The dry sound of an impact reverberated through the clearing, followed by the violent displacement of leaves and dust. The force of the strike caused nearby trees to tremble. At the center of the commotion stood Rygar, his expression serious, sword in hand, chest rising and falling rhythmically as he maintained his combat stance.
Four Doldia warriors surrounded him. Facing him stood Hontar, his father, a man whose presence was synonymous with authority. Beside him, two seasoned veterans of the tribe, their scars a testament to countless battles fought. The fourth was a rising young warrior. All of them were advanced-level fighters.
Rygar relied solely on his physical strength, sword, instincts, and the techniques he had refined since childhood—no magic. His movements were a seamless blend of the Sword God style's aggression, with its swift and lethal strikes, and the adaptability of the North God style, filled with calculated dodges and devastating counterattacks. What truly set him apart, however, was his creativity: Rygar incorporated powerful kicks, acrobatic spins, and unconventional strikes that disrupted the rhythm of his opponents.
Hontar was the first to move. His straightforward punch was so powerful that the air itself seemed to vibrate, scattering dust before it even reached its target. Rygar dodged by the narrowest of margins, his movements as fluid and swift as a feline's. His motion stirred dry leaves into swirling eddies, a spectacle that captured the other combatants' attention.
Without losing momentum, Hontar attacked with a feint using a North God distraction technique, but Rygar spun on his axis and delivered a powerful sidekick. The blow connected with one of the warriors' torsos, sending him flying backward as if struck by a battering ram. The thunderous impact echoed through the clearing as the warrior slammed into a tree, collapsing to his knees, clutching his broken arm.
"Don't stop!" Hontar roared, his voice thunderous.
The remaining three advanced in unison, forming a pincer around Rygar. The tension in the air was palpable. Every move seemed meticulously calculated as the seasoned warriors sought to force Rygar into making a mistake.
But Rygar was in control. He ducked under a diagonal slash, the blade grazing close enough to sever a few strands of his hair. A blade strike quickly followed, which Rygar blocked with his own sword before countering with a direct punch to his opponent's stomach. The strike was so forceful that the ground cracked under the shockwave, and the warrior collapsed unconscious on impact, rolling dozens of meters before coming to a stop, frothing at the mouth.
The next warrior hesitated for a split second, and that was all Rygar needed to seize the offensive. He surged forward with impressive speed, delivering a sequence of sword strikes. Shallow cuts appeared on the warrior as he desperately tried to parry with his blade. Before Hontar could intervene, Rygar disarmed the warrior and stopped his blade after leaving a shallow cut on the opponent's neck.
In the end, only Hontar remained standing. Father and son faced each other, both breathing heavily but neither showing any sign of yielding.
"You've improved a lot, son," Hontar said, a predatory grin spreading across his face, a challenge in itself.
"Just a little..."
Rygar's smile was confident, but not arrogant. He knew how strong his father was, and every fight against him pushed him to his limits.
Rygar moved first, executing the Longsword of Silence so quickly that it left a streak in the air. Hontar ducked at the last second, spinning to the side and countering with a sweeping kick. Rygar leaped over it, but Hontar had anticipated the move. Rising fluidly, he unleashed an upward hook punch. Rygar released his sword midair, receiving the blow but using the momentum to slip inside his father's guard. In a flash, he executed a grappling technique, pinning Hontar to the ground.
His claws stopped millimeters from his father's throat.
"Yielded. You win." Hontar raised his hand, laughing as he caught his breath.
The other warriors, still recovering, watched the scene with smiles of respect and admiration. Rygar extended a hand to help his father up, which Hontar accepted with visible pride in his eyes.
"You pushed me to my limit today. Thank you," Rygar said, bowing his head in gratitude to the other warriors.
"You've earned it, kid. It's not every day we see someone so young master techniques at this level," remarked one of the veterans, still massaging his shoulder after taking one of Rygar's blows.
Hontar dusted off his clothes and looked at his son with curiosity.
"And now? Resting or do you have more plans for the day?"
Rygar grinned, energized.
"I'm learning Saint-level Wind magic with Master Verdia today. Tornado. Want to watch?"
Hontar's expression turned intrigued.
"Of course. That's not something you see every day."
As they walked back to the village, the relaxed atmosphere between them was filled with chatter about the approaching rainy season.
"Oigar should arrive with the Water God Style instructor before the rains begin," Hontar commented. "I hope he's found someone worthy."
"If he chose personally, it must be good enough."
When they reached home, Rygar managed to convince Selene to join them. His mother accepted with a smile, always willing to support her son's achievements.
Rygar led the group through the forest, followed closely by his students and subordinates: Lisena, Kilian, Linia, and Pursena, with his master, Verdia, just behind. Hontar, his father, and Selene, his mother, had also decided to come along to witness Rygar's training in Saint-level magic.
Selene stayed close, her expression full of pride as she watched her son walk confidently.
