Marcos left without hesitation, as though his business there was finished.
Harka, who had been bowing his head and watching Marcos’s mood, finally looked up.
“What a shame.”
His face was filled with disappointment.
To think he had to wait an entire month.
No matter how much he thought about it, he could not understand his father’s reasoning.
“I have no idea why he listened to you. What difference is giving a deficient fool like you more time supposed to make?”
“…….”
Rodos merely looked at Harka without a word.
‘He does not understand the value of time.’
To Rodos, one month was by no means a short amount of time.
“It cannot be helped. It is Father’s order. Come to think of it, I suppose it does not really matter.”
Harka approached Rodos.
The disappointment had disappeared from his expression.
“You do not actually think you can beat me just because you have changed a little, do you? You were lucky this time.”
He looked at Rodos with casual contempt.
The gap between them was vast.
Harka stood on the verge of reaching the 7th Circle.
Rodos, on the other hand, was a failure who could no longer even use magic and had resorted to swinging axes.
It was not a gap that could be closed in a mere month.
“If you crawl over here and beg right now, I will forget the duel ever happened.”
“There is no need.”
Rodos answered briefly.
Kneeling without even fighting was unthinkable.
A true warrior settled matters through battle.
“Wow.”
Harka shook his head at Rodos’s unwavering answer.
The accident must truly have damaged his mind.
“Fine. If that is what you want, I will respect it. Prepare as much as you can for the next month. Not that it will change anything.”
Harka waved a hand dismissively and left the dining hall.
All the while, he contemplated just how much of Rodos he should burn.
Rodos, now alone, quickly left the dining hall as well and returned to his bedroom.
He needed to sleep early if he wanted to train the next day.
***
The next day.
With the tomahawks strapped across his back, Rodos headed toward the training grounds.
It was so early that the sun had not yet risen.
Now that his duel with Harka had been scheduled for one month later, he had no time to hesitate.
He needed to train every day without rest and raise his strength as much as possible.
No one was at the training grounds.
Only the cold, damp air of dawn hung over the area.
‘It is quiet.’
Rodos stood in the middle of the silent training grounds.
At this hour, he could devote himself entirely to training without worrying about anyone coming.
Rodos drew his two tomahawks and closed his eyes.
He intended to train himself to manipulate aether freely.
‘How was I yesterday?’
Rodos recalled the moment he had cut through Harka’s magic.
He remembered the sensation of using aether like aura to sever the spell.
It had been an instinctive reaction, but while his body still remembered the sensation, he needed to engrave it into himself as quickly as possible.
With his eyes closed, Rodos focused on the sensations against his skin.
He had succeeded twice.
Once could have been a coincidence.
Twice meant it could be done.
‘It is possible.’
His many years of experience told him as much.
After all, that was how he had risen to the position of Great Warrior in the past.
Then Rodos sensed something invisible circling around him.
Aether.
Thanks to constantly training his body through aether, he could now sense it more quickly than before.
It was time to move on to the next stage.
‘Recall the sensation and reproduce it exactly.’
When Rodos opened his Hall, aether gradually began gathering inside him.
Once enough had accumulated, he tried drawing the aether toward the axe blades.
Only an exceedingly small portion responded to Rodos’s will and gathered along the edges of the tomahawks.
The tips of the blades began to glow faintly.
But as the aether escaped his body, the light faded with it.
‘This is not easy.’
From then on, he repeated the process.
Yet the best he could manage was maintaining the aether on the axe blades for approximately one second.
It was incomparably more difficult than using aether to strengthen his body.
His physical training merely took advantage of aether’s natural tendency to restore life.
What he was attempting now required him to move aether itself through nothing but human will.
‘Increasing my affinity with it comes first.’
Rodos lowered his axes and sat on the ground to concentrate.
Once he settled into a stable posture, even more aether gathered around him in the form of particles.
The particles repeatedly flowed into and out of his Hall and Core.
Among them, only a tiny fraction remained instead of leaving, lingering inside the Hall and Core for an extended period.
They were like animals that had come to the water’s edge to quench their thirst.
Rodos nodded as though he had begun to understand.
He had realized what he needed to do.
He was not supposed to seize the aether.
He needed to make it come to him and remain naturally.
‘Good.’
It felt as though a tightly tangled knot had begun to unravel.
The important thing was preventing the aether from being disturbed by other powers.
The key was to suppress his mana completely so that not even the slightest amount leaked out.
Manipulating mana was not particularly difficult for Rodos either.
Mana and aura possessed similar qualities.
As long as he understood their water-like nature, they were fundamentally similar forms of power.
Rodos continued meditating.
The aether remained within him longer than before.
He was satisfied.
At this rate, it would not take long before he could properly manipulate aether.
After completing a round of training, Rodos opened his eyes.
A man with an expressionless face was standing before him.
