time more urgently. The Shepherds, too, exchanged nervous glances. Virion was the first to speak up, his usual charm tinged with unease. "It seems the plot has thickened considerably."

Sully clenched her fists, her sharp eyes narrowing. "What the hell is going on, Adrian? You didn't tell us about this."

Adrian's heart was in his throat. He couldn't respond—his voice felt caught in his chest. He had seen the fractured pieces of the future, but Owain appearing here, now, was not part of the plan. Not part of the original future he had been trying to keep together.

"I told you," Adrian whispered, more to himself than to the others. "But… the future has changed."

Owain took a step forward, his gaze never leaving his father. "I came here to make sure you're ready, Father. The timeline is already falling apart, and what you thought was your path… it's not as clear as you hoped. You've seen it, haven't you? The fractures."

Adrian swallowed, his mind spinning. The fractures… He had felt them ever since Lucina arrived too early, since Aversa's earlier-than-expected Face-Turn. The events he had relied on were shifting, warping beyond his control.

Before he could respond, Owain raised his Keyblade, its glow intensifying as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Father. I wish there were another way. But the future's fate depends on this. I have to test your resolve. I have to make sure you're ready."

Chrom raised his sword slightly, still cautious. "What are you saying?"

Owain took a deep breath, his posture becoming more rigid, but the dramatic spark that Adrian had come to associate with his son flickered to life. "For the honor of the Gazing Eye and for the sake of all timelines, I, Owain Dark, bearer of its power, challenge you, Father."

The words struck Adrian like a blow. His son—the boy he had trained, laughed with, fought beside—was now standing against him in this arena. But Adrian didn't move. He couldn't. His heart pounded in his chest, his grip on the Gazing Eye tightening. His son stood before him, Keyblade raised, his eyes burning with the determination of a warrior, but Adrian could still see the boy beneath.

"Father, I don't want to do this," Owain said, his voice softer now, but no less resolute. "But if we don't prepare now… if you aren't ready for what's to come, then everything I've sacrificed will be for nothing."

The Shepherds watched, unsure of how to intervene. Lissa's hand trembled as she reached out toward Owain, her voice cracking as she called his name. "Owain… don't…"

But it was too late.

Owain's Keyblade flared with light, the arena illuminated in a brilliant glow. He pointed it directly at Adrian, his stance firm, his expression one of steely resolve.

Adrian, his mind racing, tightened his grip on his own Keyblade. He didn't want this fight, but the future—his future—was standing before him, demanding a reckoning. And, perhaps, this was his only chance to save it.

"I'm ready," Adrian finally said, his voice steadying as he stepped forward, raising the Gazing Eye. He met his son's gaze, the clash of their shared burden heavy between them.

The crowd, the Shepherds, even Lucina—everyone watched with bated breath as father and son stood face to face, their Keyblades shimmering in the cold arena light.

The hardest challenges weren't ahead of Adrian anymore. They were standing right in front of him, embodied by his son—the boy who had become the warrior who would challenge him, not out of malice, but out of necessity.

The silence of the arena stretched on, moments from shattering into something far more dangerous than anyone could have anticipated.

Owain stood in the middle of the arena, his Keyblade raised, its radiant glow casting long shadows across the cold stone floor. The crowd had fallen silent, their earlier cheers for combat now replaced with confusion. The Shepherds, too, had turned their attention from the fight between Chrom and Lucina to this new arrival. Though they had been prepared for something strange, this wasn't what they expected.

Owain's eyes scanned the group slowly, taking in each of their faces. His emotions were written clearly in his gaze, shifting with every person he looked at. Robin caught his attention first. His expression immediately hardened into one of mild anger, tempered with confusion. Owain remembered all too well the face of Robin—twisted by Grima, forever marked by the horrors of the future. He knew this wasn't that Robin, but the reminder was enough to stir a deep, lingering bitterness.

