The flesh struck against the hard material with swift, nippy motions, underneath the veil of dim silence. Repeatedly, the skin brushed a harsh rhythm while the barely visible figure moved up and down. Using the hands placed on the floor to descend, the shadowy silhouette promptly hoisted itself off the panels. Then, it repeated the actions. No matter how many times the movement played out, the figure continued, as though it hadn’t strained the muscles in the slightest. Yet, just as it looked like the shadow would once again do it, the moves dissipated in clarity, its body falling to the ground with a controlled flow.


    Getting up and standing still for a while, the man looked towards the ceiling, his eyes closed to let the silence settle within. Sparsely covering the face, sweat dripped down, with considerably less vigour to his earlier days in this place. Clenching the fists, Lutiel finally opened his eyes to welcome in the murkiness embodied all around. The sole stream of illumination that came from beyond the window, in the form of minute dots sprawled across the sky, skimpily poured over to his room.


    However, walking through the space with facile coordination, he didn’t call out for the crystal overhead. Instead, his mind ventured off somewhere else, the surroundings becoming the least of importance. Once again, he clenched the muscles around his arms.


    ‘It’s almost as though I kept training through my sleep. Is this the effect of the magical energy Rudrik was talking about?’ He kept pulsing his arms around, as though trying to feel for the discreet, indiscernible force they all talked about.


    Of course, with a mind as oblivious as ever, the head stopped decisively. ‘I’ve definitely become stronger all of a sudden, my endurance has visibly increased as well,’ he stated, swiftly delivering a punch through the air only to calm down. ‘The speed, too,’ he added , momentarily cutting the air with his right leg before a blaring light encompassed the dull surroundings.


    Coming right from the middle of his right hand, a cold shine unveiled his suspended in place figure. Slowly retrieving the leg, he let the thoughts out. ‘Maybe it’s just slight increases, but it’s all starting to add up together with my training.’ Lutiel concluded, his typically composed face staring deeply at the image starting to be reflected along the pane.


    ‘Yet, would I be able to defeat that demon?’ He asked himself, only to glance down at the crest written in the skin. Already simmering down, it began waning into oblivion beneath his eyes, the reflection before him disappearing briskly. ‘Those scales, they were like plates of the strongest armors I’ve witnessed. Yet, he could move around as though nothing restrained him.’


    With a quickly emptied mind, he walked over to the middle of the room. Stopping in place, he closed his eyes for countless breaths. As the man waited in the space wordlessly, images washed over him serenely, depicting the sombre ball before focusing solely upon the fight.


    Breaking out of the steady position suddenly, he took on a lowered stance, placing his hands up as if something was there for him to actually hold onto. Opening the lids to reveal his keen eyes, Lutiel stared amidst the night. Despite glaring into nothing for a few moments, he started moving with terse signs.


    The made up spear he held onto swooshed through the space, halting completely right before it could ever graze the walls. Tensing his muscles just like he did at the time, Lutiel thrusted the spearhead to the side, letting free of the sword’s path abruptly.


    With swift motions to the side, the man stepped freely while his upper body churned, trying to pierce through the giant right in front of him. Yet, an image of the tip being stopped overwhelmingly furrowed his mind before he turned back. He once again stood calmly against the room, following the gleam from beneath.


    A quarter of the glyph had become illuminated, however, he focused on the depths of the mark. ‘You’re saying it’s possible, huh?’ Lutiel mused to himself before taking on an identical stance as prior.


    Though, only for the initial part. Under the itching of the mark, he set his body in different ways. Adjusting the feet ever so slightly. Either rotating their placement or firming up the position of certain parts of the feet, he followed with the arms and the grip.


    Just like a few breaths ago, he saw the slave with black scales right in front of him, the man rushing towards him with his horrendous form. Flying through the room lividly, the sword arrived at the human’s skin. Still, the slave’s blade stopped after being unable to get a chance at slashing him, cut off by the long weapon the enemy possessed.


    Unlike the short past, the spearhead overwhelmed the metal. Disrupting its course completely, the sword fell away while the white-haired man effortlessly pulled to the side. He stopped for a brisk breath, as though hanging frozen through time, only to tighten the grip on the handle.


    Letting go off the left hand, he twisted his body to adorn the other arm. The weapon in his grasp intensified as he suddenly moved at the same shoulder as before. Spinning while slicing through the air, the spearhead promptly arrived at the spot, stopping immediately. With the slight wafts around him calming down, so did his breathing.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Looking at the arm that did most of the work, Lutiel’s eyes flowed to the hand, where a sturdy glow of a single streak invited itself, though with a glow considerably meeker than the first time.


    With a heaving chest, Lutiel pondered on the crest dying out beneath the bracing light. ‘Why doesn’t it hurt? Why is it so different from the sword?’ However, despite the many questions, all he could do was swing his arms away and try to imitate the movements.


