The morning light filtered into the training hall, illuminating a haze of dust motes dancing in the stagnant air. The stone floor was a testament to violence, scarred by countless deep grooves, all converging in the same direction. They were the physical evidence of unyielding effort—a map of thousands of sword swings repeated without pause, turning the atmosphere into a suffocating cloud of grit and determination.
Slowly, the dust settled, revealing a lone figure standing amidst the debris.
He gripped a training sword in his hand, his chest heaving as he inhaled and exhaled in heavy, ragged gasps. It was James, Silvia's older brother.
He stripped off his drenched shirt, using it to wipe the sweat that poured down his face. His physique was a masterpiece of hard labor and discipline—ripped, granite-like muscles, broad shoulders, long, powerful arms, and a set of abdominal muscles defined like carved ice. Over the past three and a half years, James had relentlessly scrubbed away the soft edges of the countryside woodcutter he once was. Now, he stood as the undisputed top student of the Knight Department, a warrior whose swordsmanship was unmatched by his peers.
Yet, as James gripped his sword handle, his knuckles turned white. His expression twisted, shifting from exhaustion into deep dissatisfaction and simmering rage.
"It's still not enough," James growled, his voice thick with vexation.
He stared at his trembling hands. "Three times. Three times Kayle has danced with death to save Silvia. First in our village, then on the journey back from the Cronos Empire, and finally, during our assignment, pulling her back from the very brink of death. He has proved himself over and over. He is just a third-circle mage, yet he threw his life on the line without hesitation."
James grit his teeth, the shame burning in his chest. "I am the eldest. I am supposed to be their shield. Yet, I have failed to protect them every single time. Kayle and Silvia... they are the only family I have left. When we fled the ruins of Oklo Village, I swore on my life that I would protect them, no matter the hardship. I swore I would become strong enough to preserve their smiles."
He swung the sword at the air, a futile gesture of frustration. "I was never the most brilliant brother, but I was determined to push beyond human boundaries so that no one would ever dare threaten us again. But look at me. What use is being the 'top student' if I am powerless when it truly matters? If I were a Gladiator... if I had real power... neither Silvia nor Kayle would have had to face those tragedies alone."
"Lost in your thoughts?"
A familiar, authoritative voice cut through the heavy silence. James turned around. Standing at the entrance was the man who had changed the trajectory of his life, the man who gave him the chance to forge a new identity: Sir Jackson, Commander of the Silver Knights Cavalry order.
"Sir Jackson!" James gasped, his eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"
Jackson chuckled, walking toward him. "I just came to check on the cub who is busy carving his path to becoming a lion."
"Please, sir... I'm not worthy of such praise," James said, casting his gaze to the floor.
"Of course you are," Jackson countered, stepping closer. "Look at yourself, James. You are completely different from the boy I met three years ago. Those sharp eyes, that composure, your stance, your physique... everything has changed. You knew nothing of the sword then, but now? You are a Sword Expert, just one step away from the realm of the Gladiator."
James met Jackson's gaze with downcast eyes, the praise feeling like ash in his mouth. "What is so good about a title if I cannot even save my own family?"
Jackson paused, realizing the source of the dark cloud hanging over the young man. The guilt of not being able to protect Silvia was eating him alive.
He stepped face-to-face with James, his voice softening. "I know you carry the weight of Silvia's near-death experience, but do not let those dark thoughts consume you. When I recommended you and the others, I believed in your talent. And you have all proved me right. James, you have the heart and the soul of a great warrior."
"That happens to everyone at your level," Jackson said softly. "But this is where the real challenge commences. Just as a mage needs an awakening to reach a new circle, a swordsman must overcome the self that holds him back. To put it simply..."
Jackson smiled enigmatically. "Tell me, James. What do you think allowed Silvia to become a seventh-circle mage?"
"Her continuous, rigorous training with Professor Olivia," James replied instantly.
"Wrong," Jackson replied firmly.
James looked confused. "Then what, sir?"
"Let me ask you this: how much does Silvia love Kayle?"
James offered a small, nostalgic smile. "She loves him madly. She'll fight me for him, she'll face down anyone for him. When it comes to Kayle, she never yields." His voice held a note of nostalgic warmth.
"Then, do you remember two years ago, when Kayle took an arrow to the chest to save her?" Jackson asked. "Silvia broke. But after that, she begged Olivia to teach her. She trained restlessly until she achieved the fifth circle. Now, what do you think drove her to that goal?"
"Her determination... her belief?" James ventured.
"And where did that determination come from?" Jackson pressed.
"Her will to protect Kayle, in any situation," James realized.
"And where did that will come from?"
James paused, the answer forming clearly in his mind. "From... her love for Kayle."
"Now you have it," Jackson said, smiling.
James's entire demeanor shifted. The tension in his shoulders began to dissipate as the realization hit him like a physical blow. "I see it now... Silvia's love isn't her weakness; it's the very source of her power. She doesn't want strength for herself; she wants it for him. And I... I was so obsessed with the strength itself that I forgot why I wanted it. I let my anxiety and fear of failure turn my love into a burden, making my sword feel empty."
