The clashing of blades echoed in the stone-forged arena beneath the Academy—an underground chamber built for duels that could shatter the skies above. Runes etched into every inch of the walls pulsed with blue light, absorbing shockwaves and dispersing magical backlash.
Kael's breath came in steady bursts. Sweat dripped down his jaw as he pivoted on his heel, blade slicing a clean arc through the air. Across from him, a summoned construct of pure crest energy mirrored his every move—but lacked his unpredictability.
His steps had changed. No longer did he move with a beginner's rigidity. His blade work had evolved, smooth and deceptive. Shadows lingered at the edge of each strike—a dance taught not in lectures but in silence, in the whisper of steel and the ghost of a long-dead war.
Tenebris Kenjutsu. Kurozan's ancient art.
He didn't even know when he started using it.
High above in the viewing gallery, Senn Valeris stood with arms folded, his long hair brushing his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes narrowed every time Kael shifted his stance. There it was again—the shadow-step. The twist that made no sound, the strike that drew breath from the void.
"He's learning," Senn muttered.
---
Later, in the solitude of the Soulborne meditation chamber, Kael sat cross-legged as the room dimmed. The scent of burning sage filled the air. He opened his mind—not to silence, but to the sword.
Kurozan answered.
Visions blurred across his sight. An endless plain soaked in twilight. Warriors screaming in a forgotten tongue. A figure in black armor moved through them, blade flickering like a phantom. A voice spoke, low and cold: "The blade remembers what the world forgets."
He gasped awake, chest heaving.
"You're trying to teach me," he murmured. "But what exactly am I becoming?"
The blade on his lap hummed.
---
Instructor Hallen stood inside the crest-nullified chamber, his stern face shadowed by the flickering lantern light. The room drained crest energy from every participant. Here, magic was meaningless. Power was found only in muscle, mind, and mettle.
"Again," Hallen barked.
Kael dashed forward, feinting left, then twisting right. He dropped low and swept with his foot—a movement uncharacteristic for standard Academy dueling.
Hallen raised a brow as he stepped back to dodge, but Kael didn't let up. He followed through with a palm strike to the ribs and reversed his grip on his blade.
Hallen caught the blade with his own, but grunted in surprise. "You masked your step with a misdirection sigil before we entered the null-field. Clever."
Kael smirked. "You told me to adapt."
---
"Hold it steady, you void-damned prodigy!"
Illovar snapped as Kael stabilized the matrix of runes in the newly-forged sheath.
"If you channel all eight crest patterns without sequencing them, the sheath will explode and probably take your hand with it."
Kael chuckled under his breath. "Encouraging as always, Master."
"Bah. I'm just trying to keep you from becoming soup."
The sheath gleamed—runic channels along its length pulsed with faint colors representing each of the known Crests. Kael slid Kurozan into it and felt the blade settle with a soft chime.
"You're not just a blade for the Empire," Illovar said, wiping his hands. "You're something stranger. Something they won't be able to name. That should worry them."
---
Later that day, Kael received a summons.
He arrived at the Headmaster's office to find three figures already waiting: Headmaster Erion Virellian, Master Illovar, and an unfamiliar woman in deep violet robes, embroidered with living runes that shimmered with consciousness.
She was tall, statuesque, her silver hair braided and woven with thin lines of sapphire. Her gaze pinned him like a dagger.
"Kael Ryuu," she said. "I am Master Saelora Vynn. I serve the throne as Royal Runic Array Master. The Queen sent me."
Kael blinked. "The Queen...?"
Erion smiled faintly. "You've drawn attention, Kael. Saelora is here for a single week. You will train with her in the mornings and evenings. Make no mistake—this is a gift, and a test."
Illovar crossed his arms. "And she doesn't suffer fools. So don't be one."
Saelora stepped closer, examining the runes embedded into Kael's skin. Her fingers hovered over his hand, never touching. "These... weren't inscribed by mortal hands. The String has chosen you. That makes you dangerous."
Kael didn't flinch. "Then you'll teach me how to control it?"
"No," she said. "I'll teach you how not to break everything else."
---
That night, Kael stood atop the Academy's highest tower. The city glimmered below like constellations brought to earth. The stars above felt closer than ever.
He removed his gloves. The runes on his arms pulsed gently, alive and whispering.
He whispered back.
"Ash. Iron. Shadows. I will become something they cannot cage."
Behind him, Kurozan shimmered in the sheath. A whisper lingered on the wind.
Train. Rise. Become.