Kael stirred in his bed.
"Please, Kael, I don't want to die...please save me" Elara said as she was bleeding out in his arms.
"No, no, no, no, don't leave me, Elara!"
Kael woke up sweating.
"huff, huff, another nightmare..." Kael said as he looked at his hands, there was no blood—her blood.
it was just a nightmare, Kael, relax. He thought to himself.
I miss you so much Elara...
*******
The morning sun filtered through the canopy, scattering light across the clearing in fractured beams. The dew clung to the grass, sparkling faintly, and the air smelled of earth and pine. Kael sat cross-legged, core pulsing in quiet rhythm, feeling the silver-blue light swirl gently within him.
The cursed sword leaned against a nearby tree, dark and silent, its hum faint, almost curious. Kael could feel it now, not as a predator, but as a shadow waiting to move with him. The old man stood a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, watching patiently.
"Today," the master said, voice calm, "you learn control. Not just of your Essence, but of your bond with the sword. It will not harm you if you do not let it. But it will test your focus, your will, your clarity. Do you understand?"
"Do you know that when you start repeating the same way of speaking it sounds cringe and weird?" Kael asked him.
"For the past few days , you were like 'today you'll learn that, today and today'."
The old man coughed in embarrassment. "Shut up."
"Do you understand what I just said?"
Kael nodded, gripping the hilt. The sword felt heavier than yesterday, but not oppressive. Its energy brushed against his Essence like a hesitant current. He exhaled and let the silver-blue threads of his power flow through his arms and into the blade.
The first attempt was awkward. The sword pulsed, dark aura brushing against the flowing light of Kael's Essence. It was like two rivers meeting at a stubborn bend—pushing, pulling, adjusting. The blade vibrated faintly, but not violently. Kael felt the resonance rather than the hunger.
"Guide it," the master instructed. "Do not force. Let your Essence meet it, not clash."
Kael closed his eyes and focused inward, imagining his core's light merging with the dark hum of the sword. He pictured the currents intertwining, silver-blue flowing alongside shadowy tendrils. Slowly, the sword adapted, its aura softening, matching the rhythm of his pulse.
He thrust forward, feeling the blade align with the flow of his Essence. It moved as though it had weight and purpose, but also understanding. The sword no longer tugged, no longer screamed—only hummed in gentle acceptance.
"Good," the master murmured. "Now move. Sweep, strike, let your Essence guide it."
Kael did. He slashed, spun, and pivoted, each motion deliberate. The sword followed, its dark aura coiling and spiraling around his silver-blue energy. With each strike, the currents harmonized further, and for the first time, Kael felt a faint thrill: power that was his, flowing freely, fully.
Hours passed in motion and meditation. Kael's arms ached, his legs trembled, but his core pulsed steadily. The sword's hunger had not vanished, but it had learned to echo his intent instead of forcing its own. Every strike, every swing, every parry was an extension of himself.
He raised the sword to the sky, sending a pulse of Essence along the edge. The clearing trembled faintly as silver-blue light danced along the blade, interwoven with the dark hum of its cursed aura. The sword responded, flowing, bending, coiling around his control rather than breaking it.
The master stepped closer, inspecting Kael's posture and form. "See how it follows you now? It no longer resists because you no longer fear it. Fear makes the Essence unstable. Doubt breaks resonance. But you… you are beginning to harmonize."
Kael breathed heavily, sweat running down his brow, but his eyes burned with determination. He felt the sword's dark pulse merge with his own light, forming a rhythm that was neither wholly his nor wholly the weapon's, but something new—a living resonance.
"Again," the master said. "And this time, focus on your limbs. Let the flow reach the tips of your fingers, your toes. Your Essence is a river; the sword is a channel. Let it guide, but do not drown in it."
Kael adjusted his stance. The silver-blue light extended through his veins, reaching his hands, arms, legs, and feet. The sword followed. He thrust forward, spinning low, sweeping high. Every movement sent ripples of energy across the clearing. The cursed aura wrapped itself around his Essence like water hugging a stone, neither harming nor overwhelming him.
