Night passed quietly.
The mansion that had hosted hundreds of guests gradually fell into silence.
The halls emptied.
The servants finished their work.
The fireplaces burned low.
The last lanterns dimmed.
Snow continued falling outside.
Soft.
Gentle.
Peaceful.
Within the eastern wing of the mansion.
Lyra finally returned to the room prepared for her.
The serpent woman stood before the large window.
Golden eyes gazing toward Frostbound Coast.
Even now.
The city still glowed.
Roads illuminated by magical streetlights stretched through the darkness.
Caravans moved like distant rivers.
Warm settlements shone among the snowfields.
The city truly never slept.
A faint smile appeared on her face.
Then she remembered the walk.
The fountain.
The snacks.
The moonlit streets.
And somehow...
The exhaustion she carried finally caught up with her.
The serpent woman closed the curtains.
Removed her cloak.
And laid down.
Within minutes.
She fell asleep.
Meanwhile.
In another wing of the mansion.
Kel entered his study.
The Count glanced at the mountain of documents waiting for him.
Then at his bed.
Then back at the documents.
The documents seemed tempting.
Very tempting.
Unfortunately.
Several voices echoed in his mind.
His mother.
His father.
Marine.
Reina.
Landon.
His Head Maid.
And now Lyra.
All saying exactly the same thing.
Rest.
Kel sighed.
Then reluctantly listened.
The documents survived another night.
And eventually...
The Count fell asleep.
For several hours.
Nothing happened.
Then dawn arrived.
The first rays of sunlight pierced through Frostbound Coast.
Golden light reflected upon snow-covered streets.
The city slowly awakened.
Merchants opened stores.
Workers began shifts.
Travelers resumed journeys.
And before all of them...
Someone was already awake.
The training grounds behind the mansion stood silent.
Cold morning mist drifted above the earth.
Frost covered the wooden training dummies.
The breath of winter lingered in the air.
At the center of the training field.
A lone figure stood.
Kel Rosenfeld.
The Count wore simple black training clothes.
No noble decorations.
No jewelry.
No symbols of status.
Only practicality.
A wooden sword rested within his hand.
Nothing special.
Nothing extraordinary.
Yet the sight around him was anything but ordinary.
Six swords floated around his body.
Six aura swords.
Each constructed entirely from condensed aura.
They revolved around him slowly.
Like celestial bodies orbiting a star.
Silver light danced across their edges.
The sight alone would leave countless swordsmen speechless.
Because every single floating blade represented absurd mastery.
The Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts.
A sword style that had already shaken the Empire.
A sword style considered revolutionary.
A sword style most practitioners struggled to use properly.
Yet here.
Six swords floated effortlessly around a fifteen-year-old Count.
Kel slowly inhaled.
Then exhaled.
The world seemed to quiet.
The floating swords adjusted their positions.
The Count raised his wooden sword.
Then began.
One step forward.
A simple horizontal slash.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing powerful.
Just a basic strike.
Then another.
And another.
Basic stances.
Basic forms.
Basic movements.
The very foundation of swordsmanship.
Kel repeated them endlessly.
Every movement precise.
Every step measured.
Every breath controlled.
The floating aura swords followed.
Not attacking.
Not defending.
Simply moving alongside him.
Mirroring.
Adapting.
Observing.
The scene looked strangely beautiful.
Like a king practicing among loyal subjects.
Time passed.
The sun slowly climbed higher.
Eventually.
The first knights arrived.
Several sleepy guards entered the training grounds.
Yawning.
Stretching.
Preparing for morning training.
Then they froze.
"..."
"..."
"..."
One knight blinked.
Then blinked again.
Another rubbed his eyes.
A third looked toward the sky.
Then back toward Kel.
The sight remained unchanged.
Six aura swords.
Six.
Not one.
Not two.
Not three.
Six.
The knights immediately became fully awake.
One knight swallowed.
"I counted six."
Another nodded.
"I also counted six."
A third whispered.
"Please tell me I am hallucinating."
The first knight sighed.
"You aren't."