Robin, for his part, remained calm but visibly perplexed. His sharp mind was already working through the puzzle, trying to understand why this newcomer harbored such animosity toward him. His hand tightened slightly on his tome, but he held his ground, unwilling to escalate a conflict he didn't yet understand.

Next, Owain's gaze shifted to Chrom, and the tension in his face melted away into something softer. There was a flicker of warmth in his eyes, a fondness for the man who had been his uncle, his family. Owain's lips quirked into a brief, bittersweet smile—perhaps a reminder of the times before the future fell apart. Chrom, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in Owain's expression, though he remained guarded, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

Then, Owain's eyes landed on Lissa. His entire demeanor changed—his features softened with a mixture of happiness and melancholy. His heart ached, and though he said nothing, the look on his face spoke volumes. The joy of seeing his mother, alive and well, mixed with the sorrow of having lost her in the future he came from. He allowed himself just a moment to feel that, before the weight of his mission pulled him back to the present.

Lissa, sensing something strange but not yet understanding, tilted her head slightly in confusion. The connection was there, just out of reach, but she couldn't quite grasp it. Still, she could feel that whoever this person was, he knew her. There was something deeply familiar in his eyes.

Finally, Owain's gaze landed on Adrian, and his expression settled into one of pure determination. There was no need for words between them. Father and son understood the burden they shared, the path they were now walking together. Adrian had prepared himself for this moment, but seeing it play out before him made it feel more real, more dangerous.

The Shepherds had taken all this in silently, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. They knew Owain was from the future; Adrian had warned them about the possibility. But seeing him now, standing before them with the Gazing Eye, made it impossible to ignore.

Adrian finally stepped forward, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but serious, addressing both the Shepherds and his son.

"I told you this might happen," Adrian said, his tone measured. "My foresight is limited—tied to the experiences of the next wielder of the Gazing Eye."

The Shepherds reacted with a mix of understanding and unease. Chrom, still gripping his sword, shifted his stance slightly, ready to act if necessary. Robin, always quick to pick up on details, furrowed his brow as the full implications of Adrian's statement began to sink in.

"So… this is the next wielder," Robin said, his voice quiet but steady. "He's the one you've been seeing through."

Adrian nodded. "Yes. Owain is the future bearer of the Gazing Eye."

Robin glanced at Owain again, this time more carefully. There was something more here—he could sense it, but the full picture hadn't come together yet. The way Owain looked at Lissa… it sparked something in the back of his mind, but he kept it to himself for now.

Owain took a step forward, his Keyblade still glowing faintly in his hand. "You've prepared them, Father," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "But this isn't about them. This is about you."

Adrian met his son's gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "I know," he replied quietly. "I've seen the fractures, the changes. And I know what's at stake."

Owain raised his Keyblade slightly, the light catching the edges of the blade. "The future is falling apart faster than we thought. I came here to make sure you're ready—to make sure we can stop what's coming."

The Shepherds stood frozen, unsure of how to react. Lissa took a hesitant step forward, her voice trembling slightly as she called out, "Who… who are you?"

Owain's gaze softened as he glanced at her, the weight of unspoken truths lingering between them. "You'll know in time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with sadness.

But he didn't linger on her for long. His eyes snapped back to Adrian, and the intensity of the moment returned. "This isn't just a test of strength," Owain continued. "It's about resolve. I have to know if you're truly prepared for what's to come."

Adrian took a deep breath, knowing full well what this meant. He had known this day would come, but standing here now, it felt heavier than he could have anticipated. "I'm ready," he said, his voice resolute.

The arena remained silent as father and son faced each other. The crowd, the Shepherds, even Chrom—all of them watched in anticipation, unsure of what was about to happen but feeling the gravity of the moment.

Owain lifted his Keyblade, the light intensifying as he prepared himself. "For the sake of all timelines, Father," he said, his voice steady. "I have to make sure you're strong enough to face what's coming."

Adrian nodded, gripping the Gazing Eye tightly. "Then let's begin."

