The banners of the Royal Academy of Blades flew high over the cliffs of Vel Serin, the capital of the Empire of Auraleth.
Gold-threaded, edged in midnight blue, they bore a single sigil:
A sword driven through the sun.
Aelric had seen the symbol a hundred times in books.
But now, riding the crest of a hill on his black steed Nightram, he saw it in the flesh—forged from mana-light and history.
And it stole his breath.
> [Quest Objective: Arrive at Royal Academy of Blades - IN PROGRESS]
[Optional Goal: Reach 2nd Grade Cultivation - 78%]
He rode alone, dressed in black leather reinforced with light plate, his sword wrapped at his side. A small pack rested behind his saddle. His wound from the Frostshade Cat had nearly healed thanks to his increased vitality. The scar it left would be a reminder—his first real mark of the path he walked.
He smiled bitterly.
It wouldn't be the last.
Aelric had traveled three days along the King's Spine Road, the largest route connecting the eastern noble dominions to the central empire. Merchant caravans rumbled past pulled by mana-bred oxen. Banners of noble houses fluttered on armored carriages.
Knights rode patrol in shining helms.
Cultivators in embroidered robes glided across the stones, feet untouched by dust.
He was no longer in the quiet reaches of Thalorion.
This was the Heartland—where power moved like wind, and the strong bent the rules like blades.
On the fourth day, just past Greybarrel Wood, Aelric spotted a column of smoke twisting into the sky.
He slowed Nightram to a halt.
He knew what smoke like that meant. Campfire? Maybe.
But too thick. Too wild.
He dismounted, tied his reins, and crept toward the rise.
What he saw made his hands curl into fists.
A merchant wagon had been overturned. A noble's crest—House Erlan—lay scorched in the dirt. Two guards bled out near the wheels. A woman sobbed beside a collapsed driver. And standing among them…
Three figures in black and rusted iron.
Raiders.
One was already dragging a girl by the wrist.
Aelric moved.
> [Quest Triggered: "Uphold the Blade's Honor"]
[Objective: Defeat Bandits, Protect Civilians]
[Reward: +System Points, +Reputation, Unknown]
He sprinted into the clearing.
"Let her go!" he shouted, blade already in hand.
The bandits turned, laughing.
The largest one stepped forward, gripping a cleaver.
"Little princeling wants to play hero?"
Aelric didn't answer. His body moved before his thoughts did.
> [Bladeborn Form – Tier II Activated]
[Technique: Crescent Fang Slash]
He leapt.
His blade sang through the air in a shimmering crescent.
The bandit raised his cleaver—too slow. Steel met steel. Sparks flew.
The cleaver snapped in half.
Blood followed.
The brute fell without a word.
The second bandit lunged. Aelric spun low, slicing through his leg tendons, then rising in a clean, practiced arc to end it.
The third dropped the girl and ran.
Aelric let him.
> [Quest Complete: +11 System Points | +Reputation: Minor]
The girl stared at him with wide, wet eyes.
"You… you're a knight?" she whispered.
Aelric lowered his sword. "Not yet."
But someday soon.
---
That night, Aelric made camp beneath the stars.
He sat near the fire, drawing mana from a broken bandit blade, letting the power seep into his core.
> [Mana Absorbed: +9] → [Cultivation Progress: 98%]
[System Points Available: 13]
He opened the System interface.
"Allocate 10 points to Cultivation."
> [Confirmed.]
[Cultivation Grade Increased: 2nd Grade Achieved!]
A rush of power surged through him.
His muscles burned and reknit.
His senses sharpened again. His perception of mana expanded tenfold—he could feel it in the leaves, in the flames, in the air itself.
The System chimed.
> [New Feature Unlocked: Inner Realm - Seed Stage Created]
[New Technique Available: Phantom Step (Movement)]
Aelric exhaled slowly.
Each step forward came with more weight. More choices.
But also, more power.
Father… I'm growing stronger.
---
At dawn, he passed through the Gate of Blades, the monumental entrance to the Royal Academy, carved from stone and ancient iron.
Hundreds of students passed beside him—nobles in bright robes, warriors in armor, monks, mages, mercenaries. Most older. Some younger. All cultivators.
Each with dreams of glory.
Aelric stepped through with the wind at his back.
The next chapter of his journey had begun.