Dawn broke quietly over Lumisdale. The grasslands shimmered beneath a pale gold sky, the morning air cool and steady—perfect for training.
The five gathered early.
At the center of the field stood Captain Arden. Arms crossed. Watching.
"You've learned how to control Aether within your bodies," he began, his voice cutting clean through the stillness. "Now you'll learn how to extend it."
He gestured slightly. "Your weapon is not separate from you."
"It is part of you."
The wind passed.
"In your earlier battles," Arden continued, "you forced Aether into your weapons the same way you forced it into your bodies—raw, unstable, inefficient."
Images surfaced in their minds. How they struggled to Mist Wraiths before. How their blades cut—but not enough. Power seems always wasted.
"You coated your weapons forcefully," Arden said, narrowing his gaze. "You let the Aether sit on the surface."
He stepped forward, drawing his blade in one smooth motion.
"Which means…"
A faint surge of aura wrapped around it.
Wild. Uncontained.
"…the force leaks outward."
He swung lightly. The air split—but the energy scattered, unfocused. Then— Everything changed. The aura vanished.
Silence.
Arden's grip shifted slightly. Aether flowed again. But this time, it disappeared. No glow. No flare. Yet the air grew heavy.
"Control it," he said quietly. "Do not let it escape."
The blade hummed. A subtle vibration. Condensed, then contained.
"Transmit your Aether into the weapon," Arden continued. "Not around it." He raised the blade. "Compress it."
A single swing, the ground split. Clean and precise. No explosion. No wasted force. Only power. Even Kael's eyes narrowed.
"With proper reinforcement," Arden said, lowering his weapon, "even a knife can kill a dragon."
Silence followed.
"Try."
They moved. This time, there was no hesitation. No confusion.
Lio was the first to adapt. His blade lifted slightly—his Aether flowing into it with surgical precision. No excess. No flare. A faint line traced the air. Then vanished..
Kael followed. His Aether surged—but stopped. Compressed. Forced inward. His blade trembled slightly, then stabilized.
Seris. Her weapon did not glow at all. But the space around it seemed… absent.
Taren struggled for a moment. Then adjusted. His Aether flickered, then tightened, pulling inward as if drawn by instinct.
And Renn. Golden light began to form, then faded. Not gone. Contained. His grip tightened. The blade felt alive.
One by one, they struck.
The results were immediate. Cleaner. Sharper. Heavier. Not louder— But deeper. The difference was undeniable.
Arden watched them in silence.
"…As expected."
They stopped. Breathing steady. Understanding settling in.
"Guess it's no surprise," Arden said, turning slightly away, "you're all talented." But his tone was not praise. It was expectation.
He stepped forward once more.
"Listen carefully." The air grew still again. "There are levels to how Aether behaves."
He raised his hand slightly.
"Four states you must understand—if you want to master what you just did."
His gaze sharpened.
"First— Raw Aether."
"The most basic form. Unrefined. Unstable."
A faint surge flickered from his hand. Wild. Uneven. "Powerful—but wasteful. Most beginners die here."
The surge vanished.
"Second— Core State."
Everything stilled. "The Aether is compressed within the body. No leakage. No waste. Stable."
A subtle pressure filled the air. Barely visible.
"Third— Radiant State."
A soft glow emerged. Smooth and even. "Fully refined and visible. Balanced between output and control."
The light pulsed gently—perfectly stable.
"Fourth—"
A pause. His aura shifted. Color emerged.
"Manifest State."
The air changed. His Aether took form. Defined. Alive.
"This is where Aether becomes yours."
"It reflects your nature. Your discipline."
The aura faded. Silence returned.
Arden looked at them. One by one. "What you did today—" A pause. "Was your first step beyond Raw Aether."
His gaze lingered on Renn for just a moment longer. "Master these states…" The wind moved through the field once more. "…and your weapon will no longer be a tool."
A quiet breath.
"It will be an extension of your will."
Arden's words did not linger as theory. They became the law set on their minds.
From that morning onward, the training changed. No longer was it about releasing Aether— It was about refining it.
Time did not pass in Lumisdale the way it did in the capital. It did not drift. It carved.
The first days under the new discipline were merciless. Understanding the Core State demanded more than control—it demanded restraint.
Taren collapsed more times than he could count, his meridians burning as if fire had been sealed beneath his skin. Every attempt to compress his Aether inward ended the same—instability, exhaustion, failure.
Kael forced his power inward with brute will, compressing what once erupted freely. The result was violent—his body shaking under the pressure, his strikes losing form before they could stabilize.
Lio remained still for hours, blade in hand, refining not power—but flow. He repeated the same motion endlessly, adjusting the slightest inefficiency until even his breathing aligned with the edge of his blade.
Seris practiced absence. Not concealment Erasure. At first, her presence flickered. But with time, even that faded. The wind no longer bent around her. The grass no longer reacted. She was there— And yet, she was not.
And Renn— Renn endured. He did not force the Aether. He listened to it.
Days turned to weeks.
The bamboo poles became their foundation once more. Balance. Stillness. Control. This time, it was different. Aether no longer spilled outward. It remained within.
The Core State took form. The trembling stopped. Breathing aligned. The flow stabilized—not by force, but by acceptance.
Weeks turned to months.
Then— Change. Taren stood longer. Five minutes became ten. Ten became thirty. Until the moment, he did not fall.
Kael learned restraint. His Aether, once explosive, became contained. Power gathered within him like a storm held beneath the surface—silent, waiting. And when it was released— It did not scatter. It landed.
Lio crossed into clarity. His Aether no longer needed to be seen. It existed only where it mattered. His blade moved— And the result came before the motion was perceived. Leaves fell. Cleanly severed.
The Radiant State emerged.
Seris disappeared. Not in movement— But in existence. Her Aether thinned until it could no longer be traced. Her presence dissolved into nothingness so complete it became unnatural.
And Renn— Renn changed. He stood beneath the sun for hours, unmoving. Aether wrapped around him—not as power— But as understanding. No flicker. No surge. No waste.
The golden flow within him no longer roared.
It listened. Then— He moved. And the air followed.
Months passed.
Sparring returned.
But it was no longer training. It was something else. The five clashed beneath the open sky. Movements accelerated beyond sight. Aether shifted instinctively—no declarations, no hesitation.
Only flow.
Kael's strikes carried condensed force, each blow heavy enough to fracture the ground beneath it.
Lio's blade carved unseen paths, each motion precise beyond comprehension.
Seris appeared and vanished within the same breath, her attacks arriving from angles that did not exist moments before.
Taren moved without thought, his body reacting before danger could reach him—instinct forged through failure and survival.
And Renn. Golden light traced his movements.
From his body to blade— Perfect. The field trembled. Wind spiraled outward from their exchanges. Pressure built, not from raw power, but from control refined to its limit.
At the edge of it all— Arden watched.
Silent. Observing. No interruptions. No corrections.
"…Good."
The sun began to set. Six months had passed. And the five who stood beneath that fading light— have changed.