"You're growing so fast, my child. It feels like just yesterday you could barely conjure a small fireball, and now..." she said, smiling warmly.
"And now he's dragging us along a trail full of roots and rocks," Linia grumbled, stumbling as she tried to keep up. "Slow down! We're not all machines like you!"
"What's the matter, Linia? I thought you were stronger than Pursena. I don't hear her complaining," Rygar teased, looking over his shoulder with a playful smile.
"How does your master keep up? She's a mage!" Linia groaned again.
Verdia chuckled. "I'm also a rather skilled archer."
The group continued until they reached a wide clearing, its ground covered with short grass and bathed in intense sunlight. The area was perfect for practicing powerful and potentially dangerous magic.
Verdia stepped into the center of the clearing, turning to face the group.
"Now, I'll demonstrate once. Pay close attention, little Rygar. Wind is your weakest element, so it's okay if you don't get it right away."
Rygar crossed his arms, watching her intently.
She began chanting the spell, her voice echoing through the clearing, blending harmoniously with the breeze.
"Oh, ancestral spirits of the winds, who have witnessed ages of glory and destruction! Unite in eternal pact and grant me the power of the primordial storm! Let the skies weep in vortexes, and the earth tremble at the furious dance of currents! Tear the heavens, rise in endless spirals, and bring judgment with every twist! Manifest your boundless fury, Tornado!"
The natural breeze soon turned into strong gusts, lifting leaves and dust into the air. Spirals of wind formed around her, quickly growing in height and intensity.
The tornado roared, displacing the air with such force that even Hontar took a step back, shielding Selene with his arm.
"This is... incredible," Selene murmured, awestruck.
"Indeed, formidable," Hontar agreed, his tone heavy with respect. He could tell that if they were any closer, they'd all have been swept away by the violent gale.
Verdia dispelled the magic with a wide gesture, and the clearing returned to silence.
"This is Tornado," she explained. "A Saint-level Wind magic spell. Controlling such a spell demands more than power. It requires absolute concentration and a focused mind."
Verdia turned to Rygar, her eyes filled with expectation.
"Are you ready to try?"
"I am, Master."
Verdia gestured for him to step into the center.
"Show me what you've learned, Rygar."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to feel the wind's flow. Years of training flashed through his mind: the repeated attempts to manipulate air for flight spells, his enhancements for high-speed movement techniques like Flash Step, and his failed attempts at vacuum magic, which, despite not succeeding, still gave him experience. In truth, wind magic was arguably the element he controlled most adeptly.
"Wind is motion and force, but it's also balance," he muttered, more to himself than to the others.
He began to chant, raising his arms slowly.
"Oh, spirits of the ancestral winds, witnesses of eras of glory and destruction! Unite in an eternal pact and grant me the power of the primordial storm! Let the skies weep in vortices, and the earth tremble at the furious dance of the currents! Tear the heavens, rise in eternal spirals, and bring judgment with every rotation! Manifest your endless wrath, Tornado!"
The air responded immediately, as if eager to heed the call. Currents began forming into gentle but precise spirals. As the tornado took shape, Rygar recalled something he had seen in his past life: a documentary about hurricanes and tornadoes.
"Tornadoes form from colliding masses of hot and cold air, creating intense rotation. But hurricanes… they require heat and water. A strong central pressure can turn something destructive into something even greater."
The idea struck him like lightning. He decided to try.
"What if I increase the pressure and add more layers?" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with renewed determination.
Rygar concentrated, adjusting the airflow within the tornado. He began manipulating the outer layers to spin in opposite directions while intensifying the pressure at the core. The tornado started to transform. Its edges widened and became more defined, while the core grew in power and density. Instead of a chaotic whirlwind, what emerged was a miniature hurricane, spinning with such intensity that cracks began forming in the ground below.
The roar of the wind became deafening, and nearby trees swayed violently, as if ready to snap. The winds were so fierce that Verdia cast an Intermediate Barrier Spell to block them. Rygar's magic was visibly more powerful than the tornado Verdia had conjured earlier.
The "Tornado" lasted several minutes, devastating the land and toppling trees that were tens of meters thick. A distant mountain suffered landslides as the spell raged on. When Rygar finally lowered his arms, releasing the magic, the hurricane dissolved slowly into a wave of wind that swept through the clearing, tousling everyone's hair. Silence fell.
Pursena was the first to break it.
"W-what was that?!"
Linia shook her head, speechless, while Kilian and Lisena stared at Rygar as if they were in the presence of a living legend.
Verdia, however, stood still, incredulous. She walked slowly to the center of the clearing, looking at Rygar with a mixture of amazement and fascination.
"Where did you learn that?" she asked, her voice low but firm.
Rygar scratched his head, slightly flustered by his master's intense gaze.
"I don't know… I just did it instinctively." He lied.
For a moment, everyone thought Verdia would be furious. But, to everyone's surprise, she began laughing. It wasn't a polite or restrained laugh; it was a deep, joyous, genuine one.
