The Calm Before the Storm
The day after Rigorus accepted the duel, the air in the Draeven household was thick with tension. Whispers echoed through the estate. Some called him a fool. Others said the disgraceful son had finally returned to be buried.
But not Liora.
That morning, as the sun poured softly through the cracked wooden beams of the courtyard, Liora Draeven stood with arms folded and a look of quiet resolve."I'll train you for the duel," she said. "We only have a week. Let's make it count."
Day One
Their first spar was laughably one-sided.
Liora danced across the stone tiles, her movements precise, her strikes landing with a rhythm forged from years of real battle. Rigorus, despite his effort, was more punching air than flesh.
"Why did you even accept the duel?" she asked mid-swing, her tone sharp. "You know Kairos has always been stronger."
But Rigorus only smiled, eyes half-lidded, calm and unmoved."Kairos never fought me. He bullied me. I never fought back. Trust me, sis… this time, I will win. And thank you — for helping me."
She blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly scowled and shouted, "Enough talk! Come at me with everything!"
Six hours. Six hours of brutal sparring.
Rigorus was battered, bleeding, but not tired. That haunted Liora more than anything.
Day Two
When Liora found him the next morning, she nearly dropped her staff.His body… it had no bruises. No swelling. Not even a scratch remained from yesterday.
"Rigorus… what happened to your wounds?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
The second spar began. "Come at me like you want to kill me," she said.
Rigorus took one step forward — and the world changed.
His aura ignited. His heart rate exploded. The scent of bloodlust coiled around him like smoke. Liora staggered back without thinking.
"Sis, are you okay?" he asked, confused.
"Y-yeah," she lied, resetting her stance.
The aura that surrounded him stretched three meters in every direction — suffocating, violent, heavy. To stand in it was to feel as if a blade hung over your neck.
Though she still outmaneuvered him with technique, every blow Rigorus threw felt as if it carried the power of a peak mortal, teetering on the edge of godhood. One clean hit would've shattered bone.
Day Five
The turning point.
They stood in the rain, silent. Liora signaled the start of the spar.
Rigorus didn't even move forward.
He simply punched the air.
The sky itself cracked.
A pulse of distorted pressure tore through the training field — a shockwave strong enough to throw Liora off balance. Her cheek was grazed by the wind of his will.
Liora froze, then broke into a stunned smile. "Truly amazing, brother… truly monstrous. You might actually stand a chance."
"But Kairos is still stronger," she reminded him. "That gap won't vanish in a week. So fight with your heart. Fight for something real."
The Eve of the Duel
Exhausted, mentally and physically, Rigorus wandered through the village in search of help.
His aura had become unruly — flaring at night, disrupting his breathing, heating his blood to fever levels. He needed control. He needed something.
He stepped into a small, fragrant store near the edge of the market.
That's where he saw her.
Naelira
Naelira stood behind the counter, gently arranging jars of dried fruit and glowing medicinal herbs. Her presence was serene, goddesslike — long black hair spilling down her back, silver eyes soft as moonlight, and a warmth that calmed the air around her.
"Welcome," she said with a soft smile.
Rigorus stepped forward. "I'm looking for something to help regulate spiritual energy. My aura… it keeps slipping."
Naelira tilted her head. "That's rare. Most who reach that level have mentors. Are you—" she paused, examining him. "I don't recognize you."
"I'm Rigorus," he said. "Of the House of Draeven."
Her eyes widened.
"You're that Rigorus? The one who was banished? Or… thought to be dead?"
He nodded. "That's me."
Naelira stepped from behind the counter, her voice softer now. "I'm sorry. It must've been hard… out there."
He shrugged. "I'm alive. That's what matters."
They spoke for what felt like hours — their words unhurried, sincere. She didn't pry. She didn't pity. She just listened.
At the end, she handed him a small glass jar filled with glowing blue tablets.
"These are called Breath Binders. My grandmother swore by them. They'll help you control your aura — but only if you learn to listen to it, too."
He looked at her, almost surprised. "Thank you."
Naelira smiled, her eyes lingering. "Come back after the duel. I'd like to know how it goes."
"If I live," Rigorus said, smiling faintly, "I will."
That Night
Rigorus returned to the family estate. His mother, Celestia Draeven, was waiting for him in her chamber, wrapped in thick silk blankets, her breathing slow.
"I don't have much strength left," she whispered, "but I wanted to see you… one last time before the duel."
She pulled a velvet-wrapped bundle from beneath her bed and handed it to him.
Inside were two swords: one white as ivory, the other deep black with hints of crimson.
"The White Fang and the Black Fang," she said. "Forged from the fangs of the Dragon King and Queen. Priceless weapons — but they are yours now."
Rigorus stared at them, breathless.
"I've kept them hidden," she said, coughing weakly. "Your father wanted them destroyed. But I knew one day… you would return. And you would need them."
He took her hand. "Thank you, Mother."
She squeezed it gently. "Please… remember. We are all victims of your father's cruelty. Bear that in mind tomorrow."