Chapter 31: Echoes Beneath the Tide
The echo of waves crashing against stone walls resounded through the ancient cavern beneath the desert, but this time, the sound was not of nature—it was the sound of swords clashing, fists striking, and power resonating through the very air. In the heart of the sea warrior clan's subterranean sanctuary, four figures stood in a vast, open arena carved from blue stone and glowing coral. Water shimmered in the air around them, particles dancing in rhythm with the power of the ocean.
Valen, Marcus, Alexander, and Larren stood in a circle, facing each other with determined eyes. Their bodies glistened with sweat, muscles coiled like springs, each carrying the aura of someone who had tasted battle and survived death. It had been a week since their brutal encounter with the hellhound, and under the guidance of the Sea Warrior leader, Kairos Rohn, their strength had transformed.
Alexander had ascended to the Fifth Realm, barely scraping into the beginner stage, but even that small gap made a noticeable difference. The water itself seemed to respond to his movements. The others, having reached the peak of the Fourth Realm, had grown exponentially in both skill and instinct.
Daryon Rohn stood off to the side, arms crossed, his long blue hair flowing behind him like a cape. His presence alone brought a stillness to the room.
"Enough rest," Daryon called, his deep voice like the crash of a wave. "Today, you fight as one and against each other. Prove to me you're not just survivors—you're warriors worthy of standing on the battlefield when the tides of war rise."
With a single motion of his hand, the water beneath the arena surged, and the center split open slightly, releasing a misty vapor that intensified the environment.
Marcus stepped forward, tightening the bandage around his wrist. "Let's do this. No holding back."
Valen nodded. "I want to see how much stronger we've become."
Alexander's eyes glowed faintly, Poseidon's blessing pulsing within him. "I won't lose. Not anymore."
Larren cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Let's make this fun."
The signal was given. In a heartbeat, the spar began.
Marcus was the first to move, dashing toward Valen with blinding speed, his sword infused with water energy slicing a graceful arc. Valen blocked with his Sword Night eater, sparks flying as the enchanted metal clashed with Marcus' blade. He countered with a spin-kick, enhanced by water-imbued force, but Marcus ducked and slid backward, water rippling beneath his boots.
Larren lunged at Alexander, Trident spinning in his hands. He fought like a tide—unpredictable, relentless, and flowing with instinct. Alexander parried each strike, channeling his magic into his trident. With a burst of energy, he summoned a current from beneath, sending a surge of water to knock Larren off balance, but Larren twisted mid-air and landed perfectly.
Valen now joined the clash between them, attempting to double-team Alexander, but the latter planted his trident into the ground, forming a barrier of water that stopped them both.
"Don't think I'll go easy on you just because we're on the same side," Alexander shouted.
From the sidelines, Dayron watched intently, evaluating their techniques, their synergy, and how well they adapted. He nodded slightly.
"They're beginning to listen to the water," he muttered.
The arena transformed into a storm of movement. Valen's brute strength, sharpened by his training and water resonance, allowed him to trade blows with Marcus and Larren, countering speed with sheer power. Marcus flowed like a river, striking precisely and using water to disarm and disorient. Larren, fast and cunning, darted between attacks, often using his agility to land minor but effective strikes.
Alexander, despite having the clear edge in power, was constantly being challenged by the other three. He was learning to control his overwhelming energy, and every clash pushed him to understand the limits of his blessing.
After what seemed like an eternity of battle, all four dropped to their knees, panting and bruised.
Daryon clapped once, and the water in the arena receded. "Better. But you're still too divided. You don't fight as a unit. In real war, that gets you all killed."
Valen coughed, his Training sword cracked slightly. "We're trying. But we're all used to fighting alone."
Daryon stepped forward. "That's the very habit that must die. You think Hades' apostles will fight you one-on-one in fairness? No. They will descend as a storm. You will face betrayal, chaos, and despair. If you can't rely on each other fully, you're already dead."
He raised a hand, and from the water, four dummies rose—each shaped to look like monstrous beasts, animated by magic.
"Again," he commanded. "This time, together."
Despite their exhaustion, the four rose. This time, there was no hesitation. Marcus took the lead, coordinating movements with hand signs. Valen covered him with brute force, striking down the first dummy. Alexander kept a dome of water protection around them, and Larren blurred through shadows, taking out targets from blind angles.
Each movement was in harmony. A step forward. A block. A strike. A retreat. Then back again.
Even Daryon gave a small smile.
When the battle ended, and the dummies were reduced to soaked rubble, the four collapsed, laughter echoing through the arena.
Marcus rolled over and looked up at the glowing ceiling. "That... felt good."
Valen grinned. "I actually didn't want to kill you this time."
Alexander smiled faintly, the pressure he always carried seeming to lift for a moment. "We're getting there."
Larren tossed his Trident into the air and caught it lazily while spinning it back and forth with excitement . "This is what fighting should feel like."
Daryon approached and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "You have come far. But the real storm approaches. Rest today. Tomorrow, we begin mastering the Sea Resonance Arts. And Alexander, we will push you further. Poseidon's blessing is not something you wear—it's something you become."
Alexander nodded, a new fire in his eyes. "I'm ready."
As they left the arena, water dripping from their clothes, none of them realized that deep beneath the sea floor, something stirred—a distant echo answering their growing strength.
The tides were shifting, and the storm was on its way.