The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone courtyard of Stormwright Keep as Sebastian stood at attention, his four beast-rings gleaming faintly under the light. The air smelled of damp earth and polished steel, a familiar scent that had permeated these grounds for generations.
Before him stood Duke Galen Stormwright, his father's broad frame clad in reinforced training leathers, his storm-grey eyes sharp as flint. To his left, Sir Alden Crestwing—the same knight who had challenged Sebastian weeks prior—now watched with grudging respect. To his right, Dame Lyra Frostmane, a veteran beastmaster with a Frost Drake of her own, stood with arms crossed.
"You've bonded strong beasts," Galen began, his voice carrying across the silent yard. "But raw power means nothing without discipline. Today, you learn what it means to be a Stormwright."
Sebastian's fingers twitched. He had heard stories of his family's combat arts—techniques refined over centuries of warfare and beast-taming. Now, he would learn them firsthand.
Galen unsheathed his sword—a massive, single-edged blade known as "Stormcleaver." Unlike the slender rapiers favored by southern nobles, this weapon was built for brutal, sweeping strikes, its surface etched with lightning runes.
"The Stormwright style isn't about finesse," Galen said, swinging the blade in a controlled arc. The air itself seemed to vibrate. "It's about overwhelming force. You don't duel. You break your enemy."
Sebastian's War God Body thrummed in response, his muscles instinctively coiling.
"First stance: Thunderfall."
Galen's blade came down like a crashing tempest, striking a training dummy with enough force to split it clean in half. The impact sent splinters flying.
Sebastian mimicked the motion, but Galen clicked his tongue.
"You're thinking like a boy. Think like a storm."
Adjusting his grip, Sebastian tried again—this time channeling the innate strength of his War God Body. His strike wasn't as clean as his father's, but the dummy's torso crumpled inward.
Galen nodded. "Better."
Next came the true test: integrating his Rune-Beasts into combat.
"A bonded beast isn't just a weapon," Dame Lyra said, her Frost Drake exhaling a mist of icy breath. "It's an extension of your will. You must move as one."
Sebastian called forth his Storm Hawk, the creature materializing in a burst of silver-blue light.
"Obstacle course," Sir Alden announced, gesturing to a series of moving targets, pendulum blades, and shifting platforms. "Clear it. Fast."
Sebastian didn't hesitate.
"Storm Hawk—scout ahead!"
The hawk shot forward, its keen eyes mapping the course. Information flooded Sebastian's mind through their bond—the timing of the blades, the weak points in the platforms.
He moved.
Ducking under a swinging axe, he rolled to the side as the Gale Shield Cicada erected a wind barrier, deflecting a volley of training arrows. The Thunderjaw Wyvern coiled around him, its static field disrupting a hidden trap.
And when the final dummy lunged, the Blairon Giant intercepted it with a crushing fist.
Silence.
Then—slow, deliberate applause.
Galen's smirk was fierce. "Not bad."
That night, alone in his chambers, Sebastian summoned the Book of Beast Records. The spectral pages flickered, updating with new data:
[[Storm Hawk – Combat Efficiency Improved: 92%]]
[[Thunderjaw Wyvern – Mutation Stabilizing: Tier IV Reversion in 7 Days]]
[[Gale Shield Cicada – Windwall Mastery: Advanced]]
[[Blairon Giant – Earth/Metal Synergy Detected: Evolution Path Unlocked]]
But the most intriguing entry was at the bottom:
[[Stormwright Combat Arts – Compatibility Analysis]]
[[Thunderfall Stance: 84% Synergy with War God Body
Suggested Modifications: Channel lightning through blade (See: Immortal Craftsman Hands)]]
Sebastian's breath caught.
He could enhance his family's techniques.
A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. A servant entered, bowing.
"A missive from Prince Theren, my lord."
Sebastian broke the sapphire seal, unfolding the parchment.
"Stormwright—
Mysticrium's entrance trials begin in a month. Don't disappoint me.
P.S. I've tamed a new beast. Try to keep up.
-Prince Theren."
Sebastian smirked.
Game on.
The training yard echoed with the clash of steel as Sebastian parried another strike from Sir Alden, his borrowed broadsword vibrating painfully in his hands. He gritted his teeth, stepping back to reset his stance.
"Again," Sir Alden barked, his blade already flashing forward.
Sebastian blocked, but the weight of the weapon threw him off balance. The flat of Alden's sword smacked against his ribs, sending him stumbling into the dirt.
