"— And who are these elites?"
"— The Knights of Valgar… Twelve years ago, after Lumiera expanded its territories and reached the peak of its influence, the ruler announced the establishment of this class before the people. They were created to ensure the flawless execution of his plans and orders. At first, they operated in pairs, overseeing colonies or investigating cases beyond the capability of regular forces. But as the years passed, their rank evolved; each knight came to command an entire unit with a deputy beneath them. These units are distributed according to the elemental power each knight possesses, ensuring the survival of a strong generation of the gifted."
Arthur pondered his words for a moment, then said,
"— And what does this have to do with what we're planning?"
Eric straightened in his seat, spread the map across the stone table, and slid it toward him.
"— Here… this is where the gem is hidden. A colony called Zarkwan, located on Lumiera's southern outskirts, near Kalishko—the city we're currently in."
"— And what's your plan for infiltrating the colony? For your information… I'm not good at silent infiltration."
"— Heh, we won't need to sneak in."
"— Why not?"
"— Zarkwan Colony witnessed a massacre unlike anything in Lumiera's history, carried out by an unknown killer. Since that incident, it remained abandoned, covered in dust for years. Only recently did they decide to reuse it as a resource storage facility. With no perceived threat there, it's natural that security would be extremely light."
"— That doesn't answer my question. How are we getting inside?"
"— Simple… normal routes. Or we knock out the guards if necessary. No need to slink around like ghosts. Convince me you've never snuck around to steal your father's wallet."
Arthur shot him a long stare that made Eric sink slightly back into his chair.
"— If it's that simple, why do you need me? You seem perfectly capable of doing this alone."
"— I said infiltration is easy… but what awaits us inside is the hard part. That's what I meant when I spoke about the elites."
Noticing the confusion on Arthur's face, Eric clarified:
"— Quite simply… the gem may be guarded by one of the Knights of Valgar, or one of their deputies."
Arthur slowly nodded.
"— Are they really that strong?"
"— They are the elite knights… of course they're stronger than you imagine."
Arthur nodded again, somewhere between understanding and confusion.
"— And do we have the power to face them…? We're just humans, and only one of us is gifted."
"— Of course. Your power is anything but ordinary, Arthur… and as for me, this is more than enough."
Arthur raised his eyebrows in clear irritation at Eric's confidence.
"— Are you sure… or are you simply sending me to my death?"
"— Hm… I won't force you to come."
The two exchanged a long, silent gaze—devoid of words, yet heavy with meaning.
"— I have no choice but to take the risk with you."
Eric smiled faintly.
"— Heh, I promise you won't regret it."
…
"— There's something I want to know, Eric."
Eric lifted his head toward Arthur, waiting for the question with a puzzled look.
"— What kind of power do you possess?"
Eric slowly closed his eyes, as if recalling something he had completely forgotten.
"— Heh… seems I forgot to mention something essential… I am… a user of combat arts."
Arthur's eyes narrowed in surprise.
"— And what kind of arts are those?"
"— What? Haven't you ever seen a gifted warrior draw a sword using a special power?"
"— I have… but aren't those just elemental powers like fire or wind? The common abilities most gifted possess?"
Eric shook his head.
"— No. There are combat systems developed specifically to harness the powers of the gifted. I'll keep it brief and speak only of sword arts. They are styles of swordsmanship that vary from one swordsman to another, depending on the element infused into the blade—granting it unmatched speed and cutting precision. There are several fixed arts that do not change or evolve, such as the Arts of Flame, Wind, Ocean, and others…"
A brief silence passed before Arthur asked:
"— And what about you, Eric? What is your art?"
A faint smile appeared on Eric's lips as he stood from the stone chair.
"— I'm not sure it's wise to tell you… but trust is necessary between us. The art I use is… unconventional. It's not one of the known or previously developed arts. It's strange and—"
Eric stepped a few paces back. Suddenly, without warning, he hurled a knife straight at Arthur.
Arthur instinctively raised his hand to block it—but what happened was faster than his reaction.
The knife stopped inches from his face.
Eric was suddenly beside him, gripping the blade between two fingers… at a speed Arthur hadn't even processed.
"— Very fast…" Eric said calmly before stepping away.
Arthur jumped to his feet, stunned.
"— Wait… what was that?!"
Eric turned with a smile.
"— Come on, Arthur…"
…
Moments later, Arthur caught up with Eric, who walked without slowing.
"— Hey… where are we going now?"
"— We need some training, don't we, Arthur?"
"— Huh? What are you talking about? Do we even have time for that?"
"— Of course. We're not stealing the gem without preparation… and I mean preparing you."
"— Me? You think I'm not strong enough to face the people you mentioned?"
Eric glanced at him with a smile.
"— Yes."
Arthur clenched his teeth in anger and, without thinking, threw a punch at Eric's face.
