The training arena lay silent.
It was not a simple field, nor a courtyard meant for display.
The colosseum was carved deep into stone, its circular walls rising high and steep, etched with layered arrays that glowed faintly beneath the surface. Defensive sigils overlapped with reinforcement runes, designed to suppress lethal outcomes when activated—bones could break, flesh could tear, but death would not come easily.
A place built for princes who were allowed to learn violence… without paying its full price.
Kai stood at its center.
The ground beneath his feet was smooth, worn down by decades of impact. Blades. Spells. Bodies.
He breathed slowly, feeling the unfamiliar weight of his body, the faint pressure of the unstable power sealed within him.
Too much.
Still too much.
Footsteps echoed.
Matthew entered from the eastern archway, his longsword resting casually against his shoulder. The blade was simple—no ornamentation, no excessive runes—but it carried a quiet sharpness that spoke of refinement rather than decoration.
He stopped a few steps away.
"You're early," Matthew said, his eyes sweeping over Kai. "Now that you're serious about learning the sword… I assume you've learned to control the energy inside you."
Kai shook his head.
"No."
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
"For today," Kai said calmly, "I don't want practice. I want theory."
That earned him a dry look.
"Theory," Matthew repeated. "You didn't pay much attention to that at the academy, did you?"
Kai didn't deny it.
"Teach me," Kai said. "How swordsmen actually fight. How energy is controlled. End with exercises—basic ones. I want my body ready before I touch a blade."
Matthew studied him for a long moment.
Then he exhaled.
"As you wish."
He stepped forward.
"There are countless paths," Matthew said, "but all combat styles built on energy fall into three foundations."
He raised his sword.
"The first is external enhancement."
Energy surged outward, coating his body like a second skin. His stance lowered, muscles tightening, perception sharpening. The air trembled faintly around him.
"This is the simplest," Matthew said. "Energy enhances muscles, reflexes, perception. You charge. You overwhelm."
The aura faded.
"The second is internal tempering."
The energy sank inward.
Deep.
Matthew's muscles tightened unnaturally as power flowed into bone, marrow, and organs—compressing, grinding, reforging. His breathing slowed, each inhale heavy and controlled.
"This path changes what you are," he said. "Slow. Painful. Permanent."
Then—
"The third."
The air warped.
Energy left his body entirely, forming sharp, controlled constructs—ripples and threads of force hovering near his blade.
"External manipulation," Matthew said. "Spells. Techniques. Distance. Powerful—but your body is often weak."
The pressure vanished.
Matthew lowered his sword.
Kai nodded.
"And people choose one?"
"Most," Matthew replied. "Because mastering even one takes a lifetime."
Kai looked toward the stands.
"I see," he said quietly. "I want to see them."
The arrays flared.
A gate groaned open.
The ground shook.
A massive shape emerged.
White fur matted with ice. Muscles like boulders beneath thick hide. Frost steamed from its nostrils as yellow eyes locked onto the arena.
An Elite-ranked Snow Gorilla.
A calamity-class beast.
Matthew's grip tightened.
"You brought that," he said slowly.
"Yes," Kai replied. "Show me each style."
"One at a time," he added.
Matthew turned sharply.
Silence.
"That thing's strength rivals mine," Matthew said flatly. "And you want me to fight it while holding back?"
"I want to understand your power," Kai replied.
Matthew stared at Kai.
Not with anger.
Not with disbelief.
But with the look one reserved for someone who had calmly stepped off the edge of reason.
"You really are insane," he said quietly.
Kai met his gaze without flinching.
"Maybe," Kai replied.
For a brief moment, Matthew seemed to consider walking away.
Then his jaw tightened.
"Hah."
The sound was sharp. Final.
In the next instant, he vanished.
The space between the stands and the arena collapsed as Matthew dropped in a flash, his boots striking the stone floor with a heavy crack. The impact sent faint ripples through the arrays etched beneath the surface.
His sword was already in his hand.
Steel sang as it left the sheath—clean, precise, lethal.
Matthew settled into stance, blade angled forward, body low, every muscle coiled. Sword Qi stirred faintly around him, restrained but ready.
Across from him, the Snow Gorilla watched.
Calmly.
Its massive frame did not tense.Its breathing did not change.Its yellow eyes simply followed the knight's movements with dull curiosity.
Predator recognizing predator.
For a heartbeat, the arena held its breath.
Then—
The gorilla moved.
It did not roar.
It clapped.
The sound was not loud.
It was absolute.
The moment its palms met, the arena froze—air, sound, intent. Even the arrays flickered violently, struggling to respond.
Matthew's pupils shrank.
For a fraction of a second, his body refused to respond.
Domain control—
He reacted on instinct.
Mana exploded outward, coating his body and sword as sensation returned. Frost cracked beneath his boots as he slid backward, eyes locked on the beast.
Ice behind the gorilla rose.
