When the morning sun rose, Aelir was awakened by a voice.
"Hurry, Aelir. The man has left. We must move quickly."
The two followed the man, relying on Gurkant's aura-tracking skills, never losing his trail. After a while, the man stopped deep inside the forest.
Aelir turned to Gurkant.
"This must be the meeting place, right, Old Gurkant?"
With a firm tone, Gurkant replied,
"I don't think so."
The man they had been following suddenly spoke.
"You've been tailing me since morning. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Gurkant hadn't expected this. He had suppressed his aura as much as possible to avoid being discovered.
"Such outdated aura-concealing tricks don't work on me, old man," the stranger sneered, then added,
"Since you've followed me this far, you're not just going to keep hiding there, are you?"
His eyes fell on Aelir.
"And you even brought a kid with you, huh?"
Gurkant had not calculated things turning out this way. The man was challenging him to a fight.
"Aelir, stay behind me…"
For the first time, Aelir was about to witness a real battle.
Gurkant slowly drew his sword from its sheath, his aura beginning to flare as he stepped toward his opponent. The man's aura burned blue—a clear sign of true strength. This would not be an easy fight, especially since Aelir was behind him, someone he needed to protect.
The man spoke again.
"Aren't you a little too old to be overthinking?" he scoffed.
"I don't have much time. Let's get this over with…"
He lunged forward with sharp, relentless strikes, giving Gurkant no room to respond. For the first time in many years, the old warrior found himself truly fighting for his life. Each blow of blue aura was like solid steel. Gurkant could barely catch his breath.
"I expected more from you, old man. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of purple in your aura. But you really are trash."
Gurkant touched the blood dripping from the cut on his cheek.
"You're a lucky man. The last time I was wounded, it was to save the life of a friend. And now… once again, I bleed for a friend."
Then, in a deep voice:
"If you truly want it… I'll give you what you're looking for."
He inhaled deeply.
"Aelir… watch closely."
The air around him trembled. Purple light surged across his body, enveloping him completely. When his aura flowed into his sword, the leaves scattered through the air as if blown by a storm.
"Ha haha! That's what I wanted to see, old man. Now I'm getting excited," the man laughed.
But Gurkant was no longer listening. He had reached the peak—where no ordinary man could tread. The power that once defined him surged back into his veins: pure, unbound, magnificent.
Aelir could hardly believe his eyes. His master's aura shook the forest itself. The very ground seemed to quake.
Now the initiative was entirely Gurkant's. Each strike he delivered was heavy, crushing, unstoppable. The man was driven back, forced into defense with every blow.
"My master is winning!" Aelir thought with relief.
With overwhelming power, Gurkant pressed his opponent further. Just as He's strength seemed about to break, he countered with a sudden, devastating strike.
"You're not the only one who can wield purple aura, old man," He spat through broken teeth, a wild grin stretching his face. He slipped a ring off his finger.
"This ring was suppressing my aura. But you… you've earned the full extent of my power."
Gurkant's eyes widened.
"What kind of madman are you?"
"I am Selim Ateze. My mission was to kill Cedric Espera. But no matter what, today—I will kill you."
Aelir froze in horror. His master was fighting with everything he had, yet Selim Ateze would not fall.
The battle raged, neither side yielding. Then, in a sudden burst, Selim shifted his focus—his blade flashed toward Aelir. The strike was merciless, lethal.
Gurkant threw himself in front of it. The sword pierced his chest.
"GURKANT!" Aelir screamed with all his might.
The old man staggered, but did not fall.
"Aelir… today, you and I will not die. I swear it," he said through gritted teeth. But his body no longer obeyed his will. Slowly, his gaze drifted to Aelir one last time… and then his eyes closed.
Tears streamed down Aelir's face. Gurkant was everything to him—the one who had freed him from slavery, given him a name, treated him as a son.
"I will call you Aelir. How does that sound?"
The memory echoed in his mind.
Now, Gurkant had given his very life for him. And yet, Aelir had not been strong enough to protect him.
Struggling to stand, he wiped his tears with trembling hands.
Selim smirked.
"What a touching little scene. My apologies for the old man, kid."
Rage burned in Aelir's eyes. He picked up his master's sword.
"Old Gurkant… no matter what, I will not let you die."
As he spoke, an aura flared around him—green, vibrant, alive.
Selim chuckled mockingly.
"Your master had purple aura, and you… green? Do you really think you can stand against me?"
But Aelir didn't hear him. Without a word, he charged, unleashing relentless strikes with Gurkant's blade.
Selim prepared to end it with a single blow. But then he froze.
The boy's aura trembled. First green… and then, within it, a radiant streak of yellow burst forth.
Selim's eyes widened in shock.
"Yellow aura… That's the aura of nobility! Impossible… that means this boy carries noble blood. How can this be?"
He quickly created distance between them.
"Who… who are you?" Selim demanded, his voice shaking.
"I am Aelir. Slave Aelir. Gurkan's student Aelir."
"Slave huh…?" Selim muttered in disbelief.
With all his might, Aelir brought down the final strike of his master's sword. And then, his own consciousness slipped away into darkness.