Chapter 4
Before the Hunt
The rain came in the early morning.
It was light at first thin, persistent droplets tapping against stone and steel then gradually thickened into a steady curtain that blurred the edges of the Valerius estate.
Kael stood beneath the overhang of the eastern training hall, hands clasped behind his back, watching soldiers continue their drills as if the weather were irrelevant.
No complaints. No hesitation.
Just motion.
That's the difference, he thought. Routine overrides discomfort.
"Rain is good," came a calm voice beside him. "It teaches you which habits are real."
Kael turned.
Lady Mirelle Arkwright held a folded parchment in one hand, her robes protected by a thin layer of soul power that repelled water without fanfare.
"Good morning, Instructor Mirelle."
She nodded. "Walk with me."
They moved along the covered corridor toward the inner halls. Guards saluted as they passed, eyes respectful but curious. Kael noticed it now more than before.
They're watching because I matter, he realized. Not because I'm special but because of the position I'll inherit.
That distinction was important.
They entered a wide chamber lined with bookshelves, display cases, and suspended soul beast skeletons. A faint smell of old parchment and mineral polish filled the air.
The Valerius Tactical Archive.
Mirelle gestured toward a central table.
"Sit."
Kael obeyed.
She laid out the parchment. Diagrams unfolded circulatory charts of the human body, overlays of soul power pathways, and comparative notes between martial soul categories.
"You will begin preparing for your first soul ring," Mirelle said.
Kael's posture straightened slightly.
"Not hunting yet," she added immediately. "Preparation."
"Yes, ma'am."
She studied him for a moment. "Excited?"
Kael considered the question.
"Yes," he said honestly. "But cautiously."
"Good," she replied. "Fearless children die early."
She tapped the parchment.
"Tell me what you know about first soul rings."
Kael answered without pause.
"Optimal age range is six to ten. Soul beast age should not exceed four hundred years, ideally closer to three hundred. Compatibility is more important than raw age."
"Go on."
"Absorption failure occurs when soul power density exceeds meridian capacity, or when the soul beast's nature conflicts with the martial soul's core attribute."
Mirelle nodded. "Acceptable."
She turned the page.
"Now," she said, "your martial soul."
Kael inhaled slowly.
"The Knight," he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "That's a title, not a classification."
Kael corrected himself. "Tool-type core with conceptual overlay. Balanced toward defense, adaptability, and regulation."
"Better."
She reached into a nearby case and withdrew a small crystal orb.
"Release it."
Kael focused.
Soul power surged, controlled, steady.
The air shifted.
A faint, translucent outline appeared behind him.
Not armor.
Not a weapon.
But a presence.
Straight-backed. Centered. Silent.
Mirelle watched closely.
"Interesting," she murmured. "No manifested equipment yet."
Kael nodded. "It responds more to intent than form."
"As expected," she said. "Your martial soul is incomplete by design."
Kael frowned slightly.
"Incomplete?"
"For now," she clarified. "It requires external definition."
She gestured back to the diagrams.
"Which is where soul rings come in."
She pointed to three highlighted paths.
"Your soul rings will not grant flashy attacks," she said. "They will grant structure."
She met his eyes.
"Each ring will define a component of your Knight."
Kael felt a subtle tightening in his chest.
That aligns with my theory, he thought.
"Your first ring," Mirelle continued, "must be simple."
She tapped the page.
"Foundation. Stability. Endurance."
She slid a smaller parchment forward.
Several soul beasts were listed.
Ironhide Boar. Stoneback Tortoise. Grayhorn Elk.
Kael studied them carefully.
"These are all defensive or stamina-oriented," he said.
"Yes."
"But none are humanoid."
Mirelle smiled faintly.
"Very good."
She leaned forward.
"Humanoid soul beasts create resonance instability in young absorbers," she said. "Especially for conceptual martial souls."
Kael nodded.
"So my first ring should anchor my body," he said. "Not my form."
"Exactly."
She paused.
"Tell me your choice."
Kael hesitated not from uncertainty, but from calculation.
"Ironhide Boar offers brute resilience," he said. "But its temper is volatile."
"Correct."
"Stoneback Tortoise offers endurance and defense," he continued. "But its movement stagnates."
"Yes."
"Grayhorn Elk," Kael said slowly, "balances stamina, charge force, and lower-body reinforcement."
Mirelle's eyes sharpened.
"And?"
"And knights rely on footwork," Kael said. "Not just armor."
She smiled.
"Excellent."
She rolled the parchments back up.
"You will recommend Grayhorn Elk to your father," she said. "But you will not decide alone."
That evening, Kael stood in his father's study.
Duke Alaric Valerius sat behind a broad desk, reviewing reports by lantern light. His presence filled the room without aggression quiet authority forged by decades of command.
"Speak," the Duke said without looking up.
Kael bowed.
"I request permission to begin first soul ring preparations."
Alaric set the parchment down.
He looked at his son.
"How did training go?"
"I overestimated my tolerance," Kael replied immediately. "And was corrected."
Alaric's gaze sharpened but he nodded once.
"Good."
Kael continued.
"My instructors recommend a Grayhorn Elk, approximately three hundred years old, for balanced foundational reinforcement."
Alaric leaned back.
"Why not a tortoise?" he asked.
"Because stagnation early will limit adaptability later," Kael said.
"And a boar?"
"Too volatile," Kael replied. "Risk of temperament bleed."
The Duke studied him for a long moment.
Then
"You didn't mention offense."
Kael met his eyes steadily.
"Knights do not rush to strike," he said. "They endure until striking matters."
Silence filled the room.
Then Alaric laughed once, quietly.
"You sound like a Valerius."
He stood.
"Very well," he said. "Preparations will begin in three days."
Kael bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Father."
Alaric paused as Kael turned to leave.
"One more thing."
Kael stopped.
"You are strong for your age," the Duke said. "Innate soul power level nine is not a blessing—it is a responsibility."
"I understand."
"No," Alaric corrected. "You will."
He turned back to his desk.
"Dismissed."
That night, Kael sat alone on his bed.
He removed his boots carefully, setting them in alignment.
His legs still ached faintly.
He closed his eyes and circulated soul power slowly.
Level one, he thought. But dense.
He recalled his previous life memories distant, muted, but still there.
I died once because I was powerless, he thought calmly. I won't repeat that.
But power alone wasn't enough.
Structure. Discipline. Restraint.
He clenched his fist lightly.
"Knight," he whispered.
Something deep within him answered not with strength, but with stillness.