From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

Seeing his silence, the king softened his tone: "Remember, true power is never revealed in the midst of noise. Yesterday you suffered much indifference, but that was the necessary price, resulting in Astra's temporary retreat. As for the true Radiant Sword—"

He raised his hand and waved, and a servant from the side of the hall carefully brought over a long, black box. The lid was slowly lifted, and a cold light burst forth, as if a star had suddenly fallen to earth.

That was a sword.

Unlike yesterday's replica, this sword seemed to possess its own breath. Intricate, ancient runes were engraved on the blade, each line shimmering with a pale golden light, as if whispering, or perhaps listening. It was not ornate, yet it exuded a heavy, ancient pressure, as if bearing the oath of a great warrior.

Eric's heart pounded. He barely dared to reach out, fearing it was all just an illusion.

"Go," the king's voice was deep and solemn, carrying an irresistible majesty. "Take it and prove to it whether you are worthy of its brilliance."

Eric took a deep breath, slowly extending his hands. The moment his fingertips touched the hilt of the sword, it felt as if a torrent of heat rushed into his body. His breathing quickened, and the shouts echoed in his ears like those from an ancient battlefield.

He closed his eyes, with only one thought in his mind: not to disappoint the king again.

The next moment, the runes on the Radiant Sword suddenly lit up, and golden light surged forth like a tide, illuminating the entire hall. A deep hum rippled through the air, as if the sword were chanting, but it quickly faded away. Eric's arms trembled from the force of the power, but he gripped the sword tightly, unwilling to let go.

The king stood up, his eyes flashing with a rare gleam of excitement and pride.

Eric slowly opened his eyes, golden light dancing in his pupils, as if he were seeing the outline of his destiny for the first time.

A thought surged in his mind, as firm as a vow: this was not only his sword, but also the hope for the entire continent to fight against darkness.

The moment the golden light dissipated, the hall returned to darkness, leaving only the flickering shadows of torches on the walls. Yet everyone present knew in their hearts that what had just happened was not an illusion, but the real response of the Radiant Sword to the will of humanity.

A slow smile curved Eileen's lips, a smile that wasn't one of relief, but rather one of quiet, distant comfort, like a still star in the night sky. She looked at Eric, her eyes unusually gentle and approving.

Leah couldn't help but gasp, covering her mouth with her small hand, her eyes wide as if afraid her words would disturb some sacred secret. Her breathing was rapid, yet filled with barely suppressed excitement.

Eric slowly lowered his sword, his breathing still heavy. He raised his head, his eyes filled with confusion and self-reproach, his voice low and somber: "Strange, why couldn't I awaken it before the King of Nosteria? Was I not worthy?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the hall fell silent for a moment.

King Iser descended the steps slowly, his armor reflecting a deep light in the firelight. He stood beside Eric, a heavy hand resting on the boy's shoulder. The king's voice was deep, yet filled with unwavering resolve and strength: "No, child. It's not that you are unworthy, but that this sword is not merely a piece of cold, hard iron, but an instrument that carries a will. Perhaps, it needs a specific moment to answer your call."

He gazed at Eric, his eyes as deep as the night sky: "Think carefully, what's different about you between these two times?"

Eric froze, his mind racing. He tried to recall the scene at the Nosterian palace that day: the heavy stone pillars, the cold gazes, the magnificent yet oppressive atmosphere. And his state of mind at the time was one of bewilderment, confusion, and helplessness at being thrust onto the stage.

At this moment, he closed his eyes, but what surfaced in his mind were the shadows of lurking dark forces, the future of the Gray Tower, the faces that stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the hall, and the fate of the continent.

"I..." Eric's throat tightened, and he managed to utter a few words with difficulty, "I can't explain it either."

Just as he was at a loss for words, Eileen's voice rang out softly.

"I know."

Her tone was calm, yet it pierced through the fog in Eric's heart like an arrow.