"He did that instinctively!" she exclaimed between laughs.
Everyone was even more shocked. Verdia had never laughed before. Even Hontar, who had known her the longest, stood open-mouthed.
Rygar, on the other hand, was mesmerized by her laughter, as if angels were luring him closer. He blushed and looked away.
When she finally stopped laughing, she ruffled his hair, her smile radiating pride.
"With that magic, you can call yourself a Wind King."
"Wind King?" Rygar repeated, confused.
"That technique you just used… turning a tornado into a hurricane… it's a King-level spell, something only a handful of magicians in the world can perform. Even among the greatest, it's rare. I myself have mastered this magic, but what you just did…" She shook her head, awestruck. "It seemed even stronger."
Rygar looked at her, stunned. He hadn't realized he had achieved something so significant.
"Am I a King-level magician?"
Verdia laughed again. "You can bet on it."
---
The group's lighthearted energy lingered as they returned to the village. However, upon arrival, the mood shifted. A crowd had gathered in the village center. Oigar stood with two humans—an elderly woman with a dignified posture and a teenager with bright, wary eyes. Gyes was at the forefront, interrogating them with near-aggressive intensity.
Rygar stepped forward, with Selene and Hontar close behind. Their presence was enough to draw the crowd's attention.
"Gyes, can I handle this?"
Gyes hesitated visibly but reluctantly stepped back. Rygar had to admit, the beastfolk's philosophy of respecting strength was genuinely useful.
The elderly woman stepped forward, bowing her head slightly in a gesture of courtesy.
"Thank you for intervening. My name is Eleonora, and this is my grandson, Eidar."
"Oigar, who are they?" Hontar asked, looking directly at the warrior.
"Eleonora is an Advanced-level swordswoman in the Water God Style. She offered to become an instructor, but under one condition: we help buy her other grandson, who was sold as a slave."
Eleonora's sharp gaze fell on Rygar, narrowing slightly.
"Oigar said your leader was very strong. But… you're just a child?"
Before anyone could respond, Eidar spoke up.
"If you're so strong, prove it."
The clearing fell silent. Eidar, about 13 or 14 years old, with sun-kissed blond hair and wheat-colored eyes, radiated arrogance. Rygar smiled, crossing his arms.
After a moment, Rygar turned to Taes, who had been watching silently.
"Taes," Rygar called, his voice calm but firm. "Fight him."
The young beastfolk, with reddish-brown hair and golden eyes, stepped forward, dropping his casual demeanor. He smiled slightly as he unsheathed his sword.
"It would be an honor, Chief."
Eidar frowned, confused.
"You're sending someone else to fight for you?"
Rygar's gaze sharpened as he replied.
"You seem to misunderstand something here. No one is obligated to accept your challenge. This is merely my whim, as I wish to test my subordinate." His tone grew more serious, releasing a faint bloodlust.
Eidar flinched, his arrogance faltering slightly.
Eleonora intervened.
"Very well. Let them fight. There's no need for further tension."
Rygar nodded, stepping back to observe.
The two young warriors positioned themselves in the center of the clearing, swords in hand. Taes took a stance from the North God Style, his feet planted firmly, breathing steady. Eidar adopted the fluid posture of the Water God Style, his movements almost like a dance as he awaited Taes' first move.
What followed was an intense duel that left everyone astonished.
As soon as the fight began, it was clear that neither of them was weak.
Taes moved swiftly, his strikes slicing through the air unpredictably. Eidar, however, maintained a solid stance, blocking the attacks with precision. The clash seemed balanced at first, but Eidar soon began utilizing the flow of the Water God Style to put pressure on Taes, forcing him to retreat. Each counterattack deepened Taes' disadvantage—Eidar was likely an advanced-level practitioner of the Water God Style.
That's when Taes revealed his true strength. Without warning, he conjured sharp earthen pillars beneath Eidar's feet. Eidar reacted quickly, leaping backward, but the attack pierced his foot, throwing him off balance. He recovered almost immediately, but there was no time to counterattack. The pillars had obscured his view of Taes, and when he searched for him again, a flaming blade was already mere meters away. He hastily used the Flow technique to cut through the magic, but the resulting explosion still burned him and pushed him slightly back.
"Silent casting?" Eidar murmured, shocked.
He had no time to process this further as a blade was suddenly placed against his throat.
"Is that all?" Taes asked with a grin.
"How did you do that?!"
Taes sheathed his sword. "Trade secret."
Rygar praised him, "Well done, Taes. Once you reach the advanced level, you'll be even deadlier."
"Thanks for the opportunity, Boss!"
He then turned to Eleonora. "Now, let's discuss the terms more thoroughly."
With that, the tension in the clearing began to ease. Taes received congratulations from his companions, while Eidar seemed more inclined to listen and observe. Rygar had noticed several things about the Water God Style that interested him—its counters, its ability to cut through magic—definitely techniques worth incorporating.