Arden lay on a comfortable bed, purposefully keeping out of sight. Chandler and his delegation were due to arrive soon, and the decision had been made to minimize Arden's contact with them. The room evoked memories of motels from his previous life but without the hum of electricity. In its place, a soft glow painted the room, originating from a magical light powered by a centralized source. The ambiance retained a nostalgic resemblance to the lighting he once knew.
As a diversion, he revisited the discussion from the previous evening in his mind. It had extended late into the night. Ava had recounted most of the events, with Arden chipping in on a few details. What surprised him wasn't just how unperturbed both Lila and Marcus seemed about the evolving bond between him and Ava or his rapid grasp of magic. Rather, it was the sheer amount of attention they devoted to the topic of their mana regeneration speeds. While they did discuss Thalen's attempt to capture Ava, it was clear that the matter of mana regeneration dominated much of the conversation.
It wasn't until they drained their mana into a cylindrical stone, a mana reservoir designed for storage, that Ava’s parents believed their claims. Only then did Arden fully grasp how valuable mana was in this world. He even had an oil lamp in his room, an alternative to using magical light, to conserve mana.
The door swung open abruptly, and Ava stormed in, carrying a sheathed sword. Her expression was a mix of worry and frustration. "Arden, get dressed, and take this," she urged, thrusting the sword toward him.
The blade was unmistakably familiar. As Arden's eyes met the sword, a chilling apprehension crawled up his spine. His last attempt to touch it had resulted in a sudden blackout after he hastily dismissed a system notification.
Hesitating momentarily, his fingers hovered above the sword's hilt, memories of his last encounter with it flashing before his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the ancient broadsword, crafted meticulously for swift movements. As recognition ignited in his mind, the familiar system prompt unfolded:
Training Sword of Shadowblade Do you want to claim the "Training Sword of Shadowblade "?
Pushing aside any lingering doubts, Arden responded, "Yes." A fleeting sensation, akin to a whisper, brushed against his soul. If he had to put it into words later, he would swear he'd heard the word, "Finally."
The room's quiet was pierced by Arden's voice. "What's going on?" he questioned, locking eyes with Ava.
Ava took a deep, steadying breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort. "Cassius Thunderstorm knows someone is here," she began, her voice soft yet filled with tension. "Not you precisely, but someone new. We've told them you are my instructor, focused on healing arts, as we agreed." Arden recalled their earlier discussion; he'd preferred to keep it general, referring to 'magic'. But Ava and her family had pressed for the specificity of 'healing' as it was often deemed more ambiguous by many mages.
She continued, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation, "Mentioning your visit to the elven city of Eldrida seemed to unsettle them. They've insisted on seeing you."
Arden couldn't help but let out a short, incredulous laugh. "The mage's name is really 'Thunderstorm'?"
Ava's gaze hardened, her voice carrying a warning edge. "Focus, Arden. You're about to face Lord Latimer and Mage Thunderstorm." A brief pause, then a more intimate whisper in his mind, "I'll support you, but be cautious. I must be brief in my mental guidance; Cassius is among the elite mages. He might sense prolonged telepathic communications."
Arden straightened up, nodding. "I'll be polite. Lead the way," he replied with a hint of determination.
"Don't forget, you're said to hail from the free city of Havenport," Ava whispered, both verbally and mentally.
That name was hard to forget, especially after the detailed account Lila and Marcus had provided. Referring to it as a "city" seemed overly generous from their description. To Arden, it sounded more akin to a shantytown, vividly etched in his mind. This provided him with a convenient escape route when discussing his origins since nobody could fact-check his tales about such a place.
As Ava guided him toward the backyard, Arden silently invoked his [Mental Focus] and readied his only defensive spell, [Maggie's Basic Shield]. Guided by a subtle nudge from his newly claimed sword, he reached for the hilt of his dagger and activated his [Mana Sight]. His vision momentarily pulsed, then settled, sharpening into heightened clarity.
Approaching the double doors that led to the training yard, Arden took in the scene before him. Lila and Marcus stood with a posture of diplomacy, facing two figures he assumed to be Chandler and Cassius. Alongside them was a formidable-looking warrior, his build and stance suggesting experience in battle.
With Ava stepping discreetly behind him, in the traditional position of an apprentice, Arden's heightened senses, amplified by his [Mana Sight], detected the concealed mana signatures of two guards, one on each side of the doorway. And, thanks to the sharpened insight from his dagger, he could pierce through the illusion and spot two archers, their positions concealed, perched on the balcony that overlooked the yard.
A thought crossed his mind: It seemed like an excessive show of force for a mere chat. Ava, seemingly sensing the simmering tension, relayed a mental warning: “Be cautious.”
