Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 73: Spirit Forger Realm

Returning to his chamber, Rhydian felt the weight of exhaustion settle deep into his bones, the process of helping Jonan draw out his aura had demanded more of him than expected.

Yet, beneath the weariness, curiosity pulsed. As a veteran cultivator, Rhydian had encountered countless other races, from the sharp-taloned Draconic hybrids to the enigmatic Feathered Celestials, but never has he ever heard of someone generating their aura from their heart.

It was baffling.

Aura, by tradition and nature, was birthed from the core for all the races except for the humans, for humans it was their weapon spirit acting as a core, the cores of other races nestled deep below their navel, where spirit and flesh intertwined, yet Jonan’s core, his spark of power, had erupted from the heart, not symbolically, literally, as if his soul refused to root itself anywhere but at the center of his humanity.

Such an anomaly wasn’t just rare, it was simply unheard of.

Rhydian made a mental note to let Lenaia know about Jonan’s heart, perhaps she might know more, or perhaps, as he increasingly suspected, His Holiness might have suspected for such a situation to occur, and that is why he was asked to teach the secret technique to Jonan.

Across the quiet hall, Jonan lay on his bed, his body was completely tired.

The chamber was dim, lit only by the moonlight filtering through narrow slits in the wall. The air was still, broken only by the slow, rhythmic exhalations of a boy who had seen more death than his years should allow, yet there was no rest in his eyes, only determination.

He stared at the ceiling, the outline of wooden beams sharp in the silver light, his muscles ached, his bones pulsed with a dull throb, yet beneath the fatigue, a quiet satisfaction stayed inside him.

He thought of the abomination, its abominable strength.

He thought of his cohort, how their eyes had glazed over in the darkness, life extinguished by a monarch, the king of beasts.

He thought of his missing friends and their well-being, if they were even in any good condition at all.

Jonan had many faults, from his days of leisure, which were fear, weakness, and ignorance, but now he was climbing, step by step, it was painful, but for strength, he had to do it, he didn’t know how far he would go in his pursuit of strength, he has seen many times, those of his elders, who have reached the end of their path, which is still below the Heroes, and while some accept it, many wallow in despair, due to their pride.

For now, he had to close his eyes and rest, he did not want to sleep; he was too excited to know about his newfound strength, where it would place him among the warriors in his family.

And tomorrow, Rhydian would help him check his strength.

Morning arrived in a slow crawl of amber light, the castle grounds stirred with the sounds of distant drills, the echo of blades on wood, the bark of instructors, Jonan stretched, the stiffness in his body a lingering testament to yesterday’s trials.

Rhydian stood outside his chamber, arms crossed, already clad in his deep gray cloak.

"Ready?" he asked without preamble.

Jonan nodded.

They walked in silence to Jonan’s training field, which lied beyond the standard training grounds, to a clearing tucked between jagged cliffs.

In the center stood a peculiar object: a waist-high stone stele, obsidian black, veined with faint silver lines that pulsed gently.

"This," Rhydian said, gesturing to the stele, "measures raw physical strength, notot the aura, nor technique, just the pure strength of your body."

Jonan stepped forward, examining it.

"Hit it. As hard as you can."

Jonan took a breath, drew his arm back, and launched his fist forward with everything he had.

The moment his knuckles met the cold stone, a shock ran up his arm. The stele flared, silver veins bursting into life. Numbers hovered briefly above it: 521.

Rhydian’s brow arched with a frown.

"Again."

Jonan grunted in annoyance for a bit, then he wound back and struck again.

538.

Again. 547.

Rhydian exhaled slowly. "You’re thinking too much, I can see that you are an intelligent type, but thinking too much can lead to disastrous consequences, stop holding back subconsciously, let your body go, clear your mind, and use your instinct, don’t measure the strike, just let it erupt."

Jonan closed his eyes, he inhaled, and then he snapped forward with momentum.

630.

The numbers shimmered and faded.

