Snow continued falling over the shattered training grounds of House Rosenfeld.
The battle had ended.
Yet no one moved.
No one spoke.
Because what they had witnessed tonight no longer felt like ordinary sparring between family members.
It felt like standing before the beginning of something that would one day shake the Empire itself.
At the center of the ruined arena—
Kel stood covered in blood while his cousin supported him carefully, dragging him toward the medics waiting nearby.
Three wounds stained his dark clothes crimson.
And yet—
His expression remained calm beneath the frozen northern moon.
Meanwhile—
Everyone watching the battle carried different thoughts.
Different emotions.
Different fears.
Duke Aktaris von Rosenfeld The Slaughter Dragon
The Duke stood silently beneath the cold winds.
His crimson eyes remained fixed upon his eldest son while snow gathered slowly across his black military cloak embroidered with ancient silver dragons.
Meanwhile—
Inside his mind—
Countless thoughts collided endlessly.
Because throughout the entire battle—
Aktaris understood something terrifying.
Kel was holding back.
Even at the very end.
The Duke had spent his entire life upon battlefields.
He slaughtered monster hordes.
He survived wars.
He crushed rebellions.
He knew exactly how true killing intent felt.
And tonight—
Kel never once used genuine killing intent.
Not even during the most intense moments.
Which meant—
Everything displayed tonight still remained incomplete.
Meanwhile—
Aktaris slowly remembered the moment Kel transformed floating aura swords into different weapons.
Not merely reshaping aura.
But changing combat philosophy itself.
The Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts…
No.
That thing could not simply be called swordsmanship anymore.
It was an evolving battlefield doctrine.
A combat system capable of infinite adaptation.
And somehow—
The Duke instinctively understood something else.
If Kel ever fully matured…
Then the Empire itself might fail to contain him.
Meanwhile—
A cold northern wind moved through the Duke's silver-black hair.
And quietly—
For the first time in many years—
The Slaughter Dragon felt uncertain about the future.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for the world around his son.
Helena von Rosenfeld The Mother Who Almost Lost Her Child
Helena's hands trembled softly beneath her sleeves.
She barely heard the surrounding knights.
Barely noticed the snow.
Because her eyes remained locked only upon Kel.
Her firstborn.
The child doctors once declared would not survive adulthood.
The pale boy who spent nights coughing blood inside isolated chambers.
The child she held while silently praying he would survive another winter.
And now—
That same child stood bleeding in the middle of a destroyed battlefield after teaching advanced combat philosophy to the next generation of House Rosenfeld.
The contrast felt unreal.
Meanwhile—
Helena remembered something else.
During the fight—
Kel looked calm.
Too calm.
Even while injured.
Even while pierced by three swords.
It was not bravery.
No—
It looked more like familiarity.
As though pain itself no longer surprised him.
And that realization wounded Helena deeply.
Because it meant—
Her son had already suffered far beyond what she knew.
Meanwhile—
A tear quietly slid down her cheek.
Not because Kel was weak.
But because he had become strong in ways a mother never wished for her child.
Kel's Younger Brother
His younger brother stared toward the battlefield with glowing eyes.
Excitement.
Admiration.
Shock.
Everything mixed together inside him.
Because tonight—
Kel became something larger than simply an older brother.
He became an ideal.
A peak.
Something impossible yet real.
The floating elemental weapons.
The transformations.
The combat control.
The philosophy itself.
Everything looked like stories from ancient legends.
Meanwhile—
The younger boy clenched his fists tightly.
For the first time—
He genuinely wanted to become stronger.
Not merely because he belonged to House Rosenfeld.
But because he wanted someday—
Even slightly—
To stand beside his older brother without embarrassment.
Kel's Younger Sister
Unlike others—
Kel's younger sister did not focus on the battle itself.
She focused on Kel's expression.
And strangely—
That frightened her the most.
Because throughout the entire fight—
Kel smiled only slightly.
Calmly.
Almost gently.
Even while bleeding.
Even while injured.
And somehow—
That calmness felt lonely.
Meanwhile—
She quietly lowered her gaze.