James gripped his hilt again, but this time, the feeling was different. He closed his eyes, thinking of Silvia's laugh and Kayle's quiet support. Suddenly, a blue aura began to shimmer around his blade, flowing as fluidly as water. He opened his eyes, and they radiated with a concentrated mana. With a roar of pure, focused resolve, he swung.
CRACK!
The ground shattered beneath the strike, sending a massive, crescent-shaped arc of energy through the hall. The invisible wall that had been blocking his progress crumbled. At that moment, James had finally transcended. He was no longer just a Sword Expert; he had reached the level of a Gladiator.
He turned to Jackson, his face glowing with a joy he hadn't felt in years.
"Never forget why you desire strength," Jackson warned gently, "and never forget what that strength truly means."
"Thank you, Sir Jackson," James said, bowing deeply with newfound respect. "I will never forget the lesson you taught me today."
"No need for thanks," Jackson said, his expression turning practical. "Now, I actually came here for a reason. James, tell me... what are your plans after graduation?"
_ _ _
At the imperial palace. Inside the bellatora's room.
Bellatora's room was an utter mess, a scene of violent chaos. The space had been turned completely upside down—furniture lay shattered into splinters, silk sheets were torn to shreds, and the heavy curtains were drawn tight, choking out every sliver of daylight. In the suffocating darkness, Bellatora lay curled on the floor, his fingers digging into his right arm with a frantic, desperate grip. Tears of pure agony streaked his face, his body wracked by tremors that wouldn't cease.
"What... what kind of hellish pain is this?" Bellatora rasped, his voice breaking. He reached a point of such primal suffering that he bit down on his own hand like a trapped animal, trying to drown out the fire in his veins with physical distraction.
"Every time... every single time I try to channel magic through my right hand, it feels like my soul is being electrocuted!" he sobbed into the darkness. "I have read this damn grimoire cover to cover! There was nothing—not a single word—warning of this!" He pointed a trembling, accusing finger at the table across the room.
Resting there was a grimoire of a sickening, poisonous green and abyssal black. It was bound in wires the color of dried blood, with a jagged, evil symbol carved into the center. An ominous, heavy aura radiated from the book, a foul stench of darkness and ancient malice left behind by the Curse God of the Bloodroot Pact era.
"What is happening to me?" he hissed, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "I am so close. I am right on the verge of claiming the greatest talent in the Empire! I have to move faster... I have to hide these marks." His mind raced to the palace halls. "Father and the elders are already discussing the succession. They want my older sister. They say she is most talented among all of the cousins. They say she has Grandfather's full support. I won't allow it! She may be the most talented of the cousins now, but I will surpass her. Just... just a little bit more. I'll siphon the rest of Ines's mana pool by the end of this month, no matter what!"
Bellatora's teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. He used the edge of the bed to haul his shaking frame upward, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated evil. He crawled toward the table, never letting go of his throbbing arm, and fumbled the grimoire open. His eyes darted frantically across the ancient, stained lines of text.
"Here... the final phase," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and greed. "I was going to wait three months to be safe, but this pain is forcing my hand. If I fail, the cost will be my life... but I can't get cold feet now. I've waded too deep into the blood to turn back."
Knock. Knock.
The sudden sound made him flinch violently.
"Master Bellatora? His Highness is requesting your presence for breakfast," a maid's voice called out from the hallway.
Bellatora remained frozen, silent, his breath hitching in his throat.
"Master Bellatora? Are you quite alright?" the maid asked again, her voice tinged with hesitation.
Outside, the servants whispered urgently.
"Why isn't he answering? Something is wrong. The others said they heard furniture shattering and screams yesterday. Should we inform the Prince? Or perhaps the Empress?"
"Master Bellatora! Master Bellatora!" The maid began to knock more insistently, the sound echoing like thunder in the silent room.
Bellatora turned his head toward the door, his eyes glowing with a furious, blood-red light. He took a long, jagged breath to steady his vocal cords before screaming back, "I heard you!" His voice was a jagged blade of rage. "Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes!"
"Y-yes, Master!" the maid stuttered, her footsteps quickly receding down the hall.
Bellatora took a moment to compose himself, though his skin remained deathly pale. He stumbled to the wardrobe, pulled out a small, dark vial of potion, and downed it in a single gulp. He collapsed onto the bed, waiting for the numbing agent to take hold.
"One month," he sighed into the shadows, his eyes narrowing with a dark, resolved ambition. "I'll finish it within a month and secure my place at the head of this family. They'll never look down on me again."
– – –
January 15, 1625, of the Creation Calendar.
The weather across the Atheliya Empire had improved significantly compared to the previous month. The hellish storms had finally subsided, though the winter's grip remained firm. Snow continued to fall gently, and the roads and cities lay buried under a thick, white blanket.
On a snowy path cutting through the vast wilderness, a carriage sped forward. Flanking it were four figures clad in heavy robes that covered them from head to toe, revealing only their sharp, focused eyes. They ran atop the snow, their feet barely leaving a trace, moving with an unnatural speed that perfectly matched the racing carriage.
