Three hour later…
The king entered the dining room.
His legs barely held him.
His face pale—like someone bedridden by illness.
Kraye was waiting—
And though he couldn't see her clearly,
He could sense it:
Her expression was different.
There was no warmth.
Only steel.
A cold, unwavering focus in the air.
She gestured to the chair before her:
"Sit down… Noxvir."
He sat quietly and began to speak:
"I'm sorry if—"
She cut him off, her voice slicing through the room like a whip:
"Silence!"
He froze.
He had never seen her like this—no tenderness, no mercy.
It was as if someone else was wearing her face.
She shouted:
"If your body had been just a little weaker…
What would've happened when you used your eyes?!"
He hesitated.
Why did he feel trapped?
Why… couldn't he find the words?
He muttered, his voice barely above a breath:
"Dea—"
She cut him off again, screaming:
"Don't you dare say that word in front of me ever again!"
Her eyes shimmered with tears—
But her voice remained unshaken.
"Tell me the truth.
Did you know this would happen?"
His reply came soft, almost guilty:
"No.
I didn't know it would affect me like that."
She closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and spoke in a strange tone—half plea, half command:
"Swear… that you'll never do it again."
Silence.
His thoughts drifted down a path he didn't expect.
Maybe he should lie.
Tell her what she wanted to hear.
But she would find out eventually.
The Sovereign's voice slithered back:
"Isn't honesty… the safer road?"
The king sighed.
"I'm sorry…
I can't swear that.
But I promise…
I won't use it again unless my body can truly withstand it."
She lowered her gaze and whispered to herself:
"I knew he'd refuse…
But at least…
He understands what he's doing."
Then she smiled—broken, but sincere:
"Just be careful…
You're all I have."
He looked at her, his voice clear:
"I promise.
I'll be okay."
She nodded slowly, voice softening:
"I won't ask about your eyes again…
But you must hide them well."
Then her cheeks turned faintly red.
She began fiddling with her fingers, like a shy girl working up her courage.
"But… you can share your thoughts with me.
It would make me feel… special to you."
She looked almost like a child—playful and hopeful, seeking affection.
He answered without hesitation:
"But you're already special."
A bright smile spread across her face as she began to eat.
And he…
He wondered silently:
"Why did I say that?
Did I just want to see her smile?
No… impossible."
The Sovereign chuckled:
"Maybe… mutual respect?
Even a king pays his debts."
He smiled faintly and lifted his spoon.
Days of rest had passed… before he returned to the training hall.
But this time, he did not return as a boy seeking progress —
He returned as a blade seeking its edge.
He stood still.
Calm. Centered.
With a single nod, he silently asked Kray for a duel.
Then, he moved.
His steps flowed like water in a narrow stream — light, sharp, deliberate.
His torso twisted behind them with the grace of a serpent, mana coiling around his right hand and left foot… until he vanished in a flash.
She watched in silence,
but in her eyes, anticipation burned.
— "Where will he strike from this time?"
The movement suggested a right-side approach.
But she knew better — this was her son.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from her sight.
Then appeared — directly behind her.
The edge of the blade carved its path toward her back…
She spun swiftly, steel clashing with steel in a flash.
On her lips, a smile — an unspoken admission of his cunning.
Though her heart held a mother's warmth, her strength had never been soft.
A terrifying talent — personally trained by the Sun Blade himself —
and now, she stood at the doorstep of the Primordial Sword, capable of challenging even a Sword Lord.
To her, Isaac was still a shadow, swinging a sword…
But even shadows, when sharpened enough, can cut.
— "How did you do that?"
she asked calmly, her eyes sharp and precise.
He answered with a voice as steady as still water:
— "It's not speed… it's deception.
The movement breaks your vision — distorts perception.
You think you're reading the strike… but the body lies.
The only way to counter it… is to explode the area with a wide-range technique."
She raised a brow, a quiet smile rising to her lips:
— "Anyone else would've called you insane…
But I know you're not."
She took a step back, still smiling:
— "Well done."
He bowed slightly, and said:
— "Thank you… for your patience."
From that day on, training became merciless.
He refined the technique — later named Phantom Mirage — until it became instinct, not thought.
He studied without pause, diving deeper into the Legacy of the Bloody Shadow.
A full year passed.
Kray advanced further into the realm of the Primordial Sword, but soon hit an unbreakable wall.
Isaac, meanwhile, emerged taller, stronger, quieter… wiser.
His body was forged.
His technique — mastered.
The fundamentals of swordsmanship? Complete.
It was time to ascend.
One morning, he entered the hall and found Kray waiting.
Her arms were crossed, her stance regal.
Sunlight caught the edge of her blade, flickering like fire.
She looked toward the corner of the room, a mischievous smile on her face:
— "Look at him, Larra… Noxfaire's already past one and a half meters.
He's inherited my height… and clearly, my charm. Don't you think?"
Larra laughed:
— "Of course, my lady. The 'Killer Blade of Beauty' didn't earn that name for nothing."
Isaac cut in, his tone calm but curious:
— "What made you famous by that title?"
Kray's gaze shifted — her eyes narrowing, a playful spark lighting up within:
— "Oh? Curious about your mother now?
Didn't think you'd call me that so soon… but I'll allow it."
She leaned back slightly, her voice softening:
— "I held a sword since I could walk.
I loved it… trained like a madwoman. I found happiness in the path of the blade."
"But happiness… has a price."
"It stirred envy. Brought enemies. Even my own family… tried to kill me."
"So I walked away. Married a man I loved…
And when he died, you were born — the greatest thing that ever happened to me."
His tone dropped — low, edged:
— "You gave up your gift… your path to power… for something as fragile as 'family'?"
She smiled, warm as a hearthfire:
— "If you could feel what I feel… just for a second when I look at you…
You'd never ask that question."
He raised an eyebrow, challenging:
— "If time turned back… would you make the same choice?"
Her reply was immediate:
— "Without hesitation."
A heavy silence passed between them.
Then he said, calmly:
— "Enough about the past. Let's focus on the present."
She nodded once, then turned to Larra:
— "Bring him his first metal sword."
As he took the weapon in hand, she turned back to him, her voice crisp and steady:
— "Today… we begin your training in the second level of the Bloody Shadow Legacy."
Then she added, her voice low — almost a whisper:
— "Shadow Rebound."