"Where is Cloudy?"
A sudden silence. Hearing that, Ignis turned to Blaze and let out a sigh.
"Well... about Cloudy, I'll tell you about him now," Ignis began with his heavy tone filled with importance.
"You know... Cloudy isn't just any ordinary magic beast—he's a ruler-type Doid. These creatures are considered one of the ten most powerful magical beings in existence. They are capable of drawing mana directly from the natural world around them. They use their small portion of mana, and that mana attracts natural mana.
As Ignis spoke, his expression darkened. And a shadow of regret crossed his face. "Long ago, the balance of magical power was threatened by the sheer number of ruler-type Doids. Their potential was deemed too great, too unpredictable. An Arch-Magister, fearing what the unchecked might do, commanded the Holy Knights to rid the world of every last one. Each Holy Knight formed squads with twenty Magical Warriors and went into the deep dungeons, friendly dungeons, and labyrinths to diminish these creatures. It was a ruthless purge. And it was believed that not even a single one of them is alive."
Blaze felt a lump form in his throat when he heard about that from Ignis. "Was it that serious? All ten of the Holy Knights themselves had to go? Then... how is Cloudy still alive?" The question spilled from him. He looked shocked.
"I don't know," Ignis admitted. His voice was solemn and heavy with uncertainty. "But if he has managed to survive all this time, then it seems that fate has other plans for him."
"Then, isn't it a problem? If someone knows about Cloudy, what will happen to him?" Blaze's tone was filled with concern.
Blaze grappled with a whirlwind of emotions and swallowed. A part of him felt an overwhelming pride knowing that Cloudy was so unique. But that pride quickly mingled with a deep unease that settled in his chest like a stone. His face darkened.
"Well, it shouldn't be that much of a problem. The purge happened only because of the sheer number of them. But, if he is the lone survivor, then..."
"Where is he now?" Blaze asked. He was desperate.
Then Ignis replied, "Right now... he's too weak. A ruler-type Doid that cannot manage its own mana properly will face dire consequences. If he cannot regulate the flow of mana within him, he'll suffer physically and potentially in ways we cannot fully understand. Like said that day, he could become gravely ill... or worse."
Ignis's voice softened. "So, I decided to send him to a trusted friend of mine. Someone who has the knowledge and skills to help him regain his strength. By the time you see him again, he won't be the same Cloudy you know now." Blaze clenched his fists. He felt a surge of frustration growing within him.
"But... I didn't even get to say goodbye," he stammered. His voice was trembling, and the weight of unexpressed emotions clenching around his heart. Then, he realized this wasn't merely about his own feelings—it was about what Cloudy needed. If his best friend was going to grow stronger and fulfill a destiny that had yet to reveal itself, then Blaze knew he couldn't afford to lag, either.
Blaze took a deep breath. He fought against the lump in his throat and forced himself to meet Ignis's eyes with fierce determination. The sadness in his face burned away. It turned into determination. Though his eyes looked like tears would come out at any moment, he smiled. "Then, I'll train even harder," he said. "Cloudy isn't the only one who's going to get stronger."
Ignis studied him for a moment. Then his eyes sparkled like tears would come out. He turned from Blaze, thinking, "You will be a fine man, Blaze. Keep going. You have something important with you that will help you the most to get stronger." Then he said, "Yeah, you will become the strongest, won't you?"
Blaze knew he wouldn't waste a single moment. When the time came for their reunion, he envisioned himself standing tall beside Cloudy—both of them transformed, stronger than ever before. And ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead together.
Now, about the magical verse...
The Structure of the Magical-Verse
The Magical Verse is a vast expanse of interconnected worlds. Each of them is governed by a strict hierarchy of power and authority. Countless magical worlds exist within this expanse. They are linked by gates and dungeons that allow for travel between them. Gates are actually portals that are magically connected to two worlds through a dungeon. But it is no easy task to travel through these gates. However, this vast system follows a structured order divided into three primary tiers: Greater Worlds, Lesser Worlds, and Sub-Worlds.
The Greater Worlds & The Arch-Magisters
At the pinnacle of authority are the five Greater Worlds. These are the most powerful, influential, and largest realms in the Magical-Verse. Each of those five Greater Worlds is ruled by an Arch-Magister. An Arch-Magister is a being of unmatched magical prowess and wisdom. The Arch-Magisters have absolute control over the laws of the magical realm. And they are the ones who oversee the balance of magical powers throughout the entire magical verse.