Eileen's gaze was like a still pond, slowly fixed on him: "Eric, last time before the throne of Nosteria, you didn't have a true resolve. Back then, you didn't understand the existence of the dark forces, nor what the future held. You stood there, surrounded by expectations, yet unable to find your direction. Your heart was lost."

She paused, her tone gradually hardening: "But things are different now. You see the immense burden the Gray Tower is about to bear. You understand that the forces of darkness have infiltrated our homeland. You are no longer just a young person thrust onto the stage, but someone willing to step forward. The Radiant Sword responds not to power, but to your will."

Eric held his breath, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest. For the first time, he realized that the connection between him and the sword in that instant wasn't because of his strength, but because his heart could no longer back down.

He looked up at Eileen, his eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and intense intensity: "So, it's my resolve that's awakening it?"

Eileen nodded, her tone like a vow: "Yes. You are no longer alone. You have a clear goal, and a future you are willing to shoulder."

Lia couldn't help but interject, her voice trembling slightly with excitement: "So this is the power of the Radiant Sword? I felt an immense sense of pressure even though it was only for a moment."

King Iser chuckled deeply, a laugh tinged with both pride and profound emotion: "Indeed, young lady. The Radiant Sword does not belong to any nation; it belongs to the one who has the courage to bear it all."

His laughter echoed through the stone walls of the hall for a long time before gradually fading into silence. He composed himself, his gaze slowly shifting from the Radiant Sword to Eric and his companions, his tone solemn and deliberate: "So, tell me, what are you planning to do next?"

The hall fell silent for a moment, broken only by the soft crackling of the flames. Eric lowered his head, remaining silent for a moment, his fingers unconsciously tracing the hilt of his sword. The lingering warmth of the vanished golden light seemed to still remain in his palm, yet it failed to bring him true peace.

He raised his eyes, his voice slightly strained: "Your Majesty, I...I want to improve my swordsmanship."

As soon as he uttered those words, even he felt a tightness in his chest. His voice wasn't loud, but it conveyed a sense of shame and self-reflection.

“The Radiant Sword has answered me,” Eric continued, the shadow of that battle lingering in his eyes, “but I still have no confidence in defeating Kadlow. That dark warrior, his power, his killing intent, are like an insurmountable barrier. The fear he instilled in me in that battle still weighs on my heart like a nightmare.”

As he spoke, he unconsciously clenched his fists, his breathing becoming rapid. Leah glanced at him, her eyes filled with worry, while Eileen simply watched him quietly, her gaze calm, as if trying to help him break free from this oppressive atmosphere.

King Iser remained silent for a long time before speaking, "You did not become complacent because of the response from the Radiant Sword, but instead considered your own shortcomings first. This is truly commendable."

The king's voice echoed like a deep bell: "Many people, once they grasp a divine weapon, think they have the world at their fingertips, but they don't realize that the weapon won't fight for them. A sword is a sword, and a person is a person. If one is not strong enough, even the most dazzling sword is just a piece of iron with a sharp edge."

Eric pursed his lips and whispered, "That's why I'm afraid. If I rely solely on the Radiant Sword, I'll become like Kadlow's shadow, which will eventually engulf me completely."

The king gazed intently at him, his eyes filled with complex and profound meaning. He nodded slowly, his tone gradually hardening: "Very well, child. Since you have such a mindset, I will show you a path."

He turned and walked back to his seat, his long robe trailing behind him on the stone steps with a low, rustling sound. After sitting down, he raised his fingers and gently tapped the armrest of the chair, as if pondering a secret from a thousand years ago.

"Iser has always been renowned for its magic." His voice was slow and deep, carrying an irresistible authority. "Our scholars pursue the mysteries of runes and arcane arts; scrolls pile up in the towers, and incantations flow endlessly on the altars. In swordsmanship, we are not as strong as Nosteria. We can train powerful mages, but we cannot forge the most outstanding swordsmen."