The arena was a cold, still expanse, the silence of the crowd amplifying the tension between father and son. Adrian and Owain stood a few paces apart, their stances embodying the stark contrast of their approaches to battle. Both wielded the Gazing Eye, a weapon that had witnessed the rise and fall of countless futures, but their forms were different—reflecting not only their skills but their respective philosophies of combat.

Adrian's stance was rooted, almost grounded. His posture was solid, his feet planted wide, knees bent just enough to provide balance. His Keyblade, the Gazing Eye, was held in front of him, ready to parry or deflect whatever his son would throw at him. Though his movements were firm, there was something sloppy about his form, reminiscent of an incomplete understanding—much like the ancient Form 1 of lightsaber combat, Shii-Cho. It was the foundation of all swordsmanship, a simple and effective approach, but without the grace or refinement of more advanced styles. Adrian moved with purpose, but there was a roughness to his technique, as if he were trying to remember something his body had once mastered but his mind had not yet fully grasped.

Owain's stance, however, was entirely different. He stood taller, more poised, his body angled slightly, and his Keyblade held to his side in a narrow guard. His form was much more refined, reflecting the fluid elegance of Makashi, or Form 3. His movements were precise and measured, his balance perfect as he prepared to engage. Where Adrian focused on defense, Owain's stance suggested anticipation, readiness to strike at any moment. He was aggressive but in a controlled, tactical way—there was nothing reckless about the way he moved. Every shift of his weight, every subtle adjustment in his grip, was calculated.

If Adrian had to compare them, it was clear that his future self had passed down a refined and disciplined combat style to Owain—one that emphasized finesse and precision. Owain was quicker, more fluid, his footwork sharp and deliberate. Adrian's style, by contrast, was rough around the edges, practical but lacking the polish of the future. There was a certain irony in it: the father standing there, trained by years of hard experience, now facing his son, whose style had been carefully honed and perfected in a broken future Adrian had never fully seen.

Adrian's mind raced as he looked into Owain's determined eyes. The thought crossed his mind that, despite being his son, Owain was more like a future Adrian—one trained to face the challenges that Adrian had not yet encountered.

The tension in the air was palpable, the crowd holding their breath. Owain's face was a mask of focus and determination. Adrian knew this battle wasn't born from hatred; it was a test, a necessary confrontation to prepare him for what was coming. Still, there was no denying the weight of what was about to happen.

Without another word, Adrian moved first.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he launched his Strike Raid, a swift ranged attack meant to test Owain's defenses before engaging in close combat. The Keyblade flew through the air in a controlled arc, aiming directly for Owain's midsection.

But Owain's response was effortless. He shifted his weight to one side, bringing his Keyblade up in a sharp, fluid motion. The attack was battered aside with ease, the energy of Adrian's strike dissipating harmlessly into the arena floor. Owain didn't even flinch, his movements as smooth as water flowing over stone. His eyes never left his father, and his stance never broke. If anything, the ease with which he deflected the Strike Raid only reinforced the contrast between them.

Adrian quickly recalled his Keyblade, and it snapped back into his hand with a flash of light. He returned to his defensive posture, his body tense and ready for the next exchange.

Owain, however, did not wait. He stepped forward, his movements quick and precise, and with a series of elegant, calculated strikes, he closed the distance between them. His attacks came from different angles, sharp and focused, designed to probe Adrian's defenses for weaknesses.

Adrian parried, deflecting the strikes with quick movements, but each clash of their blades sent a jolt up his arms. Owain's strikes were relentless, and though they weren't heavy, they were precise—each one aimed to push Adrian further back, to keep him on the defensive.

In this moment, Adrian realized just how different they were. While he fought with the fundamental principles of balance and practicality, Owain moved with the precision of a duelist—every strike a reflection of his training, every step a calculated effort to control the pace of the fight. It was as if Adrian were watching his future self through the lens of his son, someone who had mastered a technique Adrian hadn't fully understood.

Their Keyblades clashed again, and this time, Adrian pushed forward with more force, trying to break through Owain's fluid defense. But his strikes lacked the grace of his son's, and though they were powerful, they were predictable.

