This was not merely enhanced swordsmanship but something that touched the fundamental forces of existence. His next assault came with renewed intensity, Astralend's stellar fire blazing brighter as he channelled more of his essence into the blade.
Ekatarina's eyes gleamed, wide with wonder, as Jolthar shifted his stance—calm, fluid, deadly. The violet flames spiralling around his sword crackled like lightning caught in a bottle.
She nearly stepped forward, heart pounding.
"Are you seeing this, Elder?" she whispered, voice trembling with awe.
"That boy… he has become the Master of Chaos."
Her words silenced the watchers around her. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Even the wind seemed to hush, as if nature itself leaned in to listen.
To be called Master of Chaos—it wasn't a title.
A legend.
A mantle that once belonged only to those who could channel chaos without losing their soul to madness.
And now... it belonged to a nineteen-year-old human boy.