Spears formed—dozens of them—dense and razor-edged.
They vanished.
Then reappeared.
Matthew moved.
Too slow.
One spear grazed his shoulder, freezing armor and flesh. Pain detonated down his arm.
"So fast already…" he muttered.
He activated the second form.
Mana sank inward, crushing bone and muscle, forcing strength out of pain. His speed surged as wind slashes tore through the air, forcing the gorilla back.
He lunged.
The ice behind him moved.
A frozen wave rose like a collapsing sky.
Matthew's focus split.
A mistake.
A second spear slipped through his defense—aimed at his heart.
"Tch!"
He abandoned the attack and activated his ultimate.
A layered mana shield formed.
The spear struck.
The shield held.
Matthew did not.
The impact hurled him backward into the ice wave. His vision flashed white as he crashed into the ground.
He forced his eyes open.
Too late.
The gorilla's fist came down.
Death.
He dodged and slammed his sword into the ice.
Mana surged downward.
The ground answered.
A vortex formed—then exploded into a towering tornado of shattered ice and wind.
Inside the storm—
The gorilla clapped again.
The sound shattered the vortex.
Fingers fell.
Thick. Frozen. Severed.
The beast froze.
Then it screamed.
Berserk fury followed.
That was the opening.
Matthew was already there.
His sword pierced the gorilla's neck.
Mana surged.
Bang.
The head exploded.
The massive body collapsed, shaking the colosseum as the arrays flared desperately.
Silence returned.
Kai exhaled.
His heart was racing—not with fear, but exhilaration.
From the stands, the Audience Array slowed everything for him. He had seen the mistakes. The timing. The moments where death nearly won.
He loved it.
Not the blood.
Not the violence.
The world.
"So this is my new world," Kai murmured.
Below, Matthew stood amid the wreckage, bloodied—but alive.
Afterward
Matthew sheathed his sword and approached the stands.
"I'll be going to the mission you gave me today," he said. "But I'll leave you something."
He handed Kai a thin manual—old, worn, precise.
"A meditation technique," Matthew continued. "It teaches three things: how to push energy into your organs, how to coat your body, and how to project it outward. Don't rush it."
Kai accepted it.
"I won't," he said.
They parted after some sword training without ceremony.
That night, Kai sat alone in his room.
He closed his eyes and focused inward.
On the corrupt energy coiled within his Dantian.
Carefully, he guided it toward his bones.
The moment it touched—
Pain exploded.
His bones twisted, creaked, screamed. Kai gasped, tearing the energy back before it shattered him completely.
Cold sweat soaked his back.
Next, he tried to guide it outward.
The corruption brushed his soul.
Agony lanced through his mind—sharp, intimate, unbearable.
He recoiled instantly.
Breathing hard, Kai opened his eyes.
Silence.
"So that's how it is," he murmured.
Each time corruption destroyed a part of his body, it did not end there.
The damage never remained damage.
The moment bone fractured or tissue collapsed, the soul energy mixed within the corruption surged, knitting everything back together. But it did not restore things to what they were.
It reforged them.
His bones healed denser.His organs recovered tougher.Threads of corruption, mana, and soul energy fused together, leaving behind something stronger than before—something no normal cultivation method could achieve.
Kai understood quickly.
This path could make him terrifyingly strong.
But it would also kill him without hesitation.
The timing mattered.
If he delayed even slightly in pulling the energy back, the destruction would outpace recovery. His body would collapse before the soul energy could compensate.
So Kai slowed down.
Painstakingly.
One organ at a time.
One mistake at a time.
That became his routine.
During the day, he trained with the sword.
Nothing flashy.
No techniques.
Just the basics Matthew had drilled into him—stab, swing, footwork, grip. Over and over again, until his muscles burned and his stance stopped wobbling.
After that, he worked on flexibility and raw strength, guiding small amounts of corruption inward, reinforcing his body in controlled fragments. Never greedily. Never twice in the same place.
At night, he read.
Books on geography.Books on cultivation.Books on kingdoms, faiths, and forgotten disasters.
He learned the names of cities he had never seen. The balance between the Seven Heavenly Kingdoms. The quiet influence of the Divine Church across the seas.
Days passed.
Then—
The routine broke.
A message arrived from Matthew.
Kai read it once.
Then again.
The Seventh Prince had made his move.
A dispute had been initiated in one of Kai's cities—small at first, deliberate, political. Trade interference. Border friction. Legal accusations dressed as concern.
But it wouldn't stay small.
Matthew's message was clear.
Within two months, it would escalate into a full kingdom battle.
Kai closed the message and leaned back in his chair.
So the board had shifted.
The calm was over.
He smiled faintly.
Two months.
That was the timeline the Seventh Prince had prepared for.
Kai had no intention of waiting.
He would initiate the kingdom battle himself.
Two weeks.
That was all the time he needed to turn the board over and strike first—before the Seventh Prince realized the game had changed.