Chapter 22
Lyra stood over the unconscious boy, her expression as stoic as ever. Without a word, she slid her sword into its sheath and turned away. Axton raised his hands as he prepared to announce the results.
Up in the stands, Seris and Lucian let out a sigh.
“Looks like it’s over.” Lucian muttered. “I’m shocked, he held on longer than anyone expected.”
“Indeed,” Seris replied. “He was able to keep up with Lyra with pure instinct alone when he can’t even use magic. That alone is extraordinary.”
Only Thalor remained silent, his eyes unreadable and seemingly deep in thought.
“The winner of this round is—” Axton began.
“I really have to do everything myself huh?”
A sharp voice cut through the arena. The boy, who had just been unconscious moments ago, was now rising to his feet, grasping his sword once more. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were empty and void of emotions.
Seris and Lucian stood, eyes widening.
“Impossible… He shouldn’t even be conscious after those blows.” Seris murmured.
Lucian’s expression darkened, “Something’s different”
In that instant, everyone could sense that something had changed about the boy. Lyra turned her head, her eyes meeting his now hollow gaze.
‘What just happened? It feels like he’s an entirely different person now…’
“The rules state that the winner is only determined when an opponent either forfeits or can no longer continue fighting, correct?”
Axton looked at Caelith. That silent stare unsettled him, like a hunter sizing up its prey, waiting for his confirmation. “Yes… that is correct. But are you sure you want to con—”
“Stop, that all I need to hear.”
Frustration welled up inside Axton at the constant interruptions—but he reminded himself this was still just a student. In the end, he clenched his jaw, swallowed his irritation, and stepped back, retreating off the stage, shaking his head.
Lyra let out a small sigh as she unsheathed her sword once more.
“I told you, there’s no point in going any further—”
“How long are you going to keep repeating that?” Caelith scratched his ear with uncaring indifference.
“Just continue where we left off.”
Lyra closed her eyes, muttering under her breath, then in a flash appeared in front of him, her blade cutting upward from below. Without even looking, the boy slid to the side, narrowly dodging by a sliver. She swung into a kick, but he caught her foot and hurled her back.
Lyra twisted midair, slamming her palm into the ground.
Ice Spikes
Gigantic shards of ice erupted upward, racing straight toward him. However, before they could reach him, Caelith’s sword flickered, and the towers of ice were shattered to flakes of snow.
A flicker of shock crossed Lyra’s eyes—she hadn’t even seen him move his sword. As the shards of ice rained down, the boy finally turned his hollow eyes toward her.
Lyra didn’t have time to process his word, he stepped forward. His strike smashed into her guard with unimaginable weight, forcing her back.
“What's wrong? Weren’t you so confident in winning this fight?”
Watching from the stand, Lucian and Seris couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
“What is going on? That boy was clearly knocked out cold. How did he get up and how is he pushing Lyra back?” Seris exclaimed.
“I have no idea,” Lucian admitted, “He isn’t using any spells that I recognize. Maybe it’s a sword technique, but I’ve never seen anything like it.”
While Seris and Lucian were still trying to process the scene, Thalor watched with a frown, hand pressed to his mouth.
‘Why does he look so similar to her? Did she take on another disciple? No… that’s impossible.’
The more Thalor stared at the boy, the more he caught a fleeting silhouette behind him—a figure he hadn’t seen in years. How long had it been since he last witnessed her sword? He couldn’t even recall.
‘You really just can’t stop surprising me, can you, kid?’
Back in the arena, Lyra’s hands trembled slightly as she observed him, her usual composure faltering for the first time. She gritted her teeth and knocked his sword aside and leapt back, creating distance between them. The boy simply dusted off his clothes, his gaze never leaving her.
“Are you just going to stand there or what?”
Doubt began to creep into Lyra. Perhaps she had underestimated him, but her pride refused to let her admit it.
‘Am I going to lose? No… I can’t!’ Not after everything I’ve been through…” Lyra's thoughts raced, but she quickly composed herself, analyzing the situation.
“Fine, I’ll admit I underestimated you. But I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
Luminous Sword Art: Lunar Eclipse
Silver light enveloped her blade. She swung her sword, again and again, unleashing a relentless barrage of radiant silver arcs, each attack overlapping the last like shadows under the moon. Yet, no matter how fast her attacks grew, Caelith intercepted every strike, gradually closing the distance.
TING! CLANK! TING! TING! TING!
Swords clashed as the two figures exchanged blows, their bodies weaving across the arena. The crowd in the stands were speechless to what they are currently witnessing.
“H-Hey… what am I seeing right now? Are you sure this is a fight between beginners?”
“I-Impossible! How can that commoner keep up with Lady Lyra?!” one of the nobles shouted in indignation.
