Reforged in Silence
Arthur closed his textbooks one by one, the soft whisper of turning pages fading into silence. With a practiced flick of his wrist, the books shimmered and vanished into the spatial pocket inside his bracelet—an effortless motion, but one that always felt like folding a piece of the world away. Around Erinoguard, everyone used this function; it was as natural as breathing.
He started toward the door, his footsteps quiet but purposeful on the polished stone floor. Suddenly, Jullian caught up, stepping beside him with a grin that couldn't hide his excitement.
"Arthur," Jullian said, voice low but eager, "that class? Seriously next level. Velmira didn't hold back—especially with that math test. My head's still spinning."
Arthur let a brief smirk cross his face, a spark of satisfaction lighting his sharp eyes. "Good. If it's not challenging, what's the point?"
Jullian laughed softly, shaking his head. "True. And the spell assignment? Mana Bullet. Looks basic, but I swear there's something deeper there. You feel it too, right?"
Arthur glanced sideways, voice steady and sure. "The basics are the foundation. Master that, and everything else comes easier."
Ahead, Nyssara and Saryn stepped out of the hallway's shadows, joining the pair like a silent promise of strength and resolve.
Saryn's tone was firm, almost daring. "I'm with you. Varek's combat training is where we prove ourselves—not just words on paper."
Nyssara's eyes glimmered with quiet determination. "No better way to sharpen skill and spirit."
Arthur stopped, studying them both—a flicker of respect passing between the four of them. "Two hours. Combat training ground. Be ready to push harder than ever."
Jullian's grin deepened, almost a challenge. "We'll make it count."
Together, they walked on, footsteps ringing softly in the corridor—a rhythm that hinted at the battles to come, and the bonds that would be forged in fire.
———————————
Two hours later, the atmosphere at the combat training grounds was sharp and heavy, like a blade held just above the skin. The circular arena pulsed with faint energy from the enchantments built into its walls. Magical runes shimmered along the floor, and the mana barrier above glittered softly in the afternoon sun.
Arthur stood calmly with Jullian, Saryn, and Nyssara. But today, they weren't just four.
Standing slightly apart was someone whose presence felt almost like an absence—Nyx Akers. His black hair hung loosely over his forehead, and his indigo eyes looked dim, like the light in them had long since faded. He stood as if detached from the moment, from the world around him.
Then the sound of footsteps—firm, unyielding—echoed through the training grounds.
Varek Kaelthorn had arrived.
His very presence shifted the air. Dressed in a worn gray uniform laced with runic thread, the veteran instructor's mere gaze could make a lesser student stumble. No magic cloaked him—only the raw pressure of an apex weapon master.
"Thank you all for coming," Varek began, voice deep and commanding. "Arthur must have explained why you're here."
He scanned their faces. There was no need for further context.
"We won't waste time. Let's begin."
He turned to Jullian first.
"Jullian, you'll use only your spear. No aura. No skills. No magic. You will fight three golems, each at your current rank. Use nothing but your body's raw stats and your technique."
Jullian nodded, his expression focused. "Yes, Professor."
"Saryn," Varek continued, "you'll fight with your bare hands. No assistance. Three golems. Same rank."
Saryn grinned, stretching his knuckles. "Bring it on."
"Nyssara. Sword only. No enhancements. Three golems."
Nyssara simply nodded, her silver braid catching the light.
"Arthur," Varek said, his tone sharpening slightly. "Same rules. Only your sword. But you'll fight four golems. One will be armed—with spear and magic."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, but his reply was calm. "Understood."
Finally, Varek looked at Nyx.
"Nyx. Standard training sword. No restrictions. Fight normally."
Nyx gave a dull nod, the light in his eyes unchanged. "Alright."
"Move out."
With a surge of mana, golems formed from glowing magic circles on the ground—solid, humanoid constructs of stone and steel. They stood tall and ready, their eyes glowing faintly, mirroring their opponent's power level.
Then came the clash.
Jullian moved first, spear striking with quick, sharp bursts. He dropped one golem cleanly, but was blindsided by another. A solid hit to the ribs knocked him back. His second kill came with great effort, but the third remained standing.
Saryn fought like a storm—his fists a blur. He knocked one golem out cold with a knee to its core, but was swarmed by the remaining two. One struck his jaw, the other pinned him, and soon he was fighting just to breathe.
Nyssara's swordsmanship was refined and dangerous. Her first opponent fell fast, her blade dancing with control. But the other two adapted. One grazed her arm. The other almost broke through her guard. By the end, she was bloodied—and one golem was still standing.
Arthur, though…
He moved like a shadow with steel. His first two golems fell before they could mount a serious defense. The third one gave him trouble but was dispatched with a spinning slash. Then came the fourth—armed, enhanced, and ruthless. A spear grazed Arthur's ribs. A blast of magic scorched his shoulder. But Arthur endured it all.
No aura. No skills.
Just raw, disciplined swordsmanship.
Three golems lay broken. One still stood, barely. He cut it down with a final slash to the core.
Only Arthur completed his challenge.
But even he had bled.
Then there was Nyx.
He stepped forward slowly, almost like he didn't want to be there.
The golems charged.
Nyx didn't react.
They struck him, again and again. He raised his blade too late, moved too slowly, swung without conviction. His body moved, but his spirit did not. Within seconds, he was on the ground. The golems didn't even seem challenged.
It was over before it even started.
Varek approached him, slow and deliberate.
"You can't win like that," he said, voice level but iron. "This isn't about magic. Or skill. Or rank. It's about will. And yours is missing."
Nyx said nothing.