Owain sidestepped, his footwork perfect, and retaliated with a sharp upward slash, forcing Adrian to bring his Keyblade up just in time to block. The clash rang out, and for a moment, they stood locked, their gazes meeting over the shimmering blades of their weapons.

"I see it now," Adrian thought, his mind racing. "My future self trained him well—trained him to surpass me. He's not just following my path, he's improving on it."

Owain pressed forward, his fluid movements keeping Adrian on the defensive. Each of his strikes flowed into the next, leaving little room for Adrian to counterattack. And yet, despite the clear difference in their styles, there was no malice in Owain's strikes—only determination. He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to prepare Adrian for what was to come.

The crowd was silent, mesmerized by the exchange of strikes, the glow of the two Gazing Eyes flashing in the dim light of the arena. The Shepherds watched with bated breath, unsure of what the outcome would be but feeling the significance of the battle unfolding before them.

Adrian, though forced into a corner, remained resolute. He could see the gaps in his own technique, the places where Owain's refined training gave him the edge. But this wasn't a battle of pride—it was a lesson, one Adrian knew he had to learn if they were going to survive the future.

As Owain continued to press forward, Adrian's grip tightened on his Keyblade, and for the first time in the fight, he allowed himself to let go of control—just enough to adapt. He knew he couldn't match Owain's fluidity, but he could rely on his own experience, his instincts sharpened by countless battles.

The next clash of blades would be the turning point, and Adrian could feel it coming.

(For an enhanced experience, consider playing "The Other Promise" by Yoko Shimomura as you read.)

Owain's stance shifted subtly as his eyes locked onto Adrian's. He wasn't just testing his father's swordsmanship; he was assessing his ability to handle the full range of his magical powers. With a flick of his wrist and a dramatic glint in his eyes, his Keyblade glowed with fiery energy.

"Fira!" Owain called out, launching a sphere of fire toward his father. The flames surged, crackling with power beyond the basics Adrian was used to.

Adrian's instincts kicked in. He raised his Keyblade and, with a precise twist of his wrist, deflected the Fira spell. The fireball burst apart in midair, harmlessly dispersing into sparks. The heat left a faint scorch mark on the ground, but Adrian remained unscathed. However, the impact had sent a clear message—Owain wasn't holding back.

Seeing the opportunity, Adrian initiated a charge. He sprinted forward, his Keyblade raised, aiming to close the gap between them before Owain could unleash another spell. His stance was defensive, unpolished compared to his son's, but he was determined to push through.

Owain grinned, his confidence apparent. He shifted into a defensive posture, ready for the impact. When Adrian's Keyblade came crashing down, Owain met it with his own, the two weapons clashing with a thunderous sound. Sparks flew from the contact, illuminating their locked blades. Adrian's power was undeniable, but Owain's finesse and precision were keeping him one step ahead.

Near the Arena's Edge.

The Shepherds watched the duel with wide eyes. The sheer intensity of the battle between Adrian and Owain was a sight to behold. While they had seen Adrian fight before, this was something entirely different—something none of them had expected.

Robin narrowed his eyes, his tactical mind already analyzing the fight. "Owain's not just testing Adrian's strength," he muttered, more to himself than the others. "He's testing his control... his adaptability."

Frederick, arms crossed and gaze serious, added, "This isn't an ordinary duel. Owain's using techniques beyond what we've seen, even compared to Adrian's abilities."

Lissa, her hands clenched tightly in worry, glanced at the battle, then at Robin. "What kind of magic is that? I've never seen Adrian use anything like this before..."

Before anyone could respond, Chrom spoke, his voice calm but carrying a deep realization. His eyes were locked onto Marth—or rather, the young woman still fighting alongside him.

"Lucina," he said, loud enough for the Shepherds around him to hear but not so loud as to draw attention from the crowd. The name fell like a stone in the air.

Lucina, still locked in combat with Chrom, froze for a brief moment, her wide eyes betraying her shock. She hadn't expected him to call her by that name—especially not now.

