The white wind-griffon descended toward Solitude Spire with the majestic grace of an imperial war-hawk.
Its silver feathers caught the midday sun. Talons gleamed like polished daggers. Prince Kenneth sat in the saddle.
Kenneth was twenty-one with chiseled noble features. He possessed the arrogance of a man who had never lost a duel.
He was the undisputed number one disciple of the Blade Spire.
At Tier 5 Peak, Kenneth had mastered sixty-four sword forms. In his scabbard rested the Heaven-Slicing Rapier, forged from meteoric silver.
Kenneth had come today to claim glory.
"Master Vane was right," Kenneth sneered down at the overgrown peak, adjusting his pristine silver gauntlets. "Inquisitor Valen is an aging coward. A few sparks and a falling drake, and the entire council loses their minds over an abandoned junk heap."
He pulled the griffon’s leather reins, aiming for a dramatic, swooping touchdown directly onto the cottage's front yard.
"Descend, Storm-Claw!" Kenneth ordered proudly. "Let the squatter tremble before the shadow of the Silverwing Clan!"
The griffon banked left, diving toward the cabbage garden.
Then, it crossed the perimeter boundary.
WHAM.
The beast entered the Primordial Earth-Lock Array. Heavy atmospheric density slammed into its wings like a brick wall.
The air wasn't thin mountain wind anymore.
It was thick, immovable, and heavy with the condensed tectonic weight of nine Primordial Star-Iron Runestones.
The proud war-griffon let out an undignified, panicked squawk:
"SQUUUUUUUUAAAAAAWK?!"
Its majestic wings locked up mid-flap.
Its silver feathers ruffled backward violently.
Instead of an imperial glide, the royal steed nosedived like an overfed turkey. It scraped across the gravel driveway on its belly.
SKRRRRRRRRRR-THUMP.
A massive cloud of dry dust and loose pebbles exploded into the air.
Prince Kenneth was nearly flung over the beast's ears.
His sapphire silk cape tangled around his helmet. Dry crabgrass wedged directly into his silver visor.
Kenneth kicked his boots free and vaulted off the beast. He tumbled in the dirt before scrambling up.
His face was bright red beneath his visor.
"Blasted mountain drafts!" Kenneth hissed through gritted teeth, hastily brushing crabgrass from his polished breastplate.
"A freak downdraft! Nothing more!"
He smoothed his sapphire cape, threw back his shoulders, and strode forward with supreme, rehearsed imperial dignity.
Before he could reach the wooden gate, however, a flash of cold steel blocked his path.
Lyra Ashford stood on the gravel trail, her silver rapier held in a flawless high-guard stance.
Her amethyst eyes were icy, devoid of fear, and brimming with lethal intent.
"Halt, Prince Kenneth," Lyra warned, her voice steady and sharp as winter frost. "You stand upon sacred ground. Retract your blade and depart on your dazed chicken, or your soul will be ground into astral dust."
Kenneth paused, blinking at her in genuine astonishment before a mocking smirk spread across his lips.
"Well, well, well," Kenneth chuckled, shaking his head in theatrical amusement. "If it isn't Lady Lyra, third daughter of the disgraced Ashford Clan! Fleeing the capital like a frightened mouse, only to play guard dog on an overgrown compost heap!"
"You know nothing, Kenneth," Lyra said coldly, not moving an inch. "I serve Eldest Senior Brother Felix Vance. He is contemplating the primordial tranquility of the Void. If you take another step and disrupt his rest, not even the Chancellor can save you."
Kenneth threw his head back and laughed uproariously.
"A primordial sovereign?!" Kenneth scoffed, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.
"Lyra, you have truly lost your mind in your exile! Master Vane and I have seen through your pathetic scheme! You found some ancient defensive formations left behind by Grandmaster Vivienne and set them off to frighten the academy elders!"
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
He pointed an armored gauntlet toward the wooden porch of the cottage.
"There is no ancient god here!" Kenneth declared loudly. "Only a lazy, untalented mortal squatter hiding behind a missing woman's skirt!"
Lyra’s knuckles tightened on her sword grip, her mana flaring.
"Impudent fool," she hissed. "You dare speak of Senior Brother with such mortal filth?!"
"Stand down, Lyra," Kenneth commanded, his voice dripping with condescension. "I am a Tier 5 Spellblade Peak! My Heaven-Slicing Rapier has cut down shadow-beasts that would turn your blood to ice! Watch closely as I drag your 'god' into the sunlight by his collar!"
Meanwhile, on the porch steps ten yards away, Felix Vance was sitting on a low wooden stool.
He was wearing his oversized gray hemp tunic, his straw slippers, and a pair of clean white socks.
A chipped ceramic bowl of lukewarm jasmine tea rested beside his heel.
His elbows rested on his knees, and his thumbs were gently twiddling the directional rockers of his obsidian AetherDeck.
He was in the middle of clearing out twenty-four pages of inventory junk from his last offline harvest.
*Click. Tap.
Sell for 4 coins. Tap.
A loud, piercing aristocratic voice interrupted his rhythm.
Felix stopped tapping. He slowly raised his chin, staring toward the gate with an expression of profound existential boredom.
