I remember the first day I met her. Young, naive, and more than eager to prove herself. There was a natural spark of brilliance in those eyes, and I would daresay…. Desperation.

-???

“Truly Brother Neäir, it makes a woman’s heart beat faster the way you pull out gold bars like that.” Cordelia sighed as Airen pulled out three gold bars from beneath the Mantle of Age, handing them over to Dolores, the Irona Auction House Appraiser.

From behind the Night Sculptor’s Mask, Airen smiled bitterly to himself in agreement. He had been tasked to pick up the items Fieluri found an interest in during the last Grand Auction, as well as other strange pieces or items that ‘Neäir’ had requested. Cordelia seemed to have an inkling of what Neäir was interested in, and nearly all of the items in this month’s Grand Auction had been bought up by him, to the dismay of many of the other patrons.

Fieluri’s fortune was something Airen had never seen the depths of. If she wished, she could easily buy up a couple of nations and still have enough to fund them for centuries.

“If this small amount of gold is enough to warrant the head of the place to visit, then perhaps your reserves aren’t as deep as I thought it was.” Airen took a step to the side and commented. His motions were mainly to change the conversation, but also to keep Cordelia from getting too comfortable with him and brush off her advances.

“Why, Brother Neäir is my benefactor and it would be rude of me to not greet you personally.” Cordellia responded in kind, but maintained her distance after reading between the lines. “You can say that you are the very reason I am in this position today, and there is no need for sire to even pay for this.”

“The only debts I possess are the ones that are owed to me.” Neäir replied haughtily. Airen was growing more and more comfortable playing as Fieluri’s alter-persona, and it could be said he almost took delight in it. Power truly makes it easily to corrupt, or so Airen thought.

Not necessarily. I was also called a merchant of death once, and I sent plenty of people to a meeting with the reaper. Fieluri’s voice came out of the blue, and Airen glanced over to his right to see Fieluri seated there. Quite an ill-fitting name if you ask me.

Airen wanted to grimace at her snarky comments, but with Cordellia smiling at him, it would only look out of place. Thus as usual, he ignored her.

“Speaking of which, there has been some news of your actions in the Petrified Dragons Crypt. There’s been plenty of inquiries here to speak to you, from servants of the Republic to the Six Swords of Dumeis...”

“And?” Neäir uncrossed his arms and tapped against the glass table.

“Of course, as per your wishes, we asked them to bring up the matter with you personally.” Cordelia replied. “-if they have the bravery to do so.”

“Humans don’t change at all do they? With their petty games and schemes, when they can easily find me themselves.” Neäir chuckled wryly to himself -- but this time it was Fieluri who was speaking with Airen’s mouth.

“There is actually one small tidbit of news that sir might be interested in.”

“And that is?” Fieluri replied for Airen, causing his own words to catch in his throat.

“The Necromancer is said to be searching for someone. Perhaps sir would be interested in that?”

“There are few I deem to be worth my notice.”

“Sire is quite domineering.” Cordelia laughed with a hand over her mouth. It was clearly a gesture meant to catch the eyes of others, and Airen would be no exception -- if Fieluri wasn’t binding his eyes with magic. “But few would dare to disrespect the Necromancer.”

“...There is nothing as impartial or ruthless as death.” To Airen’s surprise, it was Fieluri who answered “And I was not disrespecting him, since if what the books say about him are true, he is a worthy opponent.”

“To challenge both the Sword Emperor and the Necromancer. Our simple auction house has quite the impressive patron.” Cordelia’s tone was flattering, but Airen could see the smirk on Fieluri’s face. Trying to suck up to Fieluri was akin to trying to praising a wall.

“We are done here.” Fieluri announced, more to tell Airen that it was time to leave. Before Cordellia can offer to guide him out, a rift appeared beneath Neäir and sucked him in.

Airen felt gravity shift, and he felt himself land on the floor of the Archive in unsightly fashion, with his face planted onto the floor.

“Do not get drool over the floor, or I will clean it with your tongue.” Fieluri sniffed as she returned to her favorite cushioned armchair, several tattered and ancient scrolls laid in a pile on the floor -- the recent acquisitions from their trip a few minutes ago.

“You can leave.” Fieluri waved a hand as if dismissing a servant.

“Wait, what?” Airen frowned. “No scalding evaluations? No lectures where you show off? No death-like training? Are those scrolls really that interesting?”

“No.” Fieluri clapped her hands, and books shot out from the nearby shelves, levitating in the air around her. “I’m giving you the day off.”

“.....”

“I am a gracious god.” Fieluri shrugged as she started to compare notes. “One that lets her servants rest after a stressful ordeal, like say, killing a former mentor, even if it was a shell of the man he was.”

“....” Airen grew quiet, and turned around to leave without another word. Although Airen was grateful to Fieluri for telling him that his sister was still alive, he also knew that it was she who set him on the path to meet with Jourmind. He knew Fieluri would never lie, but it wasn’t beneath her to hide part of the truth.

“But the real reason is that your friends will be returning soon, and before long, a great change is coming, Airen.” Fieluri’s last words fell on deaf ears, but she paid it no heed.

She was content for Airen to wallow in his own thoughts.

Airen came to with his body sprawled out over his bed. He did not get up, but instead stared at the ceiling where he was lost in thought. After a few minutes, he sighed and sat up. It has been a week since the encounter with Jourmind in the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt, but the events that transpired were still fresh on Airen’s mind. His method of coping with it was to distract himself -- but as if to mock his weakness, Fieluri had refused to train him for the past week, leaving him to his own devices.

In response, he had gone to Orshan, who was pleasantly surprised and more than willing to give Airen training sessions. His silence and mood was no doubt noticed by Orshan, but he let him be.

“...Some food should be good.” Thinking that there was no point in brooding, he moved towards the door. Just as he was about to reach for the handle, he heard quiet footsteps as if someone was trying to sneak up on him unnoticed.

“Eullina?” Airen called out loudly, both as a guess at who the other presence at the side of the door was, and to alert them that he was onto them in case it wasn’t who Airen thought it was.

There was no response on the other side of the door, and Airen quietly ducked to the side while drawing the skeletal sword out from his vault. After a few tense minutes, Airen carefully unlocked the door with his spare hand -- only to reveal emptiness on the other side.

“....Am I being paranoid?” Airen carefully scouted out the corridor before finally determining that nobody was there. However, his instincts kept telling him that there was definitely something out of place. Unable to shake that feeling, Airen quickly left the Tiger Wing dorms while taking care to watch his back. It was only when he was halfway out did the feeling dissipate.

After wandering the slum markets in Libzon and stopping at Simonths for a meal, Airen returned to the campus after three hours. As he approached the Tiger Wing dorms, he spotted several familiar faces. However, they did not pay Airen any heed -- since it was he who was familiar with him, and not vice versa. It wasn’t until Principal Benyin and Tsargent Wuulf, who were escorting the Six Swords of Dumeis, called out to Airen did they turn to face him.