Beyond the magical verse, there lies an abyss. An abyss of void. No one knows what lies beyond that. Is there another verse, or is there nothing? It could also be something more interesting. The magic to penetrate that abyss? There is no one, not even one of the Arch-Magisters knows the magic to penetrate that can go further beyond that abyss.
The Lesser Worlds & The Holy Knights
The eight Lesser Worlds are positioned between those five Greater Worlds. They form the main routes between the dominant realms. No one can reach a Greater world without passing the Lesser worlds first. So, they serve as the passageway to a Greater world. Well, high-ranked mages can go from one world to another with teleportation magic. But there are few who can use that magic to cross from one world to another. Each Lesser World is controlled by the Holy Knights. Holy knight is the highest order of magical warriors who act under the direct command of the Arch-Magisters.
The structure follows a strict pattern:
The Greater World One and The Greater World Five can connect with only one Lesser World each, and the other three can connect with two Lesser Worlds each.
Each Lesser World is connected to another Lesser World, forming a bridge between two Greater Worlds.
Two Lesser Worlds always exist between any two Greater Worlds. They create a structured flow of power and travel.
No direct connections exist between Greater Worlds; all travel must pass through two Lesser Worlds.
This structured flow ensures that no single realm can dominate without passing through the ordained hierarchy.
The Sub-Worlds & The Magical Knights
Sub-Worlds can be called the branches of the Lesser Worlds. Those are smaller realms that are interconnected in complex networks. These worlds are governed by Magical Knights. They are powerful enforcers who ensure order and protect the balance within their assigned territories. Each Sub-World has at least one Magical Knight Captain. He acts as the highest authority within that realm and directly reports to the Holy Knight of the Lesser world that is connected with that Sub World.
However, not all Sub-Worlds fall under the jurisdiction of the magical hierarchy. Some exist independently, untouched by the governance of the Magical Knights, creating areas of lawlessness, tyranny, or hidden power that could change the fate of the Magical-Verse.
The Journey Through Worlds
Ascending from a Sub-World to a Lesser World—and ultimately to a Greater World—is an arduous process. The journey can be treacherous, filled with countless dangers lurking in the lesser and ungoverned worlds.
Gates connecting one Lesser World to another are guarded by the magic beasts of the lesser dungeons.
Gates linking a Lesser World to a Greater World are protected by the magic beasts of the Greater Dungeons.
Normal humans cannot survive in a greater dungeon. However, they often accompany Adventurers through Lesser dungeons to travel from one Lesser world to another.
Traveling from a Sub-World to a Lesser World is relatively easy. These gates are often occupied by friendly dungeons. Occasionally, these dungeons may spawn bosses that attack humans, but these bosses are weaker compared to those found in Lesser and Greater dungeons. And also, they are spawned with a time gap of sixty days. So, when the time comes, the guilds take care of it with experienced adventurers.
However, only the strongest warriors, mages, and adventurers can carve their paths upward, seeking power, knowledge, or purpose.
This intricate web of worlds, authority, and power struggles forms the foundation of the Magical-Verse. Only the strongest and the most ambitious of them can rise and take their desired spot.
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Three days passed.
Blaze's body had mostly healed thanks to Ris's magic. But still, the soreness remained. It was a great reminder of all the pains and hardships that he went through and endured. He stood before his master, the old man. He could feel the storm that was coming as training from his master.
This was the true beginning of his sword training.
The old man stood before him with his unwavering stance. He was sharply gazing toward Blaze. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was casting long shadows of the lone big tree and themselves over the training grounds. The pond, now full, rippled softly in the breeze.
"Your training begins now," the old man announced. His voice carried an undeniable weight. "But let me make one thing clear—I will not teach you any of my sword draws or moves."
Blaze blinked in confusion. "Huh?"
The old man folded his arms. "Techniques, footwork, sword forms... I won't spoon-feed you any of it. A true swordsman must carve his path and make his own moves that he is comfortable with. You alone must acquire your techniques. I will only point out the mistakes you are making and the numerous ways you can navigate that challenging path ahead.
Blaze clenched his fists. My path... My techniques.
The words resonated deep within him. He thought back to the many stories he'd heard about legendary warriors. Each of them is forging their own way. They were unshackled by conventional teachings.
"You can never become a true swordsman by copying others' moves. Have you brought your true companion?" the old man asked.
"My true companion?" Blaze echoed. He was uncertain.
