Chapter 6 – What the World Must Not See
The morning air was sharp against Leonhart's skin as he ran.
Boots pounding against the packed dirt of the training yard, breath coming fast, shoulders tight with thought.
The grass was slick with dew. The pines whispered above the estate walls. Guards passed at intervals, nodding silently as he passed — but he barely noticed them.
His mind was still in the pages.
His legs moved out of habit now. It wasn't the body's strength that carried him — it was momentum. The kind that comes from understanding something new, something too large to hold all at once.
He remembered the lines as clearly as if they had been spoken.
Long ago, the continent was fractured — not by war, but by betrayal of the divine.
Seven kingdoms spiraled into chaos when the sky gods severed their pact and withdrew their light.
In the silence that followed, ambition filled the void.
Three kingdoms, led by visionary lords, had formed a hidden alliance — sealed not with ink, but with blood and spirit. Together, they crushed the remaining four.
Leonhart slowed his run, not from fatigue — but from weight.
This wasn't a tale of peace. It wasn't legacy or unity or honor.
It was conquest.
That alliance became the foundation of Eldrosia.
He sat now, catching his breath on the edge of the stone ring.
According to the text, the capital had once been the heart of one of those seven kingdoms — Aurelion, the land of high scholars and military tacticians. Not the largest. Not the most feared. But the sharpest.
It was from Aurelion that Valen Eldros had risen.
Not a king. A commander. A man who had studied ancient ruins and questioned the gods openly in an age when such thoughts could mean execution.
He had united Aurelion, Vandross, and Elgrave under one vision — and crushed Solmere, Thanehold, Kyros, and Orris in a campaign that was fast, ruthless, and decisive.
The capital of modern Eldrosia now stood atop Aurelion's old citadel — the Spire of Accord, where the first tri-blood contract between scholar, sword, and spirit had been sealed.
So the crown had not been handed down from heaven.
It had been taken.
And Elgrave had helped take it.
But in recent decades, Elgrave had declined. Its position in the west — once fortified by powerful mana crystal mines — had begun to wane. The veins were drying up. The mines shallow. The crystals once sold across the kingdom now barely lit a corridor.
Power was slipping.
And so were they.
Even the Great Academy — Aetherhold — had barely admitted an Elgrave student in the last decade. The central fortress of magical and martial learning, where the most gifted in the kingdom trained beneath the Spire itself.
The books said Elgrave hadn't sent more than two students there in nine years.
Leonhart stared at the sky.
His name wasn't a crown. It was a closing door.
A voice cut into the wind.
"Let's start with basic sword training."
Leonhart turned to see Gaius standing near the edge of the ring, calm as ever, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
"You always appear the second I sit down," Leonhart muttered.
"You always sit down the second it's time to work," Gaius replied.
A wooden blade was tossed at his feet.
He picked it up.
And the lesson began.
—
When the sun dipped low, he dined with his family.
The Duke watched him carefully. The Duchess asked quiet questions. Eira kicked his leg under the table and beamed when he flinched.
After dinner, Leonhart returned to the library. The great doors parted for him.
Elaris was waiting.
"You've returned," she said. "Good."
She stepped forward. Her voice held a different note.
"I have something for you."
The air before them unfolded. Not tore — unfolded. A silver gate appeared, its frame made of softly glowing runes.
Beyond it — grass, mountains, rivers, wind.
"This is still part of the library," she said. "A space folded within its walls. Here, you can train your eyes — and learn to control ether."
He stared at it.
"It feels real."
"It is," she said. "But outside, no time will pass."
She began his training.
At first, he saw nothing.
"You can see it," she said, her own hands trailing glowing threads in the air. "With those eyes."
"Ghost Eyes?"
"Yes. And you have them. I do not — I'm a spirit. I am ether. But you… you can see it."
He tried.
And slowly — he did.
Golden threads. Spiraling gently through the air.
Elaris looked stunned.
"You're truly an interesting man, Haruto."
He blinked. "Am I?"
She smiled.
"Training ends for today."
—
A year and a half passed.
He trained with Gaius by day, with Elaris by night.
He grew stronger. Sharper. He could now see the movements of an opponent just before they happened — a gift of the Ghost Eyes.
But not all movement could be countered.
Not when it came from Gaius.
"I see the strike," Leonhart had once said.
"Then stop it," Gaius had replied.
"I can't move fast enough."
"Then you're not ready."
His body was catching up. But it wasn't there yet.
As for ether — he could feel it now. He could shape it. Gently. Cautiously.
But only in secret.
Never outside this place, Elaris had warned him.
Do not speak of it to anyone.
There are forces moving already. If they learn Elgrave has someone like you… they will not sit still.
So he stayed silent.
Let them see discipline.
Let them see a blade.
Not the truth.
—
"Again," Leonhart said, raising his sword.
Gaius reset his stance. "As you wish, young master."
They clashed again, wood cracking against wood.
Later that afternoon, he handed a practice blade to Eira in the garden.
"You're slower than usual today," he said.
"You're more annoying than usual today," she replied flatly, sticking her tongue out.
They circled. Traded light blows.
Six months ago, he'd beaten her for the first time.
Not easily. Not cleanly.
But it happened.
It wasn't something he bragged about.
It wasn't something he was proud of.
But it marked a moment.
The day he stopped pretending to be strong.
And started becoming it.
—