Belfray’s POV

  There was a saying back in the Empire, or rather a cautionary reminder for military personnel who often entertained the idea of retirement. They said a killer’s life seldom ended in peace. To believe one could achieve, after all the blood and sacrifice, a solitary life in soft silence was a mere dream.

  How I wished that saying had been a lie.

  My fingers latched onto the handle of the sword, grasping its leathery surface with yearning, feeling its hard, worn edges like an old lover, enjoying every second of it as though it were a meeting delayed for far too long. My heart beat softly in my chest, the inner will with which my internal energy began spreading across my body heating in a slow, burning cadence.

  In seconds, I was back home.

  It lasted only a minute.

  The air smelled of damp and moisture, the beautifully trimmed grasses swaying gently in the wind. Across the backyard, I couldn’t see a single soul. Most of the staff was deep in sleep inside the mansion, and the Young Master was out for a hunt with the Grand Marshall. There was a certain peace to the picture, a feeling of grace and grandeur. It was almost enough to forget the old. Almost, but not quite. I wasn’t alone tonight. I was never alone with all my demons.

  “A fine night for practice,” Radek’s voice tugged at my heart, his sinister mana probing at my emotions. I stood steel against it even as I struggled to make fast to the occasion. “Good, but you’re too stiff. This won’t do. Be better. We should always strive to be better.”

  “It’s nothing,” I muttered, shaking my head. Radek pulled himself grinning to my side, peering into the looming mansion of our own, hands clasped behind his back. I tilted my head at him. “Enjoying yourself, do you? Must’ve caught the scent in the wind.”

  “It brings back memories, indeed.” He nodded. “It’s been years since the rebellion. I can’t say I don’t miss those days.”

  That was an easy thing to say for a Heart Mage who spent most of his time making a mess in this palace or that. Unlike us, who shouldered the crushing weight of the whole Empire, he’d spent many a night drinking and jesting with shameless bastards.

  “Do you still have the visions?” he asked after a beat.

  “No,” I said.

  “Mm,” he nodded. “We’re a great distance away from the Oracles, but they still have pieces of your mind. Let me know if you have trouble sleeping.”

  “I don’t need a reminder. I wouldn’t dare keep something like that from you.”

  “It’s always better to be safe and prepared.” Radek shrugged. “I’ve heard from Payem that the search has been dying out.”

  “The Planar System is an endless pit.”

  “The Empire has millions of people to spare,” Radek said, sighing loudly. “I wouldn’t trust a Dimensional Mage’s lack of sensitivity. It could be that they want us to think we’re off the hook, that their vengeance has died in cold embers, but you know them just as well. Time doesn’t mean anything so long as they can get what they want.”

  “This will all end soon,” I said grimly. “Even the Empire wouldn’t act foolish enough to lay a hand on the Creator’s Academy. That is the birthplace of Paragons.”

  “You’re too naive, old friend.” Radek shook his head. “To think the Creator’s Academy will prove a safe haven for the Young Master is nothing but a pipe dream. It might look like a well-manned castle from the outside, but their balance hangs on a tight rope. There will be murders. Attempts at culling the promising talents and strangling the seeds before they could flourish.”

  My neck was taut with nervousness as I glanced at him, not sure where he planned on going with this. The Creator’s Academy was our best bet if we wanted to provide the Young Master with a real future. If he stayed with us in this backwater world, raised in this false circle of protection and with no real regard for true danger, then eventually he’d become one of us. A refugee and an outlaw, always running away from the big, bad master.

  “Think he can manage it?” I managed to utter, finding the words bitter blades around my throat. “His age makes me worry. We’re not throwing a sheep into a wolf’s den, are we?”

  “Really?” Radek raised his brows. “You think he’s a sheep?”

  “He’s not a wolf, yet. That, I’m sure of.”

