Weapon seller in the world of magic

Meanwhile, far away in the Prucell Province of the Phoenix Empire, where the air was warmer, there stood a vast estate that spread across the countryside like a small kingdom unto itself.

The main mansion rose in the center with broad stone walls and sloping crimson roofs, while around it stretched rows of carefully maintained stables that housed all manner of beasts, from ordinary warhorses with glossy coats and powerful legs to rare spirit creatures whose very presence made the air feel heavier.

In one of the larger enclosures rested a giant fire-breathing salamander, a beast king of the seven-star rank, its scales glowing faintly like embers buried beneath black ash, its slow breathing sending out waves of heat that made the nearby air shimmer.

Behind the mansion lay a wide training ground paved with worn stone and packed earth, a place where countless generations had tested their blades and settled matters of pride.

There, beneath the descending sun, Lucian Storm stood locked in a sword duel against a dignified old man whose silver hair moved gently in the evening breeze and whose calm expression carried the weight of more than a century of experience.

For the past several days, Lucian had visited this estate under the appearance of nothing more than a polite acquaintance.

On the surface, he came to exchange pointers and pay respects to the ancestor of House Silver. Yet beneath that courteous exterior, another purpose burned steadily within him.

He had come to seek aid for his closest friend, Arceus Silver.

At first, Lucian believed this task would be simple.

Then he remembered Kiara’s words.

During their lunch meeting, Kiara had spoken plainly, as she always did.

”An old tree does not lean merely because a young branch asks it to,” she had said while stirring her drink. ”Blood may flow through the same roots, but roots also care about which trunk still stands.”

Those words had settled in Lucian’s heart like a pebble dropped into still water, sending ripples through his certainty.

What if the ancestor chose Wester Silver over Arceus?

What if this journey ended with a polite refusal?

What if, after all his effort, he returned empty-handed?

That doubt had driven him to seek not a promise made out of courtesy, but a promise won through his own strength.

And so he challenged the old man.

The ancestor, amused by the request and completely unaware of the emotional storm hidden beneath Lucian’s composed face, agreed with a smile.

”If you can defeat me in a sword duel,” he had said, ”then I will grant one wish, provided your request does not violate my principles.”

To make the contest fair, the old man suppressed his cultivation to Lucian’s level, the low fifth-star rank.

Even so, the difference between them was like the difference between a student who had learned to read and a scholar who had spent a lifetime studying the stars.

Lucian lost once.

Then he lost again.

Each clash sent vibrations up his arm, the impact rattling his bones and numbing his fingers. Sweat gathered beneath his robes, and every breath became heavier, carrying both frustration and stubborn resolve.

Finally, refusing to let the opportunity slip away like sand through open fingers, Lucian revealed one of his hidden trump cards.

Blue lightning danced across his body.

Thin sparks crackled over his sleeves, crawled along the edges of his sword, and snapped in the air with sharp hissing sounds. The smell of ozone spread through the training ground, crisp and electric, as if a storm cloud had descended from the heavens and wrapped itself around him.

Most astonishing of all, his ether energy was not consumed.

This was pure elemental power.

A gift so rare that only one in a hundred thousand spirit warriors was said to possess it.

Vann Silver, ancestor of House Silver, narrowed his eyes.

For the first time since the duel began, genuine interest appeared on his face.

He could see at once that Lucian’s control was incomplete, like a craftsman holding a blade forged from divine metal but not yet knowing how to fully wield it.

And yet, the raw talent before him was undeniable.

At that moment, Vann silently decided that, regardless of the boy’s true purpose, he would at least help him polish this unfinished technique.

Lucian sensed the change in the old man’s attitude.

Strangely, instead of feeling pure joy, a faint sadness stirred in his heart.

He had always considered Zion to be the most skilled warrior he had ever faced, and some quiet, stubborn part of him wished that to remain true.

Why that thought mattered to him so much, Lucian did not know.

Perhaps it was admiration.

Perhaps rivalry.

Perhaps it was brotherhood.

He pushed the thought aside.

This was not the time to untangle the knots of his own heart.

He was here for Arceus.

Nothing else mattered.

Time passed.

The sun descended lower, bathing the training ground in molten gold.

