He said we would train... And train we did-
"Again!" The command echoed through the deserted clearing, the sound of it bouncing off the surrounding trees and back to us in a taunting reminder.
"Again!"
"Again!"
Two years had passed in a blur, days merging into weeks and weeks disappearing like fleeting memories. Each day brought with it the relentless cycle of training, sparring, and honing our skills. My muscles burned with exertion, my body pushed beyond its limits as I fought to keep up with Virmil's rigorous demands. But amidst the exhaustion, undeniable progress bloomed. My magical prowess surged forward, weaving through realms of possibility that I had never dreamed of before. And my swordsmanship? It too had transformed, carving pathways of precision and strength that even I couldn't believe.
Neither Virmil nor I dared to broach the subject of Lilith again. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between us, yet we pressed on, our silence speaking volumes. Sometimes, knowing when to tread lightly in the affairs of others was wisdom in itself, and I navigated our shared silence with practiced restraint.
"Come on, boy, you aren't leavin' until you get me out of this circle!" Uncle's gruff voice pierced through the air once more, determination laced with a hint of jest as he steadied his sword in front of him.
With a clenched jaw and a determined grip on my blade, I lunged forward once more. Channeling a surge of telekinetic energy, I propelled myself toward him, my movements fluid and precise as I attacked with focused aggression. My blade danced through the air, slicing with deadly accuracy while a swift kick to the back of his leg sent him sprawling to the ground. A sense of victory tingled in the air around us.
Seizing the fleeting moment, I drew my sword with swift determination and lunged toward his position, aiming to strike with precision. Yet, to my dismay, he anticipated my move and propelled himself back up just in time to deflect my blow.
"Damn it!" My frustration erupted into the air, mingling with the sweat and tension of our practice. Glancing briefly at L, who observed our spar with a calm demeanor, I couldn't help but acknowledge their superior skill. They wielded the blade with a fluid grace that I could only aspire to match.
Despite my relentless efforts and undeniable progress, the gap between us widened with each passing session. It was evident that if I were to gain any semblance of advantage, I needed to rethink my approach. What could I do to turn the tide in my favor? My mind raced as magic and blade clashed within me, each vying for dominance in my strategy.
And then, a realization struck me like lightning. I had been viewing magic and blade as separate entities, each with its own strengths and limitations. But in order to surpass my opponent, I needed to merge them into a seamless unity. No longer could they remain disparate allies; they must become one, a harmonious fusion of power and finesse.
A fire ignited within me as I delved deeper into the implications of my revelation. The concept of melding magic and swordplay into a singular force sparked a fervor of determination within my soul. For too long, I had been a student of others' teachings, dutifully absorbing their methods without truly forging my own path.
With a deliberate motion, I loosened my grip on the blade and drew in a deep breath, allowing the ambient mana particles to dance around me. I focused, channeling the raw energy into my being, each particle pulsating with potential like a thread in the fabric of my existence. Guiding the flow, I directed the magic first to my legs, infusing them with newfound strength and agility, then to my core, where it coalesced into a reservoir of power, and finally to my arms, where it crackled with potential.
"My own way..." The words slipped from my lips in a whisper, a mantra of determination and self-discovery that reverberated through the clearing.
Virmil's sharp ears caught the murmur, and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "What are you saying to yourself, boy?" His tone sounded friendly, but his stance remained ready for any potential attack. His sword was poised for defense.
With a surge of excitement, the mana surrounding me seemed to pulse with renewed energy, enveloping me in its intoxicating embrace. Despite feeling lightheaded, fueled by a childlike enthusiasm, I charged forward. "Sword Style One! All Out Slash!" I yelled with uncontainable glee as I hurled myself towards Virmil.
Despite my dizziness, I flew towards my uncle like a projectile with my wooden sword tightly gripped in hand. My vision blurred, but I could see him react, quickly raising his sword in an attempt to block my attack. But it was too late.
Time seemed to slow down as I watched my blade break through his defenses, sending a shower of wooden splinters flying. With a loud impact, it connected with his chest and sent him flying backwards out of our sparring area.