"Lucina," Chrom repeated, lowering his sword slightly. "Your name isn't Marth. It's Lucina."

Her heart skipped a beat. How? She had taken such care to conceal her identity, even from him. Slowly, she lowered her blade, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on her shoulders.

"How did you know?" Lucina's voice was barely above a whisper, her tone filled with disbelief.

Chrom gave a soft, almost wistful smile. "It wasn't hard to see. You carry the same resolve I see in myself. Your stance... it's not just anyone's. It's mine."

Lucina felt her heart race, but before she could respond, Chrom's gaze flickered toward the battle between Adrian and Owain. His eyes sharpened as he caught a snippet of their exchange.

"Father," Owain had called Adrian.

Chrom's expression shifted slightly, his mind piecing together the fragments of the puzzle. He didn't know everything yet, but enough of the truth was starting to become clear.

"So that's it," Chrom said quietly, turning back to Lucina. "Owain isn't just any warrior from the future. He's Adrian's son, isn't he?"

Lucina felt her breath catch. Chrom didn't know the full story yet—he hadn't put together all the pieces. But he was close. Too close.

"I'll explain everything soon, Father," she whispered, her voice tight with tension. "But right now..."

"Right now, we finish this," Chrom interrupted, his expression softening. "I'm proud of you, Lucina. But don't think for a moment I'm going easy on you."

Lucina nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. She turned her attention back to their duel. "We'll settle this later... and I'll have words for Owain afterward."

Chrom chuckled, raising his sword once again. "I'm looking forward to it."

Back in the Arena Center

Adrian's charge met fierce resistance as their Keyblades clashed, the sound reverberating through the arena. But even as Adrian pushed forward, Owain countered every move with graceful precision. His refined technique made each parry look effortless, while Adrian, though powerful, lacked the polish needed to truly break through.

But this battle wasn't over.

Owain leaped back, giving himself some distance. His expression grew more serious, though there was still a dramatic edge to his words. "You're doing well, Father," he called out, twirling his Keyblade in one hand. "But this is only the beginning! You haven't yet witnessed the true power of the Gazing Eye—the Keyblade that sees all, the blade that bends fate itself!"

Adrian exhaled slowly, adjusting his stance. He could feel the weight of the battle pressing down on him, but he wasn't done. "I'm not finished, Owain. Show me what you've got."

Owain's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Then try to keep up, Father. Stopga!"

The word echoed across the arena as Owain's Keyblade shimmered with an unnatural light. A wave of magical energy radiated from the blade, washing over the battlefield. Time itself seemed to warp and bend in response, slowing the world to a crawl.

The Shepherds' Reactions were a mix of astonishment and awe..

The moment the spell took hold, the Shepherds felt the shift. Miriel, who had been watching closely, blinked in astonishment. "This... this cannot be. A manipulation of time on this scale? It's... inconceivable."

Ricken, gripping his staff tightly, looked on in shock. "What... what did he just do? That's not possible."

Robin remained silent for a moment, his mind racing to comprehend what had just happened. He had studied magic for years, but this was something beyond even the most advanced tomes in their world. "That wasn't just a simple spell," he muttered, his voice low and full of disbelief. "He stopped time. Completely. This... this magic is beyond anything we've seen."

Inside the Stopga Spell…

Adrian felt the world around him slow. His movements became sluggish, as though he were wading through thick air. He could feel the pressure of the Stopga spell bearing down on him, freezing time in its tracks.

But he knew this spell. He had seen it in his visions—glimpses of the future, where warriors wielded magic far beyond the comprehension of this timeline. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Owain, unaffected by his own spell, moved fluidly within the frozen time. He approached Adrian with a deliberate slowness, his eyes focused and determined. The spell wouldn't last long, but in these few moments, Owain had the upper hand.

Adrian gritted his teeth, fighting against the effects of Stopga. His eyes narrowed, locking onto Owain. He wasn't going to give in—not yet.