It seems Fieluri’s actions brought upon another storm. Airen noted inwardly as he walked over where the others were. It was clear now that he was the one they were looking for.

“...Principal Benyin, Sir.” Airen greeted the two people that he was supposed to know while shooting a curious glance over at the others, pretending to not know who they were. “And these are?”

“You do not know of the Six Swords of-” The one called Curtis snorted in derision.

“You don’t look like a sword to me.” Airen was in a foul mood after having his after-meal glow spoiled, and he did not want to deal with any of Curtis’s sarcasm.

“Insolent little-” Curtis started to stomp forward, only to be held back by an arm from Padin.

“Now, now. Let’s not let the heat get to us, Airen.” Principal Benyin quickly interjected between the two of them. Airen was Loys’ friend and companion after all, and Benyin had a duty to keep him out of trouble. “Why don’t we move to my office so we can be away from this scorching sun?”

“That would be great. Let us change the avenue.” Padin nodded and smiled amicably. “Curtis, be polite to our guest.”

Airen wanted to leave, but seeing the stares from the others, he couldn’t refuse. He trotted behind Benyin, who was leading the way, while cursing inwardly at this series of events Fieluri’s actions had thrown him into.

“Thank you.” Airen graciously accepted the cold drink that Benyin offered them, wondering exactly how he had acquired ice in this hot weather.

“We import the cores of Snow Slimes that inhabit wintry regions and cold dungeons.” Benyin noticed the look on Airen’s face and explained. “It takes a skilled water mage to preserve them, and they only last a few days at best.”

“To think that throughout all these ages, nobody has figured out how to manipulate ice magic.” Klaris chuckled as she downed the drink and reached for a refill. Three lightly shimmering blue orbs clinked inside the bottle, emanating small traces of cold. “And we have to resort to using monster parts like in the olden days.”

“In a way, the dungeons are all resource farms. Dangerous, but necessary ones.” Benyin agreed.“It is the very reason why the League of Adventurers keep careful track over all of the known dungeons, because the luxuries of nations come from them. They sometimes even fund the creation of new ones.”

“Much like how the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt is now a newfound source of rare ore.” Minerva nodded. “Though I doubt anyone would go as far as to make the trip fifty-plus floors beneath the earth only to encounter golems.”

“Speaking of the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt, we are here because of a particular individual we ran into.” Padin took the opportunity to steer the topic to the reason why they were here. “We met a man by the name of Neäir, who pointed us to you, Mister Airen.”

“Airen is fine.” Airen got goosebumps being addressed so politely.“Do you want me to pass on a message to Neä-, my teacher?”

“We come bearing an invitation...” Padin reached into his robe and pulled out a golden letter. “One for you, and one for your teacher to the Amphitheater of Blades for the next tournament. You can attend as spectators or participants.”

Airen accepted the two letters slowly, wondering exactly how he was going to pass on the message to Fieluri, and how exactly he was literally going to be in two places at once. He wanted to attend himself as a participant if it wasn’t too dangerous, since it was a good chance to learn and gauge the abilities of his current self.

“I will be sure to pass on the message. I’ll have to think about whether or not I’ll participate myself.” Airen replied after a few moments. “I feel like I would lack the qualifications to participate.”

“So at the very least, you know your place.” Curtis replied snarkily. “A mage has no place in an exchange of swords.”

“...Swords win battles. Mages win wars.” Airen retorted.

“Then clearly, you are not qualified to participate if that is what you think about swords.”

“Curtis. Watch your language. We are guests here.” Padin tried to deescalate the situation, but Airen was tired of dealing with this sort of ill-laced hostility.

“If that is all, then consider the message received and delivered.” Airen stood up to leave while acknowledging everyone but Curtis with a nod.

“A moment if you please.” Klaris spoke up before Airen reached the door. “I’m actually a bit curious about how someone that is clearly a warrior without any traces of magic has a mage as their teacher. May we spar for a bit?”

“With all due respect…” Airen turned around and started to say.

“It’s not everyday that you get to spar with one of the Six Swords.” Principal Benyin interrupted. “She’s only a few years younger than you, and it’s a valuable experience, Airen.”

With Principal Benyin encouraging him, Airen had no choice but to nod in assent.

Training Field, Square 68.

A crowd had gathered a few minutes after they arrived. Somehow, one way or another, news of the ‘friendly’ spar taking space had run amok on the campus, and nearly everyone that had heard about it was flocking to the field to observe. It wasn’t surprising -- after all, one of the Six Swords, Padin, was originally a student at this location.

“Quite the audience.” Jaela sighed as Airen and Klaris went to their respective corners. Klaris was doing warm-ups and practice swings while Airen simply sat on the ground.

“It was pretty strange when Klaris was the one being so insistent. Usually it’s Curtis challenging people to duels.” Minerva tittered. Her words caused Curtis to frown but he did not dare to retort since Minerva was a much better fencer than he was.

“I-It’s not like her to be so serious either...” Sime, the youngest, seemed especially cowed by the crowd and hid between Padan and Jaela.

“Still afraid of large crowds are we, Simon?” Padan laughed and patted the boy’s head.

“...It’s starting.” Jaela murmured and the conversation halted.

“Ahem.” Principal Benyin’s voice magically echoed around the arena like a loudspeaker, instantly quieting the crowd.

“This is a friendly sparring match between a student of our academy, and one of the Six Swords of Dumeis.” He started. “Those of you lucky enough to be here to witness this exchange of blades should take heed of two rules. “

“One -- interference will not be tolerated, and any, whether intentional or unintentional, will be cause for expulsion.”

“Two -- There will be no jeers, taunts, bad-mouthing, attacks on any of the participants personal characters, or they will answer to me personally.”

At the last few words, Benyin patted the hilt of the sword at his waist, and all of the instructors moved forward to surround the training field. Airen was aware that the second rule was made for his sake -- since Benyin was almost certain that Airen was going to lose, and Airen shared the same sentiment.

After all, he was the only one here that knew who, or rather what, Klaris actually was.

“You may begin!”

Contrary to the spectators expectations, neither side took a battle stance. Instead, Airen slowly got to his feet, rubbed his hands together in a slow and calculated manner, and a dark rift appeared briefly, dropping a skeletal sword into his hands.

“A sword made from bones?” Padan was the first to recover from his bemusement.

“From the set of weapons you’ve received from Sorfilda.” Klaris realized as she saw the weapon. “Are you ready?”

Airen made no comment, but reached out a hand to make the ‘come on’ gesture. If there was a minute chance of victory, then he would not waste words in search of it.

Klaris was fast -- faster than even the Etna Duelist that Airen fought prior, but it wasn’t a speed that Airen could not handle. He took a step back and changed his grip on his weapon, making no wasted movements as he angled his weapon to block Klaris’ overhead strike.

