The night had not yet completely died down when Ardyn was still standing in the public arena.
The dark sky was surrounded by thin stars, and the half moon hung like a silver wedge shining into his eyes.
The evening breeze carried the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. The arena which was usually noisy during the day had now turned into a vast space of silence, as if the whole world was deliberately watching the swing of the dark sword in Ardyn's hand.
He turned his wrist slowly, then swung the sword forward.
Every movement was done without any rush, like he was solving a puzzle that only he could see.
No energy gushed from the blade.
No light. But the air seemed to give way and make room every time the sword moved through a certain line. Like water moving away from a falling stone.
Ardyn doesn't think that's strength. For him it is a pattern, a tendency, a response. Something that can be learned, not something to be afraid of.
Light footsteps sounded from the direction of the arena door. Leira Mooncrest, one of the middle class students, came in with a soft breath.
The girl often goes to the night arena to train her focus and avoid crowds. Her black hair was tied loosely and her eyes were immediately fixed on the black sword moving in the moonlight.
Leira stopped. "You should rest."
Ardyn didn't take his eyes off her movements. "A break doesn't fix anything."
Leira raised her eyebrows slightly. "Then there's not much I can say."
He stood at the edge of the arena, watching. Leira is the type of conscientious student.
He watched Ardyn's every move, not because he was worried, but because the movement did not match the usual beginner's technique.
There was a precision that was difficult to explain, as if Ardyn was not copying someone else's movements, but looking for his own path.
A moment later, Leira spoke quietly. "Your movements are not like those of someone without meridians."
Ardyn stopped for a moment, then lowered his sword. "Meridians don't determine everything."
Leira didn't argue. He just nodded slowly, as if accepting something he had never thought of.
While Ardyn was swinging the sword in the arena, in a different place, Elder Sylen was standing in front of the door of Lord Gaius' residence,
carrying a scroll of notes he found in the archives. The night wind brushed his robes. Sylen knocked once, and the sound of Gaius' footsteps came closer.
Gaius opened the door. "You found something."
Sylen handed over the scroll with both hands. "That sword… is probably not an ordinary artifact."
Gaius opened the scroll slowly. Old writing covered the surface of the worn paper.
Words like nameless swords, objects that don't follow meridians, and attachment to will were written in faded ink.
Gaius read it carefully. "This is not what Renar wanted to hear."
"I didn't bring it for Renar," Sylen answered.
Gaius propped the scroll on a small table near the door. "If the sword is truly as written, then we can't consider it an ordinary inanimate object."
Sylen nodded. "Tomorrow morning, we have to talk again. I want you to see for yourself what I found."
Gaius closed the door with a gloomy face, realizing that something was moving beyond the clan's plans.
In the arena, Ardyn was still practicing when the sound of another step entered the area. This time it's heavier, faster and more numerous.
Three students emerge from the darkness: Ravel Thornborne, Nellian Farglow, and Hester Crowlin. The three of them are known to like looking for trouble when they are not supervised by instructors.
Ravel spoke first. "This arena is for official students. Not for... failures."
Nellian nodded while glancing at the dark sword with a cheeky look. Hester glared at the sword and said, "Your sword even looks like grave iron."
Ardyn looked at them one by one, not with anger, but with judgment. He already knew that no one was brave enough to truly challenge him.
"I'm not getting in anyone's way," Ardyn said calmly. "If you want to use the arena, just use it."
But Ravel was actually offended by the calmness. "You are not allowed to train with weapons. Elder forbids people who do not have official channels."
"No elder forbade me," answered Ardyn. "Lord Gaius even let me carry this sword."
The three students were silent for a moment. Hester swallowed hard and whispered, "If Gaius had let it go, we wouldn't have had to interfere."
Ravel wanted to reply, but ultimately decided to leave with an annoyed face. Nellian and Hester followed behind. There was no fighting, but there was a small change in the dynamics of the clan disciples. No one had ever seen Ardyn answer back like that before.
Leira looked at their backs then back at Ardyn. "You're making them nervous."
Ardyn raised his sword. "Sometimes people are nervous just because they don't know what they're looking at."
Leira didn't argue. He chose to remain silent and returned to the corner of the arena.
Morning arrived with a thin mist covering the land. Ardyn was still in the arena, his eyes were a little heavy, but his body was still moving.
His breathing was steady. Every now and then he stopped to understand the small differences in the streaks of the wind.
Elder Sylen appeared at the arena door. His presence made several students who came earlier wide-eyed. Sylen rarely leaves the archives, let alone comes to the training arena.
Sylen approached Ardyn. "Your swing isn't bad for someone without meridians."
Ardyn stopped and lowered his sword. "Techniques can be learned even if the body is not filled with current."
Sylen smiled faintly. "That sounds like something Arcanist Lorian would say."
Ardyn looked at him. "You mentioned a name from the past."
Sylen explains about the note he found. Ardyn listened quietly.
"What did you find good or bad?" Ardyn asked.
"There's no answer yet," Sylen answered. "But one thing is certain. Your sword is not trash. But there is a reason why it was forgotten."
Ardyn nodded slowly. "What is forgotten is usually more dangerous than what is remembered."
Sylen looked at him more seriously. "You're not wrong."
He then said that he would arrange a meeting between Ardyn and Gaius tonight in the inner training room. They wanted to test the sword further.
Meanwhile, rumors spread quickly among the clan's residents. In the training kitchen, Mariel Sunspark had heard that Ardyn's sword could "shake the air".
Gareth Mornblade, the martial arts instructor, thought it was a joke, but asked for a report from the training guard anyway. Ilra Fenvale began looking for regulations on the use of weapons without a permit.
Renar Vale, as soon as he heard the rumors, immediately frowned. "The dark sword has a bad influence. We have to stop Ardyn before the clan loses focus."
Brom leaned back in his chair. "Don't rush. If Gaius hasn't made a decision, nothing should be touched."
Renar clenched his fists. "Gaius was too gentle with him."
Mirra Thorncrest looked at Renar with sharp eyes. "A gentle one isn't Gaius. You're only afraid of what you can't measure."
Renar fell silent, and the tension between the elders grew like the tendrils of a wild plant.
That afternoon, Ardyn returned to the arena. The evening sun gave off an orange light that made the dark sword look even darker. He swung the sword swiftly, and once again the air parted as if split by something invisible.
Ardyn stared at the dark blade. "It's not force. It's not current. It's response."
Elsewhere, Sylen explains ancient records in more detail to Gaius. The clan leader listened without interrupting, his eyes narrowed considering the risks and possibilities.
"If the sword responds to will," Gaius said slowly, "and Ardyn doesn't have meridians as boundaries, then it can become a variable."
Sylen nodded. "Variables can be a threat. Or an answer."
Gaius stared at the scroll for a long time. "Prepare an inner training room tonight. I want to see the direction of the sword for myself."
Night began to fall. Ardyn was still in the arena, sword in hand, his body adjusting to the direction of the wind.
Small changes have begun. No one knew where it would lead, but Ardyn's every move and every elder's decision led the clan towards something they had never before faced.
Ardyn's steps continued the line of his fate. And behind it all, the nameless sword remained silently waiting for its next destination.