One Month After the Breakthrough.
The training grounds were alive with the hum of concentrated power.
It had taken four weeks of grueling repetition for Rune to stabilize his new Squire-level abilities, but the results were undeniable.
"Feel the ether gathering in your limbs, Young Master,"
Erik instructed, his voice low and focused.
"Before you strike, find the focal point. Don't just throw the energy away—manifest it. Release the crescent slash!"
Rune closed his eyes, drawing on the memory of the Flame Mane Boar.
He summoned that same cold clarity of the forest, the feeling of life and death dancing on a knife's edge. His stance widened, his muscles coiling like a spring.
With a fierce shout, he swung. A shimmering arc of ether doubled in size as it tore from his blade, whistling through the air with twice the force of his previous attempts.
"Well done!"
Erik exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
"A magnificent strike, Rune. Your control is finally catching up to your power."
Rune dropped to one knee, gasping for air. His ether reserves were depleted, but his spirit was soaring. After a brief meditation to steady his breathing, Erik dismissed him.
"We're done for the day. Head to the park; I believe your friends are waiting."
The Golden Bully.
Rune jogged toward the usual meeting spot by the lake, but as he rounded the treeline, his blood ran cold.
Thora and Tove were sprawled on the grass, their faces bruised and bloodied.
Siggy was huddled nearby, weeping, while Amery stood defiantly in front of them, her small frame trembling as she tried to shield her fallen friends from a boy Rune had never seen before.
Without a second thought, Rune drew his practice sword and stepped into the clearing.
"Who are you?"
Rune demanded, his voice trembling with rage.
"And why did you do this to them?"
The boy turned. He was dressed in fine silks, his posture radiating a natural, arrogant grace. He looked at Rune with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"My name is far too important for a peasant half-blood like you to even speak."
"I don't care who you are,"
Rune growled, his eyes flaring with a hidden prismatic light behind his shadow shroud.
"I'm cutting you down!"
Rune lunged, channeling his ether into a strike. To his shock, the stranger didn't flinch.
The boy gathered his own ether—dense, gold-tinted energy—and met Rune's blade head-on.
The clash sent a shockwave through the clearing.
Rune was thrown back three steps, his boots skidding in the dirt. The stranger only took two.
"Interesting,"
the boy mused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
"A low-born punk who can actually stand his ground. Fine. I am Ivar of the Vali Clan. Allow me to show you the chasm between a Pure-blood and a mongrel like you!"
Ivar ignited his ether, the golden light far more intense than anything Rune had faced.
He launched a savage horizontal slash.
Rune barely managed to bring his sword up in time, using his "hidden eyes" to spot the weakest point in the arc. He performed a desperate parry, forcing the energy to redirect, but the counter-force was immense.
Rune fell to his knees, his hands and feet throbbing with sharp, stinging pain from the impact.
Across from him, Ivar was also heaving for breath.
The exchange had drained him more than he cared to admit. Realizing he didn't have the strength left for a finishing blow—and too proud to show weakness—Ivar adjusted his collar and spat on the ground.
"You aren't worth the effort today,"
Ivar sneered, casting a look of disdain over the group.
He turned on his heel and walked away, his cape fluttering with an air of unearned victory.
The Aftermath.
The silence of the park was broken only by Siggy's quiet sobs. Rune struggled to his feet, his heart heavy with the sting of defeat.
He hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't been strong enough to protect them.
"Thora? Tove? Are you guys still with us?"
Amery asked, rushing to help Rune up while checking on the boys.
"Ahh... Rune? Amery?"
Thora mumbled, blinking through a swollen eye.
"Five more minutes, Mom..."
Tove groaned, clearly semiconscious and dreaming of home.
Rune let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
They were beaten black and blue, but they were alive.
He looked down at his trembling palms, the image of Ivar's golden ether burned into his mind. He didn't just want to be a Squire anymore.
He needed to be a force that no "Pure-blood" could ever look down upon again.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a somber ritual.
Rune and the girls used cool lake water and what little ether they had left to soothe the boys' bruises.
No one wanted to go home looking like this—they all knew that another set of questions from their fathers would only lead to more trouble.
As the sun set, casting long, orange shadows across the grass, Rune made a silent vow. Never again.