Black Steel Takes Form
The forest did not grow silent because of fear.
It grew silent because something solemn had descended.
A deep yellow soul ring hovered above the corpse of the Grayhorn Elk, rotating slowly, its thickness steady and controlled. Three hundred years precise, deliberate, chosen with calculation rather than impulse.
Kael stood before it.
Six years old.
Level 9 soul power.
Born of a Duke's blood.
Yet at this moment, none of those labels mattered.
Only whether he could bear the weight of his path.
Captain Jorvan Holt's voice was low and sharp. "Once you begin absorption, there is no retreat. If your body collapses, we will end it instantly."
Kael nodded.
"I understand."
Behind him, Duke Alaric Valerius stood unmoving, hands clasped behind his back. His presence pressed down on the clearing like an unseen mountain. No soul rings were released none were needed.
"If you fail," Alaric said calmly, "you die cleanly."
Kael knelt.
"Yes, Father."
The moment Kael released his martial soul, the temperature dropped.
It was subtle.
But unmistakable.
Dark soul power surged not violently, not chaotically but compressed, dense like iron forced into shape.
Black-red lines appeared along Kael's legs, jagged yet symmetrical, like veins of molten metal carved into flesh.
Mirelle's breath caught.
"…That's not light-aspected soul power."
Jorvan's eyes narrowed. "Nor berserk."
It was disciplined darkness.
The soul ring descended.
Pain did not erupt.
It invaded.
The will of the Grayhorn Elk slammed into Kael's lower body, trying to crush, trample, and dominate. His meridians screamed as foreign soul power forced its way inward.
Kael's teeth clenched.
Blood trickled down his chin.
The black-red lines flared
And metal formed.
Greaves manifested first.
Not bright steel, not ceremonial armor but blackened plate, angular and brutal, wrapping tightly around his shins and calves. Crimson cracks ran through the surface like cooled lava, pulsing faintly with soul power.
Clang.
The sound echoed like a judgment.
Kael's legs buckled
Then locked.
The ground beneath his feet fractured slightly as the armor anchored itself, forcing his stance into absolute stability.
Jorvan swore under his breath.
"That armor… it's suppressing recoil."
Mirelle whispered, "No it's enforcing posture."
The soul ring pressed harder.
Kael's vision darkened.
His instinct screamed to release everything.
No.
He forced his soul power inward.
Power without control is meaningless.
The armor responded.
The crimson veins dimmed, stabilizing. Excess force was absorbed, redirected, ground into endurance rather than destruction.
Seconds stretched.
Then
The soul ring shattered into golden fragments and fused.
Kael remained kneeling.
Black steel greaves wrapped his legs completely now, boots reinforced with serrated edges and heavy soles etched with grounding patterns. They looked real not spiritual illusions, but forged existence.
A yellow soul ring rose beneath him.
Stable.
Obedient.
Captain Jorvan exhaled sharply. "Absorption complete."
Alaric's aura withdrew.
"Stand," he commanded.
Kael rose slowly.
As he stood, something new happened.
Soul power surged upward
And a weapon manifested.
Black steel flowed from Kael's right hand, condensing into a long, jagged knight's blade, its edge glowing faint crimson as if heat still lingered beneath the surface. The sword was not ornate, but brutal made to kill, not display.
The air itself seemed heavier.
Several soldiers instinctively took a step back.
Jorvan's voice was strained. "Weapon manifestation… alongside fixed armor?"
Mirelle swallowed. "No. The weapon isn't permanent."
Kael lifted the blade slightly.
"Knight's Armament," he said quietly.
The sword hummed, then dissolved into crimson motes, sinking back into his armor.
Only the greaves remained.
Visible.
Dormant.
Unyielding.
"This is my first soul skill," Kael continued. "Fixed equipment lower body armor."
He took one step forward.
Thud.
The sound was heavy.
Not loud.
Authoritative.
Leaves flattened. Dust settled. The forest acknowledged his presence.
"Skill Name," Alaric said.
Kael's gaze was steady.
"Black Iron Foundation."
Later, Kael sat alone, notebook resting against his knee.
The blackened greaves remained visible even without activation, faint crimson lines pulsing slowly like a heartbeat.
He wrote.
First Soul Ring Record
Type: Fixed Equipment (Lower Body Black Knight Greaves)
Visibility: Persistent
Effect: Absolute stance stabilization, recoil suppression
Secondary Manifestation: Temporary weapon projection (Knight's Armament)
Compatibility: Extremely high
He paused, then added:
Hypothesis: Martial souls with conceptual discipline can materialize structure before power.
Alaric approached.
"You chose a heavy path," the Duke said.
Kael closed the notebook.
"A knight without weight," he replied, "is just a man holding steel."
Alaric studied the black armor for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Rest. Tomorrow, the world will begin to notice you."
Kael leaned back, exhaustion pulling him under.
The black steel greaves felt heavy.
But steady.
This was not protection.
This was commitment.
And once worn
A knight does not remove his armor.