The searing vacuum in the young man's lungs signaled his limit. Under the crushing weight of the war technique, the youth tensed every muscle fiber, forcing the mana from his Internal Forge out through his pores in a violent surge. Foregoing a solid barrier, he coated his skin in a vibrational film of counter-pressure.
Cold sweat rolled down his temple as he sustained the irregular flow, struggling to keep his internal organs intact under the atmospheric crushing force.
"Tsk, this one's gonna hurt," he muttered, gritting his teeth while staring down his opponent's clenched fist.
The veteran, poised to unleash annihilation, froze mid-motion.
Observing the glint in his younger brother's eyes, the Commander sensed a technical readiness that defied logic. The boy didn't show panic; he showed calculation. Suddenly, the energy flow was cut. The condensed mana dissipated in a gust of hot wind that swept dust to the edges of the courtyard, and the air rushed back to the epicenter with a boom, filling the vacuum all at once.
The warrior remained static for a few seconds, arms relaxed, eyes fixed on the crater where the youth was recovering.
"Enough," the veteran declared, his voice carrying a rare trace of incredulity. "You are unrecognizable, Kael."
He approached slowly, examining his opponent like one studying a fundamental anomaly.
"I've trained thousands of soldiers, from capital prodigies to career generals... but I've never seen anyone at the Internal Forge level with this much mastery."
The Commander opened and closed his own hands, still feeling the prickle of the energy the boy had nearly neutralized with precise touches.
"Whoever trained you created someone capable of finding flaws in any opponent's system. For an Internal Forge fighter, I've never seen anyone so skilled."
The youth wiped sweat from his face, feeling the weight of the praise—and the suspicion.
Marcus stood still, hands still pulsing with the remnants of the dissipated energy. The silence in the training yard weighed as heavy as the atmospheric pressure just manipulated. The Commander took a step forward, closing the distance.
"Three months," Marcus said, his voice low and serious. "That's how long you were away. This type of control over the Internal Forge requires years of refinement. The technique you used to neutralize my impact ignores the fundamental principles our father taught us."
You felt the weight of his suspicion. Taking a deep breath, you let oxygen fill your still-burning lungs, seeking the balance needed to maintain Kael's disguise.
"The world beyond the capital borders is merciless, brother," you replied, keeping your gaze steady. "I found someone living among the rubble. A man who saw mana as an extension of the environment, prioritizing fluidity over brute force."
Marcus furrowed his brow, processing the information. Doubt remained latent in his expression.
"A hermit capable of teaching an Internal Forge practitioner how to bend the vacuum?" Marcus let out a dry laugh. "If such a man exists, he is the most talented master Luminah has ever ignored."
"The fluidity you describe," Cordelia intervened, her soft voice cutting through the tension, "resembles ancient fragments of mana manipulation records—something we rarely see in someone still consolidating their Internal Forge."
You nodded, adjusting your sweat-soaked tunic.
"The Internal Forge is usually seen as a kiln that hardens steel," you explained, choosing your words to sound technical yet mysterious. "However, if you allow the heat to escape through the pores at specific frequencies, the surrounding air reacts. It was simply the result of repelling atmospheric pressure instead of trying to absorb it with my bones. It's exhausting, but effective against crushing forces."
Marcus relaxed his shoulders, though the crease between his brows hadn't fully vanished.
"It's a dangerous theory," the Commander commented. "If the flow wavers by a millimeter, your own lungs collapse. But... it worked. For now, I'll accept that your hermit of the ruins was either a genius or a madman."
"It makes sense," Cordelia noted, crossing her arms and watching her younger brother intently. "You're using mana vibration to push the air. It's a clever application, Kael. Rarely does someone in the Internal Forge think to interact with the environment that way."
Aslam wiped the sweat from his forehead. He felt the Internal Forge pulsing strongly, nearly ready for the transition.
"Marcus, Cordelia, I need to retire for now," Aslam said. "Today's competition will demand much of me. I'm going back to my room at the inn to gather some preparation items and meditate before the start."
Marcus nodded with a firm gesture.
"Go. The noble suites are comfortable, but I understand you prefer your own space at the inn to focus. We'll be ready to depart as soon as the contest bell rings."
Aslam left the courtyard and walked through the busy streets of Eldria until he reached the inn. Upon entering his room, the silence of the environment helped him lower his guard. He approached the wooden table where he organized his belongings and noticed something different.
Resting on the tabletop was a heavy, dark paper envelope, sealed with black wax and the detailed crest of House Blackthorn.
He then caught a subtle, magnetic aroma drifting from the paper. He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, finding an elegant and imposing script:
"To the most elusive Aslam Radianthe,
I write to you under the sign of profound indignation, seeing as you have the audacity to ignore my previous invitations with such coldness. Such conduct, in circles of exemplary nobility, borders on ignominy. My wrath, however, is mitigated by the stupor caused by your performance in the arena.
To observe your movements is to contemplate the very essence of destruction wrapped in an elegance rarely seen. Your new technique exudes a dangerous vigor, and I must admit, with due respect, that your features have acquired a beauty I find impossible to disdain. It is regrettable that such a magnetic spirit chooses such evasion in the face of my will.
Hereby, I demand your presence for a private dinner at my estates, immediately following the conclusion of the first day of the final stage of the Arcane Championship. Take this missive as a summons from one who is not accustomed to accepting silence as an answer. My patience has limits that your grace surely does not wish to test.
With admiration and latent disdain,
Cassandra Blackthorn"
You finished reading and dropped the paper on the table. A feeling of unease took hold of your thoughts.
How did she know exactly where you were staying? And more importantly: how did this letter end up on your table, inside a room that should have been locked?
The realization that someone had invaded your privacy so easily irritated you. You put your hand to your forehead, feeling the slight throb of fatigue, and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"People around here aren't professional at all..." you muttered to the empty walls, frustrated by the inn's lack of security and the audacity of the Blackthorns.