The training yard echoed with the dull thuds of wooden swords striking air. Mist still clung to the stones as morning light spilled over the towering walls of Darkstar Keep.
Naomi stood breathless, legs shaking, arms trembling as he forced himself into another swing. The wooden blade felt heavier than steel.
Across from him, Seraphina watched with cold, calculating eyes. Dressed in her training gear, her long white hair tied back, she stood with a composure that matched the deadly precision of her strikes. The air around her shimmered faintly with frost — a whisper of her Ice Aura.
"Again," she said, her voice like a winter wind.
Naomi gritted his teeth and obeyed.
To the soldiers watching from afar, it was strange. The once pathetic Nel, barely able to stand, was now pushing himself beyond exhaustion — under the eyes of Seraphina, the Ice Blade of Darkstar.
But to Seraphina, this wasn't just duty.
This was something personal.
Once, long ago, she and Nel had been rivals. Children with noble blood and fierce pride. Back then, Nel had shown promise — clever, stubborn, sharp-eyed. She had sparred with him more times than she could count. He could never win, but he never stopped trying.
Then something changed.
He weakened. Stopped training. Grew quiet, fearful. His fire disappeared.
Seraphina trained alone after that, heart colder than her Aura. She thought he had given up.
Until now.
Naomi stumbled forward, panting. His strike went wide. Again.
Seraphina caught the wooden blade with her bare hand and knocked him back with ease.
"You've lost your center," she said, stepping close. "That swing had no balance. No rhythm."
Naomi dropped to one knee, gasping. "Damn this body…"
She knelt beside him and handed over a waterskin. "It's not the body that lacks strength," she said. "It's the will to shape it."
He drank deeply, his breath slowing.
After a moment of silence, Naomi asked, "You mentioned aura before. What exactly is it?"
Seraphina stood, her own sword shimmering faintly in her hand. As she raised it, a pale blue mist curled from its edge — frost forming on the ground beneath her feet.
"There are five dominant Aura types," she said. "Fire, Wind, Water, Ice, and Leaf. Aura flows from within. It shapes the blade, enhances the body. It's the essence of one's soul turned into force."
She turned toward him, her blade still glowing. "I possess Ice. Cold, precise, unyielding."
Naomi stared at her, awed. It wasn't just power — it was beauty in motion.
"And me?" he asked.
Seraphina's aura faded. Her eyes softened — just a little.
"You possess… none."
Her words cut deeper than any sword.
"No fire. No ice. No wind or water. No elemental pulse within your spirit."
She paused. "You are, by all measure, ordinary."
Naomi didn't react. He simply looked at his hands — hands that once belonged to a boy broken by weakness, now claimed by someone who refused to stay broken.
"Then I'll just have to be extraordinary without it," he said.
Seraphina blinked. That old spark — the one she remembered from when they were children — it was in his eyes again.
He lifted the training sword and stood tall.
"Teach me. Everything."
Seraphina watched him for a long moment. Then nodded.
"Yes, my lord. As your rival… and now your sword."
In the shadows of the keep, where frost met fireless steel, a new kind of warrior began to awaken.
Not born of magic.
But of will.
Seraphina froze mid-strike, eyes narrowing as her breath visibly frosted the air.
Naomi lowered his training sword, sensing her sudden tension. "What is it?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned her head slowly toward the entrance.
And then he heard it — the arrogant voice, loud and grating, slicing through the morning calm like fire across parchment.
"Well, well... what a rare sight. The worm is crawling again."
Naomi turned.
A tall young man stood at the edge of the courtyard. His hair was fiery red, his cloak lined with gold and scorched black silk. Every step he took left a faint heat shimmer on the ground. His eyes, molten with arrogance, locked on Naomi.
"Murin," Seraphina said coldly.
Murin Darkstar, son of the Second Wife, wielder of Fire Aura — the brother who had once left Nel on the verge of death.
Naomi didn't flinch. He met Murin's gaze, steady.
"My dear little brother," Murin smirked. "I heard you are training up. Honestly, I thought you'd finally decided to rot in peace."
Naomi straightened slowly, leaning slightly on the training sword. "Disappointed?"
"Hmm. Surprised, maybe," Murin said, stepping into the courtyard. "You were always so... fragile. A whisper could break you. And now I find you playing knight with Seraphina? Cute."
He turned toward Seraphina. "And you — still wasting your time with this weakling?"
Seraphina didn't move. Her aura spiked, the air turning chill.
Naomi could feel the tension between them — not just animosity, but deep, layered history. Seraphina and Murin had trained together once. Fought side by side. But when Nel was nearly killed, it was Murin's flame that had burned closest.
"I train who I serve," she said icily. "And you hold no command over me."
Murin laughed. "Still loyal to the runt, huh? Always thought you were strange."
Then his gaze snapped back to Naomi. "Tell me, little brother. You planning to attend the Academy? You can barely lift that stick. Do you think pity will earn you a sword?"
Naomi stepped forward. His breath was calm now.
"I'm not going for pity," he said. "I'm going to stand — no, rise — on my own feet. I'm not Nel anymore."
Murin raised an eyebrow. "No?"
Naomi's gaze hardened. "And I'll prove it. At the Academy. In front of the entire Empire, if I have to."
For the first time, Murin's smile faded just slightly. The boy who had once begged for mercy was now standing tall. Changed.
"Then I look forward to watching you fall again," Murin said. "This time, no one will stop me."
He turned sharply, his cloak flaring with heat. "Let's see if ice can protect ashes when the real fire comes."
As he left, the courtyard felt colder — not from Seraphina's aura, but from what had just been declared.
Naomi stood still, jaw tight.
Seraphina stepped beside him, her hand resting gently on the hilt of her sword.
"My lord," she said softly, "when that time comes… I will be your shield."
Naomi didn't answer immediately. He was staring at the fading footprints of heat, left behind by a brother he would have to face again.
And next time, it wouldn't be words they exchanged.
It would be blades.
To be continue.....