“You are training diligently.”
It was Igrun.
A longsword rested in his left hand.
Although he stood casually, Rodos could sense no opening in his stance.
“!”
Rodos instinctively assumed a combat stance.
Uncharacteristic surprise appeared on his face.
‘I did not sense his presence.’
Rodos immediately realized that Igrun was highly skilled.
He had sensed absolutely nothing until the man had drawn this close.
No aura, no presence, no killing intent.
Nothing at all.
“Please lower your weapons. I came here to train as well.”
Igrun spoke gently and inclined his head.
The gesture was undoubtedly courteous, yet there was something faintly irreverent about him.
Rodos lowered his tomahawks.
The Knight Commander was right.
If Igrun had intended to fight, he could already have cut through Rodos’s chest before Rodos ever noticed him.
Then why had Igrun approached him?
Rodos could not understand it.
For the past six months, the man had shown no interest in him whatsoever.
He had not even bothered to show his face.
“You said you came to train. Why are you just standing there?”
“Because there is something I wish to ask you, Young Master.”
Igrun looked at the two tomahawks.
“Is there a reason you chose two axes instead of a sword?”
“I merely picked up what felt comfortable.”
Rodos shrugged as he answered.
He meant it sincerely.
A sword had never suited his hands.
Whenever he used one, his movements felt awkward, as though he were wearing clothes that did not fit.
“Axes suit my hands better than swords.”
Axes, on the other hand, felt as though they danced freely in both of Rodos’s hands.
They were like close companions.
That was why he had chosen them.
“I see.”
Igrun asked nothing further.
After all, he had seen enough yesterday.
“Do you know anything about the warriors of the North?”
“To some extent.”
Rodos was surprised, but he looked at Igrun with an unruffled expression.
“I saw something of a Northern warrior in you, despite your being the young master of a prestigious magic family.”
“What do you mean?”
“It made me wonder whether you had ever visited the North. Otherwise, I cannot explain those endlessly changing movements you displayed. Of course, perhaps I am reading too much into the movements of a beginner.”
Apparently intending to continue the conversation, Igrun returned his sword to its sheath.
“Who taught you that technique just now?”
Igrun had clearly seen the warriors of the North himself.
If so, there was little point in hiding everything.
Rodos drew upon the original owner’s memories.
Eight years ago, the entire family really had visited the North.
He used that as his excuse.
“When I visited the North in the past, I learned it from an elder there.”
“I see. Looking at you now brings back memories.”
Igrun looked toward the dawn sky, where the sun was beginning to rise.
“There was a time when I wandered the world with nothing but a single sword. During those travels, I visited the North.”
Igrun had been one of the many people from the continent who ventured into the North in search of powerful opponents.
“The North was unlike anywhere else on the continent. Blizzards and cutting winds constantly swept across the land, and the soil was so barren that there seemed to be nothing but rock. Just as the rumors claimed, it was a place far removed from civilization.”
Even in retrospect, it had been an unforgiving land.
“There, I encountered warriors clad in leather armor. They had massive, muscular bodies and rough skin, and they were offering prayers toward the heavens.”
Even now, Igrun could vividly remember the sight.
The warriors praying had inspired awe in him despite the fact that he believed in no god.
“The moment they saw me, they drew their weapons. I drew my sword as well, and that was how the fight began.”
There had been no need for words between him and the warriors.
Crossing weapons was their way of conversing.
“Their technique was certainly different. Unlike Imperial Swordsmanship, with its refined and concise movements, theirs changed endlessly. It was like the fickle weather of the North. Just like the way you moved yesterday, Young Master.”
“Is that so?”
“What was interesting was that even though they had the advantage in numbers, they challenged me one at a time. I only learned later that battle was considered a sacred rite to them.”
Rodos nodded.
That was the Northern way.
Once a fight began, it became sacred ground that no one else was permitted to interfere with.
“In any case, I remained there for several months and learned a great deal from the warriors of the North.”
“So that happened.”
Rodos nodded as he studied Igrun.
A man who had fought Northern warriors and risen to the position of Knight Commander.
One thought naturally came to mind.
‘I want to fight him.’
There was something Rodos needed more than anything else right now.
Something even more important than raw strength.
‘Combat instincts.’
And standing before him was the perfect person to help him regain them.
His fighting spirit began to burn.
Rodos threw the axes in his hands to the ground.
THUD!
With a heavy sound, both axes buried themselves in the ground at Igrun’s feet.
Then Rodos removed the leather armor he was wearing and casually tossed it aside.
His muscular upper body was revealed.
The cool dawn air brushed against his skin.
“Hmm?”
Igrun narrowed his eyes at the unusual behavior.
He had already realized what the Young Master intended to do.
Rodos picked up an axe in each hand and slowly opened his mouth.
“Tinder Mot.”
The words that left his lips were in the language of the North.