In the peaceful office of Kazan's dojo, bathed in the golden morning light, Kai, Canon, and Helydia had gathered. Dante stood leaning against an open window, quietly observing the silent courtyard. A light breeze rustled the curtains, and only the soft whisper of leaves broke the stillness.
On a small low table rested an artifact both rare and elegant: an Echo Eye. About the size of a plum, made of polished obsidian and encircled with ancient silver filigree, the object pulsed gently with a soft blue light at its center, like a living pupil. When someone spoke into it, their voice traveled through the aether to its twin—no matter how far. But more than that, it carried emotions, intention. It wasn't mere communication… it was a resonance of souls.
Kazan had just spoken into it. He turned back to the room, his expression grave.
"My contact confirmed it—Samuel is indeed a prisoner in the castle. They're accusing him of serious crimes: stealing the Heart of Aethril, conspiring to overthrow the throne… and being the new Black Calamity."
A heavy silence fell upon the room.
"What's this Calamity stuff again?" Canon asked, arms crossed.
Helydia, thoughtful, answered softly:
"Oh, right… I forgot. When Samuel reached level 30, a class was assigned to him. He received 'Calamity.' I thought it was just a rare class name or something… I didn't really pay attention to it."
All eyes turned to Kazan. The old master slowly stroked his beard, his gaze distant.
"Since the dawn of time… there have never been more than seven Calamities. Each one represents a fundamental scourge of this world. Some even believe they created the monsters and races rejected by humanity. In opposition to them stand the Three Crowned Kings, worshipped by the three great human nations—including Chronos. The king we revere here is Vaerion the Light-Flayer."
He paused.
"These kings proclaim the supremacy of the human race and punish all things said to be created by the Calamities: monsters, half-breeds… or those bearing impure heritage."
"Wait, wait… You're telling us Samuel is really a Calamity?" Kai asked, his mouth half open.
Kazan slowly nodded.
"Calamities are not immortal. When one dies… another is born to take its place. Same class. Same element. The cycle never ends. And often, they are reincarnated souls… like your friend Samuel. The last one died… two or three months ago."
"Which is exactly when Samuel appeared in our world…" Helydia whispered.
The silence grew even heavier.
Kazan continued, his tone darker:
"There were… the Red Calamity: Pride. The Yellow: Greed. The Green: Envy. The Pink: Lust. The Orange: Gluttony. The Purple: Sloth… and finally the Black: Wrath."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"And that is what the government suspects. They believe your friend is the new Black Calamity. His hearing is scheduled for tomorrow at 3 p.m."
They all froze. The revelations had struck like a storm.
Helydia, trembling, stood and nearly knelt before Kazan.
"Master… please. Help us. You've seen Samuel. He's not a monster. He doesn't deserve this!"
Kazan turned away, pain in his eyes.
"I… I'm sorry, Helydia. But I cannot interfere in the affairs of the Kings. Not without risking a conflict I'm not ready to ignite."
Helydia insisted. Kai spoke up. Even Canon pleaded for help.
But nothing worked. Kazan remained firm, unmoving despite the sorrow in his gaze.
After more than ten minutes, they gave up.
They slowly left the room… all except Dante.
He remained, arms crossed, staring at Kazan with newfound intensity.
"So… that's how it is?" he said coldly.
"Dante… don't start."
"No. I will start. You're the one who taught me to always defend the innocent. To never turn away from injustice. And now you just sit there, arms crossed, while a stranger to this world — a man who knows nothing of our customs — is being condemned like a criminal?"
Kazan closed his eyes, visibly troubled.
"It's not that simple…"
"No. It never is. But that's never stopped a man from doing what is right."
A tense silence filled the room between master and disciple.
The wind swept into the office, rustling the scrolls pinned to the walls.