The weight of Stopga pressed down on Adrian, his movements sluggish and deliberate. Owain moved with fluidity within the frozen time, his Keyblade at the ready, his eyes focused. The duel had taken a sharp turn, and for a moment, Adrian wondered how he could possibly keep up with the magical prowess his son had displayed.

But then, a memory stirred in Adrian's mind—something he remembered from his world, from the stories of the Kingdom Hearts games he used to play. Keyblades could be more than just weapons; they had a will of their own. A bond with their wielder, yes, but also a deeper connection to the very forces of light and darkness. And if someone had the strength of heart, they could potentially call another's Keyblade to them.

It was a desperate thought, one he had never tested before. But in this moment, with time seemingly against him and Owain pressing the advantage, Adrian decided to take the gamble.

He gripped the Gazing Eye tightly in one hand and, with a sharp breath, focused on Owain's Keyblade. What if he could summon it away from Owain? The logic made sense—Keyblades could be wielded by others, after all. And if his heart was strong enough, perhaps the weapon would respond to him.

Adrian reached out with his mind, with his heart, concentrating on the energy of Owain's Keyblade. He had seen this before—the Master of Masters had summoned another wielder's Keyblade right out of their hand in one of the stories. Could it work here?

He focused harder, feeling the magical pulse of both Keyblades resonating in the stillness of time. He willed Owain's Keyblade to come to him, to leave his son's hand and respond to his call. He could feel something—some resistance, but also a faint pull, as if the Keyblade itself was listening.

Owain, mid-movement, suddenly hesitated. He glanced down at his Keyblade, feeling the faint tug from his father's attempt to summon it. For the briefest moment, the weapon seemed to vibrate, as though considering Adrian's call. Owain's eyes widened in surprise.

"What...?" Owain muttered under his breath. He could feel the Keyblade shifting, slipping ever so slightly from his grasp.

Adrian's heart leaped. It was working—he could feel it! The Keyblade was responding to his call. Just a bit more...

The Shepherds, though still recovering from their shock over the Stopga spell, noticed the strange interaction between Adrian and Owain's Keyblades.

Miriel, ever the scholar, narrowed her eyes. "What... is happening now? The Keyblade—it appears to be... shifting between them."

Robin, still reeling from the display of time magic, glanced at the Keyblades. "I don't understand. It's almost as if Adrian is trying to summon Owain's Keyblade. But that's impossible... isn't it?"

Lissa, watching intently, shook her head. "Adrian knows something we don't. But is that even possible?"

Frederick, his usual calm demeanor shaken, muttered, "There's far more to these Keyblades than we realized."

For a brief moment, the Keyblade in Owain's hand seemed to flicker, as though it were caught between two forces—its connection to Owain and the call from Adrian. Adrian gritted his teeth, focusing with all his might to pull it toward him.

But then, something shifted.

The Keyblade jerked in Owain's hand, resisting Adrian's call with a forceful backlash. Owain's heart was strong—stronger than Adrian had anticipated—and the bond between the Keyblade and its wielder snapped back with even greater intensity.

Adrian's connection to the Gazing Eye faltered for just a second as the feedback from the failed attempt hit him like a physical blow. His Keyblade shuddered in his hand, the magical resonance reverberating painfully through his body.

The Keyblade in Owain's hand stopped vibrating, its connection to him solidified once more. Owain blinked, momentarily confused, but quickly regained his composure, tightening his grip on his Keyblade.

"Nice try, Father," Owain said, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and admiration. "But you should know it's not that easy to take someone's Keyblade. My heart's not so easily swayed."

Adrian stumbled back, gripping the Gazing Eye tighter. He had nearly succeeded, but it wasn't enough. He had underestimated the bond between Owain and his Keyblade. The idea hadn't been wrong—but his heart, his connection to the magic, wasn't strong enough to overpower Owain's resolve. Not yet.

