Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The sun hit the fields, pouring its raw light over the white marble courtyard as if to purge every shadow. The heat made the air vibrate slightly, but there was no relief under the carved arches that surrounded the Royal Knights' training arena. There, in that sacred circle of stone and sweat, two figures moved like predators, circling each other with absolute focus. The breeze that blew through the tall columns brought no freshness, only the smell of dust, iron and effort.

Kael was a whirlwind of steel and intent. The sand beneath his feet rose like a wave as he advanced with both swords held high - the short one low, in line with his hip, the long one tracing a threatening arc upwards.

Each step was quick, sharp, aggressive. He pressed with his whole body, trying to shorten the distance, to break Exelia's defense with sheer physical presence.

But Exelia was rock against the sea.

She slid to the side, like a weightless shadow, spinning on her heel with the lightness of someone who has done it a thousand times.

Her short white cape rose like the wings of a seagull, but her center of gravity remained motionless, anchored. Her blade, straight and unadorned, rose in automatic response, deflecting the attack with a precision so economical that it seemed like provocation.

"Again," she said, without raising her tone. "Fourth Pillar style. Remember the base: the low guard on the weak hand should form the compass. You raised your elbow."

Kael snarled something between his teeth and spun the blades again, resetting his stance. Sweat was already running down his jawline, dripping onto the white ground like dark ink. His muscles were tensed, ready. He nodded, and they both moved - too fast for inexperienced eyes.

The swords clashed with sharp, dry sounds. The metal sang with each block, each redirection. Kael pressed in a double slash, high and low, trying to divert her attention with the short blade while the long one searched for blind spots. But Exelia read each intention as if it were written in sand.

"You think too much," she said, parrying a blow with the flat of her sword and deflecting the short one with the guard of her own. "In a real duel, that kills you. React. Don't calculate, feel."

Kael took a step back, taking a deep breath, his eyes sparking. Then he attacked with more fury, more speed. A twist of the wrist, the long sword tracing a horizontal circle while the short sword came from above, reversing the axis. A cross attack, reckless but powerful.

Exelia ducked under the blow, one hand on the ground for an instant, then exploded upwards like a spear - and her blade passed close to Kael's chin, forcing him to leap backwards.

"Better," she admitted. "But you're still relying on strength. Do you want to know why you're defeating me?"

She advanced without warning.

Two steps. Three.

Kael tried to respond, but she was already in his guard. A circular blow, then a low thrust. He narrowly dodged - and then the dry sound of her pommel hitting his chest. The air rushed from his lungs. He staggered.

"I'm not stronger," she said, circling him like a predator. "I'm more precise. More economical. You want to win with power. I win with intent."

Kael clenched his teeth, and counterattacked in a desperate move - a feint, then a full body spin, short sword in front, long sword coming from behind like a comet's tail.

She blocked the first blow, but the second grazed her shoulder.

The sound of the impact rang out like muffled thunder.

She stopped. She looked at him. A small smile formed.

"Even better," she said, taking a step back. "You touched me."

Kael gasped, bent over, swords low.

"Don't you... ever... stop?" he asked between breaths.

"Do you think the enemy will stop because you're tired?" she replied, raising her sword again. "What you did to Azalith was brutal. But this is refinement. The difference between surviving and protecting someone."

He straightened up. His eyes were calmer now. More lucid. There was something different about his posture. As if he was really listening for the first time.

"Then show me," he said. "Show me how to fight... for someone." Exelia raised her chin slightly.

"Good answer." And then she attacked.

This time, it came like a storm.

Her feet barely touched the ground, her turns too fast, her fist firm and relentless. Kael responded without hesitation. His blocks became cleaner, his feints more intelligent. The two spun like pieces of the same mechanism - their steel clashing in a dance as brutal as it was beautiful.

There was a final sequence: Exelia feinted a lunge to the left, Kael fell into the trap, but then took half a step back, anticipating the real cut. The clash of swords reverberated like battle bells.

They stood there, blades crossed, eyes fixed.