Rhydian said nothing, he simply moved to the side, pulling a thin scroll from his belt. He scribbled briefly.

"Now for your speed. Run that path—" he gestured toward a narrow circuit looping through rough terrain and back to the field "—as fast as you can."

Jonan nodded.

He dashed off. Roots, stones, and dips in the earth flashed past him, his breathing was rhythmic, his body was tight and responsive, when he returned, his chest was heaving.

Rhydian was waiting with a strange contraption ticking with gears.

"Two-point-one seconds," Rhydian muttered.

Jonan collapsed onto a nearby stone.

Next was endurance, Rhydian made him hold a squat for ten minutes while controlling his breath, then repeat the sequence while performing the Moonlit Reverence battle art, each motion under pressure, every technique made more grueling by the weight of invisible expectations.

Halfway through the second set, Jonan’s arms began to tremble, his veins throbbed, and blood dripped from his lip.

Rhydian finally raised a hand. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Enough."

Jonan collapsed, sweat pooling beneath him, breath ragged.

Rhydian knelt beside him, placing two fingers on his shoulder, and slowly released a wave of gentle aura through Jonan’s body.

It was there, deep, subtle, and hidden, but someone with the same secret technique as him noticed the Aura of Hatred, running its course in Jonan’s body.

It was a spiritual structure; it felt incomplete, and it was forming in Jonan’s heart, which was also not something Rhydian could understand, but as long as Jonan can generate Aura, he can fight and progress on the path of strength.

"Is his Aura of hatred more powerful or my Aura of Malice?" Rhydian thought, with a hum coming out of his mouth.

Jonan blinked,a nd asked, "Is everything alright?"

Rhydian stood.

"You’ve entered the Spirit Forger Realm."

Jonan sat up, dazed. "But... isn’t that after the Battle Artisan Realm? I haven’t even refined my aura yet."

"You still don’t understand the wonders of secret techniques, and why only the heroes and their family members can use them," Rhydian said. "Anyone else who even get their hands on it will be killed without noticing."

Jonan swallowed.

Rhydian’s voice turned grim, as he said, "First is the Weapon Seeker Realm, where you break your physical limits and try sensing Aura, after that comes Aura Sentinel Realm, where you sense and start gathering aura in your weapon spirit, or in your case in your heart, and for those other races, in their cores".

"After that comes Battle Artisan Realm, where you must master many Battle Arts, or completely master a single Battle Art, which will help in refining the aura you had gathered, this is the realm where your foundation is built."

"And in Spirit Forger realm, you fuse your aura with a spirit, or other variable elemental material, to give your aura an attribute, the ones carrying the blood of the blood of The Starfall Family do not need to fuse, because they were born with the flame element fused into their aura, but many also try to deviate from this path, by fusing another spirit, or another variable elemental material."

"This sometimes makes their power more dangerous, and this is also one of the reasons why the heroes family are feared across the continent; others cannot replicate this because you can only fuse with one outlier spirit, it’s a different thing if you are born with the spirit, like that abomination, which we dealt with, that was an extremely rare case."

"The reason for your skip in realms is because of the secret technique, The Domineering Baleful Aura, which has helped in gathering, refining and also forcibly breaking through the mastery part, because somehow your hate was strong enough to even crush those who had mastered a complete Battle Art, but do not be complacent, and lose sight, do master your Battle Arts as soon as possible."

"You are at the utmost beginning of the Spirit Forger Realm, a spark in a world of infernos, if you fought someone of equal realm right now, you would lose, and that too badly."

Jonan clenched his fists.

"Then I’ll get stronger."

"You will, but not by chance. Not anymore. Every step from here requires intent. Discipline. Precision."

Jonan nodded, and then, as if curious, he asked, "Can I know why I had to break through the physical attribute limits first, when I could have used the secret technique before, too right?"

Rhydian nodded, "It’s true, but we had to check, and His Highness was also pleased that you were able to break through the three attribute limits, and it’s not like we can impart such an important secret technique to any trash."