Chapter 12 : The Return of Ronald
Edward closed his eyes for a moment and lifted the bird in his hands as if holding a fragile vessel. Then he whispered in a deep, cold voice:
"The Split Soul."
A faint golden energy began to seep from his body, forming into misty roots that wrapped around his chest, then extended toward the still bird.
Those spiritual threads settled in front of the eagle's chest, forming a burning golden orb that kept gathering, little by little, until it became the size of a small pearl—
as if it were a flame taken from the sun itself—
and then it entered the eagle's body!
The spark in Edward's eyes dimmed, as if a part of his essence was being torn away. His face grew slightly pale, yet the cold look in his eyes did not fade!
In contrast, a new spark began to ignite in the eyes of the dead bird, as if life were slowly returning to it.
The bird's body suddenly trembled, then began to flap its wings slowly—
as if a cry of rebirth was forcing its way up from the depths of its being, restoring vitality to it.
It opened its eyes fully, now glowing with a reddish hue tinged with a cold blue. It cast a glance at Edward, who waved his hand after returning the message to its previous position, and the bird took off once again, heading back toward the castle.
The eagle flew again, with the same lightness—
but with a different presence.
It was no longer just a messenger bird, but now a part of Edward's consciousness,
a trump card that would allow him to stay one step ahead of John!
This technique had many advantages,
but just as many drawbacks.
Edward would now have to sleep for three full days to recover his soul's strength—
and he couldn't perform the technique again for an entire month,
until his soul regained its full presence and vitality.
But Edward didn't mind.
After all, he wasn't short-sighted.
He would do anything to achieve his goal,
sacrificing short-term gains for long-term victory.
"So, what will you do now, John? Don't let your little brother get bored..."
A strange smile widened on Edward's face as he leapt from the top of the wall, dashing toward the eastern side of the castle.
---
Three days later…
The sun barely pierced through the fog of Mist City.
But in an abandoned inner courtyard behind the castle,
Cloud stood alone, drenched in sweat, his chest pounding so hard that the rhythm of his heartbeat was clearly visible.
He looked exhausted,
but in his silver eyes blazed a fire unmistakable to anyone…
The fire of determination.
He stood in a combat stance, his body covered in light bruises, his hands clenched as if grasping something unseen.
"Awakening the Second Heart… it's not just physical training, but a test of will and essence."
Those were Edward's words, which Cloud repeated to himself constantly, etched into his mind since he began this special kind of training.
He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm in his breathing.
He focused on the beat of his heart…
One beat… two… three…
As he continued to follow his heartbeat—now the only sound he could hear—
he began to feel something strange…
A faint warmth rising from deep within…
Not from his first heart,
but from something much stranger.
The heat kept building up,
until it settled in one place—
the right side of his chest.
"It's responding…"
This thought echoed in Cloud's silent mind, but it didn't break his deep meditative state.
Suddenly, his body jolted violently—
as if a tremendous force had erupted within him.
He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath,
and the faint blue light that had begun to form in the right side of his chest vanished quickly!
"So close… I was so close,"
he muttered in a hoarse voice, and smiled despite the pain.
"If I keep going like this, I'll succeed soon!"
he whispered, clutching his hand tightly with a joyful grin.
Even though he was at the edge of exhaustion,
his sense of steady progress gave him hope.
He felt he could improve, reach a new stage,
and one day, truly control this mysterious energy.
"Let's try again… after…"
---
At the castle gate stood a muscular man,
with silver hair and piercing silver eyes.
At his waist, two crossed swords gleamed with a mysterious light under the dim glow,
making him look like the kind of person no one would want to face.
His presence was anything but ordinary—
it was as if the very air changed around him.
Even the sound of his footsteps carried a kind of irrefutable authority.
The guards at the gate exchanged nervous glances, then quickly bowed to him without a word.
In the corner of the gate, a newly recruited guard watched the scene,
trying not to tremble as he gripped his spear:
"Is that the mad swordsman… Ronald?
Dear God, no wonder they call him the Beast of Battle…
Just looking into his eyes makes me feel like I could die any moment!"
His face was stern, bearing the marks of years of war and conflict.
His body moved with the discipline of an indomitable warrior.
In his eyes—
a cold gleam…
The gleam of absolute pride,
the pride of someone who had seen death over and over again
until he no longer feared it.
The guards opened the castle doors quickly, and Ronald entered with confident steps.
There, to greet him, stood an old man wearing the uniform of the head butler, bowing in welcome.
"Welcome back, young master…
The Earl is waiting for you in the Lion's Den Hall.
He gave strict orders to inform you to go to him the moment you arrived."
---
End of Chapter.
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