The clang of metal echoed across the eastern courtyard as the recruits were led into the open-air armory for their first real exposure to ranked weapons. Rows of weapon racks lined the stone walls, each one housing gleaming blades, polearms, staves, and bows — some ordinary, some faintly glowing with an inner power.
Instructor Harwin stood at the front, arms folded across his chest, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"Today," he said, "you're going to learn more than just swinging a sword. You're going to learn respect. Respect for the weapons we wield, and for the power that flows through them. Because a blade doesn't just cut — it speaks."
He stepped aside to reveal three tables with different weapon types arranged on each.
"These," he said, pointing to the first table, "are Mundane Weapons. No enchantments. No Ether. Just iron, steel, or wood. This is what you begin with as a Novice — and if you're lucky, you'll survive long enough to trade up."
He moved to the second. "Here, we have Enchanted Weapons. Reinforced with Ether runes or minor soulbinding rituals. Stronger. Faster. Used by those at Adept Rank. These weapons can harm Minor Demons and resist decay under Abyssal Essence."
And finally, the third table — with weapons that glowed faintly, their designs far more intricate, some humming with unseen energy. "These are Spirit-Forged Weapons. Infused with elemental cores or soulfire crystals. Only Elite-rank warriors and above wield these. Touch one without a compatible Ether signature, and it may reject you… or worse."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even Ethan looked stunned.
The recruits were then split into groups. Most were assigned training weapons — practice swords, blunted daggers, staves. But the awe still lingered.
Keith's group was handed basic iron swords — unranked tools for those who hadn't awakened yet. As he gripped the hilt, he felt… nothing. No vibration. No warmth. Just cold, balanced weight.
Instructor Harwin walked between the lines. "Focus on how the weapon moves with your body. Learn its weight. Its edge. A warrior and his weapon must be in harmony — even if it's just a chunk of steel."
They began sparring drills — basic slashes, guards, and counters. Keith kept up, his form sharp, his discipline clear. Even without powers, his control and stamina were among the best in the unawakened recruits.
Then, the wind shifted.
A sudden gust swept across the courtyard, followed by the sound of a distant horn — one that made every instructor freeze mid-motion. Harwin's face darkened. "Get back," he barked, motioning toward the center of the grounds. "NOW."
Mistress Elira appeared seconds later, flanked by two Grandmaster-ranked Demon Hunters. "Seal the perimeter," she ordered. "All instructors, prepare to engage."
The sky darkened unnaturally, a strange shadow coiling above the western wall.
The recruits were herded together behind a barrier ward as a piercing howl ripped through the silence — a monstrous sound that vibrated through bone and soul. A Greater Demon — no, something stronger — had breached the outer protection field.
The ground cracked as a massive, twisted creature leapt into view — its body like molten tar with jagged limbs and a face devoid of eyes, only a mouth filled with hundreds of gnashing teeth. Purple Abyssal Essence bled from its skin, wilting the grass around it.
"Demon Knight, high-tier. Class C threat," one of the Grandmasters called out. "Everyone below Master Rank, fall back!"
The instructors surged forward, weapons drawn — and the courtyard erupted into chaos.
Keith could only watch as blades met claws, as Ether clashed with Abyssal Essence. He saw one of the instructors channel fire through his spear, only for it to be snuffed out by a wave of shadow. Another was flung across the field, skidding to a halt against the stone wall, unconscious.
And yet — there was a strange calm in Keith's chest. No fear. Just… stillness.
The recruits around him were panicking, some trembling, others crying out. But he stood firm, eyes locked on the demon, heart pounding not in terror, but anticipation. Like something inside him was waiting.
Eventually, the Grandmasters pushed the demon back. One unleashed a Domain Ability — turning the air thick with radiant chains that bound the creature's limbs. Another struck it with a weapon that shimmered like moonlight — likely a Mythic Arm — slicing the demon's head clean from its shoulders.
The body thudded to the ground, sizzling into black ash.
Silence followed. Then orders barked. Healers rushed in. Recruits were escorted back to their hostels, still shaken. No one had died — but the lesson had been unforgettable.
Back in the hostel, Ethan collapsed onto his bed, shaking.
"What… what was that thing?" he whispered.
Keith lay back, staring at the ceiling again. But this time, his mind was spinning with something more.
"It was strong," he said. "But they beat it. Because they had the power… and the weapons."
Ethan sat up. "You're not scared?"
Keith smiled faintly. "I am. But… I want that strength. One day."
And again, deep within his chest, a warm flicker pulsed.
It was still not his time. But the whisper was growing louder.