Episode 31: Lilac, Proof of Growth
On his journey through Celesta, searching for Lian and Lia, Elahar encountered an unexpected figure in a secluded forest: Lilac, the Blood Elf swordsman. His crimson blade shimmered with a fiery aura, and his eyes burned with the weight of past defeat. The moment Elahar approached, Lilac raised his sword and declared:
Lilac: "Elahar, I am no longer the man you once defeated. To face you again, I've honed myself, broken through my limits, and forged new strength."
The blade in his hand flared with red flames, not merely a weapon of steel but a sword infused with fire magic. He had become a magic swordsman, determined to prove that his growth would carry him past the shadow of defeat.
Elahar drew his own blade in silence, his expression calm yet resolute. Between them, tension thickened, and the duel began.
Lilac's opening strike fused flame and steel, a scorching arc that tore through the air. Elahar met it with precision, his sword carving through fire as though it were nothing more than smoke. Sparks and embers lit the clearing as the two swordsmen traded blow after blow, speed and intensity rising with each clash.
Elahar: "You wield flame as well as steel, yet you are still a swordsman. Why burden your blade with such fire?"
Lilac: "Because I must! To surpass you, I must use everything I have. Without it, I'll never be able to defeat you!"
But as Lilac's flames raged brighter, his focus began to fray. Elahar, sharp-eyed and steady, discerned the cracks in his form. Each wild strike exposed a weakness, and Elahar exploited them one by one. His movements remained measured—speed, precision, and control all flowing as a single art.
Exhaustion gnawed at Lilac, his flames faltering with his breath. Elahar's voice cut through the roar of fire:
Elahar: "A true swordsman is not one who grasps at power, but one who masters his weapon's essence. Even if fire grants you strength, what meaning has it if your blade loses its edge?"
With one final decisive strike, Elahar forced Lilac to his knees. The Blood Elf stared at his trembling blade, sweat and breath mingling with the ashes of his magic. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet Elahar's, defeat heavy upon him—yet also understanding.
Elahar stepped closer and extended a hand.
Elahar: "Strength is not in what you seize from outside yourself. It comes when you discover your own essence, and wield it in full. Your journey is not over—your path to growth still lies wide ahead."
Hesitant at first, Lilac took Elahar's hand and rose. His pride still burned, but alongside it was the seed of humility.
Lilac: "Next time, I'll return stronger. And then we'll see if you still speak so calmly."
Elahar allowed himself a faint smile.
Elahar: "I shall be waiting. May you walk on toward the true completion of your swordsmanship."
**
Episode 32: At the Ruins of the Ancients — A Clash of Convictions
Deep within the ruins of an ancient civilization, Elahar stood among towering stone pillars and fading traces of light. His sharpened senses caught the approach of footsteps. Soon, figures emerged into view: Lian, heir to the legendary Musling, accompanied by his companions.
The air between them grew taut. Elahar lowered his stance, hand on his sword, and spoke with quiet authority.
Elahar: "Lian, I have heard your name. If you seek anything within these ruins, you must first cross blades with me. Show me your strength."
Lian drew his weapon, eyes firm with unshaken resolve.
Lian: "The strongest swordsman of the Elves… I will see that title with my own eyes. And if you grant me the chance, I'll test myself against you with all I have."
Their blades clashed in an instant. Lian's strikes were fierce, his will unwavering. Yet Elahar, calm as flowing water, turned aside each blow, measuring the youth's limits without strain.
Elahar: "Your technique is strong. But it is not yet enough to defeat me."
Lian: "Even so, I will fight with everything I am. Only then will my strength mean anything."
The battle surged. Lian's attacks grew sharper, but Elahar's movements—punctuated by sudden flashes of teleportation—outpaced him at every turn. Their duel was an exchange not only of skill, but of conviction.
As Lian pressed on, his companions stirred, concern breaking through their silence.
Lian: "This is my fight. Do not interfere!"
But the tide turned against him. Seeing him falter, Brunok leveled his rifle, Ria conjured a storm of wind, and Mariel called down sacred light. Together they surged to Lian's side, striking at Elahar in unison.
For the first time, Elahar's brows lifted, though a smile quickly followed. He danced through gunfire, dispersed the winds, and slipped past beams of holy radiance. His balance remained unbroken, even against their combined assault.
Elahar: "Such tenacity… yet still, not enough."
Then, with a sudden flick of his hand, he cast a smoke bomb across the ruins. Darkness engulfed the chamber, their vision swallowed in a choking haze. His voice echoed faintly through the smoke:
Elahar: "Grow stronger. Next time, come to me with power worthy of your resolve."
When the haze cleared, he was gone. Only silence, and the memory of his overwhelming presence, lingered in the ruins.
Lian, sweat-soaked and breathless, tightened his grip on his sword.
Lian: "Elahar… next time, I will surpass you. I swear it."
Ria, Brunok, and Mariel drew close, sharing his weight and his resolve. Their eyes all carried the same determination: to grow, to rise, and one day to stand against the solitary swordmaster who had tested them.
And somewhere in the distance, Elahar walked alone again—yet in his heart, the fire of expectation glowed. The boy's unyielding will, the comrades' united strength… it had left a mark even on him.