"Excellent job!" A voice rang out in the clearing, accompanied by the sound of clapping from unseen spectators. Blinking away the rush of excitement, I turned to see Charles making his way towards Virmil with calculated steps, amidst the lush greenery of the forest.
He stood over Virmil for a moment before reaching out to grasp his uncle's arm with a mixture of camaraderie and jest evident in his expression. "You're quite something, Uncle... That was a cheap move," Virmil grumbled while trying to hide a smile.
Charles, always the voice of reason and humor, approached with a laugh while brushing sand off his back. "No way, Uncle. It was just Viktor finding his own style. But man, you flew so far! Almost thought you were a dragon," he joked, his laughter echoing through the air.
Virmil brushed off Charles' teasing with prideful steps as he made his way towards me. He placed his hands heavily on my shoulders, congratulating me. "Well done, boy! You're now a man worthy of being called a Kirchner and an honorary Tailon. Let's go celebrate!" His booming voice carried across the clearing as he lifted me onto his shoulders in excitement.
I couldn't help but smile at the warmth of family surrounding me as we headed back to the manor. From a distance, I could see candles flickering and decorations adorning the halls, inviting us to join the festivities.
Virmil leaned in with a kind tone. "It'll be some time before the party starts. Why don't you take a moment to rest?" His words held understanding, acknowledging the journey that led us to this celebratory moment.
As I lay sprawled on the luxurious bed, feeling out of place compared to my usual living quarters, my mind was consumed by thoughts and possibilities. I knew that exploring the merging of magic and combat would require Uncle Kris' expertise.
"H-hello..." A soft voice whispered, pulling me from my deep contemplation. Startled, I looked up from the bed to see my favorite maid and surrogate older sister standing nearby with a gentle smile.
Excitement bubbled up within me as I leapt from the bed, eager to embrace my dear friend Em after so long apart. She stood before me in her usual maid attire, but something felt different—two somethings, in fact.
As my arms wrapped around her, my fingers brushed against a new fabric texture that I couldn't quite place. Had she borrowed this outfit from another part of the castle? And then there was the unexpected firmness of her muscles as I squeezed her arms playfully.
"Em, have you been working out?" I asked with a teasing smile, noticing the slight hesitation in her response. But before she could answer, I reached out to poke her nose in jest, only to be met with a burst of color flooding her cheeks and a soft yelp escaping her lips.
My eyes widened as she confessed, "I... I'm not your maid. It's me—Lilith." The room seemed to freeze around us, silence filling the air as we both processed this revelation.
Trying to break the tension, I managed to ask with a hint of amusement, "Okay... Well, why are you here? In a maid outfit?"
Lilith's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as she stumbled over her words. "W-well, Father said that you should be... serviced. But it's not like a future general to do that... So he sent a 'maid,'" she explained, avoiding my gaze.
My mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events. Before I could gather my thoughts, a loud explosion shook the manor, shattering the fragile peace of the moment. Without hesitation, I pulled Lilith close to shield her from harm as chaos erupted in another part of the manor.
We quickly dashed through the corridors, our hearts racing in unison with our hurried steps, until we ran into Charles, his expression a mix of concern and urgency.
"What's going on?!" I shouted over the deafening sounds of explosions, fear rising within me like a tempest ready to engulf us all.
"It's a siege!" Charles exclaimed, unsheathing his sword and invoking a prayer for divine protection. A shimmering cascade of light burst forth from his blade, forming an exact replica that glowed with otherworldly radiance.
With a firm grip on my shoulder, Charles's gaze bore into mine, his expression a mask of determination and concern mingled with sweat. His hand trembled slightly as he spoke, the weight of our situation evident in every line of his face. "We need to get out of here. Lilith, take Viktor and-"
But before he could finish his command, a sudden impact rocked the world around us, the force of it seeming to warp reality itself. In an instant, stone and wood crumbled to dust, the once-solid foundations of the manor reduced to nothingness before my disbelieving eyes.
As the world around me erupted into chaos, I realized with a jolt that it wasn't the world that had gone quiet—it was my hearing that had been stolen away, swallowed by the suddenness of the onslaught. And the cause of this deafening silence stood before us, a towering figure clad in nothing but a pair of black trousers, barefoot and shirtless, his imposing frame casting a shadow over our shattered surroundings.