She was not the only one surprised that her attack was blocked. A murmur ran through the crowd but Airen did not have any time to bask in his moment of glory as Klaris drew a second sword from her back, and slammed down.

Airen had thought that his weapon was rather sturdy despite being made from bone, and he had wielded it long enough that it wasn’t going to break easily. Yet now, a large crack ran down the polished bone, and Airen retreated just in time to see his weapon shatter to pieces.

“I’m afraid our weapons are a bit special.” Klaris apologized, taking a few steps back. She turned around to Simon, and bellowed at him. “Sime! Let him borrow your swords!”

The young boy jumped in shock at being called out suddenly. After a brief moment of hesitation, he briskly walked forward while struggling to unhitch the swords at his belt. The poor boy must’ve had stage fright, since his hands kept slipping as he stood in front of Airen. Airen himself felt bad for the boy that was even younger than him, and after a few awkward minutes, Sime finally managed to hand over his swords to Airen without meeting his eyes.

“...Thank you.” Airen nodded to Klaris as Sime scurried away like a frightened animal. He glanced over the weapons to find that their balance and make were all of high quality, and these were weapons that even seasoned adventurers would ill-able find a blacksmith capable of forging.

“Battles should be honorable.” Klaris replied as she twirled her weapons in a graceful and almost playful manner. Before Airen could retort, she had closed the distance once more with her astonishing speed and moved to disarm Airen.

Dragonsteel met with dragonsteel and a clear song of blades ran out as Airen exchanged blow for blow, strike for strike with Klaris. Although it seemed as if he was barely managing to match Klaris’ attacks, the truth was Airen was coming out on the losing end, because he was the one that was slowly and gradually losing ground.

“...His defense is remarkable.” Padin applauded and clapped his hands. “His stances keep changing, making it hard to predict his next move, and at the same time, reveal any weak points.”

“He has definitely lasted longer than I anticipated.” Jaela agreed. “His swordsmanship is irrefutable, but his core strength and speed leaves much to be desired.”

“That boy won’t last a minute if Klaris wasn’t playing around so much.” Curtis scowled. “When is she finally going to display some of the skills Lord Dumeis taught us and put an end to this farce?”

“Curtis, why are you so bitter? Still holding a grudge over receiving help?”

“....We didn’t need it.” Curtis’s scowl only grew deeper. “And how dare that man even consider taking the title of Sword Emperor as a mage?”

“He could have been an accomplished swordsman as well.” Padin sighed and interjected. “How many times have I said it Curtis? Judge not an opponent by their appearance.”

“Especially with... our teacher.” Minerva added, and the rest of the Six Swords except for Curtis could only sigh in agreement.

The exchange of blows, parries, feints, distractions, and gambles eventually grinded to a standstill. Klaris easily had the upperhand in these exchanges, but Airen’s movements were hard to read or predict, allowing him to barely manage to hang on.

Airen felt a sense of danger as Klaris suddenly halted in her relentless barrage, and he instinctively leapt back as Klaris’ released a flurry of complicated movements. However, it was as if his body was being suctioned towards Klaris by her weapon arte, and Airen had no choice but to meet it head on.

Instead of the sound of ringing steel, the thundering sound of a hammer that resembled a roar, and a crescendo of notes pealed out as Airen’s 9-Strikes Blooming technique met with Klaris’ Dragon’s Maw. Only a third of the audience had realized that the two duelists had struck out with a technique, and only the Six Swords of Dumeis and Principal Benyin realized the exact nature of Airen’s attack.

“...What is the name of that strike just now?” Klaris’ eyes narrowed as she realized she had no recollection of the sword technique that Airen just used.

“I cannot say.” Airen refused to answer -- or rather, he was under oath and could not answer.

“Secrets of the master is it?” Klaris chuckled, guessing at the reason and coming close. “I hope that you have more secrets then, and this may grow more and more interesting.”

“...I do not have time for this.” Airen replied, and the heated combat started up once more. Except this time, Klaris’ attacks grew stronger and stronger, and Airen quickly realized that she had changed her stance.

“Dumeis calls this skill -- Great Windmill.” Klaris said to Airen as her twirling blades continued to grow in speed, and the angle of her attacks grew more varied. “It’s supposed to be able to change a competition of skill and finesse into one of stamina and strength.”

“...” Airen did not reply as he struggled to parry and block the chain of strikes. Before he knew it, he had instinctively entered the Flash Stance and they were exchanging attacks at a speed that made the crossing of blades to be a blur of sparks and blades.

“ This technique…” Padin frowned. “It can match up to one of Lord Dumeis’ personally created skills?”

“...Not quite. There’s something off about his weapon.” Jaela pointed out the trail of light that seemed to dance and flicker at the edge of Airen’s weapon.

Of course, Klaris had noticed this as well, but to falter, slow down, or change her technique would mean to give ground to Airen, and her bloodline was too proud to do so. Soon, the pent up energy started to even be visible to the naked eye, leaving a trail of silver amidst the blur of blades.

However, that silver trail only lasted a moment. Airen did not wish to give Klaris too much time to react, and he released the Flash of Divine Steel the next time their blades crossed. Airen had aimed the attack off center and easy to dodge- since it was a technique capable of cutting even through stone.

Yet to his surprise, Klaris suddenly locked both her blades into a cross, and dug her feet into the ground. Airen wasn’t sure to be more shocked that she took the ethereal sword slash head on, or that her blades was able to withstand the power behind this technique.

After Klaris was pushed back twenty meters, she suddenly let out a roar and slashed downwards- her twin blades seemingly turning into a curve of white light. Whatever technique she used extinguished Airen’s Flash of Divine Steel, and Klaris looked up at Airen with newfound respect.

Or at least, she did until Airen put down his own weapons and crossed his arms.

“It is my defeat.”

“Your sword techniques are not things I have seen within all the battles I have witnessed and participated in. I am impressed.” Padin accepted Sime’s swords from Airen and passed it back to the small boy hiding around his legs.

“There’s no need to be” Airen shook his head. “If only my teacher would be kind enough to teach me a few more, only then do I feel qualified to participate in the tournament.”

“I am sorry about your weapon.” Klaris added. “If you’d like, I will be happy to replace it for you-”

“No need.” Airen shook his head. “A weapon like that would merely attract more attention than what it’s worth. There were some that called me the student of the Necromancer.”

“So your teacher isn’t the Necromancer?” Sime seemed surprised. In his young mind, only another named Divine Being would have the qualifications to raise a student capable of exchanging blades with one the Six Swords.

“Of course it isn’t. The Necromancer takes no students, none alive anyway.” Minerva admonished. “We once heard Lord Dumeis says that even his body is not that of a human's, having mastered the art of undeath.”