"You're hesitating," Alden said, lowering his weapon. "A Stormwright doesn't second-guess."
Sebastian wiped sweat from his brow, frustration simmering. "It's not hesitation. This blade—it doesn't fit."
For days, he had tried every weapon in the family armory—greatswords, axes, even polearms—but none felt right. The Thunderfall stance demanded overwhelming force, but the moment he tried to modify it with his Immortal Craftsman Hands, the weapons buckled under the strain.
Duke Galen watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. "A warrior must adapt to his tools."
Sebastian shook his head. "Or the tools must adapt to the warrior."
That evening, Philomena Stormwind found Sebastian brooding in the keep's library, surrounded by scrolls on weaponcraft. She set a tray of honeyed tea on the table, the scent of lavender cutting through the musty parchment.
"You've barely eaten," she chided gently.
Sebastian sighed, rubbing his temples. "I can't find a weapon that works."
Philomena studied him for a long moment before smiling. "Then make one."
Sebastian blinked. "What?"
"You have Immortal Craftsman Hands, don't you?" She tapped the table. "If nothing suits you, create what does."
Sebastian's breath caught.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
The Stormwright family smithy was a cavernous hall of heat and hammer-song, its walls lined with racks of unfinished steel. At its heart stood Master Blacksmith Orrik, a grizzled dwarf with arms like tree trunks and a beard singed from decades at the forge.
Sebastian approached, the scent of molten metal thick in the air. "Master Orrik, I need your help."
Orrik squinted at him, then snorted. "A noble lad playing at smithing? Come to waste my time?"
Sebastian met his gaze. "No. I'm here to forge my future."
The dwarf's bushy eyebrows rose. "Hmph. Bold words. What're you after?"
"A weapon," Sebastian said. "One that channels lightning."
Orrik stroked his beard. "Lightning, eh? Tricky. Most steels shatter under that kind of stress."
Sebastian flexed his fingers, letting a faint shimmer of his Immortal Craftsman Hands glow along his skin. "I can handle it."
The dwarf's eyes gleamed. "Well now. Maybe you're worth my time after all."
Orrik led Sebastian to a workbench, unrolling a blueprint. "We'll start with the steel. Not just any iron—this needs stormforged ore."
Sebastian frowned. "Where do we get that?"
"Where else?" Orrik grinned. "The Skyfall Peaks. Lightning strikes the cliffs there daily. The ore absorbs it."
Two days later, Sebastian returned with a chunk of raw, blue-veined metal, his Storm Hawk having guided him to the perfect deposit.
The forging began.
Orrik heated the ore in a dragonbone furnace, its flames hotter than any mundane fire. Sebastian, using his Immortal Craftsman Hands, shaped the molten metal with inhuman precision, folding it again and again until the steel sang with latent energy.
"Now the guard," Orrik instructed, handing him a bar of gold.
Sebastian carved it with delicate care, his fingers moving like a sculptor's. Vines, geometric patterns, and tiny storm motifs emerged under his touch, forming a guard that was both art and armor.
The handle was wrapped in moonweave silk, its diamond-patterned grip firm yet supple.
Finally, the scabbard—crafted from cerulean lacquered wood, its surface painted with porcelain-like blossoms that seemed to shift in the light.
"A blade for the light," Orrik murmured, admiring their work.
But Sebastian wasn't done.
"I need another," he said. "A twin."
Orrik chuckled. "Aye, I figured. This one'll be different, won't it?"
Sebastian nodded. "Dark. Sharp. Unyielding."
They used void-tempered steel, a rare alloy that drank in light rather than reflected it. Sebastian etched geometric grooves along the blade's length, each line thrumming with restrained power.
The guard was blackened obsidian, its skeletal cutouts forming a lattice of negative space. The handle, wrapped in shadowstalker leather, felt like a living thing in his grip.
The scabbard was charwood, its surface inlaid with a hypnotic pattern of repeating runes, like whispers in an ancient tongue.
"A blade for the storm's fury," Orrik said, approving.
Sebastian held the twin blades aloft, their contrasting auras humming in harmony.
"Dawn's Edge," he named the first.
"Dusk's Bite," he named the second.
Orrik clapped him on the back. "Now that's a Stormwright weapon."
In the training yard, Sebastian moved.
Dawn's Edge flashed like lightning, its golden guard blazing in the sun. Dusk's Bite followed like thunder, its dark blade leaving afterimages in the air.
