Chapter 10
Years Forged, Not Spent
Time did not pass quickly.
It passed correctly.
The first month after the decision about the second soul ring was unremarkable to an outside observer. Kael trained. He studied. He repeated. Nothing dramatic happened, and that was intentional.
Every morning began the same way.
Before dawn, Kael stood alone in the eastern yard, mist curling around his ankles. He moved through stance drills slowly advance, brace, pivot, withdraw each motion corrected subtly by the dormant black greaves.
They never activated.
They never needed to.
When Kael faltered, they resisted.
When his posture was correct, they yielded.
By the end of the third month, Kael no longer thought about balance.
His body obeyed before his mind intervened.
Captain Jorvan observed silently from a distance.
"He's not training strength," he said once to Mirelle. "He's erasing waste."
Soul power cultivation followed strict limits.
Kael refused aggressive cycling techniques, even when offered higher-tier manuals from the Valerius archives. Instead, he focused on consistency slow circulation, precise routing, deliberate compression.
At six years old, haste would have carved flaws into his foundation.
By the end of the first year, Kael reached Rank 13.
No celebration followed.
Kael merely noted the stability of the increase and returned to training.
Research filled the afternoons.
Kael was granted access to the military library not because of favoritism, but because Duke Alaric understood that withholding information from Kael would only delay the inevitable.
Kael read everything.
Battle records.
Spirit beast classifications.
Fragmented theories on martial soul mutations.
He copied diagrams by hand.
He compared failed cases to successful ones.
And slowly, a pattern emerged.
Spirit beasts that granted weapon-type abilities shared one trait:
They chose confrontation.
Not instinctually.
Deliberately.
Kael wrote in his notebook:
Observation: Weapon manifestation correlates with intentional aggression.
Conclusion: Instinct-driven beasts produce enhancement. Decision-driven beasts produce form.
He did not share this conclusion.
Not yet.
The second year began quietly.
Kael's body changed subtly leaner, denser. His movements became economical, almost understated. The greaves darkened slightly, as if responding to his increased soul power density, but they never expanded upward.
That restraint mattered.
By mid-year, Kael reached Rank 16.
Mirelle frowned when she saw the data.
"With your foundation, you could be higher."
Kael shook his head. "That would mean compression loss."
She studied him for a long moment.
"…You're preparing for something that hasn't happened yet."
Kael nodded. "Yes."
Sparring resumed intermittently, always controlled.
Kael fought older Spirit Masters now Rank 25, sometimes 26. He lost often, but never the same way twice. Each defeat carved a correction into his approach.
He never borrowed momentum.
He never overextended.
He learned when not to advance.
Jorvan noted the pattern one evening.
"He's learning restraint faster than aggression."
Mirelle replied quietly, "Because aggression is easy. Commitment is not."
By the end of the second year, Kael reached Rank 18.
Eight years old.
Still no second soul ring.
Still no weapon.
But something had changed.
The greaves no longer felt like armor.
They felt like law.
Kael stood in his room one night, notebook open.
He wrote:
Status: Foundation complete.
Body: Stable.
Soul Power: Dense.
Mind: Decisive.
He paused, then added the final line:
Conclusion: I am ready to choose.
He closed the notebook.
Outside, winter winds brushed against the keep's walls.
Soon, Kael would step beyond them again not to test strength, but to commit.
The second soul ring would not come from desperation.
It would come from decision.