“We should be heading back.” Padin sighed and grabbed Sime and Klaris, giving them a seat on his shoulders. The man’s physique reminded Airen of Teruk and Horly, and he wondered if he too wielded a large-two handed sword.

“Thank you for your time.” Jaela politely thanked Airen. “We hope that you and your teacher would be so kind to grace this next tournament. I would personally like to exchange blades with Mister Neäir.”

As the Six Blades made their way off campus, there were plenty of jealous glances at Airen’s direction from the spectators.

Many would gladly challenge Airen to a duel for the invitation, but the fact that it had been personally delivered made him nigh untouchable.

None would dare try to take that golden envelope, for it would be akin to insulting Lord Dumeis himself.

Airen woke up after a few hours, alerted by the sound of footsteps. It was well into the night, and there was no reason for visitors at this time of day.

So I wasn’t hearing things. Airen quietly slowly got up and faced the door. A small rift popped open and Airen reached into pull out the skeletal spear. As he positioned himself, the footsteps stopped in front of his door.

The doorknob slowly turned, and Airen was midway through his thrust when he caught sight of a surprised Eullina on the other side of the door. The tip of the spear stopped a few inches away from Eullina’s throat.

“For the love of the Lilrim, Airen, what the hell?” Eullina used a finger and pushed away the weapon. Airen hastily apologized and put away the spear.

“I thought I heard someone skulking about this afternoon…. That wasn’t you, was it?” Airen explained, but it only caused Eullina’s furrowed brows to deepen.

“‘Skulking around?’ You’ve gotten yourself in trouble, haven’t you?” She sighed as she walked into the room, dragging behind her a small sled’s worth of baggage. “What will you do without me?”

“I must’ve been just paranoid.” Airen made up an excuse. “Lack of sleep and all that. Where’s Rureya?”

“She’s in her room.” Eullina scowled. “More worried about her than me now are you?”

There were many pearls of wisdom to be found in the Archive, and among the most important ones that Airen learned was that sometimes silence was the best course of action. This was one of those times.

“What is up with you? You have a haggard appearance, like you’ve been through alot.” Eullina commented.

“...Some trauma from the last dungeon expedition.” Airen gave a half-truth. “...Neäir decided to take me to the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt.”

“This person seems to a lot more dangerous than Keri. Why did you ever decide to learn from him?” Eullina scowled as she started unraveling the knots on the sled. The sled was the favored form of moving luggage in the desert, but here, in more civilized lands, it was a sight that was sore on the eyes.

“Help me unpack.” Eullina gestured for Airen to get moving. “I told them it was unnecessary, but they all gave souvenirs to bring back. Made the journey back a lot harder than the journey to.”

“...Must have been annoying.” Airen knew this was one of those times where he should nod, agree, and busy himself with unloading. Several of the packages seemed to be from Lilrim, and Airen had no doubt that they were delicately packed dishes and foods.

“You should have seen Rureya’s load. It was easily twice of this.” Eullina sniffed. “...She didn’t have that much of a struggle with it. What I wouldn’t give to have some beast blood in me…”

“Sure. Sure.” Airen replied nonchalantly, stashing the more perishable foods in his vault, and keeping the preserved meats and breads in a nearby cabinet.

“They also found a large reservoir beneath Tel’naraa. They’ve dug a few wells and the place has been slowly getting greener. Duncan says that, in the future, it may be possible to farm crops in the open instead of the caves.”

“Is that so?” Airen mindlessly sorted the other packages. Tools to maintain one’s gear, several bottles of Seafoam, some old texts and manuals from Duncan, some hand-made clothing… Every second, Airen would find something new.

“So what have you been up to?” Eullina’s casual question caught Airen off guard, but lucky he had his back to her.

“Dungeon diving. Some auction house stuff. Training with Orshan.” Airen replied. “....And just today I received an invitation to Amphitheater or Blades.”

“WHAT?!” Eullina shot up from her bed. “HOW!?”

“...Teacher Neäir kicked up a fuss, and made a scene.” Airen replied quietly. “Happened to mention me, so now I’m involved as well.”

“I take back what I said about him.” Eullina squatted down next to Airen and smiled. “Think you can get me another spectator ticket?”

“...The ones I got were for participants.” Airen said uneasily.

“...” Eullina was speechless.

And so Airen spent the night recalling his adventures while she was away. Of course, he left out some details, for both their sakes.

“Fiel?” Airen found himself wandering the Archive as soon as he went to ‘sleep’.

“Hmm? If it isn’t the kin-slayer.” Fieluri’s voice called out from beneath a stack of books, and as Airen approached, he realized that she had dug out a cozy little nest beneath the bookcases- or rather, it was as if the bookcases had contorted and twisted to satisfy her whims.

“Perhaps one day you’ll also become a kingslayer.” Fieluri chuckled, but Airen was not amused by her poking at his scars.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to train me today.” Airen pointed out..

“Where’s that invitation?” Fieluri held out a hand out from the pile of books. “Come on now, chop chop. This is bound to be interesting.”

“Aren’t you always listening in? What happened to being all knowing?” Airen snorted as he took out the gold-hemmed letters.“Are you saying you don’t have a spell that can read words through paper?”

“Part of the fun is doing it yourself.” Fieluri snapped a finger and one of the two letters flew out from Airen’s hand and onto her palm. “A person’s handwriting is a story that can provide all manner of insights to the writer.”

Fieluri twirled a finger, and the letter seemed to shimmer and grow opaque, with the written parchment seemingly slipping out without touching the seal on the invitation..

“Well, well, well.” Fieluri’s mocking smile grew wider as she continued to read. “Quite a picture that is painted, although not the first that I’ve seen before. Sword Emperor is it?”

“Don’t open it.” After a few minutes, Fieluri returned the letter back into its envelope while keeping the seal intact, before returning it to Airen.

“So… are we attending?” Airen asked tentatively, but he more or less already knew the answer.

“Of course we are. You as yourself, and I as Neäir.” Airen heard a clapping sound, and the temple of book shelves returned to normal. Fieluri stood and stretched as books flew in all directions, returning to their proper place in the Archive.

“You have a solution for me being in two places at once then.” Airen guessed. “I personally don’t think that I am capable of performing well in this event.”

“In a match of mere swords, your Future Visions has the potential to make you without peer.” Fieluri shrugged. “Given, of course, you manage to survive the attack the first time. Surely, your know that feeling after your teacher -- ehem -- former teacher.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll just take the sword through the gut and make sure there’s no second time.” Airen said sarcastically. “Oh wait. I’m dead. How exactly do you expect both me and Neäir to be at two different places at the same time?”

“I’m quite proficient with illusion magic.” Fieluri smirked. “Who was it that you thought architected the scenarios that you’ve found yourself in? Did you forget that I am the one that built the dreams you traversed in, and rebuilt Osperica from mere descriptions out of old records?”