More knights arrived.
Then more.
And more.
Soon.
The training ground had become unusually quiet.
Because nobody could stop staring.
The Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts were famous.
Every knight knew that.
Most had studied them.
Many practiced them.
Some had even achieved minor success.
Yet the more they learned...
The more terrifying the technique became.
Because true mastery demanded something absurd.
Absolute mental control.
The aura swords weren't ordinary weapons.
They relied upon thought.
Intent.
Calculation.
A swordsman had to constantly predict battle possibilities.
Calculate trajectories.
Assess dangers.
Determine optimal attack paths.
And somehow maintain complete composure throughout.
Even one floating sword required tremendous concentration.
Two was exceptional.
Three was elite.
Four bordered on absurdity.
Five belonged to legends.
And six...
Six felt impossible.
One veteran knight finally spoke.
"Our lord may actually be a Master Swordsman."
Another frowned.
"At minimum."
A third shook his head.
"No."
The knight pointed toward Kel.
"Look carefully."
The others observed.
Then slowly realized something.
Kel wasn't focusing on the aura swords.
At all.
His attention remained entirely upon basic sword forms.
Meaning...
The six aura swords operated almost naturally.
The realization terrified them.
One knight muttered.
"If he isn't a Master..."
Another finished.
"Then I don't know what he is."
Meanwhile.
Kel continued training.
Completely ignoring the gathering audience.
Slash.
Step.
Breath.
Pivot.
Strike.
Repeat.
The foundations never changed.
No matter how strong one became.
Eventually.
The Count lowered his wooden sword.
His training paused.
The floating aura swords gradually slowed.
Then hovered quietly behind him.
Kel turned around.
And discovered dozens of knights staring.
The Count blinked.
Then asked.
"Why are you all standing there?"
Silence.
The knights exchanged glances.
Kel raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have training?"
Instant panic.
Every knight immediately moved.
Wooden swords appeared.
Training exercises began.
Running started.
Sparring resumed.
The training ground suddenly exploded with activity.
Kel watched.
Then nodded.
Much better.
At that moment.
Another figure entered.
Gareth.
Captain of the City Guard.
The veteran knight approached while carrying several documents.
His armor reflected the morning sunlight.
The scars across his face remained as visible as ever.
The man stopped before Kel.
"My Lord."
Kel nodded.
"Gareth."
The Count glanced toward the training knights.
Then asked.
"How are things progressing?"
Gareth immediately understood the question.
The veteran knight opened his documents.
"Better than expected."
Kel listened.
The Captain continued.
"The number of Expert-level knights has increased significantly."
A pause.
"The expedition helped."
Another.
"The training methods you introduced helped."
Another.
"The increased combat experience helped."
Kel nodded.
Then asked the question directly.
"How many?"
Gareth checked his reports.
"Twenty-eight Experts."
The Count nodded.
A good number.
Not enough.
But good.
Then Kel asked.
"Any Masters?"
The training ground suddenly became quieter.
Many nearby knights pretended not to listen.
They failed.
Spectacularly.
Gareth sighed.
Then shook his head.
"No Masters."
A pause.
"Not yet."
The Count wasn't surprised.
Master rank wasn't easy.
Many warriors spent entire lives chasing it.
The Captain continued.
"Three are close."
Another.
"Very close."
Another.
"But none have broken through yet."
Kel nodded thoughtfully.
Then glanced toward the training field.
The future of Frostbound Coast depended on people.
Not roads.
Not buildings.
Not mines.
People.
Strong people.
Capable people.
Loyal people.
The Count looked toward Gareth.
Then spoke calmly.
"Good."
A pause.
"But not enough."
Gareth smiled.
The answer felt predictable.
Because no matter how much progress occurred.
Kel always saw the next step.
The next goal.
The next improvement.
The next future.
And as the morning sun rose above Frostbound Coast...
Six floating swords slowly revolved behind the young Count.
Like loyal stars orbiting their sovereign.
While every knight present silently wondered the same thing.
Just how strong...
Was their Lord really?