The Thunderfall stance, once cumbersome, now flowed like water.
Sir Alden watched, arms crossed. "Hmph. Not bad."
Duke Galen's smirk was answer enough.
Sebastian grinned.
Now he was ready.
The air in the family archives was thick with the scent of aged parchment and oiled leather. Towering oak shelves groaned under the weight of countless scrolls and tomes, each containing generations of combat knowledge. Sebastian ran his fingers along the spines, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall.
Dual blade combat. There had to be something.
"Looking for something specific, young lord?"
Sebastian turned to find Archivist Caelum, an elderly scholar with spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, peering at him with keen interest.
"I need texts on dual blade combat," Sebastian said. "Anything that combines speed and overwhelming force."
Caelum chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Ah, the classic dilemma—finesse versus power. Most dual blade styles favor agility over strength, but the Stormwright archives are... unconventional." He gestured toward a secluded corner. "Follow me."
They stopped before a locked ironwood cabinet. Caelum produced a small key from his robes and turned it with a satisfying click. Inside lay a single, ancient tome, its cover bound in what appeared to be wyvern hide.
"The Tempest Twins: Blade Arts of the Forgotten Masters," Caelum announced reverently. "This was written by your great-great-granduncle, Darius Stormwright. He was the last of your line to master dual blades."
Sebastian's pulse quickened as he carefully lifted the book. "Why is it locked away?"
Caelum's expression turned somber. "Because Darius died perfecting the final technique. Some say the style itself is cursed. Others claim it demands too much of the wielder." He met Sebastian's gaze. "But if anyone could master it, it would be the boy who forced a Tier V evolution at eight years old."
Sebastian grinned. "Then I'll take it."
For weeks, Sebastian trained relentlessly. Dawn's Edge and Dusk's Bite became extensions of his body, their weight and balance second nature. But the techniques in Darius's tome, while brilliant, didn't quite fit.
One evening, as he practiced in the courtyard under the pale light of the twin moons, Duke Galen approached.
"You're forcing it," Galen observed, leaning against a stone pillar.
Sebastian wiped sweat from his brow. "The forms don't align with my instincts."
"Then stop following them."
Sebastian blinked. "What?"
Galen stepped forward, drawing his own blade—Stormcleaver. "The Stormwright style wasn't created by copying others. It was born in battle, refined through instinct." He swung the massive sword in a fluid arc, the air humming in its wake. "Your great-granduncle's techniques are a foundation, not a cage."
Sebastian stared at his blades, then at his father. "You're saying I should...?"
"Make it your own," Galen finished.
And so, Sebastian did.
He merged the lightning-fast precision of classical dual blade arts with the crushing force of the Stormwright style. He incorporated his War God Body's strength and his Immortal Craftsman Hands' control, weaving them into something entirely new.
When the final form clicked into place—a devastating whirlwind of light and shadow, each blade complementing the other in perfect harmony—he knew what to call it.
"Unified Twilight Blade Art."
Galen, for the first time in Sebastian's memory, looked genuinely impressed. "Hmph. Not bad."
A sharp screech echoed through the keep's towers one evening. Sebastian looked up from his training to see a Mystic Owl perched on a windowsill, its feathers shimmering with arcane energy. Tied to its leg was a scroll sealed with the emblem of Mysticrium Academy—a silver quill crossed with a rune-carved blade.
Sebastian carefully untied the scroll and unrolled it.
*To Sebastian Stormwright, Heir of the Stormwright Line,*
"By the decision of the Grand Council of Mysticrium, you have been selected as a first-year student of the academy. Your performance in the Emperor's Test has proven your worth, and we await your arrival with great interest.
The admission date has been moved to two months from now due to unforeseen circumstances. Use this time to prepare.
-Signed,
-Headmaster
-Mysticrium Academy"
Sebastian's grip tightened on the parchment. Two months. That was more than he'd expected.
"Good news, I take it?"
Philomena stood in the doorway, her silver-blue hair catching the moonlight.
Sebastian handed her the letter. "Mysticrium's delayed the admission date."
Philomena scanned the contents, her lips curving into a smile. "Then you have time to perfect your new blade art."
"And train my Rune-Beasts," Sebastian added. "If the competition at the Emperor's Test was any indication, Mysticrium won't be easy."
Philomena's expression softened. "Come. Dinner's ready, and your father wants to hear about this 'Unified Twilight' of yours."