“Wait… those are illusions? What?” Airen was confused with Fieluri’s vague language.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Fieluri twirled a strand of hair through her fingers, and it changed to a different color before turning back. “Magic is volatile like that. They can be truth and reality at the same time.”

“So you’re going to put an illusion of me… in front of hundreds of people, and expect nobody else to be the wiser?”

“I sense a hint of doubt in your tone. You seem to be in disbelief in the fact that I can fool an entire amphitheater of people.” Fieluri chuckled. “Do you think that you are so special that I cannot create a likeness that acts, performs, and thinks just like you?”

“Do not be so arrogant, Airen.” Fieluri’s eyes narrowed. “Until you have become a Divine Being, you are not special. Even after you have, you are still not special in my eyes.”

“I’m not arrogant.” Airen retorted.

“You mean, ‘I am no longer arrogant', Airen.”

Mondas.

“Welcome, all of you that have advanced to intermediate-level archmanship.” Tsargent Wuulf wasn’t as loud as he normally was when he was shouting to new military academy recruits. “Normally I’m suppose to give you all a spiel with congratulations and praising the Republic, but I’ll be damned about all of that!”

Most of the military students smiled feebly. Wuulf was someone that seemed to have the most disregard for pomp, circumstance and authority, but he was the instructor that was the most ‘by-the-book.’

“From here on forth, none of you will be advancing any further through the curriculum.” Wuulf announced. “By that, I mean that there will be no such thing as further lessons.”

Wuulf’s words evoked a murmur through the crowd, but many of the veteran students didn’t seem to be bothered by his words, as if they had heard it several times over.

“Instead, there will be bi-monthly tournaments.” Wuulf continued. “Only the winner will be allowed to advance to the senior-level archmanship classes. There are many of you here that will likely never get to that step and eventually drop out.”

“It is not a bad thing to drop out.” Wuulf snorted. “There will be many of you that do after the tenth year of no progress. Your talent simply lies elsewhere.”

“But do not think that is the end.” Wuulf’s words caused many of the dejected newly arrived recruits to look up. “Those of you that advance to the senior-level are bound for greatness. The Red Slate Republic Army would want you to join their ranks. Stonewall Academy will offer you advisor positions. If you join the League of Adventurers, you will get a valuable insignia on your card. The possibilities are endless.”

“Because to pass this level means that you are the cream of the crop, the best of many bowsman.” Wuulf’s rousing words caused a cheer from many of the students, and even the battle-scarred veterans seemed moved by his words.

“You are free to spend your time as you wish, and your advisors will be there to assist you whenever you require assistance.” Wuulf went on to more specifics. “There will be an exam at the end of every week.”

“Train well -- for there are only a limited number of exams.” Wuulf left with that warning. “And with every new year, there will be new recruits. Take care not to be lenient in your training, and not be satisfied with your current place.”

“Because after all, only the best will pass.”

“Old wolf really knows how to lay it down.” Orshan clapped Airen on his back as soon as Tsargent Wuulf left the field. “What do you think, Airen? Did it get your competitive spirit burning?”

“No. If anything…” Airen glanced around him at the other students and their advisors. “I feel like I’m not ready for any of this, thanks to a certain advisor taking me out to have ‘fun’ instead of training.”

“Now who might that be?” Orshan pretended to play dumb. “Tell Orshan here, and I’ll give him a good scolding.”

“An idiot that considers training in ‘life-skills’ almost just as good as martial experience.” Airen rolled his eyes. “And he seems to enjoy himself way too much as Rasshavel.”

“Why, you should introduce me.” Orshan played along. “I think this person and I can grow to be great friends.”

“I pray that you will never run into Loys.” Airen grumbled under his breath.

“Moving on. I think that you are more than prepared when it comes to simply wielding a weapon.” Orshan continued, not hearing what Airen said. “You wield your weapons like a veteran despite training for so little time. If I didn’t know better, I would have said that you have a natural talent at being a weaponsmaster.”

Not talent. Just too much training for my own good. Airen thought to himself, but he had some semblance of pride for his time spent in the Archive.

“If I can be frank, well, frankly, it’s almost scary.” Orshan continued, rubbing his chin. “If you have a few more weapon skills under your sleeve, then I am sure that you may even be able to hold your own with one of the Six Blades.”

“You overestimate me. Didn’t you hear about my loss the other day?” Airen shrugged.

“And I also heard about how you did exactly as I said -- holding your own against one of the Six Swords, even if it was for a few minutes.” Orshan added. “Receiving an invitation to the Amphitheater of Blades as well… moving up in the world, aren’t you?”

“Get to the point, Orshan. You know I don’t like these pointless inactions.”

“Before, I said that your weakness was strength.” Orshan pinched Airen’s arm. “You disappear for a while and come back stronger than ever. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Whatever insane regime your other teachers have you doing -- its results are impressive.”

“Well then, let’s go celebrate shall we.” Orshan caught Airen inside a vice-like grip with his left arm. “I would say that your tab is on me again but after last time….”

“You can go celebrate yourself.” Airen scowled and slipped out of the hold. “Or if you want to act like an advisor for once -- teach me some weapon skills.”

“Well… that’s...” Orshan rubbed his head awkwardly. “The two skills that you have are on a level that’s above the standard skills of the Academy. Frankly, anything that I am allowed to teach you will be overshadowed by those skills of yours. It’ll be more detrimental than not if you were to learn them.”

“Then what are you not allowed to teach me?” Airen smirked. “Last time I checked, taking a student to a brothel isn’t exactly academy-sanctioned either, is it?”

“It’s allowed to have a bit of a ‘personal’ touch.” Orshan shrugged. “You know me well enough that I don’t mind bending the rules a bit.”

“...I’ll get into touch with a few old adventurer friends and call in some favors.” Orshan waved Airen off. “I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

Later that night.

Airen woke up to the sound of footsteps -- again. However this time, he wasn’t alone, and Eullina also sat up in her bed. She shot him a glance and he nodded to confirm that he had also heard it.

“Those footsteps don’t sound like Rureya’s.” Eullina whispered as she got down from her bunk -- Nightingale and Hummingbird materializing in her hands as Airen drew out the skeletal bow. “Maybe you were right when you said you heard something before I came.”

Airen nodded and quickly nocked an arrow as the knob started to turn. After a few tense minutes, the knobbed stopped turning and there came quiet knocks on the other side. Eullina glanced at Airen, who aimed the bow at the door, before approaching.

“Who is it?” Eullina asked quietly.

“It’s me.” A male voice responded, and after a few seconds, Airen realized that the person on the other side was Rowan.

“What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night at this god-forsaken hour?” Eullina scowled as she opened the door. “Can’t you ever come here without sneaking like a thief through the night?”

Rowan marched in with a large sack on his shoulder. Airen was surprised for a moment about how he had managed to sneak around with nary a sound with such a burden -- until Airen realized that the cloth was likely magical.

