Morning Training.
The warm morning sun filtered gently through the silk curtains of Orion's room, casting soft gold over the polished wooden floor. He stirred awake, groggy at first, before sitting up with a calm breath.
Then, Orion moved from his bed, Last night's banquet image still danced in his mind —laughter, music, food and the glow of lanterns.
He freshened up, splashing cold water over his face. Then, tying back his white-blue hair after change in comfortable training robe. As he made his way downstairs, the mansion was oddly quiet.
"Mother and Mother Sera must still be asleep... and look like Elara too," he murmured, glancing at the empty dining table.
He didn't blame them—the banquet had gone on late into the night, filled with nobles, dancing, and good foods. But unlike them, Orion's soul itched for the morning training.
Orion grabbed his sword—a sleek, cold-silver blade imbued with subtle enchantments as he stepped out into the crisp air and walked toward the estate's training hall. Morning dew clung to the grass, glistening like tiny gems under the light.
As he neared the large oak doors of the hall, he paused.
Swish. Swish. Clang.
There was movement inside. The unmistakable rhythm of steel dancing.
Someone was already training.
Orion frowned. Only a few ever used the hall this early morning.
Curious, he pushed the doors open—only to halt mid-step.
At the centre of the vast stone-floored arena stood alone figure—Lysandra Voss.
She wore a snug green and silver training outfit that accentuated her toned frame, the fabric hugging the curves of her waist and hips. Her long blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, swaying with each movement. Emerald-green eyes glowed with fierce focus. Her skin glistened slightly with sweat, and her movements were as graceful as they were lethal.
In her hands danced a silver longsword, its blade catching light like crystal. With each swing, a faint green aura pulsed around the edge of the weapon, rippling through the air like a gentle breeze.
Orion's eyes narrowed, recognizing the phenomenon.
Elemental resonance… it only performed by cultivator of reached Apprentice -level in cultivation.
At the Apprentice level, cultivators began to harmonize with the elemental forces of nature. This harmony let them channel elemental energy with help of mana cultivator enhancing their martial techniques. In the world of Eldora, seven elements formed the foundation of cultivation—Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, Thunder, Holy, and Dark. Most began with one, mastering it slowly before exploring others.
Lysandra's blade, surrounded by the gentle whisper of wind, marked her alignment.
"Air element... no wonder her sword moment like a breeze." Orion comment on his mind.
Her strikes were elegant yet lethal, each slash a blend of speed and precision. She spun, the green aura intensifying, and drove her sword down with a sharp whoosh that echoed through the arena.
She paused, sensing his presence, and turned.
"Ah, Lord Orion," she said, slightly breathless but still composed. "Good morning."
Orion blinked, snapping out of his thought.
"Good morning, Miss Voss," he replied, stepping inside the training hall.
"I thought everyone would sleep to late morning after such a grand banquet of night like my both mothers and sister," he added, stepping closer.
Lysandra laughed softly. "I rarely skip morning practice," she said, stretching slightly, her body moving with natural elegance. "Discipline is everything. It keeps the body sharp—and the mind sharper."
Orion nodded in agreement. "That's show in your swordplay and… Your swordplay really impressive."
She thanked him for his comment then, her eyes drifted to the sword at his hand. "So, you're here to practice too?"
"Yes." Orion said. "Morning training is habit of mine as well."
"Am I intruding, then?"
"Not at all," Orion smiled. "The arena is big enough to host a small army —we have plenty of space to train without crossing blades."
She nodded lightly, lowering her sword "Then I'll stay on this side. Don't worry, I won't get in your way."
He gave a polite nod and walked to the far side of the arena.
Drawing his sword, Orion closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the silence to settle in his soul.
Void Edge—his primary technique—was powerful, but it demanded a toll on the body. Of its seven strikes, his current physique could only allow use him the first three strike of Void Edge Technique.
He needed a new Technique —something sustainable. Then, technique from his past life came to mind.
"Sword Splash."
A technique crafted for novices or Apprentice level cultivator but refined for warriors with grace. Unlike traditional forms of swords that focused on overwhelming force, this one emphasized fluidity, momentum, and the natural rhythm of sword like water.
He took his stance.
Legs rooted.
Arms relaxed.
Then, he closed his eyes, channelling his mana into his arms, letting his body recall movements once etched into muscle and spirit.
One step forward.
A graceful horizontal slash—like a river meeting rock.
A vertical strike—a crashing waterfall.
A spinning arc—like droplets dancing in wind.
He moved like flowing water, adapting his steps to the beat of his own breath. Each motion glided into the next. Though simple in essence, the form held power in its smooth, unbroken transitions.
This was the beauty of Sword Splash. For early-stage cultivators, it was invaluable—it didn't tax mana reserves, instead relying on timing and form. And more importantly, it built muscle memory.
Orion lost himself in the flow, his mind clear, his body dancing.
Unbeknownst to him, Lysandra had stopped her own practice. Her sword now rested against her shoulder, and her eyes were fixed on him.
On the other side, Lysandra's green eyes followed his every motion.
"His movements… so refined. So precise…" she thought.
In Voss Imperial Academy, she'd seen hundreds of sword styles. Some were brutal. Some elegant. But Orion's technique felt… alive. His moment like flowed of a water, a perfect sink between sword and body. There were no wasted motions. No excess flair. Just beauty. It wasn't just strength.
"He doesn't just swing a sword," she thought. "He speaks with every moment of sword."
The way he spun his sword. The clean transitions. The sheer focus in his blue eyes.
She stopped her own practice, lost in seeing his swordplay.
When Orion completed a full cycle and exhaled, a round of clapping echoed from across the hall.
He turned, surprised.
Lysandra approached, clapping slowly, her gaze full for admiration for him.