Inside sat the Headmaster of Venessa Academy, Elizabeth, along with Itzayana Meeve, Ines Fiera, and Kayle.
Itzayana gazed out the window, mesmerized by the escorts outside. She turned to Ines, her voice filled with awe. "Wow. I didn't realize the warriors of the Fiera Clan were this strong and sturdy. They are running on this frozen ground in such bitter cold without faltering. Your clan really puts its warriors through hellish training."
Ines, who was holding Kayle's hand, looked at Itzayana and nodded. "It is a necessity. A warrior must possess high resistance to both extreme cold and extreme heat, as our forces are mostly dispatched to the northern and southwestern borders of the empire—regions known for their harsh climates. Our martial arts focus heavily on body strengthening and tempering."
She paused, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Furthermore, our style allows us to merge our Elemental Affinity into our martial arts. For example, if you have a Fire affinity, you can sheath your fists in flames for hand-to-hand combat or coat your weapons in elemental fire. We have separate martial arts manuals for each element, depending on the level of mastery one has achieved."
"What do you mean by level of mastery?" Itzayana asked curiously.
"Think of it like the ranks of a swordsman or a mage," Ines explained. "Just as a swordsman starts as a beginner and aims for Grandmaster, or a mage climbs from the first to the eighth circle, our martial arts are divided into nine levels. Level One is the lowest, and Level Nine is the pinnacle."
Ines continued, "Access to these techniques is strictly regulated. Outsiders and vassal families can only access manuals up to Level Four. Direct descendants of the clan are granted access up to Level Eight. But the highest tiers—Level Nine—is reserved exclusively for the Clan Head. My father, Zennid Fiera, the current Head of the Clan, is a Level Nine Master in Wind Element martial arts and a Grandmaster in the Fist."
"So, your father mastered the Wind Arts because he is a wind attribute user," Itzayana deduced. "Does that mean your clan possesses Level Nine manuals for the other elements as well?"
"Yes," Ines confirmed. "For all five elements, our clan possesses complete martial arts manuals. The core of the martial art remains the same, but the techniques are adjusted to support each specific element. Fundamentally, there is no difference between the Wind Fist and the Lightning Fist; they are simply adapted so the warrior can produce the maximum output of their specific elemental affinity. As I said, our arts allow us to become one with our element."
"But how did your clan come up with the idea of merging martial arts with elemental affinity in the first place?" Itzayana asked.
"It is a very interesting story," Ines said, settling in to tell the tale. "According to our clan history, it happened around two thousand years ago. The founders of our clan were five brothers who lived on the mountainside. One day, while doing their daily chores, they heard a massive explosion from the peak. When they rushed to investigate, they found a man who was heavily wounded—he had lost his left arm—surrounded by attackers holding weapons."
Ines's expression grew serious. "The man had collapsed, and his enemies were about to kill him. That was when the Fiera brothers intervened. It was a fierce battle; the five brothers knew nothing of combat, yet they put their lives on the line to save a total stranger. Because they didn't know how to fight, they couldn't defeat the attackers, but they bought enough time for the wounded man to gather his strength. With his one remaining arm, he cut down all the enemies, and they survived."
"The brothers took the man in," Ines continued. "When he regained consciousness, they learned he was a martial arts master, and the attackers were his traitorous students, hunting him for the secret manuals he had dedicated his life to creating—manuals for weapon arts and hand-to-hand combat."
"The old man, constantly chased by those seeking his secrets, examined the Fiera brothers. He realized that their life on the mountainside had made their bodies far sturdier than the average human. Their daily routine of climbing the peaks with bare hands had toughened their upper and lower bodies, making them the perfect vessels for his martial arts. As thanks for saving his life, he took the five brothers as his students, and together they set out on a journey to see the world."
"After twenty years," Ines concluded, "the brothers returned as masters. They had not only mastered the old man's techniques but advanced them. The five brothers were unique because, between them, they possessed affinities for all five elements. They made further progress in the Breathing Techniques and successfully merged their magic with their physical prowess. That is how they created the Five Elemental Martial Arts, and how the Fiera Clan was founded."
"Is that why they chose the southwestern side of the Atheliya Empire?" Kayle asked.
"Because of the mountain range here?"
Ines's eyes sparked with excitement. "Yup! Because the body of a martial artist needs to be as tough and hard as rock. When the empire was founded, the Clan Head at the time chose this region so they could forge the future warriors of the clan in this harsh environment."
She smiled mischievously and squeezed Kayle's bicep. "Well, Senior Kayle, you certainly have a muscular body yourself..."
"Ahem," Elizabeth coughed loudly from across the carriage.
Ines immediately stopped pressing Kayle's arm, her face flushing slightly.
"How long will it take us to reach the Fiera Clan?" Kayle asked, trying to change the subject.
"We are just about to reach the city," Ines said, pointing out the window. "Look. There are the city gates."
Everyone turned their faces toward the direction she pointed. Through the falling snow, a pair of colossal, imposing gates rose up to meet them. Kayle looked at the entrance to the Fiera territory, a faint smile playing on his lips.