The sun hadn't yet risen, but Jaden was already awake. He sat on the floor of Master Shang's training ground, legs crossed, the ancient blade laid out before him. He stared at it in silence. It was sharp, perfectly balanced, but what made it powerful wasn't its steel — it was what it could cut through. Not just flesh, but lies, masks, and hidden pain.
He wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid of what this demon might bring to the surface.
Master Shang stepped outside, tying the last knot on his robe. His eyes met Jaden's. "You slept?"
Jaden shook his head. "Didn't feel like it."
Master Shang walked toward him and sat beside him. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone, you know."
"I'm not," Jaden said. "I just want it gone."
Master Shang nodded slowly. "It's not just a demon you'll fight out there. It'll try to break you down. It feeds off what's hidden in people's hearts. That's how it gets stronger."
Jaden stood up, sheathed the blade, and strapped it to his back. "Good. Let it try."
He left with only the blade and his conviction. No extra gear. No distractions. Master Shang watched him go, the old man's expression unreadable.
The journey to the Valley of Whisper was long and quiet. Birds chirped softly in the trees, and the breeze rustled through the grass, but Jaden was locked in his own thoughts. Every step felt heavier the closer he got. He passed through thick woods and climbed rocky hills, until at last he reached the valley.
It was strange. Still. Fog hovered low across the ground, and the trees looked like skeletons reaching for the sky. The wind here didn't sound natural — it carried whispers, soft and broken, like people talking behind closed doors.
Jaden stepped into the valley, blade ready.
Nothing moved.
Then, a voice.
"You've changed," it said.
It wasn't from any direction — it was just there, everywhere, in the air, in his mind.
Jaden turned slowly, eyes sharp.
Another voice followed, this one softer, sadder. "But you still carry it. That scar. That hate. That fear."
Jaden gritted his teeth. "Show yourself."
A figure emerged from the mist — tall, faceless, skin like shadows, with eyes that glowed red but didn't blink. The demon didn't walk. It floated.
"I don't have to fight you," it said. "I'll just show you what you've been hiding."
It snapped its fingers, and suddenly, Jaden was surrounded by echoes — memories made real.
His father's face, twisted with rage. The night he got the scar. His mother screaming. His little sister crying. The moments came like waves, flooding him, one after another.
Jaden staggered back.
"You've tried to bury it," the demon hissed. "But it's still there. You still want to kill him. And that makes you no different from the demons you hunt."
Jaden dropped to a knee, gripping the blade tightly. His breathing grew heavier.
"You think strength will save you? It won't. It never saved your mother. It never saved anyone."
Jaden shut his eyes.
No.
He stood slowly, blade shaking in his hand. "You don't get to use my pain."
The demon laughed, a cold, hollow sound.
"I don't need to," it said. "You already live in it."
Jaden moved. Fast. Like lightning. He slashed, and the demon dodged, barely. But Jaden didn't stop. He kept swinging, not just with power but with precision. He remembered Master Shang's teachings — stay grounded, breathe, control the blade, don't let emotion drive the hand.
The demon tried to speak again, but this time, Jaden didn't listen.
He slashed through the fog, through the lies, through the voices, until the blade pierced the demon's chest.
The scream that followed wasn't loud. It was quiet. Deep. Like a breath leaving a body.
The demon dissolved into mist.
Jaden stood there, breathing heavily, the blade still in his hand.
The whispers stopped.
And for the first time in a long time, there was silence — not the heavy kind, but the peaceful one.
He turned and walked away from the valley, not smiling, but lighter.