“Then what do you call everything I’ve been doing all day?”
Frey grumbled, but Phoenix chuckled, his eyes glowing with familiar energy.
“You can consider it a warm-up. Honestly, if not for the training you’re about to receive, the Temple wouldn’t even be worthy of having you right now.”
That finally caught Frey’s interest … and Phoenix knew it.
“What you’re about to attend is a secret training session. Only wielders of the Legendary Weapons are allowed.”
Frey’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I take it Snow will be there?”
“Correct.”
A flicker of anticipation crossed Frey’s face. What would happen when Balerion, the Black Dread clashed against the sacred blade Vermithor?
But one question lingered more urgently.
“Will you be leading the session?”
Phoenix shook his head.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know much about how to fight with legendary weapons.”
“Clearly,” Frey muttered, recalling Phoenix’s chaotic, brute-force fighting style that blended close-quarters brawling with wave controlling. A warrior like that could never teach swordplay properly.
“Then who’s in charge of the training?”
Frey asked, and Phoenix simply smiled.
“You’ll find out soon.”
He deliberately left Frey in the dark, walking ahead as they headed to a secluded training ground, hidden far from prying eyes.
There, three others had already arrived.
Snow, Daemon, and surprisingly …Danzo.
Frey didn’t understand what was happening. These weren’t the people he expected to see in a training for legendary weapon wielders, but Phoenix took the lead and explained.
“Alright, now that everyone’s here… we’ve got two wielders of the Seven Great Swords, and two bearers of the Burning Shields.”
That made Frey turn instantly toward Danzo.
“Danzo… you?”
Danzo clenched his fist, his eyes never leaving Daemon.
“You’re not the only ones who got their hands on some fancy toys.”
Phoenix nodded in approval and gestured for Danzo and Daemon to follow him.
“Good. I’ll be handling these two myself.”
Meanwhile, Frey and Snow looked at one another in confusion.
“Pardon me,” Snow asked, “but what exactly are we supposed to do? Are we just supposed to fight each other?”
Frey exchanged a glance with him, but Phoenix simply waved as he walked away with the others.
“Your instructor’s already here.”
Suddenly, a dreadful chill crept up both their spines. They leapt apart instinctively, putting distance between themselves and the figure that had appeared behind them.
Just a few steps behind them now stood a woman neither of them had ever seen up close … only on screens or at grand ceremonies.
She wore nothing but a tattered black dress and a golden helmet.
“Your reflexes aren’t bad.”
The former Vice Director stepped toward them, raising her right hand as a massive golden greatsword extended from it.
“You…”
Both Snow and Frey muttered the word at the same time.
The woman before them calmly removed her helmet, letting fiery red hair tumble freely down her back.
“Melina, wielder of the Claymore,” she said. “I’ll be your instructor… Champion of the Church , and Champion of the Victoriad.”
At last, they understood.
Given their status as wielders of the Seven Great Swords, it only made sense that their instructor would be one of their own.
“Arm yourselves.”
Melina wasn’t one for small talk—and with that single word, the battle began.
In response, both Snow and Frey instantly grew serious, honoring her command without hesitation.
“Come, Balerion.”
“Ignite, Vermithor.”
Within the sealed training ground, three of the Seven Great Legendary Weapons were summoned, each one releasing an ominous aura as their inevitable clash drew near.
Melina took one step forward … and then vanished with the second.
Frey barely reacted in time. She appeared like a ghost behind him, and he narrowly blocked her strike. The obsidian blade of Balerion met the golden claymore with a thunderous clash, sparks of fire bursting from the impact.
The sheer difference in raw power sent Frey flying across the arena, crashing hard against the distant wall.
Melina adjusted her stance immediately as Snow rushed in, attempting to capitalize on her momentary focus on Frey. But she parried his flaming strike with ease, wielding her three-meter blade with terrifying grace.
“If you want a surprise attack to work, you must either be fast enough not to give your opponent time to react—”
She swung, her sword moving like a machine, trapping Snow within a flurry of golden arcs.
“—or strong enough to finish them in a single blow.”
She paused, intercepting a dark slash launched by Frey from across the room.
Using his speed, Frey reappeared above her, aiming a downward strike cloaked in shadow aura.
She blocked again … this time the force of his strike cracked the ground beneath her feet.
“Like that?”
Frey grinned.
Melina nodded, unfazed. “Exactly.”
Frey kept up the pressure, and Snow joined in. Both had already realized this was a two-on-one.
But Melina’s strength far exceeded theirs. Even together, they posed no real threat to her.
Then again, this wasn’t a fight to the death … this was training.