Eric listened quietly, a growing unease creeping into his heart. He vaguely sensed that the king's words were leading him in a direction he had never anticipated.

"But," the king's tone shifted, a glint appearing in his eyes, "besides Nostria, there is another place on this continent, a small country that is not vast, yet is obsessed with the way of swordsmanship to the point of fanaticism. Its name is Castarin."

Eileen was slightly moved and repeated softly, "Castalin, I've heard of it. It's a small country surrounded by mountains, which doesn't pursue expansion or wealth, but takes pride in the sword for generations."

The king nodded, his expression grave: "Yes. Nosteria reveres martial prowess. Their warriors are trained in lance, horsemanship, battle formations, and swordsmanship. Their goal is war. But Castarin are different. Their swordsmanship is not for military formations, but for one-on-one duels, for facing the enemy head-on. Their swords do not rely on comrades, nor on formations; every strike is solely for defeating the enemy before them."

He paused for a moment, his gaze falling on Eric: "On this continent, if we're talking about pure swordsmanship and the way of dueling, everyone knows that no one can compare to the swordsmen of Castarin."

Lia couldn't help but interject in a low voice, "But isn't Castarin very small? Their territory isn't even as large as a single province of Nosteria, and their population is sparse. Can a country like that produce true sword masters?"

The king glanced at her and said calmly, "Because they are impoverished, they have honed everything in swordsmanship. From the moment a child can walk, he will hold a wooden sword in his hand. They do not have a large arsenal, nor a sufficient number of cavalry and warhorses, so they place all their hopes on their own hands. The sword is life, the sword is faith. The reason they have survived to this day, surrounded by powerful nations, is not due to luck, but to swordsmanship."

Hearing this, Eric's doubts gradually dissipated, only to be replaced by a burning desire. Ever since his encounter with Kaderlo that night, he had pondered countless times just how lacking he was in swordsmanship. Now, hearing the king's words, he finally realized that perhaps only in such a kingdom could he truly mend the deficiencies in his heart.

"Your Majesty..." His voice was low but firm, "You mean, you want to invite Castarin's swordsmanship master to teach me?"

King Iser nodded slowly, his eyes deep: "Yes. I will personally order the summoning of 'Greyblade' Serian of Castarin. He is an old man over sixty, yet he has never been defeated. Some say that his sword has become part of his flesh and blood, and that every gesture he makes bears the marks of a thousand life-or-death battles."

Leah took a deep breath and murmured, "Greyblade Serian. He's a living legend."

Eric's heart pounded, as if the torrent of fate was pushing him forward. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

The king looked at him, his tone heavy and earnest: "Eric, the Radiant Sword has chosen you. But if you cannot overcome your fear in swordsmanship, then this choice will only become a shackle. Go and accept Serian's teachings. Only by facing your own weaknesses can you truly be worthy of this sword."

Eric held his breath, his heart filled with complex emotions. Gratitude, fear, anticipation, and trembling intertwined into an indescribable torrent. He slowly lowered his head, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands, his voice firm as if making a vow: "Your Majesty, I will not betray your trust. If Serian is willing to teach me, I will pay with my life to learn the true sword."

The king gazed at him for a long time, then finally nodded and slowly uttered a sentence: "Very good. May your sword one day shatter the shackles of darkness."

His gaze then fell upon the Radiant Sword, the firelight flickering in his eyes. He said in a deep voice, "When Serian arrives, you must not use the Radiant Sword. It is not the foundation of swordsmanship. You can only use the most ordinary sword. Only in this way can your true skill be revealed."

Eric's heart tightened, but he immediately felt a warmth rise in his chest. He nodded slowly, his voice firm: "Your Majesty, I understand. If I cannot hone courage and skill from the simplest blade, then the brilliance of the Radiant Sword will be empty. I will remember your teachings."

