Chapter 230: Kael Vs Riku Virehard, rank third of third year.
On that day, kael walked towards the city of Elaris, tunnel through tunnel.
The forge master’s hall was an old structure of black stone, its roof spewing sparks and smoke into the evening sky.
Inside, the heat was near suffocating.
Rows of apprentices hammered molten steel, their rhythmic clangs echoing like war drums.
Kael approached the front desk where an old man, his beard singed from years spent too close to fire.
Without a word, Kael reached into his pouch and dropped a hefty leather sack onto the counter.
The weight of two thousand gold coins landed with a dull thud. The forge master raised his brows.
"Young man," the smith rumbled, "this much coin... you’re not here for an ordinary blade, are you?"
Kael placed his sword upon the counter.
Then he revealed the glittering cluster of seventeen demon cores, each one glowing with dark essence that made the apprentices nearby stumble back nervously.
"I want these fused," Kael said.
"All of them. Into this sword."
The forge master’s eyes widened. His hands trembled for just a moment before he steadied himself, stroking his beard.
"Boy... do you even know what you ask? These are dark cores. You forge them into steel, you’ll have a cursed weapon. It may even consume its wielder."
"I know," Kael replied simply.
"That’s why I want you to do it. Can you?"
The smith studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"It will take twelve hours. By dawn, your blade will be ready."
Kael inclined his head, turning to leave. "I’ll return tomorrow."
The night deepened as Kael walked back toward the academy.
The moment he stepped through Arcadia Academy’s gates, the oppressive silence of the vast courtyards welcomed him.
His thoughts lingered on the sword being forged, on the immense power it would carry—and the battles he would face because of it.
Instead of heading to his dorm, Kael’s feet took him to the Academic Training room, where students often dueled and tested techniques under enchanted wards that prevented death.
The hum of mana lingered in the air like an invisible shield, ready to suppress anything too destructive.
At its center stood a tall figure. His aura pressed against the room with suffocating intensity.
Kael recognized him instantly.
Riku Virehart.
Ranked third among the third years. The elder brother of Kayle Virehart, the first-year prodigy Kael had defeated not long ago.
Riku’s gaze locked on Kael with a mix of disdain and fury.
"So you’re Kael Ashford," he said.
"The one who humiliated my little brother. I’ve been waiting."
"If you’re here to seek revenge, you’ll find I’m not easy prey."
Riku unsheathed his sword with a flourish, the blade gleaming under the torchlight.
"Kayle is family. Blood of my blood. You humiliated him in front of the academy. That stain can only be erased with your defeat."
Kael let out a quiet breath and cracked his knuckles. He had no sword tonight—his weapon was in the forge.
"Fine. But I won’t use a blade," he said.
Riku’s eyes flashed in insult. "Arrogance will be your undoing."
They squared off.
The training ground’s wards shimmered faintly, signaling the duel’s start.
Riku surged forward, sword flashing with a fluid, deadly arc.
Kael’s feet slid back, his body weaving with precise control. His fist shot out—
Astral Severance.
A streak of force erupted from his knuckles, cutting through the air toward Riku.
Riku’s sword met it in a clash of sparks, the impact forcing him back a step.
His eyes widened briefly, then narrowed in determination. He lunged again, sword movements precise, honed by years of rigorous training.
Kael’s body moved like water. His right hand clenched, his muscles tightened, and he drove his fist forward.
Astral Punch.
The air cracked as though space itself buckled under his strike. The force rippled outward, slamming into Riku’s blade.
The clang echoed across the hall, driving both men a step apart.
"Impressive," Riku muttered.
"But not enough."
He pressed forward.
Kael ducked, twisted, then leaped back, gathering energy within his palm. He spun suddenly, unleashing a storm of force.
Abyss Cyclone.
Dark energy surged, forming a spiraling vortex that howled across the hall, pulling debris and dust into its wake.
Riku gritted his teeth, raising his sword high. Mana flared across his blade as he cut downward, splitting the cyclone apart with sheer willpower.
The two clashed in the aftermath, fists against steel, raw strength against refined swordplay.
Every impact rang like thunder, the ground beneath them cracking, the air trembling with suppressed power.
Kael’s strikes were brutal, honed by desperation and memory of war.
Riku’s swordplay was elegant, each swing guided by discipline and years of mastery.
The duel raged on, neither yielding an inch.
Sweat gleamed on their foreheads.
They were equal, perfectly balanced in strength and skill.
Finally, they broke apart, standing across from one another.
Riku’s eyes burned with frustration.
"Damn you... barehanded, and yet you stand against me?"
Kael lowered his fists slightly. "You’re strong, Riku. Stronger than most I’ve faced."
The duel had ended without a victor, yet neither could deny the truth—they were evenly matched.
Riku staggered back a step.
His sword arm trembled despite his effort to steady it, the weight of the duel pressing on him harder than the steel in his hands.
(Damn... this guy is very strong), he admitted inwardly.
The moment Kael’s "Abyss Cyclone" clashed against his guard, his blade had nearly flown from his grip.
His bones rattled, his knees nearly buckled. Just a little more force, and he would have lost outright.
His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing on Kael, who stood unarmed.
(If I can’t even face him properly, how can I stand against the true top rankers of the first year? )Riku thought bitterly.
(Jin, Edwin, even that Elysia girl... what chance do I have if someone like Kael, fighting barehanded, can drive me to this edge?)
Kael exhaled slowly, shaking the faint dust from his sleeve.
He didn’t look triumphant, nor arrogant.
"That’s enough," Kael said evenly.
"Can you leave please? I have lots to train."
Riku bit down on his lip, the urge to protest boiling in his chest.
But the weight of Kael’s words—and the memory of the blows he had endured—left him silent.
He turned away with quiet frustration burning in his veins.