Because deep down—
She realized something painful.
Kel probably walked through many terrifying places during those missing two years.
Places where getting injured became normal.
Places where survival mattered more than fear.
And now—
The brother who returned home…
Was no longer the same weak cursed boy who left.
The Eldest Uncle
The eldest uncle crossed his arms silently while snow gathered across his shoulders.
His expression remained stern.
Yet internally—
His thoughts churned endlessly.
Because the implications of tonight terrified him politically.
The South already spoke endlessly about Reina Asheville's Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts.
The entire Empire had begun discussing it.
And now—
He understood the horrifying truth.
The published manual represented merely the surface.
Kel possessed the true essence.
If other noble houses discovered this…
Chaos would begin immediately.
Recruitment.
Marriage offers.
Political targeting.
Assassination attempts.
Everything.
Meanwhile—
The uncle slowly exhaled cold mist into the air.
House Rosenfeld's balance had changed tonight.
Completely.
The Second Uncle
The second uncle silently observed the shattered arena.
Unlike others—
He focused less on the techniques and more on Kel himself.
Because throughout the entire battle—
Kel continuously analyzed.
Adapted.
Guided.
Even while fighting.
The battle never truly felt like a competition to him.
It felt educational.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
And that mindset itself frightened the second uncle deeply.
Because truly dangerous people were never those consumed by strength.
The truly dangerous ones—
Were those capable of remaining calm while possessing overwhelming power.
Meanwhile—
The uncle quietly muttered beneath his breath:
"He thinks too far ahead…"
The Cousins
The younger cousins stared toward Kel almost worshipfully now.
Especially after witnessing the elemental orbit transformations.
To them—
Kel no longer resembled an ordinary heir.
He looked like an ancient hero from northern myths.
Meanwhile—
The older cousins felt something more complicated.
Pressure.
Because tonight proved clearly—
The gap between Kel and the rest of the younger generation had become enormous.
Almost unfairly enormous.
Yet strangely—
None of them felt jealousy.
Only disbelief.
Because what Kel displayed surpassed ordinary talent itself.
The Knights of House Rosenfeld
The knights standing around the training grounds remained unusually silent.
Many had spent decades mastering aura control.
Some even fought real wars.
Yet tonight—
Their understanding shattered completely.
Floating elemental weapons.
Aura transformations.
Combat philosophy through adaptive orbit systems.
None of them had ever imagined such concepts possible.
Meanwhile—
Several knights unconsciously understood something important.
If Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts spread across the Empire completely…
The entire structure of swordsmanship itself might evolve.
And standing at the center of that future—
Was the young heir of House Rosenfeld.
The Medics
Even the medics approaching Kel looked unsettled.
Because despite bleeding heavily—
Kel's pulse remained stable.
His breathing calm.
And somehow—
He himself looked less worried about the wounds than the people around him.
One older medic quietly realized something horrifying.
"This young master…"
"…he's used to pain."
Sairen The Ancient One Watching Through His Eyes
Inside Kel's consciousness—
Sairen silently watched everything unfold.
The northern snow.
The worried family.
The shocked knights.
The cousin dragging Kel toward treatment.
And slowly—
The ancient spirit smiled faintly.
Because unlike everyone else—
She understood one thing clearly.
Tonight changed House Rosenfeld forever.
Not politically.
Emotionally.
Because for the first time—
Kel allowed his family to glimpse even a fraction of what he truly became.
And that glimpse alone already overwhelmed them.
Meanwhile—
Sairen quietly whispered inside his mind:
"You enjoy teaching people."
Kel weakly smiled despite blood staining his lips.
"…Maybe."
The spirit laughed softly afterward.
"And maybe…"
Her voice became quieter.
"…you wanted them to finally see you properly."
Kel did not answer.
But his silence itself became the answer.
Above the frozen northern training grounds—
The moon continued shining endlessly over drifting snow and shattered stone.
And beneath that ancient silver light—
Everyone who witnessed the battle realized the same terrifying truth.
The heir of House Rosenfeld had returned home.
But the boy who left two years ago…
No longer existed.