Lyriq Raveline-The Time Swordsman

After weeks on the road, Carcel greeted them with cobbled streets, sharp voices, and the clang of steel from every corner. The air was different here—tense, alive. This was a city built on trade, tempered by war, and sharpened by blades. Fighters, mercenaries, and soldiers passed like ghosts in broad daylight.

The man found a place to stay: a stone inn on the edge of the lower city, quiet but not cheap. He paid without bargaining.

That evening, as Lyriq nursed his sore limbs and chewed on bread gone too dry, his curiosity finally gave in to the silence between them.

"Master," Lyriq asked, voice small but certain, "Why do you train disciples?"

The man didn't respond at first. He sat by the window, eyes on the dying sun, whetstone whispering against steel.

Then:"Because I'm searching for one who can do the impossible."

Lyriq looked up. "What's the impossible?"

The man didn't turn."To defeat a swordsman who no one has ever defeated. The one standing above all."

Lyriq's heart skipped. "Someone like a king?"

The man shook his head slowly.

"He's above kings. His blade speaks louder than armies. His name... silences even generals."

Lyriq leaned forward, breath held.

The man's voice dropped to a near growl."Augustis Volcaro."

The name hit like thunder in a clear sky.

The room fell silent.

"He doesn't carry titles. He doesn't boast. He doesn't lose. He doesn't accept challenges… he ends them."

Lyriq swallowed hard. "Is he… unbeatable like you say?"

The man finally turned. His eyes, usually unreadable, burned.

"Countless men have tried. Lords, Champions, Masters,disciples who trained for decades. All of them dropped before they could land a hit. Some didn't even see his blade."

Lyriq whispered, almost to himself, "And you want someone to beat him?"

The man stood, stepping into the candlelight, casting a long shadow across the floor.

"I've trained many. Warriors who wanted glory. They fell short before even facing that man"

He paused. Then added:

"I'm looking for someone who doesn't chase applause… just the edge of the blade. Someone mad enough to try the unreachable."

Lyriq's heart was hammering.

"You think I can reach him?"

The man gave a short, humorless laugh.

"You? You're not even on the path yet, I trained many disciples who are prodigies and genius of many kingdoms that includes many prince and once in a generation talent, even the best among best the world's best magician cannot defeat that man"

The words cut deep—but they lit something inside Lyriq.

The man saw it. And for the first time, his voice softened.

The man stared at the window, his voice distant.

"Remember this—someday, you'll become someone. I don't know who. I don't know where this road will take us. But know this…"

He turned, eyes shadowed beneath the weight of memory.

"Augustis Volcaro… is not someone you can defeat just by following my lessons. Not with knowledge. Not even with brilliance."

Lyriq listened, still.

"Even if you trained under him—under the man himself—I doubt anyone could surpass him."

There was no jealousy in his tone. Only awe. And fear.

"I've seen him only twice in my life. From a crowd. Among thousands. And even then—I couldn't look directly at him."

His voice dropped, almost a whisper:

"It wasn't fear. It was something greater. Like staring into a storm that knows your name."

"Even the strongest men—commanders, duelists, heroes—they can't hold his gaze. His presence alone... bends the air."

He paused.

"You'll understand—if fate ever lets you stand before him."

"You won't need a sword in your hand to know who he is."

"Your soul will tell you."

Lyriq looked down at his bruised hands. Then clenched them.

Augustis Volcaro.

Not a legend. Not a king.A man above them all.A storm waiting at the end of the world.

He wasn't just training to survive anymore.

He had a name to rise toward.A name to surpass.