The training grounds lay shrouded in dawn's pale light, frost glittering on straw dummies and pitted stone walls. Kairus moved like a specter, his twin blades carving arcs through the frigid air. Each strike echoed with the ghosts of his past life—the Vasco's sword, the screams of his mercenaries, the swords of the Verris family.
[Trial of the Twin Blades: 94/100]
[Stamina: 22% – Movement speed reduced.]
He ignored the warning. His breath came in ragged clouds, his muscles screaming, but he pushed harder. Faster. Memories guided him—the footwork of a dead sellsword, the grip of a Verris assassin's dagger, the lethal economy of enemy's thrusts.
Clang!
A dummy's head rolled.
Daily Quest: "Master the Gale Step."]
[Objective: Evade 100 consecutive strikes. Progress: 0/100.]
Kairus closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. His breath hung in the air, a ghostly veil. The system's interface flickered at the edge of his vision, its golden text a constant companion.
Clang.
His twin practice blades met in a crossguard block, muscles coiling. The dummy's straw head lolled mockingly.
Again.
He moved. Blades became extensions of his will, slicing through drills burned into his soul by decades of future battles. A feint left, a pivot right, the whoosh of steel parting air.
[Swordsmanship Proficiency: 94% → 95%.]
[Swordsmanship: First-Rate → Peak-Tier requires 1000 XP.]
[Current XP: 980/1000]
"Almost," he hissed.
A flash of movement. Kairus spun, blades raised—but it was only a raven, its wings slicing the gloom. He sagged against a post, wiping blood from split knuckles. The system's golden text pulsed accusingly:
[Health: 37% – Severe bruising detected.]
[Recommendation: Rest.]
"Not yet."
He closed his eyes, activating the forbidden technique burned into his memory.
[Lionheart Circulation (Lv. 2) Activated.]
[Convert pain → stamina. Risk: Organ damage.]
Fire erupted in his veins. His vision sharpened—every rusted link of the courtyard chain, every fissure in the stone. He lunged, blades becoming a silver blur.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three dummies disintegrated.
[Trial Complete: +60 XP.]
[Swordsmanship: First-Rate → Peak-Tier.]
[+10 Strength. +8 Agility. Aura unlocked.]
A shockwave erupted from Kairus's body, scattering frost in a ten-foot radius. His blades hummed, sheathed in a faint silver glow—the mark of Peak-tier aura.
"Finally," he breathed.
The crunch of boots on gravel snapped Kairus alert. Rodrick Tristan stood at the edge of the yard, arms crossed, his shadow stretching long in the dawn light. The gladiator wore no armor, only a linen tunic that strained over muscles hardened by a hundred pit fights.
"Heard you were out here butchering strawmen," Rodrick said, tossing Kairus a waterskin. "Thought I'd see if you can handle flesh and blood."
Kairus caught it, drinking deeply. The water was laced with honey and ginger—a fighter's brew. "Duke Tristan send you to test me?"
Meanwhile, in the council chamber, Alden Varkaine faced Duke Tristan across a table strewn with Valatium samples. The duke's perfume—cloying jasmine —clashed with the room's scent of pine and iron.
"Your son's… ambition is admirable," Duke Tristan said, swirling wine in a goblet.
"But Valatium is too volatile for the Varkaine. Let us handle refining."
Alden's knuckles whitened on his cane. "We've managed thus far."
"Barely." The duke flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Rumors say Verris agents sabotaged your southern mines last week. How long until they succeed?"
Alden's jaw tightened. Kairus hadn't told him about that.
Duke Tristan leaned forward. "Join us. Let the Tristans protect your interests. In return, we'll take Thirty percent of raw ore."
"Ten."
"Twenty."
Alden met his gaze. "Fifteen. And your knights garrison our borders, not the reverse."
The duke's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Clever. But agreed."
As they clasped hands, a tremor shook the chamber. Distant blades echoed from the training grounds.