Sweat dripped from both of them.

Silence.

Until Exelia smiled, finally lowering her weapon. "Now I do," she said. "That was a dignified response."

Kael exhaled slowly, feeling the blood pulsing in every inch of his body. "If you keep this up, you'll make me look competent."

She turned away, walking to the center of the courtyard. "If you keep this up, you might even beat me one day," she muttered. "But not today." She said smiling.

"How daring," Kael muttered with a laugh.

In the distance, leaning against the arched frame of a stone window, Adalric watched.

The courtyard below resounded with the muffled echoes of intense training. Swords crossed like lightning, but he didn't just see the dance of steel. His eyes, experienced and tired, were fixed on Kael. The boy - or the man who now occupied that body - moved with a mastery he wouldn't have recognized months ago.

It had been a long time since he had seen him. And although there was no bitterness, there was distance. A gap created not by physical absence, but by decisions that now weighed on him in silence.

"He's improved a lot," said Adalric, as if speaking more to himself than to his companion.

Irelia remained silent for a few seconds, her gaze also fixed on the training ground, before finally replying in a restrained voice:

"He said... that the Witch Queen forced her body through time. That she distorted the years... forcibly transformed him into an adult."

There was something almost imperceptible in her intonation - a thread of pain, of frustration contained under layers of pride. She took a deep breath, her eyes glistening in the sunlight coming through the tall windows.

"My plans have been completely ruined..." she muttered.

Adalric turned his face slightly, casting her a sideways glance, but didn't reply immediately. He knew the weight behind those words. He also knew that the frustration was not just because of what Kael had become, but because of everything she had lost in the process.

He had realized it from the start - long before Irelia herself had accepted it. When he started training Kael, the young man was still a restless, clumsy prodigy, but with a fire in his eyes that few could keep burning after living under the weight of kingdoms and wars.

Irelia, until then, had an absolute disdain for everyone around her. Young courtiers, noblemen's sons, arrogant warriors... to her, everyone was predictable, weak or unworthy. She was cold, precise, fierce - and never showed the slightest interest in men.

But it was different with Kael.

Love at first sight. Not a declared, romantic or even gentle love. But something that was born as a spark and hid under the armor of reason.

"You realized it before I did, didn't you?" she said suddenly, her voice low, bitter like rusted iron.

Adalric crossed his arms, his gaze returning to the field below, where Exelia and Kael clashed like forces of nature. The boy was gone. What lay below was now a warrior - a man shaped by stolen time and the pain of choices no one should have to make so soon.

"From day one," he finally answered, with raw honesty. "You changed. And it wasn't the kind of change an uncle doesn't notice."

Irelia didn't reply.

Her jaw was tense, as if she was holding too many words between her teeth. Her eyes, always calculating, were now filled with something she hated to feel: helplessness.

"He'll never see me the way I wanted him to," she said, almost inaudibly. "He'll never understand how long I waited, how much I planned that... one day... he would come to me. Of his own free will."

Adalric sighed.

"He's still Kael," he said calmly. "But now... he's also a man who has seen too much. He's felt too much. You wanted him to grow out of merit, not trauma."

Irelia turned her face, staring at the golden light that bathed the towers.

"She stole him from me. Not with a spell, not with a touch... but with years. With everything I wanted to build alongside him."

Adalric said nothing for a while.

There were pains that couldn't be healed with advice. And there were loves that, like swords, were forged in the heat - but broke at the first wrong bend.

Downstairs, the duel between Kael and Exelia was beginning again.

Clean, dangerous moves. Military precision, restrained brutality. He was getting better and better. Each blow told a story. Each block was a choice.

"I'll help you grow faster. But it's going to cost a lot. Do you still want that?" Adalric asked smiling, startling Irelia.

"What?"

"You heard me. But it will take three years to reach that state, like him." "Can you reach Master Swordsman level in three years?" he asked smiling.

He knew exactly what his niece would say. After all... he had already calculated that.

"I can do it in a year." Irelia said, her eyes shining.