World of Terror

The morning after the celebration, I wandered through the quiet hall, the ache in my ribs from Ceil's kick reminding me of the duel. The whole thing kept playing in my mind, until Belle came over, her steps light and confident.

"You did pretty well last night," she said, folding her arms with a smirk. "Even if you almost got flattened by Ceil."

I chuckled softly, rubbing my sore side. "Yeah, thanks to you. That punch saved me."

Belle shrugged, grinning wider. "Don't get used to it. Next time, I might just let you handle it yourself."

Before I could answer, voices near the entrance caught our attention. Father and Duke Lukas were standing by the gates, deep in conversation. The early sunlight made the Duke's sharp features stand out, while Ceil hung back quietly.

As we got closer, Father turned to the Duke. "Thank you for coming, brother," he said warmly.

The Duke nodded faintly. "It was necessary. Next time, you should visit the main house. It's been a while since you visited."

"We will," Father replied with a smile. "It really has been too long since I visited."

The Duke glanced at Belle and me, a small grin appearing. "I hope you two come to join the main house."

Belle blinked, visibly confused by the sudden suggestion, her lips parting slightly as if unsure how to respond.

Ceil's gaze shifted to me, studying me for a moment before he spoke in a calm but firm voice. "Next time, I want a fair fight."

I raised an eyebrow slightly, caught off guard by his change in tone, but I nodded silently.

Then he turned to Belle and gave a polite nod. "Goodbye, my lady."

Belle raised an eyebrow but returned the smile. "See you later."

The Duke's carriage waited just beyond the gates. The horses were restless, pawing at the ground. With a final nod from Father, the gates creaked open. The Duke and Ceil climbed inside, the doors closing softly behind them as the wheels began rolling down the winding road out of the estate.

…

The household gradually returned to its usual pace. Servants cleaned up the last bits of the celebration, and the halls got quieter as the day went on. But I couldn't shake the feeling of everything that had happened, both at the party and beyond.

At breakfast, Father sat at the head of the table, several documents spread before him. His expression was calm but serious, and Belle noticed right away.

"What was the Duke talking about?" she asked.

"It's not a big deal. We can talk about it after breakfast," Father said.

"So Father, what happened with the mission?" Belle asked again, her voice full of curiosity and concern.

Father set down his teacup carefully and leaned forward. "The Red Corps returned early this morning," he began. "They reported a decisive victory. Several stolen goods were recovered, and the pirate fleets have been neutralized."

Belle's eyes lit up with pride, but she stayed quiet, sensing there was more.

"As for the Demon Faction," Father continued, tapping one of the scrolls, "our intelligence confirms they tried to set up a base near Linberg. They were likely preparing to summon reinforcements and expand their influence. Luckily, we disrupted their plans and took down the operation before it could get going. For now, Linberg is safe."

"That's amazing," Belle said, clearly proud of Father. "I knew you'd handle it."

Father smiled warmly. "Of course. But I have to thank Lucian as well. The notes he provided were invaluable for planning our strategy. They gave us the upper hand and kept casualties low."

I felt a little embarrassed but managed a small smile. "It was nothing, Father."

He raised an eyebrow, a curious smile forming. "How did you know all of this? Even as a warrior, I didn't see some of these things coming."

I shrugged. "Just from reading books."

Father laughed, the sound lightening the atmosphere. "Books, huh? Belle, maybe you should start reading more. You'll need both strength and knowledge when you start at the academy this year."

Belle glanced at me, then back at Father, grinning. "This food is delicious," she said, dodging the subject with a playful tone.

Father chuckled, shaking his head. "Avoiding the question won't work forever, Belle."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, small things like upcoming events, some issues about the ports, and the arrival of a new transportation. Belle asked a few questions about the academy, mostly about the dorms and classes, while I stayed quiet, listening and observing.

…

A week passed, and the cold breeze began to settle over Linberg. The mornings were crisp, and the skies held the soft gray hue that hinted at an early winter. The trees in the manor garden had started to shed their leaves, and frost had begun to form along the edges of the stone fence behind the training ground.

Belle and I had been training every morning for the past few days. Most of it was running laps around the estate and practicing the same basic sword swings repeatedly. My arms were sore, my legs heavy, but Belle somehow still had energy. She moved like she could go another round without breaking a sweat.

This morning was no different, except that Roswell stood waiting for us in the training yard. His arms were crossed, and his expression was as unreadable as always.

We greeted him, "Good morning, Master."

He nodded and said, "Today, I'll show you the Eastern Sword Technique. It also originated from your ancestors."

Belle perked up immediately. "Wait, really? That sounds awesome!"

Roswell stepped forward. He held a wooden sword in his right hand, and his left rested neatly behind his back. Then, without warning, he moved.

Two powerful slashes cut through the air so quickly I could barely follow them. The strikes left clean, deep marks in the sand at our feet. I blinked, unsure if what I saw was real or if my tired mind was just too slow to process it.

"This technique was designed to end a fight quickly," Roswell explained. "It focuses on power and speed, one to three strikes. If used properly, it can kill a monster in a single move. It's for destruction, for finishing things before they start."

I raised my hand. "But isn't that dangerous to use against people? What if there's an assassin? And why keep one hand behind your back? Doesn't that leave you open? What if the enemy strikes first? Wouldn't it be impractical to focus only on power instead of precision?"

"Stop asking questions!" Belle snapped, cutting me off. She turned to Roswell, eyes bright. "Master, could you teach us that technique?"

Roswell didn't react to either of us. "You need to learn the basics first," he said calmly. Then he looked at me. "To answer your questions: yes, Lucian, this technique can seriously injure even trained warriors if misused. That's why it's only taught to those who can control their aura. And for sudden counterattacks, we rely on aura to defend ourselves."

"As for the hand behind the back, it's for balance and control. It minimizes body movement and focuses energy into the strike."

He stepped closer and pulled off his glove. A faint yellow mist began to rise from his hand like smoke. Then, the aura thickened, sharpening slightly around his fingers like a blade.

"This is called aura," he said. "It can protect you like a shield or cut like a sword, depending on how you shape it or use it."

He rolled up his sleeve and revealed a faint glowing rune symbol wrapped around his forearm. It pulsed lightly beneath his skin.

"Once you qualify, a priest will give you a rune stone," he continued. "If your body accepts it, a similar symbol will appear. That's the beginning of your awakening, and over time, you'll refine that stone into your core."

I asked, "I read there are more classes than just Warriors."

"You're right," Roswell said with a nod. "From what I can tell, there are six orthodox classes: Warrior, Professor, Hunter, Enforcer, Sorcerer, and Phantom. Each one develops differently, and even I don't fully understand them all. Some rely on items, others on intellect or special power. It depends on the path you choose."

Belle tapped her wooden sword against her palm. "Master," she said, her tone casual but eager, "could we do light sparring?"

Roswell looked at her for a moment, then glanced at me as if to ask whether I was interested too. I quickly shook my head.

"We can't beat him," I said. "We're just kids."

"I know," Belle replied, then paused, tapping the sword again thoughtfully. "What if he doesn't use his aura? If he does, he loses."

Roswell raised an eyebrow at the idea. "Alright. I won't use aura," he said calmly. "But remember, this isn't a real match, just light sparring."

Belle grinned. "Sounds fair to me."

I gave a small shrug. "Okay, I'll give it a try too. Just don't expect much."

Roswell gave a slight nod. "That's fine. This is about learning, not winning."

Roswell took a step forward. "Then let's start with basic swings and footwork," he said.