My chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths, each inhale scraping like fire through my throat. The echoes of clashing steel still rang in my ears, but the arena had gone quiet. The gladiator's massive form crumbled into motes of light, scattering into the air like dust carried by the wind. My knees nearly buckled as the adrenaline drained out of me, leaving behind only exhaustion. Sweat stung my eyes, blood still clung stubbornly to my knuckles, and every muscle in my body screamed for rest.
And yet—I was alive. I had won.
"Not bad, pretty boy."
The familiar voice drifted across the quiet arena, smooth and tinged with mischief. I turned my head and saw her approaching: Sylandra. The spirit walked with the ease of someone who owned the very ground she stepped on, emerald hair swaying with each graceful step, eyes glowing faintly like starlight.
She tilted her head as she looked me over, a teasing smile curling on her lips. "You look like a drenched puppy. A very pitiful warrior."
I wanted to retort, but all I could manage was a bitter laugh. My body wasn't in any state for witty comebacks.
With a flick of her wrist, a vial appeared in her palm—liquid light swirling within like captured moonfire. She held it out lazily, as if she were offering a child candy. "Drink. Unless you plan on collapsing here and letting me drag you out like a sack of potatoes."
I hesitated, eyeing the vial. Trusting strange glowing liquids offered by playful spirits wasn't exactly wise. But one more step without it and I'd probably be unconscious. With a grunt, I reached for it.
"Good boy," Sylandra teased, placing it into my hand.
The vial was cool against my palm, the liquid within shimmering with a faint radiance. I popped the seal and brought it to my lips.
The taste was… strange. At first it was crisp, refreshing—like drinking water straight from a mountain spring. Then a soft sweetness lingered on my tongue, soothing and almost pleasant. But before I could enjoy it, a sharp burn raced down my throat, igniting in my chest and spreading like wildfire through my veins.
I gasped, nearly dropping the vial, but then—relief.
The crushing fatigue that had been weighing me down evaporated in an instant. My muscles loosened, the ache fading into nothingness. My lungs filled with air as if I'd been suffocating until now, and the stabbing pain in my ribs dulled to a faint echo.
It was like every weight chained to my body had been cut loose.
I exhaled shakily, staring down at my trembling hands. My strength… it was back. No, not just back—it was surging, coursing through me with a vitality I hadn't felt in years.
I wanted to ask her what exactly I had just drunk, but something told me Sylandra wouldn't give me a straight answer. Instead, I steadied myself and asked the only question that mattered.
"So… did I pass?"
Sylandra crossed her arms, giving me a look that was half amusement, half challenge. "Pass? Hm." She tapped a finger against her chin theatrically. "You weren't half bad. But don't get ahead of yourself."
I frowned. "That's not much of an answer."
Her smirk widened. "If you're expecting me to say you were impressive, forget it. You're not weak, but you're far from strong. A fragile little ember trying to call itself a wildfire."
Her words stung, but they weren't wrong. I was still at the bottom. Still clawing my way up. And yet… I clenched my fists, forcing my voice steady.
"I don't plan to stay weak. I'll rise to the top. Stronger than anyone."
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Sylandra studied me, her luminous eyes unblinking, as if peering past my words and into my very core. Then she chuckled softly, shaking her head.
"Ambitious little thing, aren't you? You have no idea what lurks out there. Beasts that can flatten kingdoms. Spirits that could drown entire worlds. Do you really think you can reach the top?"
I didn't flinch. "I don't just think. I have to. Survival doesn't give me another choice."
Her laughter was softer this time, carrying something almost like approval. "You're an amusing one. Very well… then let's see if you can keep that fire burning."
She lifted a finger, glowing with golden light, and before I could react, pressed it gently to my forehead.
The world exploded into radiance.
Warmth surged through me as golden light wrapped around my body, curling like a cocoon of shimmering threads. Sparks drifted through the air like fireflies, each one brushing my skin and sinking in, leaving behind faint ripples of power. I felt the light seeping into my bones, my blood, even my soul.
On my left hand, a sigil appeared—glowing, intricate, like an ancient crest etched by divine fire. It pulsed once with heat before fading into my skin, leaving only the faintest trace.
A chime echoed in my mind.
``````
[You are receiving Sylandra's Blessing.]
[The blessing is resonating with you]
```````
I stared at my hand, heart pounding. The blessing resonated within me, and as I focused, I could feel it. My stamina stretching wider. My recovery sharpening. A warmth promising faster healing. And deeper still, a faint tether—an invisible thread connecting me back to her presence.
`````````````
[You have received Sylandra's blessing]
[You have received the Spirit Mark of Sylandra.]
`````````````
Description:
......
• Grants you faster recovery from exhaustion and fatigue.
• Your stamina and endurance will be greatly enhanced, allowing you to fight longer.
• Your wounds heal faster, though not instantly.
• Connects you faintly to Sylandra's essence, allowing you to call upon her guidance in dire moments.
• The mark may evolve as you grow, unlocking deeper abilities tied to Sylandra (e.g., protective barriers, spirit-enhanced strikes).
.......