“I don’t have much time to speak, so let’s keep this brief.” Rowan struggled with the sack for a moment before just letting it drop onto the ground -- which somehow still remained silent.

“Take all of this and hide it away.” Rowan informed Airen before turning to Eullina “It’s for Rureya, as well as this.”

“A Black Pass?” Eullina’s eyes narrowed. “And this one is... open access to a storage facility…”

“There’s rumors flying about that the Necromancer is searching for someone.” Rowan hissed as he pushed it into Eullina’s hands. “In there is all of the money I’ve skimmed from the Lasat Gardens, as well as a few things of note. ”

“Why are you so afraid?” Eullina would usually mock Rowan, but his anxiety and nervousness seemed to have infected her. “Are you saying that the Necromancer is looking for Rureya?”

“No. If that was the case, then there would be nothing that can be done.” Rowan shook his head. “...I am afraid because the Necromancer did not find who he was looking for.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Airen asked -- even though he had a feeling that he knew what the answer was. “And who is he supposed to be looking for?”

“The name is whispered among the councilman, and it even has Lord Dumeis concerned- Dream Reader of the Lake.” Rowan hissed as he started to make for the door, and just before he left, he popped his head back in to answer Airen’s question.

“And when the Necromancer searches for someone, it means the dead will walk the earth once more.” Rowan’s voice was like a defeated whisper.

“Once more?” Eullina echoed, but Rowan had already left, and her words remained unheard.

“I’d say he was overreacting but…” Eullina turned to Airen. “We both know how much of a struggle it is to deal with animated undead. Should we be worried?”

“...Probably not, but we should keep an eye out.” Airen replied slowly. “The Red Slate Republic is said to have the largest military -- if there is something disturbing the peace, we should be able to see the signs.”

“Let us hope that is the case.” Eullina grumbled. “What’s in the sack anyway?”

Airen shrugged and undid the knot on the sack.

“....What is these boxes supposed to be?” Eullina peered at what appeared to be hundreds of small, rectangular parcels wrapped in brown paper.

“They’re military rations.” Airen quickly realized what they were, having seem them being sold in one of Ellivita’s slum markets. “And particularly high-quality ones at that- made with a mix of cooking and alchemy. One of those can last someone for three days.”

“This many….” Eullina frowned. “You’d think that Rowan was preparing to wait out the apocalypse or something.”

“...We should let Rureya hold on to these.” Airen closed up the bag and set it aside. “No doubt that it was meant for her. Although I wonder why he always uses us a middleman.”

“Ahhh, you are still young Airen.” Eullina smirked. “You still can’t see the intricacies of the relationship between the two of them.”

Airen snorted and did not reply. In affairs of love, relationships, and reading between the lines, Airen was still naive and inexperienced. When he had asked Fieluri to guide him along the path, she had refused. The reason? seeing Airen flustered, embarrassed, and generally being a fool seemed to bring Fieluri great pleasure.

“I’m going back to sleep.” Airen scowled.

“FIeluri.”

“Back so soon?” Fieluri was standing over a hunk of marble-like stone, with bizarre-looking chisel in her hands that resembled a pair of needles.

“Fiel. You’ve read most of the records from Stonewall Academy’s libraries right? Is there anything about what happened fifty years ago?”

“Oh? Actually asking me for details befitting that of my title?” Fieluri’s eyes twinkled. “What are you looking for?”

“Details on wars of the Red Slate Republic, likely to do with the Necromancer.”

“An interest into one of the few notable beings of your age? Have you finally matured?” Fieluri laughed and stood up. She gestured for him to follow him, and Airen did as he bid. In his mind, he was wondering when Fieluri was going to spring up on him what “the price of knowledge” was going to be.

Imagine his surprise when Fieluri did not make any comment of the sort.

“The Red Slate Republic has been in a majority of minor wars, usually over the issues of slavery.” Fieluri began to recite. “However there are no records of any clashing with the Necromancer -- officially, of course.”

“Unofficially, with some cross-referencing and logical guesswork, there are many clashes between the servants of Necromancer and Red Slate Republic’s military.” Fieluri had that creepy smile that she wore when she felt as if she had uncovered a great secret.

”There are many accounts of encountering undead in places that normally the undead don’t dwell or roam. Coupled with the fact that there were rumors of signs of the Necromancer in the area, it’s easy to see the patterns and connect the dots.”

“Although the Red Slate Republic doesn’t openly declare these incidents as skirmishes with the Necromancer but ‘accidental and unfortunate’ encounters, it seems to go back over a hundred years.”

“These are simply abbreviations, but there’s the Red Sands Battle, The Clash for the Gypsum Mines, the Bloated Sewer Infestation, to name a few.” Fieluri continued. “I doubt your foolish kind realized it, but there’s also several minor plagues and sickness that was likely caused by the Necromancer's experiments or works.”

“Some of the records in the League of Adventurers mention a chain of disappearances of people, or to be more precise, those that contain the blood of beasts.” Fieluri smirked. “If you ask me, he was trying to either synthesize dragon’s blood, or complete the final step in the creation of a Hearthstone.”

“How did you get access to the League of Adventurers' records?” Airen’s curiosity got the better of him. “I don’t ever remember ever seeing something like those.”

“It was from Zuan’s memories.” Fieluri replied matter-of-factly. “I had a ‘hook’ of sorts embedded into his soul, so that I can scour it as I wished after he died. Part of the contract, you see.”

“...Zuan?” Airen thought back to the man who had almost tricked him into signing a magical contract, and then at how Ittai had sadly mentioned his grieving widow and daughter. He had mixed feelings about him. “So he’s dead….”

“Feeling pity Airen?” Fieluri snickered. “His death was orchestrated by his own hands. He had a cushy life, and believe me when I say that it was also quite luxurious, yet he decided to heed the call of the void by entering a deal that he knew to be shady.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Airen replied. “And some will die from them.”

“Quoting me now?” Fieluri chuckled smugly. “Then at the very least finish it. ‘And this is how a nation falls, with a single mistake. Quickly, Abruptly. Only at the end will they realize what their mistakes were.”

“Why are you being so smug? You probably stole that from somewhere anyway.” Airen smirked. “From within one of the nigh infinite number of books in here.”

“And when it is lost, forgotten, and foreign to the minds of men, it belongs to me if I recall it into written history.” Fieluri’s eyes twinkled. “None would know better.”

“Rejoice, Airen, for you alone may come to know the truth. There are many forces that act on the world beyond that of your knowledge.”

“...Rowan said the Necromancer was looking for the Dream Reader of the Lake, that’s one of your titles, isn’t it?”

“Former titles.” Fieluri shrugged. “One among hundreds.”

