The morning mist still clung to the trees when they reached the training fields outside Greyhaven.
The grass was slick from the night rain, and the air carried the faint, sharp scent of iron and salt from the sea.
Mira tightened her gloves. "So what's the plan? Warm-up first?"
Kael pointed toward the shallow woods ahead, where small shapes prowled between trunks. "Already handled. The guild said a pack of low-grade beasts moved close to the wall. Easy practice."
They didn't waste time.
The first wave came in quick—mud-scaled lizards and spike-backed hounds. Kael dropped to one knee, gauntlets pulsing with gold. Pulse Vault! The ground jumped, dirt bursting in a ring of light.
Mira followed with a flick of her rings; a curl of steam became a curtain, then flame.
Elira cut through the haze, her sword whistling once—Gale Strike! The wind tore cleanly through the last hound.
The field went quiet except for the sound of leaves settling.
From the fence, Haco clapped once, slow. "Clean. Precise. But your blades still haven't learned to breathe."
Mira blinked sweat from her lashes. "Excuse me?"
"Listen carefully," Haco said, stepping onto the field. "You've been using sword techniques by instinct, but you don't yet understand how they speak. Today, you'll learn the two tongues of the blade."
Kael arched a brow. "Two tongues?"
Haco's hand lifted. A shimmer gathered, and a simple steel blade formed in his grip. He swung it once, voice steady:
"Stone Fang!"
The air cracked; a trench opened in the dirt, scattering pebbles and crows alike.
Then he repeated the movement—silent. The same arc, same stance, yet the blade's glow only rippled faintly, the ground quivering barely a finger's width.
He turned the sword flat in his hand. "The first was spoken. The second was not. Both strike true—but one carries your breath into the world."
Mira tilted her head. "Isn't silence faster? Less obvious?"
Haco smiled faintly. "So say the novices. Against weaklings, yes, speed wins. Against those who read you—masters, demons, things that think faster than you—silence is already betrayed. Your stance, your breath, the twitch of your wrist tells them everything. But when you speak the name, when you pour will into sound, you add weight. Sometimes that's what breaks them."
He lifted the blade toward Elira. "Try. Speak it."
She swallowed, lifted her sword. "Gale Strike!"
The air split open. Leaves exploded from the nearby hedge, torn to shreds. She blinked, then tried again—silent. The blade moved faster but left only a soft breeze.
"…Oh."
"Exactly." Haco's voice softened. "Silent is speed and veil; spoken is weight and will. Mastery isn't silence—it's timing."
Kael's eyes gleamed. "Let me."
He drew his sword and planted his feet. "Earth Splitter!"
The ground trembled, a ridge cracking outward. He grinned like a boy at a fair. "Definitely stronger."
Mira folded her arms. "So yelling wins. Wonderful. Next time I'll shout so loud even Aure will complain."
From her rings came a lazy laugh. "You already do, Mira."
They practiced until the sun rose higher, swapping between spoken and silent attacks. Each cut drew more control from the last. Haco moved among them, correcting grips, catching swings with two fingers, knocking blades aside with terrifying ease.
Elira watched him for a moment when he turned away.
He fought like no human she'd seen—fluid, weightless, as if his steps slid over the air itself. Curiosity pricked at her. Quietly, she willed her Axis Veil to open and focused on him.
For an instant, faint text shimmered across her vision.
[Glimpse: Obscured]
[No Read — Masked]
Then the panel went dark.
She blinked. Nothing… he's hiding it.
Haco's gaze flicked toward her. He said nothing, only gave the smallest, knowing smile before turning back to Kael's form.
The moment broke when a low growl rippled from the treeline.
Elira's head snapped up. Red eyes glowed between the trunks.
Dozens.
Haco exhaled through his nose. "Perfect timing. Show me your tongues of the blade."
The first Shadowfang Wolf lunged, its fur streaked with black veins.
"Gale Strike!" Elira cried. Wind surged; her blade carved a path through two beasts, flinging them aside.
A soft chime blinked at the corner of her sight:
Sword Proficiency +15
Her pulse jumped. It's stable… it worked.
Mira spun beside her, flames and frost clashing in her hands. "Let's see if this works outside the hall—!"
She slammed both palms forward. Fire and ice collided, bursting into a roaring wave of steam. Wolves tumbled back, howling as shards of frost burned their hides.
Void Skill [Magic Fusion] +20
Mira stumbled, half laughing. "I actually did it—"
Kael's gauntlets flashed gold. "Cover me!"
He slammed his fist down; lightning streaked through the soil, his Pulse Vault detonating in a controlled chain. Wolves flew, arcs of electricity snapping in the mist.
Void Skill [Pulse Vault] +18
When the last of the beasts faltered, Haco finally moved.
He didn't shout, didn't even blink.
One silent slash cut through the air—no light, no flare.
The forest wind split, and the remaining wolves fell in a single ripple of motion.
Silence pressed down like a held breath.
Elira lowered her sword slowly. "What… was that?"
Haco sheathed the blade. "When the blade and heart share one breath, sound is optional."
The others checked their Veils; numbers glowed higher.
Mira wiped her brow. "It really climbed."
Kael chuckled. "Feels like growth you can see."
"That's the Axis Veil," Haco said. "It shows you the path—and makes your path visible."
He looked toward the forest's edge, his tone cooling. "Everyone who can read Veil traces can track your growth. Visibility is danger."
Mira frowned. "You mean… people could find us through this?"
"They could. And will." He turned to each of them in turn. "Elira, with your dual light and dark. Mira, with your impossible fusion. Kael, with traps that rival dwarven forges. You already stand beyond human measure. Someone will notice."
The forest quieted again. Only the wind moved.
"So train," Haco said, voice low but firm. "Grow. But don't shine too early. Light too soon draws arrows before dawn."
He started walking back toward the city, the hem of his cloak brushing the grass.
Behind him, the three stood still for a while—hearts steady, blades cooling, the words settling deep.
And somewhere between their breath and the quiet hum of the Veil, the first lesson of sound and silence took root.