"This…" I whispered, awe slipping into my voice. "This isn't just a blessing. It's like I've been given another lifeline."
As I was looking at it something caught my eye. A small confusion flickerd in my eye.
I looked up at Sylandra, confusion flickering in my eyes. "This part here…" I raised my marked hand, the sigil pulsing faintly. "It says I can call upon your guidance in dire moments. And that the mark might evolve as I grow. What exactly does that mean?"
Sylandra tilted her head, emerald hair spilling like a cascade of light. For once, her playful smirk softened into something more serious.
"The tether you feel," she said, her voice carrying a faint echo, "is a bridge between your essence and mine. In times when your will falters or when death presses close, that thread will stir. My presence may reach you—not as a hand to fight your battles, but as a whisper to guide your blade, steady your heart, or nudge you toward survival."
Her eyes glowed faintly brighter, a reminder of the vastness she carried within her. "But do not mistake it for a leash you can tug at will. Call too often, and you'll find silence. I do not reward dependency. Only in moments when your spirit screams for survival will the tether answer."
I swallowed, nodding slowly. "And… the part about it evolving?"
That drew her smile back, but this time it was faint, unreadable. "The mark is not fixed. It is alive—an ember that can grow as you do. Feed it with battle, with will, with resolve, and it will kindle into flame. As you ascend, the blessing may take on new shapes. Shields woven from my essence to guard you, strikes that carry the weight of spirit fire, perhaps even glimpses of my domain itself."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing briefly over the sigil on my skin. A warmth spread from her touch, lingering even after she pulled away. "But remember this—the mark reflects you. If you falter, if your ambition rots into greed or fear, it will wither. If you grow, it will bloom. In the end, it is not my power you carry, but your own… sharpened by my flame."
I held her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle deep within me. "Then I'll make sure it blooms."
Her grin returned, sharp and amused. "Good answer, little ember."
Then suddenly Sylandra's gaze had sharpened. She tilted her head slightly, her expression more thoughtful now.
"You carry something unusual," she murmured. "Lightning and Space… a peculiar combination."
My breath caught. She had noticed.
"Lightning," she continued, pacing slowly around me, "is ferocious. Quick, destructive, relentless. But undisciplined lightning? It burns its wielder as easily as its enemies." Her eyes flicked toward me, glinting. "And Space… that one is rarer. Space bends, twists, devours. It does not forgive those who lack clarity. Lose focus, and it will consume you whole."
She stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the faint glimmer of amusement in her gaze. "Together, the two are… dangerous. A storm that could shatter the world—or destroy itself."
Her words pressed heavy on me, but I stood straighter, listening.
"Do not let your power run wild, little one. Learn balance. Anchor the storm. Without it, you'll burn out long before you ever touch the top."
I nodded firmly. "I understand. Thank you."
She smirked. "Do you? We'll see."
The seriousness faded from her face, replaced once more by her familiar teasing grin. "Well, judging by your expression, it seems someone really likes my blessing."
I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "I'd be stupid not to."
"Of course you should be grateful," she said, tossing her hair with exaggerated pride. "I don't hand out my blessing to just any boy who swings a sword."
I muttered under my breath, "Could've fooled me…"
She froze for a beat, then burst into laughter, her voice ringing clear in the quiet arena. "You really are amusing. Careful, young man—you might actually grow on me."
I shook my head, though a faint smile tugged at my lips.
Her laughter softened, and her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "Ambition is good, but don't lose yourself chasing power. Even storms need a center, a calm. Remember that."
I held her gaze, nodding once. "I will."
Sylandra glanced upward, then back at me. "Our time is done for now. You should be going."
Just before she waved her hand, she asked casually, "Your name, boy. What is it?"
I straightened my back. "Arthur Dravenlock."
Her lips curved, repeating it slowly, as though testing the weight of it. "Arthur Dravenlock… A good name. I'll remember it. And we'll meet again. Count on it."
Golden light flared around me, brighter and brighter until the arena faded away.
When the glow dimmed, I found myself standing once more in the forest, before the towering tree that had marked my entrance into her domain.
The familiar chime of the system rang in my head. I willed the panel open.
----------------------------------------------
Name: Arthur Dravenlock
Class: Magic Swordsman
Talent: Limitless
Attributes: Space, Lightning
....
Strength: 35
Speed: 34
Endurance: 35
Dexterity: 33
Perception: 32
Mana: 43
.....
Skills:
Passive: Perfect Poker(^)
Active: Dash(^), Arc Discharge(^), Dimensional Veil(^)
.....
Hidden Skills: Moon Slash
...
Blessing: Spirit Mark of Sylandra
...
Arts:
Basic Sword Style (Common)
Basic Non-Armed Combat (Common)
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I exhaled slowly, a faint smile pulling at my lips. Progress. Real, tangible progress.
I had come far since the day I first set foot in the academy. And yet… this was only the beginning. If I wanted to stand at the top, if I wanted to carve my place in this world, I'd have to go even further.
I clenched my fists, determination burning anew.
"Let's see how far I can climb."
With that thought, I began walking back toward the academy.