He felt alive in a way he never had before. The sword was no longer a curse pressing down on him; it was a challenge, a partner, a reflection of his will. And he had learned its rhythm.
The master watched silently, nodding occasionally. "Control, focus, and patience. That is the trinity of cultivation. You are learning faster than most. Remember this: a sword that feeds on fear is deadly. A sword that responds to harmony… is unstoppable."
Kael exhaled, feeling a surge of clarity. He swung the blade in a wide arc, Essence singing through it, dark and light coiling together in perfect symmetry. The ground trembled, leaves rustled, and even the distant forest seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Kael lowered the sword, chest heaving, core glowing steadily. The cursed aura had not disappeared—it had adapted, merged, learned. And for the first time, Kael felt a bond with it. Not ownership. Not mastery. But resonance.
The master stepped forward and placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "You've done well today. You have harmonized with a weapon that devours weakness, a core that amplifies power, and your own will. That is no small feat."
Kael lowered his gaze, hands still gripping the hilt. "It didn't fight me," he said softly. "It… listened."
The master's eyes twinkled faintly. "It always does, when the wielder is worthy. But remember—this is just the beginning. Essence will grow. The sword will grow. And so will you. If you falter, it will remind you. If you succeed, it will follow you. You are not alone in this path. But you are responsible."
Kael nodded, heart still racing. He lifted the sword once more, letting the silver-blue and dark hum flow through him. Every motion was controlled, deliberate. Every strike resonated, every sweep harmonized.
For the first time, he felt power without fear. Power without hunger. And with it, a whisper of promise: that he could forge his own path, even with the cursed sword at his side.
The clearing fell silent again, the morning sun bathing him in light. The sword pulsed gently against his grip, its dark hunger now tempered, patient, and strangely… obedient.
Kael exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. He was no longer merely surviving. He was beginning to become something more.
And this time, the cursed blade would not stop him.
I wish you were here to see this...
******
Kael thought of something. what if... would it actually work?
He turned to his master.
Kael tightened his grip on the hilt, feeling the pulse of his core echoing through his veins. The silver-blue Essence coiled around the sword's dark aura, a river of light and shadow flowing as one. He had resisted fear, embraced focus, and now… it was time to test the results.
"Master," Kael said, voice steady though charged with excitement, "I want to try something. A strike. A technique. I want to see if I can… control it offensively."
The old man nodded slowly. "Very well. But remember—the sword is still learning you as much as you are learning it. Respect the flow. Let it guide you, not dominate."
Kael shifted his stance, planting his feet firmly in the dew-soaked grass. He imagined his core's light as a spring, flowing outward through his limbs, through the sword, and then beyond—into the air in front of him.
He exhaled sharply. "Essence strike," he whispered.
The blade responded immediately. The cursed aura coiled around the silver-blue Essence, forming a visible thread of energy along the edge. It was as if the sword itself had extended, becoming more than metal—a conduit of will, an extension of Kael's very being.
He swung. Slowly at first, testing the flow. The tip of the sword glimmered with intertwined light and shadow, slicing through the air with a faint hum. The grass bent, dew scattering like sparks. The master's eyes gleamed with approval.
"Now faster. Focus on the channel, not the strike," the master instructed.
Kael adjusted, letting the Essence ripple through his arms and shoulders. He swung again—faster, sharper. The energy coalesced at the tip of the blade, forming a thin, glimmering arc that followed the sword's path. When it cut through the air, it left a brief streak of light and shadow, like a ribbon dancing in the wind.
The first true offensive strike was terrifyingly beautiful. Kael felt his muscles burn, his core pulsing fiercely, but the sword moved as if it were a living partner, bending, twisting, responding to his intent.