The Stormwright dining hall was alive with warmth and the rich aroma of roasted venison. Duke Galen sat at the head of the table, slicing into his meat with methodical precision.
"So," Galen began, "this blade art of yours. How does it work?"
Sebastian set down his fork. "It's built around three principles: Adaptation, Overwhelm, and Unity." He gestured with his hands. "Dawn's Edge is for precision—fast strikes, feints, and exploiting openings. Dusk's Bite is for power—breaking guards, shattering defenses. But the true core is switching between them seamlessly, so the enemy can't predict the next move."
Galen chewed thoughtfully. "And how does your War God Body factor in?"
"It lets me push beyond human limits," Sebastian said. "Most dual blade styles rely on speed because the wielder lacks strength. I don't have that weakness."
Philomena smiled. "And your Immortal Craftsman Hands?"
Sebastian flexed his fingers. "They let me adjust my grip mid-combat, shifting the blades' balance instantly. No one else could do that without losing control."
Galen nodded, satisfied. "You've thought this through."
"Of course," Sebastian said. "I'm a Stormwright."
Galen's smirk returned. "Damn right."
Later that night, Sebastian stood on the keep's highest balcony, his twin blades resting against the stone railing. Below, the lights of Rainmere flickered like distant stars.
"You're ready."
Sebastian turned to see his father standing behind him, a rare glass of amber liquor in hand.
"For Mysticrium?" Sebastian asked.
Galen took a sip. "For whatever comes next." He set the glass down and met Sebastian's gaze. "But remember—you're not just a student now. You're a Stormwright. That name carries weight. Use it wisely."
Sebastian nodded. "I will."
Galen clapped him on the shoulder, then left without another word.
Sebastian looked back at his blades, then at the horizon.
Two months.
Then, the real challenge would begin.
The gates of Stormwright Keep groaned as they were thrust open, the sound echoing across the courtyard like a thunderclap. Sebastian, mid-swing in his Unified Twilight drills, froze as the royal banners came into view—crimson and gold, emblazoned with the imperial phoenix.
A contingent of knights in gleaming armor marched in formation, their polished breastplates reflecting the midday sun. At their center rode two figures, first was Prince Theren Arindhelm, his silver hair tied back in a warrior's knot, his smirk as sharp as ever and beside him, a man whose presence carried the same regal weight as Emperor Aurelius himself—Fifth Prince Alric Arindhelm, Theren's father.
Sebastian sheathed Dawn's Edge and Dusk's Bite, his eyes narrowing. This wasn't a social call.
Duke Galen emerged from the keep, his storm-grey eyes flickering with recognition—and something else. Amusement?
"Alric," Galen said, folding his arms. "You couldn't send a letter?"
Fifth Prince Alric dismounted, his laugh rich and warm. "Where's the fun in that?" He clasped Galen's forearm in a warrior's grip. "Besides, my son insisted on surprising you."
Theren hopped down from his horse, his Flamecrest Phoenix perched on his shoulder, its ember-like eyes fixed on Sebastian. "Stormwright. You've got two months until Mysticrium. I figured you'd want a proper warm-up."
Sebastian didn't rise to the bait. "What kind of warm-up?"
Theren's grin turned feral. "A duel. Blades and Rune-Beasts."
A murmur rippled through the gathered Stormwright knights and royal guards.
From the sidelines, Sir Alden Crestwing snorted. "Bold move, challenging a Stormwright on his own land."
Dame Lyra Frostmane folded her arms. "Or a stupid one."
Fifth Prince Alric chuckled. "Oh, I'd pay to see this."
The training grounds were cleared, the arena's perimeter lined with knights from both factions. Duke Galen and Prince Alric took seats at the observation platform, their expressions a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.
"Three rounds," Theren declared, rolling his shoulders. "First, pure blades. Second, Rune-Beasts only. Third, all-out."
Sebastian nodded. "And the stakes?"
Theren's crimson eyes gleamed. "If I win, you admit I'm the better fighter before the entire academy."
Sebastian raised a brow. "And if I win?"
"Then I'll owe you a favor. Any favor."
A dangerous offer. Sebastian smirked. "Deal."
Theren drew his weapon—a flame-kissed rapier, its edge shimmering with heat. Sebastian unsheathed his twin blades, their contrasting metals catching the light.
"Begin!" Fifth Prince Alric called.
Theren moved first, a blur of crimson and silver. His rapier lanced toward Sebastian's throat—fast, precise, lethal.