At the last moment, Eric caught the punch effortlessly with his palm and stared at him calmly.
"— I'm not belittling you or saying you're weak. But there are techniques and knowledge you need for this mission, and you'll learn them from me… just not here in public."
Arthur noticed several citizens of Lumiera watching them and withdrew his fist.
"— Fine… so, are we going?"
Eric continued walking, Arthur following.
"— Can I at least know where we're headed?"
"— When I said we needed training and that I couldn't teach you outside… I meant I have a suitable place."
…
After some time, they stopped before a rusted iron door of a building that looked decrepit from the outside.
"— What is this?"
Eric pulled out a steel key and opened the door.
"— I run a private martial arts hall here."
The door opened onto a hall filled with combat equipment, weapon racks, and a wide arena in the back.
"— So… will you come in, Arthur?"
"— I suppose so."
Arthur stepped inside slowly, scanning the place, then stopped before a large punching bag and began striking it.
"— Yeah… I haven't done this in a long time."
…
Eric walked toward a barrel filled with wooden swords and picked one up.
"— Take your weapon, Arthur."
"— Hm?"
"— We'll have a friendly match."
Arthur turned to the weapon racks and grabbed two medium-length wooden swords.
"— These will do."
They moved to the arena and stood facing each other.
"— Remember, this is friendly. Don't get savage, Arthur."
"— Heh, try not to get crushed."
Arthur took a combat stance—one sword for offense, the other for defense—while Eric assumed a classic swordsman's posture.
They were about to begin when Eric did something unexpected.
He stood completely still.
"— Attack me, Arthur."
"— Huh? Are you mocking me or what?!"
"— The goal is to train you. Nothing more. And I warn you—what you're facing now is not the same man from before."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"— Then… as you wish."
He gathered strength in his legs and charged.
…
Just as Arthur's strike was about to land, Eric vanished from his sight.
In a blink, Eric's wooden sword hovered centimeters from Arthur's neck.
"— Unfortunately, Arthur… this is the speed of the elite knights we'll face. I know it's a bitter truth, but you must accept it."
Arthur shot him a contemptuous look.
"— Think again."
Eric was surprised—until Arthur's second wooden sword deflected his blade at the last moment.
…
Without warning, Arthur surged forward, closing the distance and forcing close combat.
His goal was clear: deny Eric the advantage of range.
Arthur drove several knee strikes into Eric's side.
Eric groaned.
"— You bas—?!"
Eric managed to break free, but Arthur pressed on, abandoning swordplay entirely.
He tossed his swords aside, charged at Eric's legs, lifted him like a sandbag, and slammed him onto the arena floor.
What had begun as a friendly duel turned into a mixed martial arts brawl.
Arthur rained punches down on Eric, who could only block with his wooden sword, which nearly cracked under the blows.
Eric saw the smile on Arthur's face—the smile of someone who enjoyed fighting.
He had no choice left.
"— Fine… that's enough."
With a single strike, Eric slammed the pommel of his sword into a sensitive point at the back of Arthur's head.
Arthur collapsed instantly, unconscious.
Eric breathed heavily, then exhaled.
"— Well… things got a little out of hand, but… this is excellent."
…
Eric poured a bucket of water over Arthur's face.
Arthur jolted awake, coughing as water filled his lungs.
"— You damn foolish!!"
Eric tossed the bucket aside.
"— Get some rest. Later, we'll dive deeper into each other's combat styles—it's crucial for the mission. Did you understand?"
Arthur lay on the ground, one arm covering his eyes, not responding.
"— Hey? Hello?!"
Eric stepped closer, only to realize Arthur had fallen into deep sleep.
He glanced out the window—the sun had already set.
"— It's late already."
Eric pulled a long scarf from his bag and placed it over Arthur to shield him from the night cold.
"— Looks like you'll be staying here tonight, Arthur."
He turned toward the door.
"— Finally… some time with my wife. Good night, Arthur."
…
On a warm morning, sunlight streamed through the hall's window and rested on Arthur's face as he slowly woke.
"— Good morning, hero."
Arthur opened his eyes to see Eric nearby, a small table beside him holding a full breakfast: bread, eggs with meat, and a cup of black coffee.
"— You're hungry, aren't you, Arthur?"
Arthur glanced at the food, then back at Eric.
"— Thanks, but I don't need you to feed me."
"— Oh come on, I burned my finger making it. And you haven't eaten since yesterday."
Arthur hesitated, then picked up a fork and took a bite.
Eric smiled softly.
"— Is it good?"
"— It's fine."
"— Heh…"
After finishing breakfast and regaining some strength, Arthur stood, ready to resume training.
This time, Eric reached to a high shelf and pulled down a real sword in its sheath.
"— Look at this, Arthur."
He drew the blade.
It was long, black, gleaming under the light, perfectly polished.
"— There are things I haven't told you about sword arts."