The moment of weakness was enough for Owain to press the attack. With a swift movement, he charged forward, his Keyblade raised and ready to strike. Time was still under his control, the effects of Stopga keeping Adrian's movements slow and deliberate. Owain's blade came down, and Adrian barely had enough time to raise his own in defense.

The impact reverberated through his arms, but he held his ground, pushing back against the force of Owain's strike. Despite the failed attempt, Adrian wasn't giving up. He had learned something from this exchange—something about the strength of heart required to wield a Keyblade to its full potential.

The clash of their blades continued, the echoes of magic and steel ringing throughout the arena. The failed attempt to summon Owain's Keyblade had left Adrian winded, but not defeated. He was beginning to understand the deeper connection between a Keyblade and its wielder, and while this attempt had backfired, it had given him insight into the power of the heart and the bond that each Keyblade shared with its owner.

Owain's eyes gleamed with determination, but also with respect. He knew what his father had tried to do, and while it hadn't worked, it showed him just how far Adrian was willing to push himself to keep up with the future.

"Keep up, Father," Owain said, his tone both encouraging and teasing. "You'll get there... eventually."

Adrian's breath steadied, his mind now clearer. This was only the beginning. He had more to learn, but he was ready for whatever came next. And this duel, this test of resolve, was pushing him closer to that realization.

(For an enhanced experience, consider playing "Vector of the Heavens" from Kingdom Hearts 3 by Yoko Shimomura as you read this next sequence.)

Adrian had already tried one desperate tactic, attempting to summon Owain's Keyblade, but it had backfired. The backlash had left him momentarily vulnerable, his connection to the Gazing Eye faltering as he struggled to regain his footing. Yet despite the failure, something within him refused to give up.

As Owain pressed the advantage, moving with the same graceful precision, Adrian's mind raced. Hearts were powerful. He knew this from the lore of the Keyblade, from everything he had studied. And though his relationships with the Shepherds had been strained due to the secrets he kept, they still cared for him. He could feel it—a bond that, even if frayed, was unbroken.

That bond would guide his next move.

Adrian's breath steadied, his grip on the Gazing Eye tightening. He raised his Keyblade defiantly, and in that moment, a dark glow surrounded him—an aura not of malice, but of sheer determination. He tapped into the potential that had been growing inside him since his arrival in this world.

In a sudden burst of speed, Adrian launched himself toward Owain, his Keyblade slashing through the air with blinding precision. Sonic Blade—a technique that blurred the line between physical speed and magical enhancement—took hold, and Adrian became a blur of motion, his Keyblade striking faster and faster with each passing second.

Owain's eyes widened, his Keyblade moving to block the initial strikes. But as each hit landed, Owain could feel the pressure building, the sheer force behind each strike growing with Adrian's momentum. Adrian was moving too fast, his Keyblade becoming an extension of his will.

The Shepherds watched in stunned silence as Adrian became a blur on the battlefield. Lissa gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "What... what is he doing?"

Robin's tactical mind struggled to keep up with the sudden shift in the battle. "That speed... I've never seen him move like this before. It's... it's beyond anything I've seen him do."

Frederick's expression remained stoic, but his eyes were wide with shock. "Adrian... he's pushing himself to the limit. I've never seen anyone fight like that."

Even Chrom, still locked in combat with Lucina, couldn't help but glance over at the unfolding battle. His gaze sharpened as he watched his friend. "He's... pushing beyond his limits."

In the arena, Adrian moved with purpose, each slash faster than the last. He could feel the strength of his heart guiding his blade, the power of the Keyblade surging through him. The blur of motion, the sheer speed—this was what his training, his growth, had led him to. He was faster now, more precise, and with each strike, he felt his connection to the Gazing Eye solidify.

Owain, for all his skill, found himself on the defensive, his Keyblade moving to block the rapid succession of strikes, but even he couldn't keep up with the overwhelming speed of Sonic Blade.

Slash after slash, Adrian pushed forward, each hit landing with increasing force. His Keyblade flashed with dark energy, but it wasn't malevolent—it was the manifestation of his will, of his determination to prove himself, not just as a fighter, but as someone who had earned his place among the Shepherds.