Caelith continued to block and dodge her attacks, still unfazed from the sudden explosive in power and speed. As if he had already been expecting it. Lyra clenched her teeth, launching herself into the sky.
Luminous Sword Art: Falling Moon
A single, brilliant arc of silver light shot downward from her blade, hurtling toward Caelith with crushing force. He raised his sword calmly, watching the light approach, and just before it was mere inches from his face,
SLASH
With a single, precise horizontal strike, he obliterated the silver arc, scattering it into countless shimmering particles that vanished in the air like stardust.
Lyra barely registered her shock. Before she could blink, Caelith appeared behind her, his sword cutting through the air. The sheer force of the strike slammed her into the ground, leaving a small crater.
“KOFF?!” She could feel her entire body trembling from the impact as she forced herself up, bracing against her sword for support. Caelith landed in front of her, his eyes—unwavering and frigid.
Lyra met his eyes, and her chest tightened. They were like her father’s eyes, cold and piercing—an insurmountable wall that was impossible to surpass. Unpleasant memories began to resurface she had wished to forget.
Ever since she was little, people always whispered about whether she had lived up to her father’s name. Like any other child, she didn’t understand why. Etiquette and the dignity of nobility were constantly drilled into her.
One day, while she was out playing with the other children, she was caught by the household steward, as he reprimanded her.
“Lady Lyra, you shouldn’t be hanging out with these commoners.”
“B-but…” the young Lyra stammered, unsure of what to say.
“My lady, you shouldn’t tarnish your own reputation, nor that of your father’s, by associating with commoners,” the steward said firmly.
Lyra’s small shoulders slumped. The same words again—she didn’t understand why simply playing with other children was considered wrong. She just wanted to be like them, running and laughing freely, without the weight of her family name pressing down on her.
The next day, when Lyra returned to the same spot, she realized the children had stopped associating with her. A suffocating loneliness settled in her chest as she watched them slowly drift away, keeping their distance.
Why? she began to question herself. Why did she have to live up to her father’s name? Was that the entire reason she had been born? She felt like a bird trapped in a cage, wings beating against invisible bars, desperate to soar yet never could.
From that day forward, she pushed herself relentlessly, rising to the top of her class. By the age of twelve, she already learned the basics of swordsmanship. Her mother had tried to comfort her on numerous occasions.
“Lyra… don’t you think you should take a break?” her mother asked gently
But it was too late—Lyra had already sealed herself off, burying her emotions beneath endless practice and study.
She believed that by doing all this, she could finally live up to her father’s name. Yet the look of pity he had given her that day still haunted her to this very moment—no praise, not even a hint of approval.
Caelith’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.
“What’s the reason you’re trying so hard?”
The very same question she had once asked him—now hurled back at her, laced with contempt. Lyra’s chest burned as anger surged within her, her trembling hands tightening around the hilt of her sword. She glared at the boy, teeth clenched.
“What do you know?! Do you even know what it’s like to be crushed under a name you never asked for?!”
“You’re right. I don’t know,” Caelith replied, his tone flat.“And I don’t care. As long as I win, nothing else matters.”
“SHUT UP!”
Lyra’s anger exploded, and she began swinging her sword in a furious barrage. Her sword slashed through the air, leaving trails of silver light, while bursts of mana erupted from her palms. Random spells shot forward in relentless succession, all aimed directly at the boy standing before her.
The results were the same—none of her attacks managed to land. Caelith effortlessly dodged every strike, not even breaking a sweat.
“Are you done yet?” he asked coldly, ducking under her blade.
That question only fueled Lyra’s anger even more—but before she could react, the hilt of Caelith’s sword slammed into her side, sending her staggering backward. Her body screamed for respite, but she forced herself to stay on her feet, refusing to fall.
‘What is he doing right now…?’
Caelith stood motionless, sword raised above his head, his eyes closed, one hand gripping the hilt while the other ran along the blade. A faint, ethereal glow began to emanate from the sword. Lyra could only watch, sensing the immense power radiating from the sword, fear creeping into her chest.
“Shit! What is he thinking?! Is he trying to kill her?!” Seris yelled, leaping to the edge of the stand, eyes wide with panic. Lucian was already ahead of her, trying to stop the fight.
Time seemed to freeze. Caelith slowly opened his eyes, his hollow, indifferent gaze fixed ahead, and muttered the words:
Sanctified Severance
Lyra instinctively shut her eyes, bracing for impact—but it never came. When she opened them, she saw a man with golden eyes, gripping the blade and halting the attack.
“I must say, that was quite the performance, kid.”
But Caelith didn’t hear him, he had already collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Thalor turned to the crowd.
“This match is over. The winner is Lyra Evermoon. Proceed to the next round.”
Silence. No one in the crowd could utter a single word, stunned by the display they had just witnessed. At that moment, a chilling realization swept through them—there had been another monster hiding among them all along.