Eric swung the sword, and a black aura flowed along the blade.
"— For any art to be complete, its user must master it—and wield a sword suited to it. This blade is forged from a special metal, not an ordinary one. A metal with high energy and immense durability. A sword is its wielder's lifelong companion. What you saw yesterday with a wooden sword… was only half my power."
He moved toward a wooden dummy and, with precise motions, sliced it apart—clean, flawless cuts.
Then four dummies surrounded him.
In an instant, their heads flew, bodies collapsing.
Admiration filled Arthur's face.
"— That's incredible… you look like you could defeat them alone."
Eric sighed and sheathed the sword.
"— Unfortunately, no. I need you."
"— Eric… have you ever killed before?"
The question caught him off guard.
"— Yes."
"— Why?"
"— In a desperate time. Things were chaotic, and I had no other choice to protect my life."
"— Do you regret it?"
"— Yes، very much. And you, Arthur?"
"— I killed two people… in street fights I used to take part in. Every time, I ask myself if I stole a life over something trivial. All I can do now is pray for their forgiveness."
"— I'll go through this dangerous mission with you—on the condition that we don't kill anyone."
"— I can't promise that, Arthur. But I'll try my best. I hope you understand."
…
"— And we'll face many people with the same speed you saw… or faster."
Arthur whistled sarcastically.
"— Wonderful… and that metal—does Lumiera process it in special facilities?"
"— Something like that."
"— Do you have more of it?"
"— No. And even if I did, not every blacksmith can forge a blade from it."
Silence followed.
"— Now, stand up."
Arthur returned his swords to the rack and put on padded gloves.
"— Hand-to-hand combat training. No weapons."
They returned to the sandy arena, the atmosphere calmer than before.
"— Strike. I'll block."
Arthur launched a flurry of punches—straight and sharp—while Eric deflected them with controlled skill.
"— Your hand-to-hand style is impressive… did you teach yourself?"
Arthur threw a powerful uppercut, which Eric barely blocked.
"— No. During my years of traveling to gain experience, my goal was to master combat with and without weapons. I faced strong opponents—professionals in hand combat and wrestlers trained in ancient Greek martial arts. I learned a lot from them. And not just how to punch."
Arthur clinched lightly, demonstrating.
"— Some taught me how to control grapples, shut down close-range attacks, use short strikes like knees and elbows… and how to dominate and throw an opponent."
"— And you're skilled with dual blades—short swords?"
"— Yes. I learned it from a gifted woman… one who defeated me. After that, I merged it with hand-to-hand combat."
"— This is my fighting style."
…
After another grueling session, they sat breathing heavily, drinking water.
"— Now that we understand each other's styles and strength, this is a good step forward. We still have a few days to train—and to rest."
"— Man, I feel like we could do it now."
"— Arthur, what we're facing is difficult. It requires everything we have."
"— Tch… whatever."
"— Day one, day two, day three… the eighth day is execution day."
"— But where will I stay?"
A brief silence.
"— I'll rent you a hotel."
…
Over the following days, Eric and Arthur devoted themselves entirely to training. Arthur refined his combat style under Eric's guidance until the appointed day arrived.
…
On a dark night at Lumiera's outskirts, Eric and Arthur stood atop a ridge overlooking Zarkwan Colony.
They wore light combat gear, free of unnecessary ornamentation.
Eric placed a long box on the ground and opened it, revealing various weapons—swords, daggers, and blades.
He picked one up.
"— Choose your weapon, Arthur."
"— I don't plan on killing. My fists will suffice."
"— Don't underestimate them."
Arthur's eyes landed on a uniquely designed dagger—light and well-balanced.
"— This will do."
Eric unfolded the colony map one last time, reviewing the plan.
"— Now… let's go."
…
At Zarkwan's main gate, only two guards patrolled lazily.
"— Don't you feel guarding this warehouse is pointless?"
"— Be glad you even have a job."
"— At least they could shorten the shifts… no one comes near this creepy place, right?"
The other guard didn't respond.
"— Huh? You hear me?"
Suddenly—a brutal blow from behind dropped him unconscious.
…
"— Well done, Arthur."
Arthur dragged the body aside and hid it.
"— Now what?"
Eric noticed the watchtowers were unlit—empty.
"— This is our chance."
At the wooden wall, Eric pulled out a metal grappling hook attached to a sturdy rope.
Arthur frowned.
"— Isn't this a bit primitive?"
Eric threw it—the hook locked perfectly.
He smiled to Arthur face.
"— After you."
Arthur climbed silently, followed by Eric.
As Eric was about to speak, Arthur gestured sharply.
"— Shh…"
Above them, a guard walked slowly.
In a flash, Arthur leapt, tackled him, and knocked him out before a sound escaped.
Eric climbed down.
They whispered.
"— Now?"
"— Inside the colony. We move through the levels until the top floor."
"— The jewel
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