Arden descended, pausing a moment on the second step, taking in the assemblage before him. His voice, a mask of courteous detachment, broke the silence, “I understand you wished to speak with me?”
A moment of collective stillness settled over the yard before Cassius stepped forward. A smile curled his lips, though it failed to dispel the coldness in his gaze. “Mage Thomson, the tales of your endeavors precede you. Please, come down. We have much to discuss.”
Arden's eyes drifted briefly to the locations of the illusion-veiled archers, subtly hinting at his awareness, maintaining an even tone, he asked. "It seems we're amidst quite the security detail for our conversation. Is there something I should be concerned about?"
Cassius's veneer of politeness didn't waver, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes, an acknowledgment of Arden's perceptiveness. "Merely a precaution, Mage Thomson. In uncertain times, it pays to be cautious."
It was then that Chandler, with a shorter fuse, took a step forward, his eyes locking onto Ava. "Ava, come stand by your mother," he ordered, the derogatory tone evident.
Ava, standing steadfastly behind Arden, sent a telepathic message: “Ignore him”.
Heeding Ava's advice. Arden responded to Cassius, "I'm more than happy to converse, but I expect respect and courtesy toward my apprentice."
Chandler's face reddened in evident irritation. "Seize him!" he spat, nodding toward the guards by the door.
Arden's heightened senses, sharpened by his [Mental Focus], caught the faint rustle of armor as the left guard lunged at him from behind. In a fluid motion, he ducked under the outstretched arms aiming to seize him, and delivered a swift kick. The guard stumbled and lost his footing, tumbling down the steps.
Simultaneously, a mental jolt from Ava slowed the second guard's reflexes for just a fraction of a second. Seizing the moment, Arden raised his [Maggie's Basic Shield], an almost invisible barrier of magical energy forming around him. With his other hand, he brandished his dagger, pointing its tip toward the hesitating guard. "Don't," he warned, his voice as cold as the steel of his weapon. “Just, don’t.”
"Halt!" Cassius shouted. "Everyone, stand down.” And in a more diplomatic tone, he addressed Arden “My apologies, Master Thomson. I assure you, we only wanted to have a conversation."
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Arden's heart was pounding, adrenaline surging through his veins, making his limbs tingle. He masked his tension with a layer of confidence. "By 'conversation,' I assume you mean you need some answers," he said, his eyes never leaving Cassius's as he gestured with his dagger for the guards to back off. "Feel free to ask, and as long as we don't have any further interruptions, I'll answer if I can." Beside him, he sensed Ava tensing up.
Cassius's voice remained steady, but a subtle tightness in his jaw betrayed his growing irritation. "Very well, Master Thomson," he said, placing deliberate emphasis on 'Master.' "You visited the elven city of Eldrida. Why?" As he spoke, a faint mental gust emanated from him, so subtle that Arden barely caught it.
Ava's mental whisper came as a reminder that he had support: "Don't lie." Understanding dawned on Arden; it was some sort of lie-detection magic. Strangely, the realization calmed him. If Cassius resorted to this, it indicated a genuine desire to talk. Arden's grip loosened on his dagger hilt, and he slid the weapon back into its sheath. As he did, he felt the tension in the air dissipate like fog under the morning sun.
The confused expressions of Cassius and Lila almost mirrored each other. Arden couldn't help but chuckle. "Not sure what spell you're using, but I'm guessing it's designed to catch lies. How accurate has it been?"
Cassius hesitated, his eyes momentarily clouding with uncertainty before clearing. "Less effective when the person knows about it," he confessed.
Arden nodded, feeling a sense of control return to him. "I can see how awareness would skew the results. Now, shall we get back to your questions?"
Cassius leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Arden. "Explain your visit to Eldrida if you would be so kind," his voice carrying an undertone of demand.
Arden held Cassius's gaze, not flinching. "No, I don't think that is the question you really want to ask," he responded, his voice measured but not yielding. Inside, a knot of apprehension tightened in his stomach; the last thing he wanted was to be trapped in a lie. "What you truly wish to know is my relationship with the elves. And I can tell you truthfully," he added, his voice tinged with earnestness, "I have no relationship or obligations to the elves."
For a split second, Cassius's eyes narrowed as if trying to pierce through Arden, then he sighed almost inaudibly. "Very well, I think you are speaking the truth," he said. "But I still want to know why you visited their city."
A thoughtful silence filled the space between them. "I imagine you would." His eyes didn't waver, and neither did the image of the white wolves that led him that fateful night, an image he held onto firmly. "But all I'll say is this: without guides, I would have never found my way to Lila."
Lila stepped between them, her eyes searching Cassius's with a silent declaration. "That's enough; you've got your answers."
