The aftermath of Rina's strike lingered in the air—the ground torn open in a clean arc, the stone dummies cleaved apart with surgical precision.
Dust swirled lazily under the morning sun as silence settled over the training grounds once more.
Ronan watched quietly, eyes tracing the faint black residue that clung to the edges of the destroyed field.
"That power… just from one strike."
He clenched his tiny hand around the wooden sword. Though he had already mastered the 2nd form in theory—every breath, every shift of weight, every channel of mana—his body simply couldn't sustain the full flow yet.
And even if he could… it would be unwise to show it.
At three years old, too much brilliance only invited danger.
Across from him, Rina exhaled, lowering her blade as the dark aura faded from its edge. Her expression softened—pride and nostalgia mingling in her gaze.
"This," she said, her voice steady, "is the essence of Shadow Break.
Where the First Form overwhelms with sheer speed, the Second Form condenses all that force—every ounce of momentum and mana—into a single, decisive strike. One swing meant to end everything before the enemy can even blink."
Her eyes gleamed with expectation. "Now, Ronan. Let's see if you can handle that power."
Ronan nodded lightly, his movements calm and deliberate.
He stepped forward, mirroring her stance with uncanny precision. His knees bent, the wooden sword angled diagonally before him. Shadows gathered around his feet, drawn toward him as if by instinct.
A soft hum filled the air.
Thin streams of black mana seeped from his body, coiling gently around the sword. The darkness pulsed—not as violently as Rina's, but steady, controlled. Ronan's mana condensed at the blade's edge, forming a thin, wavering layer of darkness that rippled with suppressed intent.
He exhaled slowly.
"Second Form of the Shadow Blade—Shadow Break (影裂斬)."
He swung.
The arc of his strike was clean and graceful—its movement fluid, seamless.
For a brief instant, the air dimmed. Then, a muffled boom burst outward, followed by a crescent wave of shadow racing across the field.
The darkness cleaved through the first stone dummy cleanly, cracked the second, and dissipated before reaching the third.
It was not nearly as destructive as Rina's—but the precision, the control, the refinement in his movement left her speechless.
The sound of breaking stone echoed faintly before silence returned.
Rina blinked, then slowly lowered her sword. "That… was your first attempt?"
Ronan panted softly, beads of sweat running down his temple. He had deliberately weakened the attack, suppressing both the density and release of mana—but even then, his body trembled under the strain.
Still, his calm never wavered.
He looked up, voice faint but steady. "It was weaker than yours, teacher. My mana isn't enough to replicate the same level of impact yet."
Rina stared at the half-destroyed training dummies—the accuracy of each cut, the seamless mana control—and felt a chill run down her spine.
"Weaker?" She almost laughed. The difference in power was minor, but the technique itself… flawless. Perfectly executed.
No hesitation. No wasted movement. Just pure instinct and comprehension.
All from a three-year-old child.
Her lips parted slightly as awe replaced disbelief.
"To think… you managed to replicate the Second Form after just watching me a few times. Even among Blackwoods, this level of affinity for the shadow arts is unheard of…"
Ronan fell to one knee, breath heavy as the last traces of mana drained from his body. The dark glow faded from his sword. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, his vision slightly blurred—but a faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"Just mana… that's all I lack."
Even the system's 'Use It or Lose It' attribute couldn't expand his mana pool beyond its natural limit because there is no excercise that he knew which would increase his mana pool. Only his family's Blackwood Cultivation Method has proven its usefulness.
The thought left a bitter taste in Ronan's mouth. If anyone knew what he was thinking, they'd probably die vomiting blood.
"Alright, Ronan," Rina said, her tone firm yet laced with concern. "That's enough for today. You've pushed yourself far beyond the limit. Overstraining your body now could hinder future breakthroughs."
Ronan gave a faint, weary smile, his breathing still uneven. "Don't worry, Teacher Rina. I couldn't swing my arm again even if I wanted to."
Rina's expression softened. She watched silently as the boy turned and left the training ground, his small figure disappearing down the stone corridor that led toward the palace.
When the air finally stilled, a man's voice echoed faintly from the shadows.
"He's truly a prodigy of the Blackwood family."
Rina's gaze snapped to the source. "You shouldn't be spying in a private training ground, Sir Kael." Her words carried a sharp edge, cold and cutting.
"Woah, calm down, lady," Kael said, stepping forward with an easy smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not here to pick a fight. Just here to deliver a message."
Rina's eyes narrowed. "When did the Blackwood Commander's right hand become a messenger? Or perhaps… you've grown so free these days that you forgot the meaning of respect? Maybe that's why young master Daniel has time to wander the palace, picking fights with someone half his size."
Kael's smirk faded instantly, his tone turning to ice. "If I were you, Miss Rina, I'd stop talking right there."
Mana flared between them, the ground beneath their feet cracking under the pressure. The air thickened, humming with restrained violence. Rina's blade hand twitched; Kael's aura shimmered like a mirage.
Then, Kael exhaled sharply and withdrew his mana.
"Today is the Commander's meeting," he said curtly. "Lord Blackwood has summoned us both."
Without another word, his figure dissolved into black mist, leaving the training ground heavy with lingering hostility.
Rina stood there for a moment, her gaze turning toward the sky.
"The winds are stirring again…
Meanwhile, in one of the palace's inner chambers—
"Oh, Ronan! You're back."
The gentle voice filled the room before Ronan even stepped through the doorway.
Seraphina knelt beside a table of blooming dark-lilies, her complexion pale yet radiant. The moment she saw him, her eyes softened, and she pulled him into her arms.
"Mother!" Ronan clung to her tightly. "When did you return? You disappeared again this month without saying anything!" His voice wavered slightly. "Why won't you tell me where you go every time?"
Seraphina smiled, her touch warm as she brushed a hand through his hair. "My sweet child… your mother has duties she must fulfill. Things you'll understand when you grow older."
"But—" Ronan began, determination burning in his eyes.
"No buts," she said gently, pressing a finger to his lips. "As compensation for making you worry… I'll teach you something special today."
Her tone turned playfully mysterious, but there was a quiet weight behind her words.
Ronan's frustration faded into curiosity. "Teach me… something special?"
Seraphina's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "A mana cultivation art. One that belongs only to our bloodline."
As she raised her hand, the air itself trembled. With a casual motion of her slender finger, she drew a line through empty space—
Shhhk.
Reality split open like fragile glass, a thin, jagged crack appearing where she'd traced. A soft hum echoed from within, like the whisper of a distant void.
Ronan's eyes widened, his breath catching. "That's—"
"The power of the Voidmere bloodline," Seraphina said softly, her eyes gleaming like stars swallowed by darkness. "Our essence lies within the void itself—where nothing exists… and yet, where everything begins."
As she spoke, a gentle stream of black energy seeped from the rift, coiling around her body like living silk. Her once-weakened aura began to recover rapidly; her eyes grew clearer, her breath stronger.
The darkness caressed her form—not consuming her, but embracing her.
"This is merely a fraction of our true power," she said, smiling down at him, a touch of mystery dancing in her tone. "But you must always remember, my child—never, ever speak of our bloodline to anyone. No one must know what flows within our veins."
Ronan nodded silently. He had heard these words since before he could even remember. Even as an infant, she had whispered warnings to him.
And he understood—power invited greed. Secrets invited survival.
"Our bloodline must be truly terrifying… if even Mother fears to speak of it.
Seraphina smiled warmly, her hand resting atop his head. "Good. Now, my little shadow… watch carefully. I'll teach you how to feel the void."
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