His Inspector HUD flickered to life over Kenneth’s silver-plated head:
[AETHERDECK OS: INSPECTOR HUD v1.2]
Target: Prince Kenneth of Silverwing
Age: 21 | Faction: Blade Spire (Discipleship Rank: 1)
Cultivation: Adept Tier 5 (Spellblade Peak)
Threat Level: Annoying Dialogue NPC (Unskippable)
Equipment Breakdown:
• Silverwing Star-Steel Cuirass (+0 Armor, 100% Vanity)
• Heaven-Slicing Rapier (Tier 6 Meteoric Steel / Brittle)
• Sapphire Silk Cloak (Provides +5 Drama, -10 Wind Resist)
Inspector Note: Pompous noble NPC with zero stat bonuses;
purely cosmetic microtransaction skins. Currently preparing
an excessively long, unskippable dialogue monologue.
Audio volume: 100%. Devs should really implement a
[Skip Cutscene] button in the next patch.
Felix stared at the brackets, letting out a heavy, world-weary sigh.
"Great," Felix muttered to himself, his voice completely flat. "A pay-to-win vanity skin user. And he's about to recite a five-minute cutscene monologue that I can't fast-forward through."
Prince Kenneth stepped past the wooden gatepost, ignoring Lyra entirely, and marched toward the porch.
Kenneth stopped five paces away. He planted his boots wide in gravel and rested a hand on his rapier.
He tossed his chin in the air, his sapphire cape billowing in the breeze.
"Hear me, Felix Vance!" Kenneth boomed, projecting his voice across the valley with enough theatrical bravado to fill an imperial opera house.
"I am Prince Kenneth, third heir to the High Silverwing Dynasty! First Sword of the Radiant Dawn Blade Spire! Conqueror of the Crimson Marsh Drake! Bearer of the Star-Silver Crest!"
Felix rubbed his cheek, his left thumb resting lazily on the AetherDeck's power toggle.
"Cool resume," Felix said mildly. "Are you selling insurance, or did you get lost on your way to a theater rehearsal?"
Kenneth’s eye twitched under his silver brow, but he pressed on, refusing to break character.
"For three days, the six spires have whispered your name in fear!" Kenneth continued, drawing breath for the next paragraph of his speech.
"The diviners babble of sun-fire! The inquisitors weep like broken children! They claim an ancient primordial sovereign has taken root upon this desolate rock! But I, Kenneth of Silverwing, know the truth!"
He took a slow, dramatic step forward, his voice rising in righteous crescendo.
"True martial supremacy cannot be faked!" Kenneth shouted.
"It is forged in ten thousand hours of bloody blade practice! It is carved through the freezing winds of the northern crags! A mortal lounging in a hammock eating radishes cannot touch the True Sword Dao!"
Felix looked down at his AetherDeck screen.
[Offline Gain: +450 Idle Coins] [Core Temperature: 15.0 Mega-K / Stable]
Felix looked back up at Kenneth, blinking slowly.
"Are you almost done?" Felix asked politely.
"My tea is getting cold also, you're scaring the earthworms under my cabbage bed."
Kenneth’s face flushed purple with rage.
"Insolent dog!" Kenneth roared, his aristocratic composure finally snapping.
"You dare mock the Blade Spire while slouching on a milking stool?! You think your cowardly facade can deceive my eyes?!"
Kenneth reached across his chest.
His silver fingers wrapped around the wire-bound hilt of his weapon.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING.
The Heaven-Slicing Rapier slid from its scabbard with a clear ring. The sharp sound cut through the air.
The blade was four feet long, narrow as a willow leaf, and forged from pale meteoric star-silver.
Celestial wind runes pulsed along the blade in azure light. A high whistle vibrated across the yard.
"Behold!" Kenneth proclaimed, thrusting the glowing tip into the air.
"The Heaven-Slicing Rapier! A Sixth-Tier Astral Relic forged from the heart of a fallen star! It can cleave enchanted granite like soft butter, and pierce dragon-scale without bending a hair!"
On the porch, Felix glanced at the shimmering sword.
His Inspector HUD obligingly provided an update:
【Item: Heaven-Slicing Rapier】 【Grade: Sixth-Tier Astral Weapon】 【Durability: 35/100 (Micro-fractures from poor heat treatment)】 【Inspector Note: Highly polished, but structurally brittle due to excessive vanity engraving. The blacksmith clearly prioritized aesthetic glow over tensile flexibility. Highly susceptible to blunt-force trauma. Worth 15 copper coins at the scrap yard.】
Felix shook his head with a quiet scoff.
"Figures," Felix murmured. "Glow-in-the-dark weapon skin with low durability. Cheap cash-shop trash."
Kenneth lowered the tip of the rapier, pointing it straight between Felix’s eyes.
A razor-sharp gust of blue astral sword-intent whipped through the yard, snapping dry twigs and rustling Felix’s messy brown bangs.
"Kneel, Felix Vance!" Kenneth commanded, his eyes burning with cold triumph.
"Kneel before the Blade Spire! Admit your fraudulent deceptions, surrender Vivienne Frost’s remaining relics, and crawl down this mountain on your belly!"
Felix didn't kneel.
He didn't even shift his posture on the stool.
He just tapped the side of his AetherDeck, checking the digital clock in the corner of the display.
"It’s 11:15 AM," Felix said in a calm, tired drawl. "My nap was scheduled for 11:00 AM. You’re cutting into my offline idle accumulation."
Kenneth’s teeth ground together with a sound like crushing stone.
"Then perish in your delusions!" Kenneth screamed.
Kenneth blurred forward in azure light. The air screamed as he launched his ultimate thrust.