The Blades of Arcane

Chapter 4: The beginning of change

The next day at the Academy, the air was different. His magic class was as dull as ever, but today the teacher was explaining the hierarchy of mages, the tiers of power that separated the great from the weak. Mages didn't have formal titles like warriors—no Sword Saint, no Sword God. Their power came from reputation, feats, and the raw strength of their magic. Even his father, the Inferno Warlord, earned his title through violence and domination, not some prestigious ranking system. The words stung, reminding King once more of how, despite his talent with the sword, he had struggled with someone below his level. He knew his brother had fought the stronger mage that night, but King still felt the weight of his failure.

When class ended, King felt a little lighter after spending some time with Aurelia. Her bright smile and genuine admiration for him softened the edges of his frustration. She congratulated him again on his tournament win, full of pride. They talked about nothing important, just life, sharing moments of normalcy in a world dominated by power and expectations.

But soon enough, King found himself on the warrior training grounds, where the air was thick with respect. For the first time, the whispers of his nickname, The Outcast Blade, stopped. They didn't cheer for him or sing his praises, but the silence was enough. It was a quiet acknowledgment of his strength after the tournament.

Today's lesson, taught by Gideon, focused on warriors who specialized in elemental weapons and aura control. He spoke of Elemental Warlords, warriors who could imbue their weapons with the elements—fire, lightning, ice—enhancing their combat abilities through control of both their swordsmanship and aura. King listened closely, intrigued by the idea of aura control and how it might elevate his abilities beyond just raw power.

After class, King hesitated for a moment but decided to approach Gideon. With a grim honesty, he confessed his feelings of inadequacy, telling him how he had once aspired to be a Sword Saint like Gideon, but now felt lost. Gideon listened, his eyes kind but piercing, as though he already knew what troubled King.

"You have talent," Gideon said gently, "but talent alone won't decide your path. You can walk any road you choose, King. Your swordsmanship is incredible, but you don't have to confine yourself to that. There's power in aura mastery—perhaps more than you realize. Aura Lords, and even Aura Immortals, aren't confined by a blade. If you explore that path, you may find that you've been gifted with more than just sword skills."

King didn't respond right away, but the words lingered. He had never considered that he might not have to follow the same path as Gideon, that maybe there was more to his power than just becoming a Sword Saint or Sword God. Aura control... He had dabbled in it, of course, but maybe it was time to truly master it.

For the next week, King was consumed by the challenge. Every day, after class and training, he locked himself in his personal dojo, working on his aura control. His goal was simple: create a shield, something strong enough to defend against a high-tier attack. He had done it in the past, sure, but only against weaker foes. A real shield, one that could stand against powerful warriors or mages, was something else entirely.

He failed. Over and over, the shield broke. Sometimes it didn't even form, dissipating as soon as he summoned it. The frustration mounted, weighing on him more each day. Was it his demon aura that made it harder? Or had he just lacked the focus? The talent? For years, he had relied on his swordsmanship to carry him through battles. Was that all he had? Had he been fooling himself all this time?

Despite his failures, he didn't stop. Every day, after his lessons, he trained with Gideon, often alongside Cassian, the two of them pushing each other to explore their different strengths. Cassian, with his calm, precise movements, seemed to thrive with aura control, while King struggled. It was a unique, frustrating problem—one King wasn't sure he could solve.