I could feel Charles's grip tighten on my shoulder as he whispered under his breath. His voice was strained and urgent, filled with equal parts fear and determination. "It's him...Ken'Bu."
The man before us exuded an aura of danger and power. He towered over us like a giant, his bare muscles rippling with each step as he advanced towards us with deadly intent. His laughter rang out like a chilling peal of thunder, sending shivers down my spine.
Despite the overwhelming odds against us, Charles stood strong. But even his resolve seemed to falter as Ken'Bu drew closer, their swords poised for battle.
In a moment of desperate surrender, Charles dropped his sword and sank to his knees, his voice trembling as he uttered a name with reverence and fear intertwined. "K-Ken'Bu..."
The man before us, a sinister smile curling upon his lips, produced a blade with chilling ease. "That's right! The Reaper's back to claim what he's owed, HAHA!" His declaration rang out like a thunderclap, a herald of approaching defeat as he charged toward us with deadly intent.
My eyes darted to Charles, who seemed resigned to his fate, while Lilith, though visibly shaken, stood her ground with shaky resolve. In the face of this looming threat, uncertainty and fear gripped us all, but with the weight of destiny bearing down upon us, there was no choice but to stand and confront the looming darkness head-on.
Lilith's hand shook as she raised her sword to defend against Ken'Bu's onslaught. I could see the fear in her eyes, but also the determination to protect us at any cost.
With each thundering step, Ken'Bu drew nearer, his towering presence casting a shadow of dread over us all. His face contorted into a manic grin, a chilling amalgamation of madness and malice, as he swung his sword with reckless abandon, his laughter echoing through the air like the haunting cry of a jackal.
As the weight of impending doom settled upon us, I, too, found myself succumbing to a sense of grim acceptance. If Charles, with all his skill and determination, couldn't stand against Ken'Bu, then what hope did the rest of us have? And where was Uncle, the one beacon of hope we might have clung to in this dire moment?
But just as it seemed like all was lost, a voice shattered the oppressive silence and drew our collective attention. It was the same guard I had glimpsed only fleetingly since our arrival at the castle, his presence a rare sight amidst the bustle of the fortress. With urgency etched into every line of his face, he beckoned to us.
"Madam!" he cried out. "This way! There's still a chance to escape!"
A glimmer of hope sparked within me as I turned to face our savior, who stood against the backdrop of chaos with unwavering determination. With renewed vigor, we followed his lead and ran towards safety, leaving behind the looming threat of Ken'Bu and the crumbling manor in our wake.
A figure was cradled in the guard's arms, delicate yet urgent as if the gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon them. As they approached, my heart skipped a beat and then pounded with recognition—it was Emeline, my beloved sister.
"Emeline!" I cried out, my voice raw with emotion that eclipsed the looming danger before us. The guard hastily set her down beside me, his eyes now fixed on the menacing form of Ken'Bu approaching.
But as my attention turned back to Emeline, a wave of dread washed over me, squeezing my chest and stealing my breath. "No..." My words choked past my lips as the world around me twisted and distorted, unable to witness the horror unfolding before us.
Emeline lay before me, once vibrant eyes now dulled with pain and exhaustion. My hands trembled as I reached for her, pouring every ounce of mana I possessed into her fading essence. A glimmer of color returned to her pale cheeks, a faint hint of life amidst the encroaching darkness.
She let out a soft cough, scarlet droplets staining her lips. "Vikky?" Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile and hanging by a thread. I gripped her cold hand tightly, pressing it against my cheek as I leaned in closer, desperate to hold onto her.
Placing my ear against her chest, I strained to hear the steady beat of her heart, the reassuring flow of mana through her being. But there was nothing—no pulse, no trace of mana, only the chilling silence of impending loss echoing in the empty chambers of my heart.
I continued to pour mana into Emeline, fueled by an unrelenting desperation, each surge of energy a fervent plea for her survival. But still, there was nothing—no sign of improvement, no spark of life returning to her frail body. My hands shook with fear and grief, a rising tide of fury threatening to consume me whole.
In that moment, on the brink of losing my sister, something inside me ignited—a ferocious fire fueled by the injustice of it all. How dare this world take away someone so pure and dear to me?