  “That’s because he lives in a bubble, but that’s not going to last forever,” Radek said. “The second he enters the Creator’s Academy, everyone’s going to learn of the Twelfth Concordance’s new recruit. That might be enough to hide the fact that he’s of a Paragon’s blood, but there will be many a faction who’d like to take a piece from a future Supreme Runemaster. Or leave him in pieces if they can’t take one.”

  “He will have one of the most dangerous men in existence as a mentor,” I countered, but my shoulders slumped soon after at the notion. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Dangerous people had dangerous expectations of their pupils.

  “I envy him with passion for that,” Radek grinned widely at my face.

  I wanted to punch him in the neck.

  “Don’t be like that. It was a joke,” he said, jabbing me softly on the shoulder. “Anyhow, I’ve heard he’s gotten himself a good toy. Hardel’s been working him like a laborer. It was about time he got a reward.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “He took my Corax dust,” I said. That still bothered me, but you couldn’t find an elf as long as he didn’t want to be found. “There will be consequences for his actions.”

  “What, you’re going to have him strapped down and tied to a stake? Like the old way?” Radek said. “That won’t work on Hardel. He’s been through worse. I personally watched him get hacked at by a dozen Heralds for two weeks, tied to a stake by the Conquerer’s Square, and displayed for all citizens to enjoy a rare specimen’s painful retribution. You can’t break him even if you wanted.”

  “Who said anything about breaking him?” I huffed an annoyed breath. “I’ve talked with Paul. I’ll have him work in the gardens for a whole month once the Young Master’s out for his academy.”

  “That…” Radek paused, regarding me with his eyes widening and mouth opening slightly. “You came up with that?”

  “Paul gave me the idea.”

  “Of course,” he nodded, as if he expected it. “I see he hasn’t forgotten that our blacksmith hates anything green with passion.”

  “I’ll have him sleep by the ponds all night long, surrounded by lush trees and soft grass,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. I couldn’t help it. “Every day he’ll wake up, trim acres of land, and tend to the new seeds. He’s going to be bloody tanned by the sun by the end of it.”

  “Cruel business,” Radek said, chuckling. “It’s interesting, though, he hasn’t said anything about the sword to the Young Master.”

  “He fears the Grand Marshall too much to take the chance.”

  “Yet he brings out her husband’s sword,” Radek said, his face creasing.

  “Old sword,” I corrected him. “The Emperor used that sword when he was… ten years old.”

  “About the same age as the Young Master, then?” Radek said thoughtfully. “They do look alike, don’t they?”

  “There’s a difference,” I said.

  “Well, of course there’s—”

  “That sword has been given to the oldest son as the heirloom of the Imperial Family,” I cut him short. “But the Young Master has forged a better sword on his own.”

  ……..

  Leo’s POV

  “Press it! Press it!” Mother yelled at me with growing impatience. “Don’t let it get up!”

  “I’m not trying to kill it right away, Mom!” I yelled back, throwing myself back with a Quick Step and allowing the Bristle Boar a moment of breathing room.

  The thing looked pretty strong, especially for a Bronze Grade beast. It appeared much like a mutated boar that grew spikes from its outer hide, a classic adaptation many beasts shared in forests like these, since their predators were most adept at catching them from above.

  “You’re not doing yourself a favor by letting it get back up,” Mother said from behind, sounding greatly displeased with the way I’d handled this particular encounter. “You had about a dozen openings to stab through, yet you—”

  “Can you just stop?” I said with a look over my shoulder. “I’m not trying that. I’m not trying to kill this beast with brute force. This is all about Beatric— I mean, my sword, remember?”

  I raised Beatrice to further emphasize the reason why we were here and got myself an unwilling nod from the stubborn woman. She didn’t like any of it, but that much was to be expected. My new mother was a practical woman who always hated wasted opportunities.

  Breathing in, I stepped back as the Bristle Boar shook its head off and lumbered forward, pointing its curvy horn that sat on the crown of its forehead toward me. That thing could drill me through and leave me a mess of flesh and bones if I let it get me. Better to stay away from it while showing off my new weapon.