**
Episode 33: United for the People — Elahar and Brakka Destroy the Golem
Elahar still kept his distance from Noctus. Though parts of their ideals seemed to align, the monstrous golem rampaging through the town was something he could not abide. Whether born of Noctus's twisted experiments or a reckless mistake, the creature was mercilessly wreaking havoc upon innocent citizens.
The town was drowning in screams and chaos. Elahar stood at the edge of it, letting out a heavy breath. Even as a mercenary bound to uncertain loyalties, he could not turn his back on those who were suffering. With quiet resolve, he drew his sword and advanced toward the golem.
The monster's body was plated in layers of metal armor, each strike of Elahar's blade deflecting off with a shriek of sparks. "Impressive defense… this one won't fall in a single blow," he muttered, shifting his stance to seek another angle.
Heavy footsteps soon thundered from behind, followed by a gruff, familiar voice. It was Brakka. The orc warrior's face was grim as he took in the destruction. Whatever his personal creed, when innocents were at risk, Brakka never withheld his strength.
Brakka: "Hah! This heap of scrap dares to stir up a village? Then it dares to waste my time!"
With a roar, Brakka swung his axe in a devastating arc, the impact reverberating through the air. The golem staggered, and Elahar seized the opening, his blade darting forward to peel away a section of the armor.
Together, the two warriors fought in seamless rhythm despite their contrasting styles. Brakka unleashed raw, crushing strikes that shook the creature's frame, while Elahar slipped into every exposed gap, stripping away the plating piece by piece. Yet still, the golem's resilience made it a dangerous foe.
In the midst of battle, Elahar's keen eyes caught a faint glow pulsing within the monster's chest. A crystalline core.
Elahar: "That crystal… it's the heart that drives it!" He called to Brakka. "Strike the plating around it with all your might—I'll finish it!"
Brakka grinned and raised his axe high, channeling all his power into one monumental blow. Metal cracked and split under the force, exposing the core. Elahar dashed forward, his sword piercing deep into the fracture. With a shuddering roar, the crystal shattered, and the golem collapsed like a mountain of lifeless iron.
The thunder of its fall silenced the village. Slowly, Elahar lowered his sword, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Strength was not only for seeking battles with worthy foes—it was also for protecting those who could not defend themselves.
Brakka strode to his side, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Brakka: "For once, our blades struck with the same purpose. Protecting the people… I can drink to that."
Elahar: "When it's for the sake of the citizens, you'll always find me at your side."
The two shared a rare, unburdened exchange as they surveyed the quieted village. In the aftermath, each reaffirmed the responsibility that came with power—the duty to wield it not only for ideals, but also for those in need.
**
Episode 34: Reunion with Lian
Elahar stood before the towering gates of the Ancient Spire. His sword gleamed under the sunlight, its reflection sharp against the looming stone. Word had spread of strong warriors gathering here now that the turmoil in the Gnome Kingdom had subsided. Yet for Elahar, this place carried not just rumor but a heavy sense of foreboding.
Quietly, he whispered a name to himself.
Elahar (thought): "Lian… how far have you come since our first clash?"
The memory of their previous battle surfaced. He had dealt Lian the bitter sting of defeat, but what lingered most was the boy's fierce resolve. Elahar had been waiting to see what kind of warrior that fire might forge.
Soon, the young swordsman appeared at the spire's threshold, his companions at his side. They seemed stronger than before—more weathered, more determined. Yet in Lian's eyes, Elahar glimpsed a blend of anxiety and steel.
Elahar: "If you seek what lies within this place, you must first overcome me."
Lian's grip tightened on his greatsword, and with a cry he charged. Elahar watched his approach with calm anticipation.
Their blades collided, steel ringing out in the shadow of the spire. Lian poured his strength into every strike, but Elahar flowed around him with practiced ease, countering without strain.
Elahar: "Not bad. That strength of yours has grown. You may even warrant some expectation."
But his words only drove Lian harder. Again and again he attacked, his blade splitting into twin swords to unleash faster, sharper strikes. His determination flared, but Elahar remained unshaken, slipping past his strikes and pressing him back.
Elahar: "Your technique is admirable. But you are still not enough."
The words stung, yet Lian's eyes burned hotter.
Lian: "Then I'll keep fighting until I am enough! I will never yield!"
His companions, unable to stand idle, surged to his side. Brunok raised his rifle, Ria summoned the winds, and Mariel called down radiant light. Together they wove their strength into a single, desperate assault.
Elahar chuckled low, almost pleased. Against their combined onslaught he moved like water—dodging bullets, dispersing gales, slipping past beams of holy fire. His blade never faltered.
Elahar: "Even united, you fall short. But if you believe you can surpass me, then keep climbing. One day, perhaps."
The battle ended not in Lian's victory, but in his realization. Though still too weak to claim triumph, he had touched something vital: the will to fight not only for himself, but with his companions at his side.
Breathing heavily, sword trembling in his hands, Lian whispered to himself:
Lian: "I must become stronger. Stronger still…"
For Elahar, the clash had left its own mark. In Lian's stubborn fire and in the unity of his comrades, he caught a glimpse of the future—of challengers who might one day stand as his equals. As he turned away from the spire, he carried not disdain, but a faint sense of expectation.