Draya turns toward him, brow arched. "A link skill?"
"A rare one," Alix says, voice calm but thoughtful. "I have a few, myself. But even among skilled warriors, they're uncommon." His eyes narrow slightly. "They require more than just power. They need… connection."
Draya tilts her head. "Like trust?"
"Exactly." He exhales through his nose and thought. "In the game… only players could use them. And even then, only if they were close—deeply connected. The stronger the bond, the stronger the link skill."
------
The once-proud city of Ashlight smolders under the midday sun. Smoke curls from shattered towers. Walls that stood for centuries now lie in pieces, rubble scattered across wide courtyards like broken bones. The streets are eerily silent—no screams, no swords, only the soft crackle of embers and the distant sobs of displaced civilians huddled behind scorched columns.
And in the middle of it all stands Gorath.
