Chapter 4: The First Duel
Kael barely ducked in time.
The masked man's blade sliced the air where Kael's neck had been a second ago. A silver flash—so fast it blurred—and Kael rolled away, leaves scattering beneath him.
"Not bad," the masked swordsman said calmly. "Your instincts have begun to awaken."
Kael rose, sword in hand. "Why are you attacking me?"
"Because you need it," the man replied. "Astral will not serve a weak soul."
Kael grit his teeth. "Then I'll show you I'm not weak."
He charged.
Astral moved like wind in his hand, guiding his grip, adjusting his posture—each motion sharper, cleaner than before. He wasn't swinging randomly anymore. The blade taught him as he fought.
Steel clashed against steel. Sparks flew. Kael's arms trembled, but he didn't back down.
"You've never had real combat, have you?" the masked man said, parrying effortlessly.
"No. But I've watched every move… every form… and I remember all of it."
Kael's eyes gleamed. His blade twisted with unexpected finesse.
CLANG!
He forced the masked man back a step.
That moment—a single step—gave Kael confidence.
He pressed forward. His style wasn't refined yet, but it was fueled by something raw—resolve. Every swing of Astral felt more natural, like an extension of his soul.
The masked swordsman smiled behind the cracked moon mask.
"You're learning mid-fight… Interesting."
Their blades clashed again and again. The rhythm was wild but getting sharper, cleaner. The stranger twisted suddenly and delivered a kick to Kael's ribs, sending him crashing against a tree.
Kael coughed, winded. But he stood back up.
"You're still standing," the masked man said.
"Yeah," Kael growled, "and I'm not done."
With a roar, Kael charged again. This time, his blade cut through the air with purpose. A feint. A spin. A downward slash. The masked man blocked—barely.
A thin scratch opened on the man's cheek.
For the first time, Kael had landed a blow.
The masked man stepped back, lowering his sword. "Enough."
Kael blinked. "What?"
"You pass."
He sheathed his weapon and tossed a small medallion toward Kael. It landed at his feet—a silver token engraved with the image of a falling star.
"What is this?"
"A mark of recognition. The Order of the Skyless Moon will soon hunt you. That token… it's your first step in resisting them."
Kael picked it up slowly.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I go by many names," the man said. "But you can call me Shade."
He turned to leave, disappearing into the mist like a shadow. Only his final words lingered in the clearing:
"Train harder, Kael. Because the next ones won't be testing you… they'll be trying to kill you."
Kael stood alone again. Chest heaving. Muscles burning. But heart steady.
He looked at the medallion.
Then at the sword in his hand.
"I won't run."
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To be continued…