“It’s not going to be a problem is it?” Airen hesitated. “Jourmind. He-”

“Was likely brought back to life by the Necromancer.” Fieluri finished. “Seems to me like he’s honing his craft before attempting to resurrect. The rise in skirmishes with powerful Reanimated also supports this prediction. Your former mentor was resurrected without a soul after all.”

“That’s not the point.” Airen grumbled. “If Lord Telsin is sending out his undead out in search of you, then aren’t you responsible?”

“For what? Those that die in the crossfire?” Fieluri smirked.

“Yes.”

“There are always victims and innocent lives lost in a clash between titans, Airen.”

“What happened to saying that you will be responsible for your own actions?”

“I will deal with him if he finds me.” Fieluri did not look up from her book as she casually declared that she was willing to deal with the feared Necromancer. “If he doesn’t manage to find me, then it means he simply lacks the qualifications.”

“I’m not talking about your heroic battle with Telsin. I’m talking about all of the lives that might be lost in the process. Can’t you just prevent that if you… I don’t know? Send out a beacon of some sorts?”

“And announce my grand return to all of my enemies, former and current?” Fieluri glanced over at Airen as if he was an ant beneath her foot. “Who cares about a couple of lives that don’t mean anything to me?”

Her cold-hearted words struck Airen speechless.

“Fear not, my faithful servant.” Fieluri continued, mistaking the expression on Airen’s face to be anxiety. “There is no scrying spell known to me that cannot be dispelled or blocked by me. At this moment, I’m more interested in the current Sword Emperor than this Necromancer.”

She let out a mocking laugh.

“So many men have called themselves Sword Emperors or King of Swords. Do they think themselves original or do they wish to simply sound impressive? Such vanity...”

“We’ll show them what it truly means to be a Sword Emperor.” Before Airen could comment that it indeed sounded pretty awe-inspiring, Fieluri continued. “And see if this ‘Lord Dumeis’ matches up.”

“We? You can’t be expecting to hope that I can keep up one of the Six Swords, much less Dumeis himself.” Airen said exasperatedly.

“Fear not, I will be controlling you with magic.” Fieluri snapped her fingers, and Airen felt a wave of warmth as the magic tattoo inscribed onto his bones came to life. “Perhaps you might even learn a thing or two in the process.”

“First, you plan to use an illusion to fool an entire amphitheater worth of people, and now you want to use my body as a puppet.” Airen scowled. “How do you expect me to fight my own battles when you’re already using me as a meat suit?”

“With what you already know of course.” Fieluri shrugged. “And of course, I will be personally selecting your weapons from the Vault of Swords. If you still manage to lose despite that… then you may as well die.”

“That’s not reassuring.” Airen scowled. “At least teach me more than just one skill. Even Keri has taught me a stance and a technique to go along with it.” Airen left out the part about her being a better teacher unsaid, but Fieluri seemed to get his meaning.

“I’ve imparted to you the power to read the flow of battle and take advantage of it with Future Visions,” Fieluri closed her book and glared at Airen. “As long as you see a technique once all the way through, you can find any weak points and make your enemies abilities into your weapons. This alone qualifies you to be a so-called ‘Sword Emperor’ in the next three hundred or so years.

“The tournament is in a few months.” Airen retorted. “Does it look like I have a century to perfect it? You also forget to mention the weakness of Future Visions, I have to survive the attack once while never losing sight of it, and that it doesn’t even work half the time.”

“Clearly you haven’t been in enough life or death situations. We’ll have to remedy that.” Fieluri seemed to great joy at Airen’s expression of defeat. After a few moments, she continued thoughtfully. “..I suppose it will look bad if you can’t at the very least make it to the last brackets as Neäir’s student. Even if I gave you a weapon that can cut the skies in half, such power is meaningless if you don’t get the chance to use it.”

“Thank you for finally coming around to see reason.” Airen rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Please bestow this lowly being with knowledge, oh great one.”

“I’ll make some time for you tomorrow. Come see me then.” Fieluri flicked a finger, and AIren felt his soul being forcefully pushed out of the Archive.

With the sensation that feels like as if one was falling on their back, Airen woke up back in his room in the Tiger Wing of Stonewall Academy.

No matter how many times he experienced it, it was still foregin and unpleasant. Airen would mutter a curse at the abrupt expulsion if he didn’t know that Fieluri would definitely hear him.

The next day, Airen spent the morning being Eullina and Rureya’s escort as they received the same speech he was given by the weapon instructors. Airen found the magic-based classes had a more strict process to pass to the advanced classes. The quality of one’s spell had to surpass all of the qualities of the others, including casting time, destructive power, defensive power, maintainability, and so on. It was easy to see why there was such a large discrepancy in the number between the number of weapons-based and magic-based advisors.

After that, Airen had to help ‘unpack’ and sort out the things that the two of them had brought back from the trip. Rureya was ladened with even more gifts than Eullina was, and her skin even had a bit of a tan to it from the desert sun. They then went to investigate the Black Pass that Rowan had given her, only to find the inside vault to be filled with over twenty thousand gold coins. Rureya insisted on going to see Rowan, but Eullina convinced her otherwise.

Finally after making dinner, Airen ‘retired early’ to see Fieluri for his anticipated lesson.

“Lizabel’s Flash Stance has gone by many names, but the general idea is to create a tempo of endless attacks that keeps rising in speed.” Fieluri started as soon as Airen came within hearing distance. The lesson had already begun.

“It is meant to be used with thrusting weapons, but can be repurposed for slashing weapons with a bit of a drop in speed.” Fieluri continued. “Her Flash of Divine Steel is self-invented, drawing on her inner connection to the Night Princess that even she herself does not know about. I daresay when you meet again, it’ll be an entirely new technique, closer to the original technique it derived from.”

“...Why are we talking what Keri taught me?” Airen grumbled.

“Because the skill I am going to teach you is uniquely my own.” Fieluri smiled, and it was not a smile of warmth or affection. “This is the very first ability I have created and perfected, and even today, it still continues to terrorize the world.”

“Even today…?” Airen asked, but Fieluri ignored him and continued.

“Today there are many derivatives of this spell.” Fieluri snapped her fingers and wind, water, fire, earth, light, and darkness seemed to swirl around her fingers. She pointed to an empty spot far away and Airen watched as a clone of each elemental affinity was formed in the shape of Fieluri.

“Of course, these are mere imitations that can not even begin to muster a percentage of my power.” Fieluri snapped a finger and the elemental clones returned to nothingness. “Glorified animated statues, if you will.”

“There are many that have spent their lifetime trying to create a perfect clone.” Fieluri continued with her lecture. “But none of them ever managed to do so because they lacked the insights I have.”

Airen wanted to roll his eyes but managed to stop himself in time. It wasn’t a lesson from Fiel if she didn’t brag about herself a bit.

“That ability… I won’t be teaching to you.” Fieluri’s smug smile caused Airen to falter for a moment.