For a taut second, Cassius looked like he was about to unleash a storm of words, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing. Then, as if making an internal decision, his demeanor shifted. "Yes, Lila, I think that's enough," he agreed. With a wave of his hands, the mental pressure that filled the space like an invisible fog lifted, along with the illusions. Arden felt the sudden lightness as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He glanced around, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on an additional guard he had initially missed. She stood behind Marcus and Lila, her poise elegant, her eyes watchful. The sight of this beautiful, unexpected guard added yet another layer of complexity to his understanding, or lack thereof, of the situation. Doubt clouded his mind, serving as a silent, unnerving reminder that he still had much to learn and that his grasp of this world remained dangerously shallow.
Cassius turned, his robes swaying gently as he began to walk toward the house. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he beckoned everyone to follow. The atmosphere in the courtyard seemed to shift, the onlookers' gazes darting nervously between Cassius and Arden, as if unsure whether the tension had truly dissipated.
As Ava beckoned Arden to step aside and let the others pass, her eyes betrayed a complex mix of pride and wariness. Amazed by his quick thinking, she found, to her surprise, that she didn't mind her newly minted role as Master Thomson's apprentice.
Behind them, the towering warrior, who had earlier stood beside Chandler, fixed his gaze on Arden with unnerving focus. Ava's mouth opened to comment, but the words were choked back as her senses screamed a warning. A split second later, a fist connected solidly with Arden's midsection, launching him airborne and back into the training yard. His broadsword was sent spiraling through the air before landing several feet away.
Just as Ava was about to rush to his aid, she felt the cold pressure of a knife blade against her neck. "No interference. You made a promise to Chandler, and now you will end this absurd apprenticeship, or we will." a voice whispered, almost gleefully, into her ear. How had this woman managed to approach her so stealthily?
For Arden, time seemed to elongate as he flew backward, feet lifted off the ground, his stomach constricting around the space where his breath had been. 'Marcus warned me to remain vigilant. How could I have let my guard down?' he thought, mentally scolding himself.
When Arden's body finally collided with the ground, a cloud of dust and gravel billowing around him, he momentarily blacked out. Pain emanated from his head; he must have hit it upon landing. Shaking off the disorientation, he refocused. His eyes found his sword a few feet away. 'Observe and learn,' the mantra echoed in his head. This was no random act of violence; this was a message. As he lay there, he felt a warm surge emanate from his medallion, beginning the process of healing.
Above him, Ava stood in a turmoil of emotion, her hands clenched into fists as though she could physically fend off the injustice before her. She was paralyzed by the cold steel at her neck. Her eyes locked onto Ardens, and a chilling fear developed within her. In the depths of his gaze, she sensed a tempest of confusion and pain.
Slowly, the towering warrior advanced towards Arden, each step landing with deliberate weight as if to press his superiority into the very earth. "I could cut you down right here," he sneered, "but I was told to make a show of it. Mage." He spat out the word 'mage' as if it were tainted.
Ava's eyes widened as the warrior's foot arced violently toward Arden's face. At the last possible moment, Arden's hands shot up, partially shielding the blow. Though propelled several feet across the yard, he managed to roll his way directly to where his broadsword lay. Ava stifled a knowing smile, disguising her realization with a quick, fake sob. "That's my Garrett; he kicks like a mule," the guard behind her chuckled. But Ava saw the precision in Arden's movements, the exactness with which he'd landed next to his weapon. It was too calculated to be mere chance.
Ava's scrutiny intensified as she saw Arden grasp his broadsword, using it almost like a crutch to regain his footing. 'He would never treat a blade with such disrespect,' she thought. Her eyes narrowed as the weight of her suspicions grew stronger; Arden was undoubtedly orchestrating something.
Meanwhile, Arden leaned heavily on the broadsword, the color draining from his knuckles as he clutched it. As the hilt settled in his palm, he was swamped by a torrent of unfamiliar sensations. He had known the sword contained embedded skills, but this sensation was far more overpowering, almost aggressive. It was as though the sword had a demanding instructor urgently pushing him into action. He needed a breather, so he activated his shield, welcoming the familiar feeling.
Arden noticed the warrior Garrett starting to smile while unfastening his battle-axe. Its edge shimmered, revealing itself to Arden's [Mana Sight], and so did the rings Garrett wore. It dawned on Arden that warriors in this world would naturally come prepared for mages. 'Fine,' he thought, resolute, 'I'll trust the sword skills.' And it seemed the broadsword echoed his sentiments.
Ava took a deep breath to steady herself when Arden unsheathed his sword. To her [Mana Sight], it was unmistakably an Ancient sword, its runes glowing a brilliant gold. "Are those skill runes embedded in a sword?" she wondered. She was about to calculate the weapon's worth when Garrett spoke, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping that sword."