"Yes. Your sword. A swordsman's blade is more than just steel—it is their truest ally. It will never betray you or abandon you until death itself claims you." The old man's eyes darkened slightly. "Every named sword possesses a soul of its own. They are alive within their wielder. Until you prove yourself worthy, they will not aid you in your time of need. First, you have to fight alone and prove yourself to your sword. If you can prove it, then you can fight side by side."
Blaze's breath hitched. His father had told him something similar when he first handed him his sword. But he couldn't completely understand the meaning.
"Side by side?"
"You will understand that on your journey."
"Sorry... I didn't bring my sword with me," Blaze admitted. He regretted.
The old man exhaled. Then he turned and picked up a sword from a nearby rack. It was a simple and unadorned blade. It was an ordinary, nameless weapon.
He tossed it toward Blaze. "Then, for now, use this no-name sword," he said.
Blaze caught it, feeling the cold steel against his palm.
"Yes, sir," he said firmly.
Is it different from my sword?
The old man took a step forward. The air around him was shifting. In an instant, his presence became suffocating.
"Now," he said.
"Let us begin."
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Blaze swung his sword with all the strength he could muster. Each of the strikes reverberated with a fierce determination.
"Ha! Ha! Hyaa!" His shouts echoed in the training yard. The blade was slicing through the still air as he focused on perfecting his stance. Each movement felt sharper and more intentional than before. It was a testament to the countless hours that he had dedicated to his training. He could feel it deep within him.
A gruff voice interrupted. "Not like that." And cut through his concentration.
Blaze startled. Blaze turned to find his old master. He was observing him with narrowed, hawkish eyes. The master's presence was authoritative yet encouraging. And Blaze felt a rush of both anxiety and respect.
"Hold the sword with both of your hands. Your dominant hand grips just below the guard while the other supports the pommel. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart. With your lead foot pointing forward. Balance is key. Without it, even the sharpest blade is useless."
"Yes, sir!" Blaze replied. He was eager to adjust his stance under his master's gaze.
"Better. Now, do it until the sun sets," the master commanded. With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. He left Blaze alone with his thoughts and his sword.
Gritting his teeth, Blaze resumed his practice. His strikes were becoming relentless. The sun climbed high in the sky. Hours passed. His arms were burned with fatigue. His fingers were trembling from exertion, and his grip felt unsteady. But he refused to surrender to the exhaustion that he was feeling.
"I can do better," he muttered through clenched teeth. Sweat dripped down his brow and soaked his tunic. As night fell, fatigue finally took its toll. His hands gave out, and with a clatter, the sword slipped from his grasp. It plunged into the earth with a thud.
Blaze collapsed to his knees. He was gasping for breath. His muscles screamed in protest. The weight of fatigue pressed down on him like a heavy cloak.
"Take a break. That's what the old man said," a gentle voice called out. He turned his head and saw Ris approaching. Her face was etched with concern. Her long hair glimmered in the fading light. Her eyes shone with empathy.
"Come here. I'll heal your hands," she insisted. Then she knelt beside him and placed her warm palms over his trembling fingers. Then a soft glow enveloped them.
"By the light of renewal, mend what is torn—Healing Touch!"
As a warm and green light enveloped his hands, the pain began to fade. It was dissipating like mist before the morning sun. Blaze sighed in relief. He was feeling the rejuvenating magic that was coursing through him.
"Thanks, Ris. You're a lifesaver," he replied. A grateful smile shone on his weary face.
Seeing him, Ris blushed. Her cheeks turned a shade deeper as she looked away shyly. "T-t-this is nothing," she stammered. And then, she hurried off into the cool embrace of the night without saying another word.
The next morning, the sun rose with the promise of a new day. Blaze stood before his master. His chest was filled with determination as always.
"Did you bring your sword today?" the old man asked with his steady voice filled with authority.
"Yes, sir." Blaze unsheathed his weapon with pride. The sword's hilt—the bright red surface shimmered like burning amber. And the blade gleamed under the embrace of the morning sun. It was radiating a faint crimson glow that hinted at the power contained within.
The old man's eyes widened. He recognized the blade.
"This sword... Ichikaji Monja. You're not the first one who wields it," he remarked. He looked like he was wrapped in nostalgia.
Blaze stiffened. He was piqued with curiosity. "You know about this sword?" he asked. Saying that, he smiled. The old man nodded slowly, and his expression turned somber.
"A close friend of mine once carried that blade. He was a great swordsman... but even he couldn't prove himself worthy of it. If you wield it, do so with pride. Train until the sword acknowledges you."
Blaze tightened his grip around the hilt, his resolve solidifying. "I will, sir."