The bells of Westergarde still echoed faintly as the Blackwells stepped out of the cathedral. The streets were alive with gossip, banners waving in the warm evening air.
"The son of the Ironwall awakened lightning…"
"And Elena Westergarde awakened Rosenlicht…"
"The Empire hasn't seen a year like this in generations."
Whispers followed them like shadows.
At the head of the family strode Michael Blackwell, his towering frame impossible to ignore. Even restrained, his aura pressed outward like the weight of mountains, drawing instinctive bows from commoners and stiff nods from lesser knights. The Ironwall of Eternity. His greatsword, Aegisfang, rested on his back—rumor said it weighed as much as a carriage, yet in his hands it moved as lightly as a reed.
Beside him walked Katherine Blackwell, no less commanding though her presence carried a sharper edge. Her crimson eyes gleamed beneath the dusk, and the twin hilts of her longblades glimmered faintly at her sides. The Crimson Valkyrie, famed for carving Abyssal generals to ash with her flame-wreathed swords. Where Michael was a fortress, Katherine was a comet—swift, searing, unstoppable.
And between them, Lucas. Sparks still flickered faintly along his hands, his heart thrumming with both triumph and unease. To the city, he was already a prodigy: lightning, aura, the heir of the strongest sword family in the Empire. To himself, he was something else entirely. The Chrono-Sigil pulsed inside him like a second heartbeat, heavy and forbidden.
Selina skipped ahead, laughter ringing across the street. "No one will ever beat us now! The Ironwall, the Valkyrie, and my brother with lightning! We're invincible!"
"Selina," Katherine chided gently, though a faint smile tugged her lips.
Michael laughed, the sound booming like rolling thunder. "Aye, little sparrow. Perhaps we are. But invincibility is a dangerous word." His massive hand clapped Lucas's shoulder. "Still… lightning. A sword of storm to join our steel. The gods favored us this day."
The family's procession drew stares until they passed through the gates of Ironhold Keep.
---
Ironhold Keep
Ironhold was not a castle of delicate spires or noble frills. It was a fortress hewn into the bones of the mountain, carved by sword and flame centuries ago. Its walls were thick, its towers squat and unyielding. The gates bore the Blackwell crest: a silver greatsword crossed with twin crimson longswords over a black shield.
Inside, the Hall of Swords stretched wide and solemn. Along its walls hung the weapons of Blackwells past, hundreds of blades preserved in perfect condition. Each sword thrummed faintly with aura, their edges refusing rust or decay. It was said that every Blackwell knight who fell in battle returned in spirit to these swords, their intent lingering forever in steel.
The retainers bowed deeply as the family entered.
"Lord Ironwall. Lady Valkyrie. Young master."
Lucas swallowed at the weight of their gazes. They did not look at him as they had yesterday. There was awe now—expectation heavy as iron chains.
Michael's voice rumbled across the hall. "Tonight we celebrate. My son, Lucas Blackwell, has awakened lightning. Through storm, the Blackwells endure."
Knights roared in answer, pounding fists to their chests. Katherine raised her goblet, firelight gleaming against her crimson eyes. "Steel does not bend. Steel decides fate. Through steel, eternity."
The words echoed off the stone. The Blackwell motto.
Retainers shouted it back, the hall trembling with pride. Selina clapped wildly, eyes shining. "Lucas! They're all cheering for you!"
Lucas forced a smile. His chest swelled with pride at his family's honor, yet beneath it, something twisted. The cheers were for lightning and aura—for the heir of the Ironwall and Valkyrie. Not for the sigil burning inside him.
Feasting followed, knights sharing stories of Michael's campaigns, of Katherine's duels. Lucas sat among them, listening, his smile polite, his thoughts elsewhere.
---
The Hidden Sigil
That night, when the keep fell quiet and the fire in the hall burned low, Lucas slipped away to his chamber beneath the rafters.
The moment he shut the door, the air thickened.
The Chrono-Sigil flared into being before him: circles within circles, the cracked hourglass burning silver-blue.
> [CHRONO-SIGIL STATUS: ACTIVE]
Bearer: LUCAS BLACKWELL
Awakening: Lightning Element / Bronze Aura
Override: Time–Space Authority
His breath caught. He whispered, "Chrono-Shift."
The candle on his desk flickered out—then flared back, his body rewound three seconds. He stumbled, clutching the wall. The system was no dream. He could bend time itself.
But the sigil pulsed again.
> [Hidden Synchronization Detected]
Blackwell Bloodline: Sword Resonance Confirmed.
Unlocking auxiliary authority…
The world vanished.
---
The Void of Blades
Lucas stood in darkness.
No floor, no sky—only endless void. And swords. Thousands of them, suspended in silence, edges gleaming faintly in silver light. Each turned toward him, pressing weight upon his chest, his soul.
His breath shook. He felt them—not as metal, but as will. Every Blackwell who had fought, every duel, every cut—it all lingered here.
A truth flooded into him, not spoken, but undeniable.
Sword Intent.
Lightning sparked across his arm, and the swords resonated, humming in unison. They acknowledged him.
> [Sword Intent: First Realm — Edge of Awareness]
Perception of blades enhanced. Every strike carries the weight of will.
Progression unlocked: Sword Intent (9 Realms).
The void shattered.
---
Awakening of Sword Intent
Lucas gasped awake in his chamber, sweat dampening his brow. His practice sword leaned against the wall. He reached for it with trembling fingers.
The moment his hand closed around the hilt, the blade hummed. For the first time in his life, the sword felt alive.
He raised it slowly. The air whispered as steel cut through it. He could feel the edge, the flow of weight, even the hesitation in his own grip.
Lightning crackled faintly down the blade, arcs of silver-blue dancing along its edge. His sword was no longer just steel. It was intent.
Lucas exhaled, steady. His father commanded armies with his indestructible shield. His mother blazed through battlefields with her flame-wreathed blades. Their house was the eternal sword of the Empire.
And now, through the Sigil, he had touched the first truth of the blade.
He was no longer simply wielding a sword.
He was beginning to understand what it meant to be the sword itself.
---
Beyond the Veil
The keep lay silent around him, his family sleeping, knights resting for the battles of tomorrow.
But far above, beyond mortal skies, the heavens stirred.
Gods shifted uneasily, their attention drawn once more to the Threadbearer. Dragons stirred in their higher realms, opening ancient eyes. The Abyss whispered hungrier than before.
Lucas lowered his blade, his hand still trembling.
He was the heir of the Ironwall and the Crimson Valkyrie, born into the Empire's strongest sword family. To the world, lightning and aura made him a prodigy, destined for greatness.
But the Sigil had already bound him to something greater. Something even his parents could not shield him from.
Through storm, through steel, through eternity—
The Threadbearer had begun his path.