The old man appeared slightly weary, not in body, but in mind. Though his swordsmanship was peerless, he was still an elder, and prolonged concentration was a burden no matter how vast one’s experience.

Sensing that the day was slipping away, Lucian made his final move. With a flash of light, he drew a semi-divine sword from his storage ring. The weapon hummed in his hand, its edge singing softly as lightning gathered around it.

Lucian’s eyes sharpened.

His robes snapped in the electric wind.

”Torrent of the Lightning Dragon.”

He spun.

The motion was fluid and fierce, his blade carving a luminous circle through the air.

A torrent of crackling energy surged forward, twisting into the shape of a dragon with a serpentine body of pure lightning. It roared soundlessly as it raced toward Vann Silver, illuminating the entire training ground in flickering blue-white light.

Anyone witnessing that attack without knowing Lucian’s cultivation would have sworn he was standing at the peak of the sixth-star rank.

Vann Silver’s eyes widened.

It was not the shape that surprised him.

And certainly not the power.

It was the speed... the attack crossed the distance in an instant.

He had only two choices.

Release his true speed and evade.

Or overpower it directly.

In that split second, Vann Silver realized he could no longer maintain his self-imposed restriction.

With a resigned sigh, he extended his hand. Scarlet ether energy erupted around his arm, swelling like molten flame. When the lightning dragon reached him, he caught it in his palm.

The ground trembled.

The dragon writhed.

Then, with a firm squeeze, Vann Silver shattered it into countless sparks that scattered through the air like fireflies.

Lucian’s strongest attack was destroyed. And yet, a smile appeared on his face.

”Thank you for letting me win, Lord Silver.”

Vann Silver blinked.

Then he laughed.

By using power above the agreed level, he had technically lost.

The old man lowered his hand and looked at Lucian with newfound respect.

”For three days, you have shown the patience of a man carrying a mountain on his shoulders,” he said. ”A lesser person would have given up after the first defeat. You continued after the second. Today, you drew your hidden blade.”

He rested his sword against his shoulder.

”Very well. As long as your request does not cross my principles, I will do my best to grant it.”

His eyes gleamed.

”Even if your wish requires me to topple a powerful martial clan, I shall not refuse.”

He looked directly at Lucian.

”Speak.”

Lucian returned the old man’s gaze, his expression serious. ”I believe it would be better to discuss this inside.”

Vann Silver studied him for a moment, then nodded.

”Alright.”

It did not take long for Vann Silver to learn the situation facing Arceus.

As the story unfolded, the old ancestor came to understand both why Lucian had sought him out and why the young man had insisted on obtaining his word before revealing the truth.

When Lucian finished, Vann Silver remained silent for several moments.

Then he nodded.

”I understand.”

His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.

”I will help.”

Hearing those words, Lucian felt a weight lift from his chest.

The two of them wasted no time and began their journey toward the Imperial City.

*

While fortune seemed to be smiling upon Lucian in the Phoenix Empire, it seemed that the goddess of luck had also turned her gaze toward Kiara in the kingdom of Celestra.

To Kiara’s genuine surprise, Gideon Crescent accepted her invitation to visit Ironvale City for the ”grand surprise.”

Truthfully, Kiara had expected the Prince to decline.

They were still little more than acquaintances.

The king was absent from the capital.

And in a world where power often wore a smiling face and carried a hidden dagger, caution was usually the wisest companion.

Yet Gideon agreed almost immediately.

Not only that, he brought with him only a handful of royal knights.

The strongest among them was merely in the early sixth-star rank.

Kiara could not help but wonder.

For a Prince praised as the sharpest mind in all of Celestra, was Gideon truly this trusting?

Or was he simply choosing, for once, to follow his heart rather than caution?

Then another question rose in Kiara’s mind.

Moreover, why had the queen allowed it so easily?

Even if the woman was plotting something dark, should she not still care for her only son?

Unless Gideon was not her biological child.

Or perhaps the queen was the sort of person who, like Kiara’s own mother, could place ambition upon the scales and watch family slide off the other side.

The thought left a bitter taste.

But after a moment, Kiara exhaled and dismissed it.

Questions were plentiful.

Answers could wait.

For now, only two things mattered.

The quest.

And the reward waiting at the end of it.