The next morning brought no sunrise only mist.
Kael awoke on the cold stone floor of Aria's sanctum, his body aching, his palms still bloodstained. The symbols carved by his initiation had faded from sight but not from sensation. Magic now throbbed through his limbs like a second pulse, cold and hot all at once.
Aria was already awake, standing barefoot in the center of a chalk-drawn ritual circle. Her eyes were closed, her hands raised. The air around her shimmered with invisible tension, like something vast and ancient stirred behind the veil of the world.
She didn't look at him when she spoke.
"Tell me, Kael. What do you feel?"
Kael sat up slowly, his voice rasping. "Hunger."
"Not for food."
"No." His gaze was sharp now. "For strength. For retribution."
Aria finally turned, her expression unreadable. "Then you are ready."
She motioned him forward and handed him a long, wrapped object. The fabric unfurled in his hands to reveal a blade not made of steel, but of black crystal veined with glowing crimson. It was light, unnaturally so, and it thrummed with power like a living thing.
"This is Ashveil. Forged from the shattered heart of a fire wyrm and quenched in the blood of a dying star. It will grow with you feed on your victories. But beware... it will also feed on your will."
Kael gripped the weapon. "Let it take what it wants. As long as it burns my enemies."
Aria nodded in approval. "You're not just a mage now. You've taken the first step onto the Sword Path as well. To rule this world, you must master both steel and sorcery."
He raised the blade. "How far does the path go?"
"Nine levels. Just as in magic. Tier 1 to Tier 9. Above that lies transcendence what scholars once called Divine Edge. Only gods wield blades at that level. And they bleed worship, not blood."
Kael sheathed Ashveil across his back. "Then I'll become a god who conquers gods."
Aria smiled faintly. "Your ambition will kill you, or elevate you beyond the stars. Either way, you'll never be forgotten."
The weeks that followed were nothing short of brutal.
Kael's days were consumed by training his nights by feverish dreams filled with fire and shadow. Aria taught him the core disciplines of both the Sword and Magic Paths: elemental control, aura channeling, reinforcement arts, blood sigils, and memory runes.
He bled every day. He broke bones, vomited mana, and nearly drowned in illusions crafted to shatter his will.
But he never broke.
Each failure only hardened him. Each scar was a promise.
Soon, he was not just surviving he was growing.
He advanced to Tier 2 in both Magic and Sword, earning Aria's rare approval.
"You're ahead of schedule," she admitted one night, pouring him a draught brewed from nightshade and dragon moss. "Most take years to reach where you are."
Kael took the cup without flinching. "Vengeance doesn't wait."
"You'll need more than skill to achieve it," she warned. "You'll need allies. Influence. Faith."
Kael looked into the fire, eyes burning with purpose. "I'll build churches in my name. They'll pray to me in fear. And with every word of worship... I'll grow stronger."
He clenched his fist.
"One day, the gods will kneel."