“Why not?” Airen scowled.

“This ability requires to know yourself so well that regardless of any situation, you already know how to act.” FIeluri looked Airen up and down. “And do you think that creating a perfect clone isn’t taxing? In the worse case scenario, there will be another ‘you’ that might even try to kill you.”

“Do not be so naive, Airen!” Fieluri’s voice caused Airen to jump. “Until you are at least on the level of Divine Beings, this ability will only bring you grief and trouble. One of the pre-requisites is that you are able to overpower your other self once it materializes.”

“This is no battle of doppelgangers, Airen. Your alternate self will be as equally conniving, powerful, intelligent, and versatile as you.” Fieluri closed her eyes, as if she was reminiscing the past. “He will know all your tricks, your abilities, and even the way you think. It will be the most familiar battle, as well as the most foreign battle, you’ll face.”

“No, what you’re learning today is a derivative of that ability.” Fieluri suddenly stood up, and waved a hand. The armchair Airen was seated on suddenly vanished, causing him to fall onto his back.

“This is going to hurt.” Fieluri cautioned.

“What is-” Airen started to say as he tried to get up, but in the next moment, Fieluri had disappeared and reappeared in front of him while he was kneeling, slamming a palm into his abomdinem.

A pain unlike anything Airen had felt before assault Airen’s senses as magical runes flared into life all around him. So powerful was the magic that the magical tattoo on his body emerged to absorb some of the damage.

To describe the pain was like having his bones popping out from the flesh one by one, while the rest of his body was submerged in boiling water and being frozen over in rapid succession.

After a grueling minute of pain bad enough to make Airen wish he would simply pass away, Fieluri withdrew her hand and Airen’s limp body collapsed onto the floor, occasionally convulsing as remaining ripples of pain ran through his body. Fieluri returned to her book as Airen laid on the floor for the next two hours.

“What...did…you-” Airen struggled to move his mouth, with each word having a pause in between. Despite the fact that the pain had come mainly from his chest, his mouth felt sore.

“There are plenty of words in forgotten languages for what I just did for you.” Fieluri replied casually. “I’ve loosened the connection between your soul and your body.”

“Usually it involves a year long preparation period, and five years of slowly untethering you soul to your body, but I didn’t feel like waiting so I sped it up a bit.” Fieluri shrugged casually. “The magical tattoo on your body made sure that you wouldn’t die outright, and your soul has been in the Archive long enough to be acclimated to it.”

Airen did not reply, or rather, he couldn’t without feeling sore. Instead, he simply glared at her while sprawled out on the floor.

“Oh. Fine.” Fieluri stood up and walked off into the Archive. After thirty minutes, she came back holding a beautifully shaped glass bottle that contained a deep red liquid. To be precise, it could not be called a bottle since there was no cork or cap. It was like a giant rectangular glass case, like that of a cognac bottles, but without the handle.

With a finger, Fieluri pointed inside the bottle and a drop of the red liquid suspended itself in the air. Curling her finger, the drop of liquid seemed to phase through the glass. It flew gracefully through the air before slipping between Airen’s lips.

It tasted like blood and felt like euphoria.

“What was-” Airen sat up after a few moments, all of the aches and pains seemingly vanishing without a trace.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Fieluri’s eyes were twinkling, and before Airen could say no, she continued. “It is the refined blood of over a thousand great dragons, taken from their still beating hearts. It creates a powerful elixir of vitality that give a hundred more years to a dying man.”

“...You’re right. I didn’t want to know.” Airen was sure that the blood was acquired through harsh means, but he was thankful nonetheless. If anything, he felt stronger and more sprightly then even before the entire soul-tearing incident.

“Now that you’re not rolling around over a stubbed toe. Let’s move on.” Fieluri replied. “This skill is called Izfalt va Aqocaypsis. Roughly translated, it means Echo of the Aether.”

“That sounds mighty and all but what does it do?” Airen grumbled.

“Why don’t you experience it for yourself?” Fieluri snapped a finger. Airen tensed up, thinking that he was going to suffer indescribable pains once more, but after twenty seconds passed, nothing happened. Airen’s ears heard something off, and the next moment a thrumming whistle rang out as two swords summoned out from the Archive of Swords flew around the room and coming into a halt in front of Airen. One of them branched off and sat comfortably on Fieluri’s lap.

“Try and hit me, I’m not going to lift a finger.” Fieluri did not even look up from her book as she goaded Airen on. “It’s the same as your usual futile attempts of trying to defeat the memories of heroes, so come on now. Try and hit me if you can.”

“As you wish!” Airen shouted with glee as he drew the sword in one smooth motion and swung at Fieluri. He had the utmost desire to wipe that smug smile off her face.

However, to Airen’s shock, what could only be described as a mirror image of Fieluri appeared above her seated form, parrying the blow before disappearing.

“Come on now, you can do better than that.” Fieluri did not look up but the smirk on her face was obvious from her taunting tone of voice.

“What in the blazes-” Airen continued to swing his weapon at Fieluri, but every time a colored mirror image of Fieluri would appear and parry his weapon easily. It was frustrating because even the spirit-like image seemed to be bored or mocking Airen the entire time.

“It is a materialization of the soul into physical form.” Fieluri started to lecture as Airen continued to futilely attempt get past the soul avatar. “In human terms, it is a temporal manifestation similar to one’s Reality Rift, but without all the bells and whistles and much simpler.”

“Of course, this figment is also ‘you’ in the truest of senses. You will need to learn to both control your soul and your body independently of each other.” Fieluri continued.

“At the beginning you can only use your soul avatar as a means of defense.” Fieluri pointed out. “After all, usually the soul’s power is used in magic to attack, but this spell was called Echo of Aether, because it allows one to do physical attacks.”

Fieluri finally put down her book and stood up, drawing her own sword. She casually swung it at Airen without any force behind it, and he blocked it. However, just as he was about to counterattack, Fieluri’s soul avatar appeared and mimicked the exact same swing, forcing Airen to block once more.

“Too slow, child.” Taking advantage of Airen’s lapse in concentration, Fieluri nicked Airen’s leg with the tip of her weapon. It was a superficial wound, so Airen bit down and got ready to block Fieluri’s next blow… only to realize that her soul avatar had echoed the attack, causing the original superficial wound to deepen until blood was boring down his shin.

“Do you get the idea now?” Fieluri lazily twirled her weapon by the hilt. “Or should I continue?”

“I get it!” Airen shouted as he held both hands in defeat. He glanced down at his wound only to find that it has disappeared. Clearly the dragon blood elixir was still in effect.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Fieluri smiled eerily. “You have yet to manifest your own soul avatar, so why don’t we play around for a bit?”

“I’m afraid that's not-” Airen’s words were cut off as Fieluri continued to ‘educate’ him.

It was to be a night full of abuse and colorful language once more.