Sebastian twisted, Dusk's Bite intercepting the strike while Dawn's Edge slashed upward. Theren flipped backward, landing lightly.
"Not bad," Theren admitted.
"I'm just getting started," Sebastian shot back.
They clashed again, steel ringing against steel. Theren's style was elegant, almost dance-like, every motion calculated. Sebastian's Unified Twilight was raw adaptation—shifting between brutal force and surgical precision on the fly.
"By the gods," muttered Sir Alden. "The boy's using both styles at once."
"Not just using," Duke Galen corrected, pride lacing his voice. "He's reinventing them."
Theren feinted left, then pivoted into a spinning slash. Sebastian barely dodged, but the tip of the rapier grazed his cheek—drawing blood.
Sebastian didn't flinch. He retaliated with a Thunderfall-inspired downward slash, forcing Theren to block. The impact sent the prince skidding back, his boots digging furrows into the dirt.
"Enough!" Fifth Prince Alric called. "Round goes to Theren—by a hair."
Theren wiped sweat from his brow, grinning. "One to me."
Sebastian touched the cut on his cheek. This was far from over.
Theren raised his hand, and three beast-rings flared to life.
- Emerald Grove Keeper (Spark Guardian) – A towering treant-like creature with bark-like skin and glowing green runes.
- Flamecrest Phoenix (Flame Warden) – Its wings spread, scattering embers.
- And a new beast—a hulking, 12-foot-tall Volcanic Bruiser (Flame Warden), its body made of molten rock and blackened steel.
The crowd erupted.
"Since when did he have that?!" shouted one of the royal knights.
Sebastian didn't hesitate. His own rings ignited, summoning,
- Storm Hawk (Flame Warden) – Lightning crackling along its wings.
- Thunderjaw Wyvern (Flame Warden) – Still recovering from its mutation but fierce.
- Blairon Giant (Spark Guardian) – Its blackiron fists clenched.
"Begin!"
Theren's Volcanic Bruiser charged first, its steps shaking the earth. Sebastian's Blairon Giant met it head-on, the collision sending a shockwave through the arena.
The Flamecrest Phoenix dive-bombed, but the Storm Hawk intercepted, the two avian beasts clashing midair in a storm of fire and lightning.
Theren's Emerald Grove Keeper lashed out with vine-like limbs, but Sebastian's Thunderjaw Wyvern coiled around it, static electricity searing its bark.
"That wyvern's stronger than it looks," Prince Alric mused.
Duke Galen smirked. "Just wait."
Theren gritted his teeth. "Bruiser—Magma Eruption!"
The Volcanic Bruiser's core glowed orange before unleashing a geyser of molten rock. The Blairon Giant crossed its arms, taking the hit—but the heat was unbearable.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Giant—Seismic Counter!"
The Giant stomped, sending a shockwave through the ground that cracked the Bruiser's molten armor.
"Now, Wyvern—Stormfang Barrage!"
The Thunderjaw Wyvern's mutation flickered to life—just for a second—its form shifting into the Stormfang Leviathan again. A single, devastating lightning strike slammed the Bruiser into the ground.
Silence.
Then—roaring applause.
"Round to Sebastian!" Prince Alric announced, laughing.
Theren recalled his bruised beasts, his expression unreadable. "One to one."
No words were needed.
Theren activated his Phoenix Blood, his body wreathed in flames. His Iron Skin hardened, turning his flesh to near-metal.
Sebastian's War God Body surged, his muscles coiling with inhuman strength.
They charged.
Blades clashed. Beasts roared. The arena became a storm of fire, lightning, and sheer force.
At the final moment, Sebastian feinted left—then switched grips, slamming Dusk's Bite into Theren's guard while Dawn's Edge hooked his ankle.
Theren fell.
Sebastian's blade rested at his throat.
"Yield," Sebastian demanded.
Theren stared up at him, panting. Then, slowly, he grinned. "Damn. You're good."
The crowd exploded.
As the dust settled, Fifth Prince Alric clapped his hands. "Well fought, both of you!"
Duke Galen nodded approvingly. "You've improved, Theren. But my son's better."
Theren rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he extended a hand to Sebastian. "A favor, then. Name it."
Sebastian pulled him up. "I'll collect it at Mysticrium."
Theren's grin returned. "Looking forward to it."
As the royals departed, Duke Galen clasped Sebastian's shoulder. "You made me proud today."
Sebastian smiled. This was just the beginning.