Chapter 6: The Resonance of Blades
The morning following the induction into the Gold Class did not bring the soft light of dawn, but rather the harsh, artificial glare of the Solar Spire's training arena. The room was a massive dome of reinforced glass and mana-dampening stone, designed to withstand the accidental outbursts of the continent's most volatile talents.
Rowan stood in the center of the sands, his eyes closed. He was practicing the Still Water Breathing technique, but it was becoming more difficult. The "Gold and Silver Lattice"—the artificial aura arteries forged during his night with Seraphina—felt like liquid fire beneath his skin. His body was literally rewriting its biology to accommodate the Vacuum Core's hunger and Seraphina's purity.
"Your stance is too rigid," a voice rang out.
Seraphina was leaning against a weapon rack, twirling a training dagger made of enchanted wood. She had traded her silk slip for a form-fitting combat suit of midnight blue, reinforced with leather at the joints.
"In my past—" Rowan started, then caught himself. "In my experience, rigidity provides the strongest anchor for a strike."
"For a swordsman with a standard mana pool, perhaps," Seraphina countered, stepping onto the sands. "But you aren't standard. You are a void. A void shouldn't be an anchor; it should be a whirlpool. If you stand still, you're just a target. If you move, you're a disaster waiting to happen."
She lunged without warning.
The Silver Step
Seraphina didn't just run; she blurred. This was the Silver Step, a high-level Valois movement technique that used mana to briefly vibrate the body's molecules, allowing the user to slip through the air with almost zero resistance.
Rowan opened his eyes, his pupils flashing gold. He didn't retreat. He activated the Vacuum Core, but instead of pulling mana from the air, he pulled it from the friction of her movement.
Clang!
He blocked her dagger with the flat of his training sword. The impact sent a jolt of silver electricity through his arms.
"Again," he grunted.
For the next hour, they danced across the arena. It wasn't just a physical spar; it was a rhythmic exchange of energy. Every time Seraphina struck, Rowan's core inhaled the excess mana from her blade. Every time he countered, he funneled that energy back into his movements, increasing his speed.
They were building a resonance—a feedback loop that made them both faster and stronger than they were individually.
"You're learning," she panted, her face flushed and a thin layer of sweat making her skin shimmer. "But you're still thinking like a soldier. You need to think like the Saint-Knight from that vision. He didn't just block; he became the space his enemies wanted to occupy."
The Uninvited Guest
The heavy doors of the training arena swung open with a bang that echoed like a thunderclap.
A group of three older students walked in. They weren't first-years. These were the "Senators" of the Gold Class—third-year students who had held their positions for years and looked down on the new "prodigies" with thinly veiled contempt.
Leading them was Theron Ironbound, a mountain of a young man with skin the color of bronze and a heavy, two-handed greataxe slung over his shoulder. He was a 4th-Circle Earth Mage and a peak Silver-Tier warrior.
"So, this is the 'Void' I've been hearing about?" Theron's voice was a deep rumble. He looked at Rowan's ragged training gear and spat on the sand. "And the Valois princess, wasting her time playing house with a Caelum failure."
Seraphina's eyes turned a dangerous, icy violet. "Theron. I didn't know the third-years were allowed to leave their playpens this early in the semester."
"The Solar Spire belongs to the strong, little girl," Theron said, stepping forward. The ground beneath his feet cracked under the sheer weight of his passive Aura. "Word has reached the upper years that a 'mana-less' rat has taken the top spot in the first-year rankings. It's an insult to the Academy. It's an insult to those of us who actually bled to build our Circles."
He turned his gaze to Rowan, his eyes narrowing. "I don't care what trick you used on the stone or how you scared Kaelen. In a real fight, earth crushes a vacuum every time."
Rowan lowered his wooden sword. He felt the Vacuum Core throb. It sensed the massive, dense Earth Mana radiating from Theron. To the Core, Theron didn't look like a threat; he looked like a banquet.
"Are you here to talk," Rowan asked calmly, "or are you here to be the first lesson of the day?"
The Clash of Elements
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The other two seniors moved to the edges of the room, grins on their faces. They wanted to see the "prodigy" broken.
"I'll give you the first move, rat," Theron sneered, unhooking his greataxe. The weapon was made of Star-Iron, heavy enough to sink a boat.
Rowan glanced at Seraphina. She nodded, her hand subtly reaching out toward him.
Soul-Bind Level 1: Empathy — Active.
Rowan felt a surge of Seraphina's moonlight mana enter his system, acting as a lubricant for his own raw power. He didn't use Flash-Step. He used the Silver Step he had just been practicing, combined with the Saint-Knight's Still Water focus.
He moved.
To the observers, Rowan simply vanished. To Theron, the world suddenly felt empty.
Rowan appeared directly in front of the giant, his wooden sword aimed not at Theron's chest, but at the head of the greataxe.
"Fool!" Theron roared, swinging the axe in a horizontal cleave that should have shattered the wooden sword and Rowan's ribs along with it.
But the moment the Star-Iron met the wood, the expected explosion of splinters didn't happen.
Rowan's Vacuum Core went into overdrive. He didn't just inhale the mana; he pulled at the very gravity Theron was using to swing the axe. The heavy weapon suddenly felt weightless, its momentum neutralized as Rowan siphoned the kinetic energy directly into his own body.
Theron stumbled, his balance destroyed by the sudden loss of resistance.
"My turn," Rowan whispered.
He didn't strike with the sword. He stepped in close—inside the reach of the axe—and slammed his open palm against Theron's armored chest.
Vacuum Burst.
The energy he had just stolen from Theron's swing, combined with a spark of Seraphina's silver mana, was released in a single, pressurized point.
The sound was like a cannon firing. Theron Ironbound, a man three times Rowan's weight and protected by 4th-Circle Earth Armor, was lifted off his feet. He flew twenty meters across the arena, smashing into the reinforced wall with enough force to leave a crater in the stone.
The arena fell into a deathly silence. The two other seniors stared at the unconscious form of their leader, then at the "mana-less" boy who was calmly adjusting his sleeves.
Rowan turned back to Seraphina. "You were right. The whirlpool is much more effective than the anchor."
Seraphina smiled, a genuine, terrifyingly beautiful expression. "We're going to have to work on your mercy, Rowan. Or the lack of it."
"Mercy is for the dead," Rowan replied, his eyes glowing with a smoldering gold. "I have a family to dismantle. I can't afford to be polite."