He tried a second swing, this time aiming to send a burst of energy outward without touching the earth. The silver-blue Essence flared, coiling along the blade, and then surged forward in a wave. The dark aura of the sword twisted with it, tempering the force, containing the release.
The result was spectacular: a blade-shaped wave of intertwined light and darkness sliced through the air, leaving a glowing trail suspended for a heartbeat before fading. The clearing itself seemed to vibrate with the residual Essence.
Kael's chest heaved, sweat dripping into his eyes, but he could feel something new: control, raw and exhilarating. The sword no longer threatened to overpower him—it amplified him. His first true strike, fueled by both Essence and the cursed blade, had been a success.
The master stepped closer, eyes scanning every motion. "Excellent. Do you feel it?"
Kael nodded, gripping the sword tighter. "It's… alive. Not just the sword—my Essence. Together, they feel like… like we're one."
The master's lips curved faintly. "Correct. Harmony is power. Power is dangerous when divided. You've learned to flow with the sword, not against it. But do not mistake this for mastery. This is only the first step. There will be resistance, temptation, and hunger. And the sword… it will remind you of it."
Kael swung again, experimenting. He twisted, shifted his weight, releasing smaller bursts of energy with precise control. The blade cut arcs in the air, the Essence following his intent exactly. The air hummed, the energy thrummed through his veins, and Kael laughed aloud—a sound of pure exhilaration, unburdened by fear.
The master shook his head, amused. "Child, you do not need to shout. Control the power, do not let it control you. And yet…" His gaze softened, almost imperceptibly, "you are ready to begin real training. These first strikes show promise. Your Essence responds to your will. The sword… respects it."
Kael lowered the sword, breathing heavily but feeling alive in a way he had never known. The sun glinted off the blade, and the silver-blue pulse of his core flowed visibly along the sword's edge. He could sense it resonating in tandem with his heartbeat, his breath, even his thoughts.
"Next," the master said, voice calm but firm, "we will begin practicing combinations. Strikes, spins, thrusts. Flowing through circuits, never stopping the Essence. You will learn endurance, precision, and harmony under continuous stress."
Kael nodded. He felt ready. For the first time, he felt capable of not just surviving, but fighting—and winning—not just with the sword, but with himself.
He closed his eyes, visualizing the flow of light and shadow again. The core pulsed brighter, the sword responded in kind. He could feel the circuits he had formed yesterday: core to heart, to mind, through arms and legs, back to core. Every swing now activated those channels, every thrust reinforced the network of Essence in his body.
For the first time, he understood the true weight of the master's words: control and harmony create power that cannot be matched by strength alone.
Hours passed as the clearing became their private arena. Kael practiced, experimented, pushed the limits of the sword and his Essence together. Small bursts of energy crackled along the grass; dew scattered; beams of light shimmered in the air. And with each motion, the cursed sword adapted, its dark aura bending seamlessly to his will.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, Kael collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, hands still glowing faintly with the pulse of his core. The master stood silently, watching, and then finally spoke.
"You have done well today. You have moved beyond simple circulation. You have harmonized with a weapon of hunger. You have made your Essence and the cursed sword flow as one. This is no small accomplishment."
Kael lowered his head, sweat mixing with dirt and blood from small cuts on his hands. "I… I can feel it. The sword… it doesn't fight me anymore. It's… different."
The master's eyes gleamed with approval. "Yes. But remember, this harmony is fragile. A moment of doubt, a hint of fear, and it will test you. Always respect the sword. Always respect your Essence. And never, ever underestimate what lies ahead."
Kael nodded, determination burning in his chest. He lifted the sword one last time, feeling the intertwined light and shadow surge along the edge. A single arc of Essence stretched outward, lingering in the clearing like a promise.
For the first time, Kael felt power without fear, without hunger, without doubt. The cursed blade was no longer a threat—it was a partner. And together, they would forge a path through whatever lay ahead.
[[hoh? This brat is actually doing it? I guess he was not wrong after all...]] an unknown voice spoke, neither Kael nor his master could hear it.