Varek's gaze sharpened. "You'll never survive a battlefield with dead eyes. The battlefield doesn't wait for you to catch up. Either you move, or you die."
Still no response.
Arthur, breathing steady despite the blood trailing down his arm, stepped forward.
"Professor," he said, calmly. "Can I speak with him privately?"
Varek studied him for a moment. Then gave a single nod. "You have ten minutes."
Arthur turned and walked toward Nyx, who stood off to the side, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on nothing.
Without saying a word, Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him away—toward the corner of the training ground, away from the others, where the shadows offered silence and space.
They stood there, just the two of them.
And Arthur finally spoke.
"Nyx," he said quietly. "Enough pretending."
Nyx flinched—just slightly.
"Talk to me."
Arthur stood calmly, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked onto the slumped figure of Nyx Akers.
"You used to be a genius," he began, voice low and cutting. "The one who dared to rival me… the one who thought he could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Arthur Valerian."
A pause.
Arthur stepped forward, his gaze unrelenting.
"Now look at you."
Nyx didn't move. His eyes were hollow, distant.
"You can't even stand straight. You couldn't defeat a golem at your own rank. You can't even lift your blade with conviction. What happened, Nyx? Where did all that ambition go?"
The silence between them stretched.
Arthur's tone sharpened, turning colder. "Is it because of a girl? Is that why you've fallen this far? Because she left you?"
Nyx's fingers twitched.
"You're weak," Arthur spat. "So weak it's pathetic. You can't even hold your sword without trembling. You can't even look me in the eye. Honestly… I'm disgusted."
Arthur took one final step forward, eyes like obsidian.
"You're not just weak, Nyx. You're broken. And not even worth fixing."
That was it.
Something inside Nyx snapped.
"You think you know me?!" he screamed, eyes wide, voice hoarse with rage and grief. "What the hell do you know?!"
Arthur said nothing, letting the dam break.
"I grew up with nothing, Arthur! My parents died when I was three. My uncle took me in—only to toss me out when my inheritance was gone. I ended up in a public awakening school, scraping by, surviving off scraps and broken training gear."
He took a shaky breath, fists clenched at his sides.
"Then the Evans family found me. They saw my potential. They gave me resources, money, even support. I thought things would finally change."
Nyx's voice broke for a second, but he continued.
"I earned a place in the YCT Top 10. I got into the Elydrion Empire's elite academy as a reward. Everything was finally going right."
And then… darkness passed over his eyes.
"Until I was cursed. I don't even know who did it—but ever since, I've been stuck. No progress. No advancement. Just failure after failure."
His shoulders trembled.
"The Evans family dropped me. The mentors left. The girl I loved? Gone the moment I stumbled. They all vanished the second I wasn't worth anything."
Nyx's hands shook as he raised his training katana.
"And now you call me weak?"
He charged, blade trembling in his grip.
"I'm still here!" he shouted. "After all that—I'm still here! Anyone else would've ended it! But not me! I trained 'til my bones shattered, bled on the floor of underground arenas, and woke up the next day to do it again!"
Arthur blocked the blows with mechanical ease. But he didn't retaliate.
"You call me weak?" Nyx said again, quieter now. His strength faded. His katana wavered.
"I tried so hard…"
Then—his knees buckled. The katana fell with a dull clang.
And Nyx collapsed.
Tears streamed down his face, body heaving with each sob. All the years of pain, betrayal, and loneliness spilled out into the empty space between them.
Arthur stood in silence for a long moment.
Then—
SLAP.
A loud crack as Arthur slapped himself across the face.
Even Nyx, amid his crying, looked up in confusion.
Arthur knelt before him, eyes no longer cold—but calm, resolute.
"I'm sorry, Nyx," he said. "I'm sorry on behalf of the Valerian family. We promised to protect you… and we failed. That's our fault. My fault."
Then, without hesitation, he pulled Nyx into a firm embrace.
Quietly, he whispered into Nyx's ear—soft and serious:
"I can't turn back time. I can't erase your pain. But… I can lift your curse."
Nyx froze. His tears slowed. "S-Stop lying…"
"I'm not lying," Arthur replied.
"How?" Nyx whispered, voice barely audible.
"Come with me," Arthur said. "Tomorrow. Dungeon raid. You'll get answers there."
Nyx looked at him, eyes still watery. "And what do you want in return?"
Arthur smiled faintly.
"You."
Nyx's brow furrowed. "What…?"
"Become my sword, Nyx," Arthur said. "Not a slave. Not a servant. A sword. A blade that fights by my side. You can leave any time. But I need someone like you to fight with me."
Silence.
Then Nyx began thinking.
The Valerian family… they gave me food, shelter, support—before I even had a name. I blamed them for abandoning me when in truth… they never owed me anything. And now, Arthur Valerian—someone who stands above even the Divine Prodigies—is asking me… to become his sword?
His eyes cleared.
"…If you can lift this curse," he said with newfound conviction, "I will become your sword, Arthur Valerian."
Arthur smirked.
"Good."
They rose, together, and returned to the training field.
From a distance, Varek Kaelthorn, the Rank 8 Weapon Master, stood with arms crossed. He watched them silently, then gave a small nod.
Something had changed.
Not just in Nyx—but in Arthur too.
And not only Varek noticed it.
Jullian smiled faintly.
Saryn crossed his arms, nodding once.
Nyssara's lips curled into a smirk.
The storm had passed.
A blade had been broken… and reforged.
"Sometimes, the strongest sword isn't forged in the heat of talent or glory—but in the fires of pain, loss, and will. That boy… he's no ordinary blade anymore."