The three of them became locked in a whirlwind of steel, their clashing auras … gold, black, and white … mingling in a chaotic storm.
From time to time, Melina’s voice echoed between strikes, laced with aura-enhanced clarity:
“Your strikes are quick, but far too predictable. Rely more on swordsmanship than instinct.”
Explosions followed her every movement as she gracefully danced between Frey and Snow.
“You have a terrifying arsenal of elements under your belt, but you favor only a few … especially Star Aura. Learn to use your full potential.”
Their pace continued to quicken, as though both boys were desperate to prove something … if only to themselves. They still couldn’t land a hit.
“You’re both used to fighting one type of enemy. That’s why you’re struggling against the range of the claymore. In situations like this, treat your opponent as if they’re wielding a spear.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Without realizing it, both Snow and Frey began responding like disciplined students.
After all, it wasn’t every day one got to train with an SS rank swordswoman.
Despite her youthful appearance—early thirties, at most—Frey and Snow both knew better. The deeper a person’s connection to aura, the longer they maintained their vitality.
Who knew? Melina might have been the same age as Carmen.
And so, Frey’s real training finally began.
…
…
…
Elsewhere, Danzo and Daemon stood face-to-face.
Daemon didn’t look thrilled.
“Is there any point to this?”
“Yes,” Phoenix replied casually. “I want you two to go all out. That way I’ll know just how hard I need to hit you when it’s my turn.”
His plan was simple: to turn tanks like them into real monsters, he had to push their durability and resilience to the absolute limit … through pain.
Unlike Daemon, Danzo was eager.
He slammed his fist into his palm, sending a shockwave through the air that made Daemon raise a brow.
“You know, I didn’t think the chance would come this soon ..the chance to settle the score.”
“You think you’re capable of that?”
Daemon scoffed.
A silver glow burst around Danzo’s body.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Silver aura swirled tightly around Danzo’s body, radiating with a brilliance that nearly blinded the eye.
From within that wave of light emerged Danzo, clad in a towering silver armor that made him appear far more massive. The helmet of the armor was shaped like the gaping maw of an enraged dragon.
“The Silver Dragon Armor…”
Daemon muttered, before a wide grin slowly spread across his face.
“So that’s where it ended up.”
That armor was the prized weapon of one of the largest guilds in the Empire. It had belonged to Danzo’s father—Adam Smasher—until recently.
But now, it had been passed down to the son.
Laughing, Daemon tore off his shirt, revealing the ominous tattoo etched across his chest and shoulder.
“Let’s see what you’ve got!!”
A flash of golden brilliance erupted around him as his own colossal armor materialized.
Phoenix watched with a pleased smile.
“The Golden Dragon Armor… and its Silver twin. Two of the SS-class relics.”
They were the most powerful dragon-forged armors ever crafted by human hands.
And now, they belonged to two boys who hadn’t even turned eighteen.
“This generation… is terrifying.”
Before his eyes, the two clashed like colliding tanks—armor against armor, no weapons, just raw fists.
Exactly the way Phoenix liked it.
“Let’s make this damned academy worth something.”
This time, he would draw everything out of them.
…
…
…
The Elite were essential to the Empire … and to the coming war with their ancient enemy.
They were the talents destined to lead the charge one way or another, which is why they received so much investment and attention.
But the title “Elite” didn’t mean equality.
Yes, they bore the same name… but within their ranks, the differences were stark. Only a few truly possessed monstrous potential.
Some were fated to rise and shine.
Others… to be forgotten and cast aside.
Among those students …
Was a girl.
Adriana … The bookworm. The coward. The one who had always carried herself in a way unbecoming of the elite.
She now sat alone in her dark room, fixated on something in her hands.
Her room was stark .. eerily so, especially compared to other girls’. Sitting on the floor, Adriana clutched something tightly.
For some reason, the longer she looked at it, the more her smile widened…
Revealing a face no one had ever seen.
If there were a word for her expression now …
It would be disturbing.
Upon closer inspection, the object in her hands was a photograph.
A photo of a particular girl.
Sansa.
“Oh… how adorable.”
Adriana spoke softly, recalling the princess’s display of power. The demonic shadows that shredded her opponents.
In those fleeting moments, Adriana had barely managed to maintain the mask she’d worn until now.
“Ahh… my dear Sansa…”
She lifted her head to gaze at the room around her—walls, floor, ceiling—completely plastered with pictures of the princess.
Dozens. Hundreds. Far, far too many.
With the same unsettling smile, Adriana’s eyes softened further.
“You really are… perfect.”
Something had definitely changed in that room.