The council reacts with shock to the unprecedented lightning attack, suspecting a powerful new weapon from the Thunder Empire. Meanwhile, Imperial endures intense training under Master Kaien, unlocking new power but receiving a mysterious sword that unsettles both him and his mother. Secrets about the sword's legendary past begin to surface, hinting at a deeper destiny for Imperial.
The morning sun peeked softly through the curtains of the Alden household, casting warm golden streaks across the polished wooden floor. A gentle breeze wafted in through the open window, stirring the edge of the thin linen drapes. Imperial stood near his bed, adjusting the cuffs of his robe in quiet preparation for the day ahead. The dull ache in his limbs lingered from the thunder tank training—an unforgiving routine that left most warriors breathless—but in his eyes, a new fire shimmered. It wasn't arrogance, nor defiance. It was something subtler. A quiet confidence. The faint glow of a boy beginning to grow into something more.
He paused as he caught his reflection in the polished mirror. His frame was still lean, but his posture had changed—more upright, steadier. The calluses on his hands told stories he hadn't spoken aloud. Thunder had begun to shape him, not just his body, but something deeper. He didn't yet understand the weight of that change.
A sudden knock broke his thoughts.
"Imperial," came Lyra's voice from the kitchen, calm but brisk. "Could you please open the door?"
"Coming!" he called, already halfway to the door.
As he turned the handle and pulled it open, his breath caught in his throat.
"Master… you?!"
There, standing on the doorstep, was Kaien. Calm. Composed. Dressed in a faded traveler's cloak, a weathered gray hood pulled low over his face. His presence was commanding, even when relaxed, and beneath that hood, a smirk tugged playfully at his lips.
"Do you not want your old master to visit you once in a while?" Kaien asked, voice laced with mock offense.
"No! I mean, yes—of course, I want you to!" Imperial stepped back quickly, flustered. "Please, come in!"
"Mom! We've got a guest!" he shouted down the hallway.
But Lyra was already there. She stood with arms crossed at the hallway's edge, her expression unreadable. Sharp yet calm. She didn't look surprised.
"I know who it is," she said. "I'm the one who invited him."
Imperial blinked, confused. "Wait, what?"
Kaien chuckled lightly and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. "Go ahead to the training grounds. I'll catch up soon—just need a word with your mother."
Imperial hesitated, glancing between them, but nodded. "Alright... Just don't make her angry, Master." With a grin and a wave, he stepped outside, vanishing into the morning fog that curled between the forest trees.
As the door clicked shut, the atmosphere in the house changed.
"It's unexpected to see you here... Vice General Leon," Lyra said slowly, her voice losing none of its edge.
Kaien exhaled softly and removed his hood. His silver-streaked hair framed a face carved by time and burden. His eyes, once blazing with youthful certainty, now carried the weight of too many secrets.
"'Leon' was the name given to me during my time in service. A title, nothing more. My true name... is Kaien. Forgive the deception, Lady Lyra."
Lyra gave a short nod but didn't sit. "I suppose you're here about the sword."
Kaien's eyes darkened. "Yes. I had to confirm it myself."
"I prayed I was wrong," she whispered. "But the moment I saw him holding it—the design, the weight, the energy—it was unmistakable. That sword… its Raiktsu, isn't it?"
Kaien said nothing at first. He walked slowly to the window and looked out; following the faint path Imperial had taken into the woods. His gaze lingered there, as if he could still see the boy's silhouette between the leaves.
"You're right," he said at last. "The sword your son now carries is the true Raiktsu."
Lyra's breath hitched. "But… how? The Emperor holds the sacred sword. We all saw it in the last coronation."
Kaien turned back, his voice grave.
"The Emperor wields a replica. A perfect imitation crafted to maintain the illusion. But it holds no true power."
"You mean... for generations, the throne has been a lie?" she asked, her voice low, disbelieving.
"A necessary lie," Kaien replied. "Let me tell you the truth your history books never mention."
He moved to a chair and sat, folding his hands.
"Three centuries ago, the last true master of Raiktsu—emperor Vaelric—discovered that his only son, though born royal, was not worthy. When the time came, the sword rejected him outright. It refused to resonate, refused to even draw. The king, wise and deeply attuned to the will of the gods, accepted this as fate. Rather than risking the sword falling into unworthy hands, he summoned my great-grandfather, his most trusted general."
"And gave him the sword," Lyra finished quietly.
Kaien nodded.
"He tasked my ancestor with a sacred mission: protect Raiktsu, hide it, and watch the world. Wait for the one it would choose. To shield the truth, the king spread a story—that the sword would shatter in unworthy hands. No one ever tried again."
Lyra sat down, her expression shaken but composed.
"All this time... it was waiting. And you think that person is Imperial?"
Kaien smiled—not with amusement, but with a quiet, unshakable conviction.
"I know it. The moment he touched Raiktsu, it responded. The pulse of thunder through your home that night—it wasn't rejection. It was resonance. It awakened for him. After all these years... it chose."
Lyra turned her face away, pressing her hand against her mouth. Her breath trembled. "He's just a boy…"
"He won't be for long," Kaien said gently. "The sword has chosen him. And with it comes more than just power—it brings duty, history, burden... and perhaps, a claim he has no idea he carries."
Lyra looked up, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Then everything changes. Doesn't it?"
Kaien rose, his expression firm.
"Everything already has."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"I swore an oath once to protect and train Lord Cyrus—Imperial's father. A man of thunder and unwavering will. And now, I make that same vow to his son."
Lyra stood slowly, meeting his gaze. "He doesn't know the truth yet. About the sword, about Cyrus… or the throne."
Kaien's jaw tightened. "He will. But not yet. Let him grow without the chains of expectation. When the time comes, he'll need more than strength—he'll need clarity, conviction... and the courage to choose his own path."
Lyra's expression softened and she reached for a cloth to dab the corner of her eye.
"I always feared this day. But I also hoped for it."
Kaien bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Lady Lyra. For raising the boy who may very well be the one my family has guarded this secret for across centuries."
He turned toward the door but paused.
"He already is. Just like his father—Lord Cyrus—a man of thunder and will. Now I make
Him as strong as his father was.