He lowered his head, his gratitude burning like a heavy flame, making it hard for him to breathe. "I... I don't know how to thank you, Your Majesty. You have done so much for me: not only did you exchange treasures for the Radiant Sword, but you also guided me on my path. Without you, I might have long since succumbed to doubt and fear."

King Iser smiled slightly, a smile that carried a calm grandeur, like the serenity left behind after a great river has washed over a thousand cliffs.

"You don't need to thank me, Eric. If you really want to repay me, then hone your swordsmanship to its fullest potential. For I have a premonition that the forces of darkness will not remain in the shadows for long. They are brewing a conspiracy far larger than anyone imagines. In the past, I didn't want to believe in so-called 'broken prophecies,' thinking they were just empty talk from prophets."

His voice echoed through the hall, deep and resonant as iron: "But I witnessed with my own eyes the resonance between you and the Radiant Sword... At that moment, the most stubborn doubts in my heart were shattered. I have to admit that the future needs you. It needs swordsmen like you to face the coming storm."

Eric looked up, his heart pounding with anticipation. He almost wanted to draw his sword immediately and declare his oath. But the king had already turned to Eileen and Lia, his gaze softening as if a spring breeze were caressing a frozen river.

"And you?" he asked, his voice filled with fatherly concern, "How do you plan to walk your own paths?"

Lia hesitated for a moment, then finally stepped forward, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her skirt, her eyes sparkling.

"Your Majesty, I also want to become stronger. I can't just stand beside Eric, looking up at his back. I hope to have the power to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. If darkness truly descends in the future, I want to be able to wield my own power, rather than become a burden to him."

Her voice trembled, yet carried a resolute sharpness.

The king laughed heartily, his laughter booming like a giant bell echoing throughout the palace: "Excellent! Such courage is worthy of a young man from Ithal. Rest assured, Ithal has no shortage of mages. We have the most outstanding mentors in the entire continent. I will choose one to guide you, so that you may truly and steadily advance on the path of arcane magic."

Lia blushed and lowered her head, feeling both excited and apprehensive, her heart pounding as if it would burst out of her chest.

At this moment, Eileen stepped forward. Her expression was calm and resolute, her voice carrying a composure beyond her years: "Your Majesty, I wish to bring my parents to Elgarden first. I cannot rest easy leaving them alone in the countryside. In addition, I have a request: please allow me free access to the Royal Library. I hope to expand my power by reading ancient texts and studying runes. I believe that knowledge can also serve as a bulwark against darkness."

The king gazed at her, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes: "Wisdom and courage are equally precious. You are free to enter the library. It houses ancient texts from time immemorial; if you study them patiently, you will surely gain strength. As for your parents, I will send escorts; they will receive the best protection there."

Eileen bowed deeply, her heart filled with excitement and gratitude.

Eric suddenly spoke, his voice low but more resolute than before: "Your Majesty, I... I also have a request. Since I fled Nosteria, my parents have been wandering from place to place, relying on friends for care, living a life of hiding and running. Every day, I worry that they will be implicated in my fate. I hope... I hope to secretly bring them here and settle them in Elgarden. Only in this way can I truly walk the path of the future without any worries."

As he finished speaking, his voice choked slightly, his hand tightened on the hilt of the sword, and his veins bulged.

King Iser gazed at him for a long time, and finally smiled, a smile that was warm and profound, like the branches of an ancient tree stretching in the wind.

"Very well, Eric. From this day forward, the safety of your parents will be the responsibility of my Kingdom of Iser. Your family will be protected here, and you will no longer have to live in fear. Remember, from now on, you bear not only your own destiny, but also their peace of mind and the future of this land."

At that moment, Eric felt as if a raging fire was burning in his chest, and tears welled up in his eyes. He bowed deeply, his voice choked with emotion yet resolute: "Thank you for your great kindness, Your Majesty! I will certainly not fail your trust!"

The Radiant Sword stood quietly beside him, its runes flickering in the firelight, as if silently witnessing this promise.