Arden responded, "Come and get it," smiling inwardly at his cheesy retort.
As Garrett lunged forward with his battle-axe raised high, Arden reacted instinctively, or perhaps under some subtle guidance from his broadsword. Instead of relying on his shield to absorb the impact, he let the axe pass through. With a flick of his wrist, a maneuver he'd never used before, he guided the axe away from its intended target. This maneuver positioned his broadsword perfectly for a follow-up strike aimed squarely at Garrett's arm guard. The blade sliced through the leather and fastenings with remarkable precision. Garrett roared in frustration, shaking the ruined guard off his arm, and discarding it.
"Flèche attack followed by a glissade cut," Arden thought to himself, mentally reviewing the techniques he had just employed. His internal monologue raced with strategies and counter-maneuvers. 'Maintain distance, disengage when necessary, and exploit his rage,' Arden thought, his mind echoing the teachings from the sword.
Garrett, teeth gritted in irritation, adjusted his grip on the battle-axe's hilt. Arden could see the warrior's eyes narrow, adjusting his approach to Arden's newly displayed skill set. He lifted the weapon, poised for a diagonal slash.
As the axe descended, Arden executed a "passata soto," ducking under the blade while delivering an upward cut aimed at the same spot on Garrett's arm where he'd struck before. The maneuver required perfect timing, and it worked. Garrett yelped as Arden's blade cut through the fabric of his sleeve and bit into his flesh. Transforming his yelp into a roar of fury and unwilling to be bested, Garrett executed an agile pivot that Arden hadn't anticipated.
Using the momentum from his turn, he slammed the blunt end of his axe handle into Arden. The impact was jarring, and for a moment, stars dotted Arden's vision. Pain radiated through his body; he'd let his guard down for just an instant, and now his amulet had more healing to do.
Gasping for air but galvanized by the hit, Arden refocused. He watched in disbelief as the cut on Garrett's arm began to heal, almost as if time were rewinding over the wound. "He also has a healing artifact," Arden realized.
"You need to take his arm off to slow him down," the guard holding Ava close, shouted in excitement. Her voice was tinged with malevolence, yet there was an unmistakable undertone of truth in her words.
Arden caught Ava's eye for just a moment, as though seeking confirmation. What he saw in her gaze was only defiance. His decision was made. With a slight nod to Ava, he refocused on Garrett, now charging forward, axe raised menacingly high.
Mustering his courage, Arden unleashed a skill from the broadsword's arsenal, one he hadn't yet tried but felt was designed for both swiftness and unerring accuracy. The name of the skill flashed in his mind: [Seraphina's Elegance].
As Garrett's axe hurtled toward him, Arden fluidly sidestepped, his broadsword describing a perfect, deadly arc. It found its mark, shearing through the space just below Garrett's elbow. Garrett's scream tore through the courtyard, a cacophony of disbelief and agony. His arm tumbled to the earth, separated from its owner.
"No! Why did you have to do that?" The guard's voice was tinged with incredulity and urgency as she lunged forward. Her speed was astonishing; she blurred for an instant, nearly vanishing from sight.
"Arden, look out!" Ava's warning shout came just in time. Arden had a mere fraction of a second to execute a pivoting dodge, narrowly evading the guard's dagger but still receiving a shallow cut across his cheek. The sting was immediate and fierce.
The guard and Arden locked eyes, their gazes electric with tension. Garrett's anguished complaint filled the silence. "Gretha, kill that son of a whore," he snarled through gritted teeth.
"With pleasure," Gretha replied. In an instant, she vanished, disappearing not only from view but also from Arden's [Mana Sight]. Weary from the duel, both physically and mentally drained, Arden knew he had little left for another fight. He clutched the hilt of his dagger, and his vision pulsed, revealing Gretha's outline.
Making a split-second decision, Arden summoned a magic missile. While he had practiced the spell extensively, this was the first time he'd ever cast it with lethal intent. Almost as soon as he thought of releasing it, the magical projectile found its mark, striking Gretha's thigh. He couldn't bring himself to aim for anything more vital on such a stunning opponent.
Gretha stumbled, her illusory cloak failing as she fell. "Why? Do you know how expensive it is to heal that?" She glared at her ruined leg. "And you ruined my pants!"
Arden's mind buzzed with disbelief and exhaustion. First, he was shocked that his spell had even worked. Second, the woman's priorities seemed ludicrous. She had just agreed to kill him, and now she was complaining about her pants. He'd had enough. Without a word and without casting a backward glance, he walked back to his room. So focused was he on his own turmoil that he failed to notice Chandler, Cassandra, and Ava's parents returning, or to register the muttered grievances of the two incapacitated guards he left in his wake.