    ‘I know barely anything. The glyph, the magic, the demons, and even the humans that attacked. And what if I wanted to contact them, what then?’ Standing still while the mind clustered up, Lutiel could only shake his head in defeat. ‘I should do something instead of weeping so much.’


    Firming up the eyebrows, he prepared his body before gripping onto the air beyond his stomach. However, the form he took on wasn’t clear in the slightest. His feet, unsymmetric, stepped all over the floor while his shoulders became tense beyond measure.


    Messing up, he could already feel the itchiness around his hand, worsening each breath he took. Right as he raised the invisible sword, he could only stop under the paralyzing pain. Dropping the sword away, his head swiftly picked up on the other weapon.


    Once again, with the poorest of forms he could imagine, Lutiel meekly took hold of the spear. Through legs that barely provided any assistance and hips that didn’t work, he swung the handle with nothing but pure strength. Yet, his arms clearly finished the movement, with no effort for him to stop. No, vibrating visibly around the skin, the crest did the complete opposite. Instead of hurting him like the sword did, clear instructions fell upon the mind, exact and proper moves forming through faint visions to aid his journey.


    ‘Does it just mean I’m incompatible with the sword?’ He mused while scratching the back of his head. Then, he abruptly stopped before looking ahead with clear eyes. ‘No, there is a way to test that, right, Kylli?’ Slipping through, the thoughts left him to walk around the room, briskly arriving near the chair.


    Stretching out his hand, the man didn’t even close his eyes as the memories flooded. All the giggling and laughing through the jeers, as well as the teasing, he remembered all of them when envisioning the bow in his left hand. Moving the right one soon enough, just around the middle of the string, he began pulling it when a single streak lit up brightly, swallowing the whole of his space.


    Mellowing out as the man let go of the string, he quickly looked at the glyph with solemn eyes. ‘Must be the opposite, then,’ with his body already drying off under the mansion’s warmth, he finally lowered his body for the nightly shirt. In a swift motion, he moved over the bed, crossing his legs while sitting on top of the duvet.


    His eyes lingered through the room, grasping onto the darkness while submerging inside his head. ‘If pain indicates talent, why did they never shriek at all? They were the embodiment of their weapons, no human could ever rival them in their field,’ staring at the platinum hairs swaying distantly, Lutiel stared at the dim mark showing itself.


    ‘Also, why does my glyph have twice the amount of streaks on it?’ He couldn’t help but ask, with a tinge of irritation. No matter what, it felt like every time he finally uncovered something, another veiled aspect came to shine.


    “Haa,” inhaling deeply, he released the air harshly before setting his eyes firmly on the hand, not letting go of it no matter what. ‘The more something pains me, the more potential I seem to have for it. However, with the pain, the glyph’s corrections disappear. At the same time, when another streak lights up, the pain lessens almost completely. I guess that’s how they hid it so easily. Yet, when the second one lit up, there were no instructions from the mark and there is only so much I can remember from Raphael’s sword swings. Does it mean I just have to experiment and let the pain course through me? I will have to experiment tomorrow.’


    Letting himself become absorbed in the thoughts, even if his eyes were open, Lutiel didn’t glance away from the hand. Without noticing, the clouds in the sky passed by his window numerous times, the man only breaking away from the stupor as his stomach clenched in on itself, striking him by surprise.


    He didn’t wait for long while looking down at the shirt, promptly standing up and coming over to the wardrobe.


    With a set of fresh underwear and night clothes in his grasp, the slave left his room, easily making his way through the corridors. Omitting the baths, he followed further in, quickly grasping on the kitchen door’s handle.


    However, right before he pulled on the door, he hesitated, noises reverberating from the insides. Crackling and scraping of something suctioned his attention. Under the furrowed eyebrows of his, he staggered forward involuntarily, the door pushing him.


    “I was wondering who it was sneaking around. Why aren’t you asleep?” A familiar voice rested inside his ears as the doors flung open fully, a tall maid wearing glasses welcoming his sight. Standing by the fiery stove that released its flames directly at the pans above, Lutiel watched Raeyine tend to them. Rubbing along the surface of a pan with the wooden spatula in her right hand, she briskly changed her attention to the one next to it.


    “I was hungry,” he didn’t hide the words. Remaining beyond the doors, he awaited the girl’s reaction inside the sparsely illuminated veil of night around them


    “Please come in. I was in the middle of making myself something as well,” she spoke softly, so as to not disturb the night’s serene breeze. Stirring through the dark pan on the stove whilst constantly eyeing the man, her face blossomed a smile as he took a step beyond the doorway. “I hope you like onions,” the girl added swiftly.


    “I do, thank you,” with his voice battling against the raging fire, he closed the doors delicately before taking a spot on the chair near the table.