"Lord Orion… your swordplay is superb; I've never seen a sword art quite like that."
Orion blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Thank you. It's just a normal technique which I read in some ancient book of swordplay."
"Don't downplay it," she said in little firmly voice. "It's more than just technique — there was something special in this swordplay moment. Grace. Intent. Like this technique carries heart and own emotions."
Orion looked at her, genuinely surprised. he didn't expect from her to know about heart and emotion of swordplay. "You speak as though you truly understand it."
"I do," Lysandra replied, I read in ancient book of our Voss imperial academy and heard story my late father. "Swordplay isn't just about power—it's about emotion and story. And in yours moment I saw both."
He smiled, appreciating the compliment more than he expected.
She stopped a few steps away from him. "May I ask something?"
Orion sheathed his sword slowly, his tone gentle. "Of course."
Lysandra took a step closer, her emerald-green eyes shimmering with something unreadable. "Then... would you teach me that sword technique?"
Orion's eyes widened. "You want me to teach you?"
"I know it's sudden," she said quickly, but before he could respond, she quickly added, lifting her hands slightly in an appeasing gesture. "Don't take it the wrong way, Lord Orion. I'll pay—whether in coin, a rare sword from my family collection, or even high-grade pills. Just name your price."
He stared at her, genuinely surprised. The technique she asked about—Sword Splash—was something he had created and learned in his first year of cultivation during his past life. It held little value now, especially after he had wielded divine techniques capable of splitting mountains. Yet... hearing her offer to trade such treasures for it made him pause.
Lysandra noticed his silence and bit her lower lip. "If it's not enough, I can increase the offer. I didn't mean to offend you."
Orion shook himself from his thoughts, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, that's not it." He shook his head lightly. "You don't need to pay."
She blinked. "...What?"
"I'll teach you for free," Orion said simply.
A long moment of silence passed between them. The air, once light with the sound of training, now felt still. Lysandra's brows lifted in disbelief.
"You're serious?" she asked, watching him carefully.
He met her gaze. "Yes. Miss Voss, you're a guest in the Vale household right now. And here, it's our duty to fulfil the wishes of our guests—as long as they don't harm us or cross any moral boundaries. And your wish... is perfectly in boundaries."
Lysandra stood quietly, searching his expression. Then, after a breath, she smiled—a genuine, soft smile in gratitude that made her emerald eyes glimmer like dew-kissed leaves.
"Then... thank you, Lord Orion." Her voice was gentle, touched with something sincere. "I won't forget this kindness."
Orion nodded. "If you ever want to repay me, just keep practicing with heart. That's enough."
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, gentler than before.
"Very well. I give you my word, Lord Orion— If you ever need my help, in battle or in another stuff, call on me. I'll come —no matter where you are."
Their eyes met and examine each other for some time. Then, Orion gave a small nod. "Alright. Let's begin."
She straightened, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, suddenly every bit the focused swordswoman again. "What's the name of that technique?"
"Sword Splash."
She tilted her head slightly. "Why that name?"
"Because when performed correctly," Orion said, lifting his sword, "it mimics the elegance of water striking stone—fluid, rhythmic, yet powerful enough to break through defence."
He stepped back and began his explanation. "The foundation lies in balance and momentum. You don't resist the flow of movement; you become part of it. You don't force your blade through the air—you let the energy carry it."
Lysandra watched with keen eyes as he demonstrated the stance again, slower this time.
"Step forward, move your foot slightly... keep your centre aligned." He moved in a seamless dance, his blade tracing soft arcs. "See how the body shifts weight? That's the rhythm. You must feel it—not just mimic."
She nodded. "Like water adapting to the shape of its container."
"Exactly."
When he stopped, he turned to her. "Now you try."
Lysandra took her stance, mimicking his posture. "Like this?"
"Not quite," he said, stepping closer. "Loosen your shoulder. Your grip—too tight. And this leg..." He gently nudged her foot into position.
She looked up at him, their proximity suddenly apparent. His calm focus, the heat of his hand brushing hers, made her heart skip—but she quickly steadied herself. "Right. Loosen. Adapt."
Orion stepped back. "Try again."
She moved. Her sword sliced the air with more grace this time, the motion almost fluid.
"Better," he said. "Let it flow more."
Lysandra adjusted, trying again—and again. A few minutes passed in silence, broken only by her practiced breaths and the faint sound of her blade cutting air.
"You're a quick learner," Orion finally said. "Most struggle with the rhythm."
Lysandra gave a faint grin, breathless but pleased. "We have many sword techniques at the academy, but this technique feels... different. Like the technique itself has life."
Orion nodded; eyes thoughtful. "Because it's not just about technique. It's about sink of Body and mind. Don't look sword as only a tool—it's an extension of way for sawing your emotions."
She paused, studying him and said with light smile. "You speak like you already reached a master swordsman realm."
He looked away, think how tell her in his past life he not only master swordman but few step away from reaching grandmaster swordman realm. But He said her, "I just read in ancient book and learn for them."
She looks him, and think if someone have in his place, that person confirm brag about sword art and try impress her but Orion is different, he slightly brushes her compliment and tech her swordplay with full earnest way, her admiration for him increases little again.
"I think I'm starting to get it," Lysandra said. "Want me to try a full cycle?"
Orion nodded. "Go ahead."
She moved, drawing the blade in smooth arcs, this time completing the seven-strike sequence. Her final motion sent a faint breeze sweeping through the training hall.
When she stopped, Orion clapped once, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not bad, Miss Voss. You're nearly there."
Lysandra turned, smiled slightly on his comment. "Coming from you, that means something."
Their eyes met—two swords, drawn yet sheathed, understanding without needing words.
Their eyes met in mutual respect.