Chapter 38: The First Step into the Unknown

The quiet hum of insects filled the vast forest, blending with the distant rustling of leaves as a cool breeze passed through the trees. The night stretched endlessly, the silver moonlight casting long shadows on the ground.

Ethan stood still, his sword in hand, heart still pounding from the intensity of the battle. His breaths came slow, measured, but his mind was far from calm.

That final moment…

He hadn't just resonated with his sword—he had controlled it.

His fingers curled around the hilt, still feeling the lingering sensation of connection. This wasn't like before, where he simply synchronized with an object to borrow its properties. No, this time, the sword had responded to his will, moving in ways he hadn't consciously dictated.

Was this still resonance? Or had he crossed into something else entirely?

He thought back to the Resonance Stone that Master Veyrn had given him.

"This stone will amplify your resonance, pushing you toward deeper understanding. But be warned—true mastery is when you can achieve the same without it."

Those were his master's words. And now, he understood them.

The stone had guided him, helping him synchronize with the sword in a way he never had before. But that was just a crutch.

If he wanted to reach the peak, he had to surpass this dependency.

Ethan exhaled sharply. His trait had always been about resonance—aligning himself with objects, feeling their nature, borrowing their strengths. He had used it to adapt, to enhance himself, to amplify his abilities.

But if he could command an object instead of merely borrowing from it—

Then resonance wasn't just about synchronization. It was about dominion.

"Ethan."

He blinked, snapping back to the present. Ronan was watching him, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the battle's tension. His usual smirk was there, but his expression was focused.

"That was intense." Ronan exhaled, glancing at the mercenaries sprawled on the ground. "I almost thought we'd have to drag you out of that trance."

Ethan glanced down at his sword, still feeling the residual pull. "It felt... different."

"Different how?"

He hesitated. "Like the sword wasn't just responding to me... but listening."

Ronan frowned. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could—

The air shifted.

Ethan froze.

At first, it was subtle—a faint change in the atmosphere, like the distant rumble of thunder before a storm. But then, it grew stronger. Denser. The very air around them seemed to tighten, thick with an unseen weight.

His breath caught.

It wasn't just pressure.

It was presence.

One of the fallen mercenaries—the man with Piercing Thunder—suddenly stiffened. His entire body went rigid, eyes widening in raw terror.

Then, without hesitation, he dropped his weapon.

And ran.

Ethan barely had time to process before he saw him.

A lone figure stood atop the treeline, unmoving, his silhouette barely visible against the moonlight. But Ethan didn't need to see him clearly.

He could feel him.

The overwhelming authority. The silent dominance.

This wasn't just a strong warrior. This was someone whose very existence commanded attention.

Ethan swallowed hard, his pulse loud in his ears.

The figure remained still, watching.

And then, finally—

"You are his disciples."

The voice was calm, smooth. But beneath it, there was something else. Something sharp.

Ethan and Ronan exchanged a glance. They didn't need to ask who he was talking about.

Veyrn.

Even though their master wasn't present, his name alone carried weight. And this man—whoever he was—seemed to understand exactly what it meant.