Night had fallen over Elarion Academy. The air was crisp, carrying whispers of distant winds and the faint hum of residual Ether from the day's duels. Kian lingered on the training grounds, the cool grass brushing against his palms as he tested small tendrils of energy.
A shadow detached itself from the surrounding trees. A messenger approached silently, bowing before Kian.
"Young Master, I have a letter from the patriarch."
Kian took the envelope, the seal embossed with the emblem of the Savoy family catching the moonlight. Breaking it carefully, he read the message:
"Kian — while at the academy, try to find out who in the capital is the backer behind Abyss."
Kian's mind sharpened instantly. The word Abyss was more than rumor — it was the whisper behind assassinations, corruption, and silent disappearances. Whoever backed it had threads in every shadow of the empire.
The Savoy patriarch's command wasn't just an order. It was a test of worth.
---
The Awakening
At dawn, Kian stood again on the training field. The night's quiet words replayed in his mind. He knelt, grounding his palms on the earth, feeling every heartbeat of nature beneath him.
He recalled the lessons from The Living Current.
The flow of aura wasn't force — it was rhythm. It was listening.
His green aura flared, surging from his chest and spreading outward. The air thickened with vitality; even the morning dew shimmered like molten emerald. Roots rose from the ground, spiraling into patterns — not chaotic, but synchronized with his breath.
Then, suddenly, everything clicked.
The world spoke back.
He could feel the whispers of the leaves, the faint life pulse in the soil, the hum of Ether from distant students. Every fragment of nature pulsed in harmony with him.
He had ascended — Awakened Stage.
In this form, Kian's aura didn't merely extend — it resonated. He could sense disturbances in flow, hidden presences, and the intent behind movement itself. His control sharpened into a blade.
He raised his bow, and the world seemed to slow. Each arrow of pure Ether split into many, bending around the air currents he could now feel. When they landed, they burst into harmless green light — yet every shot had hit a precise mark.
"Balance pride with purpose," he murmured, recalling his father's teaching.
He smiled faintly. The awakening was complete.
---
Reconnaissance in the Capital
By midday, Kian disguised himself under a travel cloak and slipped into the capital's southern district. The streets of Aurelith buzzed with life — merchants bartering, nobles parading, soldiers stationed at corners. Yet beneath the noise, he could feel it a hum of concealed energy.
His newly awakened senses caught faint distortions in aura flow traces of dark, dense Ether lingering near certain shops and warehouses. The trail wound through the lower quarter and toward an abandoned section of the docks.
There — a hidden passage masked by illusionary magic. Kian pressed his palm to the wall. His nature aura pulsed, unraveling the faint spellwork. A cold, stale breeze brushed his face as the illusion peeled back, revealing a corridor lined with blackstone.
"Abyss..." he whispered.
As he stepped inside, a sudden flicker of hostile Ether cut through the silence.
A voice echoed from the darkness — low, sharp, and filled with amusement.
"So the Savoys finally send a pup sniffing around the lion's den."
From the shadows stepped a man — tall, muscular, with dark grey hair tied back and eyes like steel. A black blade hung at his side, its edge dripping faint aura.
"Gerad of Abyss," Kian muttered, recognizing the name whispered among the underground. A former knight turned assassin known for cutting down mages before they could even chant.
Gerad smiled faintly.
"Didn't think the heir himself would be foolish enough to walk in alone."
Kian straightened, aura pulsing.
"I came to find truth, not corpses. But if you insist—"
"Then draw," Gerad interrupted, unsheathing his blade in one smooth motion.
---
The Duel in the Shadows
The moment steel met air, the world exploded.
Gerad's blade struck with terrifying speed, coated in shadow-tinted Ether. Sparks flew as Kian's armament formed instantly — vines twisting into a green whip that parried the first blow. The clash rippled through the corridor, cracking the stone.
Gerad spun, his blade slicing a crescent of dark light. Kian ducked under it, countering with a whip strike that lashed like lightning. Gerad blocked barely but the vines snaked around his sword arm.
"Adaptive control," Gerad snarled. "Tricky."
"Observant," Kian replied. "But too slow."
With a twist, Kian's whip solidified into a spear and thrust forward. Gerad sidestepped, but the weapon bent mid-strike, curving to catch him across the ribs. He grunted, stumbling back.
His aura flared the air darkened. The ground beneath them cracked as Gerad unleashed his full strength. Shadows coiled from his body like smoke, his sword becoming a blur.
Kian blocked once, twice, then flipped backward — his bow reformed mid-air, arrows of green energy raining in quick succession. Each one deflected the dark tendrils reaching for him.
The final arrow struck the ground bursting into a surge of nature energy. Roots erupted, wrapping Gerad's legs.
"You can't bind me!" Gerad roared, slicing through the vines. But Kian was already behind him.
"No — but I can adapt."
Kian's aura exploded outward — a radiant pulse that crushed the darkness like sunlight through fog. He thrust his palm forward, and the vines reformed instantly, binding Gerad mid-motion. His weapon shattered from the force of the counter-wave.
Gerad gasped as the green aura constricted, draining the fight from him.
"How… how did a boy reach this level so quickly?"
Kian's eyes glowed faintly.
"By listening to what others ignore."
He released the grip, letting Gerad collapse, gasping for air. The assassin's aura flickered weakly.
"Tell your master," Kian said quietly, "the Savoy heir isn't blind. The next time Abyss strikes — I'll be waiting."
Kian turned and vanished into the misted alleys before guards could arrive. Behind him, the roots dissolved, leaving no trace — only the whisper of leaves rustling where there should have been silence.
---
The capital slept uneasily that night. Somewhere deep in the underbelly of Aurelith, the name Kian Savoy began to circulate not as a student, but as a rising force the Abyss could no longer ignore.
And far beyond, unseen in his high fortress, King Van Lionheart looked out over the city and murmured to himself:
So the forest grows bold again… Perhaps it is time the lion hunts."