Ashenreach V

Valen's eyes narrowed, the resonant dagger in his hand thrumming with dark energy, charged with a potency that sent a shiver down my spine. The training grounds were littered with cracks and shattered stone, the air thick with the echoes of mana and force. This was it—the tenth and final strike. Even with Valen holding back, his power pressed against me like an unyielding tide.

The Death Knight to my left shifted, poised to intervene if necessary. I forced myself to focus, pushing everything I had into my blade. I deactivated Soul Vision, abandoning subtlety for raw, brute intent. If there was ever a moment to force my sword to resonate, it was now.

I reached deep, searching for the connection, the elusive note that would make my sword sing with power. My heart thundered, muscles strained, but no hum of resonance came. The sword remained still, stubbornly inert in my grasp. The frustration clawed at me, but I pushed it aside and called on God Flash: Absolute, channeling every shred of aura I possessed.

Valen's resonant strike came with a whisper of death, his figure blurring as he released the dagger. It cut through the air with an eerie grace, a dark star streaking toward me. I raised my blade, the enhanced aura flaring as I met his attack head-on.

The collision was a cacophony, a blinding burst of light and shadow that rattled the ground beneath me. But the instant my sword clashed with Valen's, I felt the difference. His resonance was a force of nature, pressing down with a power that swallowed my efforts whole. My blade trembled, the aura cracking as my strength faltered. The pressure was overwhelming, and my arms gave way.

The resonant dagger slipped past my defense, its power grazing my side and sending me sprawling. The world spun, and the impact with the ground knocked the wind from my lungs. My sword clattered away, and a sharp, searing pain flared along my ribs. Dust clouded my vision, the roar of silence in my ears.

Valen stepped forward, the shadow of the Death Knight receding as he halted his strike just enough to spare me true harm. The silence that followed was thick with the weight of defeat, but it wasn't without purpose.

"You did well, Arthur," Valen said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "But never try to summon strength that was nothing more than a fluke during a real battle."

I swallowed, the sting of failure tempered by the truth in his words. My breathing steadied as I nodded, still on the ground but resolute.

Valen's gaze softened, and for a moment, there was almost warmth in it. "Come back when you are ready to resonate, and we'll test you again. Until then, grow stronger."

I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing the lesson, before pushing myself up with shaking arms. I hadn't reached the heights I aimed for, but I had stood against a King—and I would rise again, prepared to claim the strength I needed.

I awoke in the guest room, a dull ache echoing through every muscle, my thoughts muddled with the bitter taste of defeat. Jin's concerned voice from earlier still lingered in my ears: "You should rest." Something—someone, perhaps—had caught me when I'd collapsed, but exhaustion had stolen any awareness beyond that.

'I lost,' the thought drummed in my mind, relentless as the pulse of blood in my temples. My body quivered at the memory of that final attack. It was a display of power that eclipsed anything I could hope to counter at this stage. Even if I had managed to summon pseudo-astral energy with a resonating blade, it wouldn't have been enough. Pseudo-astral energy, for all its brilliance, was still just that—a pale imitation.

There was an old adage, one whispered with awe among swordsmen: *A single downward swing of an astral blade can cleave apart a 6-circle spell as though cutting butter with a hot knife.* That was the vast chasm between true astral energy and anything below it, the difference between the heavens and the earth. Pseudo-astral energy, despite its ambition, merely mirrored that divine power but lacked its devastating purity.

True astral energy required a blade that did more than resonate. It needed a sword that beat with the user's very soul—a level I was far from reaching. Valen, in his restrained grace, hadn't even touched astral energy. Instead, he wielded an attack that sat at the very summit of Integration-rank, imbued with enhanced aura and a resonance so profound it hummed with finality. 

As a Radiant-ranker now, Valen could easily surpass astral energy's potency through sheer mastery over enhanced aura. He had lowered himself to where he had been when facing the Wall, offering me a glimpse of what it truly meant to stand at that precipice. What I faced was not a test of my current self but a window into what it would take to approach the peak of Integration-rank.

And it showed, starkly, how vast the distance still was. The ninth strike had been formidable, but that tenth—oh, the tenth had been beyond the realm of reason. A curiosity, perhaps, on Valen's part, to see what a fledgling would do when faced with the impossible.

I exhaled, steadying the quiver in my hands. It made sense now, why he'd called forth the Immortal-rank Death Knight as a safeguard. He hadn't been testing me with any real expectation of victory. That strike was a lesson, an invitation to understand just how far I still had to go. 

The room's silence pressed around me, but there was a strange clarity in the stillness. I had been shown the peak, the unattainable—and I was not daunted. Defeat was simply the first step. I would rise, learn, and climb. The Wall awaited, and I would meet it prepared.

But for now, it was time to depart to the auction and get my artifact.