  I remained steady with my hands clasped around the handle, my breath coming in quick and strong. Finally, the creature dashed forward with the momentum of a giant ox, sending gravel and dirt flying about the air in a crazed rush.

  It was surprisingly agile for its size, so much so that I had to be careful with my Quick Step, lest it change directions and catch me with that horn. So I stood still until the last second, then threw myself sideways with a Quick Step, slapping the side of Beatrice in the process to activate the Practical Rune.

  Air rushed from around the sword as I slid to a stop, gathering into its tip with impressive speed. Through sheer density, I could feel the force it carried even from behind the sword. I waited for a long second before it finally reached the tipping point, where wisps of air gained an almost visible whitish hue. It looked like a blade with no handle, wavering like a half-baked mirage.

  Eyeing the boar, I aimed the sword’s tip right at its side as it struggled to turn its enormous body around to face me. The wind blade freed itself from the sword’s tip right away, whistled across the stretch, and caught the boar unaware like a little chick, tearing a horizontal gash along its side.

  Blood spurted shortly after, the boar stumbling senselessly, its gray eyes widening in pure surprise. I could, at that moment, feel Mother’s impatient—and a touch impressed—gaze nearly drilling holes into my back, which pushed me into action.

  I used a Quick Step to manage a forward dash, then slashed with The Undying pumping strength into my arms. Beatrice squelched into the already deep wound, pushing deeper inside until it clicked against a bone. At the same time, trickles of blood gravitated upward as the circular rune patch upon the sword glowed in expectation.

  Once again, I cherished the sight of a steel sword sucking blood like it was parched, followed by a sudden sensation of added weight as the boar’s internal energy slowly coated its surface.

  With that, I turned my back and smiled triumphantly at Mother, raising Beatrice to show her how rare a beauty she was. A runed sword was, to my knowledge, a prized artifact anywhere across the Planar System. One that was blessed with two Practical Runes, though? That was a damned treasure.

  Look who managed to come up with a badass sword, eh?

  It was me!

  I couldn’t believe it, but I was the one who forged this thing.

  I mean… not all of it, but still, the rune patch belonged to me. I could, if I wanted, forge a steel sword as well, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that I had a nasty weapon, and I deserved some praise from my new m—

  A light flashed, and pain blared alive across my side as my body was flung into the air like a weightless sack. I’d just been busy enjoying a victory pause, but before I knew it, I was sent flying by something big and flat.

  The Undying rushed swiftly to my back, around the impacted area, and gave me my breath back as I blinked wearily and glanced behind me. The Bristle Boar, with its spine visible through that deep wound, had somehow crawled to its feet and delivered a final blow to my back with its horn.

  Except its horn was no more. Instead, it had a flat, bone-like structure where the sharp bone once stood, which was why the impact had likely spared me from being drilled like a skewer.

  That, and my Mother had unsheathed her sword.

  She was giving me the look.

  I knew that look.

  Fuck me.

  Why did I keep acting like a real child around this woman? Was it because of my non-existent relationship with my first mother? Or was it the need for validation and attention I so dearly sought from everyone around me?

  I hit the ground with a loud crash, scrambled back swiftly, and clutched Beatrice’s handle. Without Mother’s interference, that horn would’ve killed me. I had no one to blame but myself.

  “Still…” I muttered, glancing up at her. “It’s a good sword, right? This was all about the sword…”

  “The sword’s good,” Mother nodded. “It’s an excellent treasure. Don’t let her down again by not taking matters of life and death seriously.”

  “Understood,” I said, nodding dutifully. She was right, of course. I was careless. Then I paused. “Wait, did you call it ‘her’? So you do recognize—”

  “No, I didn’t,” she said, averting her eyes. “Let’s move on. We have real work to be about.”

  “Right,” I muttered, forcing myself back to my feet as The Undying chased the last of the pain from my ribs, trying not to smile all the while.

  ……