Owain's feet slid back with each hit, his grip on his Keyblade tightening as he struggled to match the speed and force behind Adrian's attacks. But even as he defended himself, there was no malice in Adrian's strikes. This wasn't a battle of life and death. It was a test—a father pushing himself to meet his son on equal ground.

The Clash of Hearts was evident.

The intensity of the duel reached its peak. Adrian, now fully immersed in the rhythm of Sonic Blade, felt his body pushing to its absolute limits. His attacks were relentless, each one faster and stronger than the last. But he wasn't aiming to overpower Owain—he was aiming to prove something, to himself and to his son.

Owain, his body straining under the pressure, met Adrian's final strike with his own. Their Keyblades clashed one last time, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the arena. Both fighters were pushed back, their feet skidding across the ground as they came to a halt, breathing heavily.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two fighters as they stared at each other across the battlefield.

The Aftermath was filled with stunned silence.

Adrian stood, his chest heaving as he steadied himself. He could feel the strain in his muscles, the toll that Sonic Blade had taken on his body. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but there was a sense of satisfaction—a quiet triumph in knowing he had pushed himself to the edge.

Owain, though clearly winded, was smiling. There was no bitterness in his expression—only admiration. "That was... impressive, Father. I didn't think you had that in you."

Adrian let out a breath, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I didn't either, to be honest."

Owain chuckled softly, lowering his Keyblade. "You've come a long way. But don't think this means you're catching up just yet."

Adrian's smile widened slightly. "We'll see about that."

As the tension in the air began to dissipate, the Shepherds slowly gathered their thoughts. Lissa rushed forward, concern evident in her eyes as she looked between her Future son and her husband. "Are you both okay?"

Adrian nodded, still catching his breath. "We're fine. Just... needed to settle something."

Robin approached, his analytical mind already running through what he had just witnessed. "That... was incredible, Adrian. I didn't think anyone could move like that. How did you—?"

Adrian shook his head, his exhaustion starting to catch up with him. "Honestly? I don't really know. I just... I had to try something. Something I remembered from back home."

Robin nodded slowly, still processing. "It was more than just speed. There was something... different about that technique. We'll need to look into it."

Frederick, ever the stoic knight, stepped forward. "Whatever it was, you've shown remarkable growth. But don't push yourself too far. You've come a long way, but there's still more to learn."

Adrian nodded, feeling the weight of Frederick's words. He knew this was just one step on a much longer journey. There was still so much he didn't understand about his abilities, about the Keyblade, and about the future they were all fighting for.

But for now, he had proven something to himself—and to Owain.

The duel was over, but the lessons learned would stay with them both. The road ahead was still uncertain, but in this moment, father and son had found a new understanding. And as the Shepherds regrouped, the bonds between them, though tested, remained strong. The future was still theirs to fight for.

Author's Note

To Firetail (and everyone reading),

Thank you so much for your constructive feedback! I want to address a few of your points directly:

Character Reactions and Pacing: I've taken note of your thoughts on the group's reaction to Adrian's secrets. Moving forward, I'll work on making the characters' responses more immediate and emotionally resonant. You were right—if the group is learning about massive things like a second assassination attempt, they should definitely react more strongly, and I'll keep this in mind in future chapters. As for the pacing, I know things have felt a little circular, and I'll work to tighten up the flow of conversations to avoid repetition.

The Microscope: Regarding the comment about the microscope, that was actually intentional! Adrian isn't familiar enough with this medieval/fantasy world to realize that a microscope shouldn't exist in this time period. It's one of many red flags he encounters, hinting at deeper mysteries about the world he's in. I'll clarify that in the story to make the anachronism more obvious and build on the sense that something's not quite right.

I'll keep working to improve these areas as I gain more experience, and I really appreciate your patience with me. If you or anyone else notices something that seems off, please feel free to let me know!

PS: I'm still looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested!

Edit: Minor continuity error fixed.

- KingOfDelete