Cassian’s strike blurred through the hall, steel slicing in arcs that whispered through the air. Sparks flew with every clash against Oliver’s longsword, the sound sharp, alive. The space between them hummed with tension, like the room itself was holding its breath.

Oliver didn’t flinch at Cassian’s crimson aura or the sudden gusts of speed. Instead, he moved with precise elegance, his blade tracing arcs that intercepted the boy’s feints with uncanny ease. Cassian’s strikes weren’t random—sometimes a gale, rushing forward; then soft, a breeze slipping through defenses. And then the pace returned, seamless, unpredictable.

As Oliver parried another swipe, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "That footwork... wind-based sword style, is it?"

Cassian’s eyes gleamed, excitement thrumming through him. "Gale Whisper Sword Style," he said mid-lunge. Then, with a quick grin, he added, "So that’s what you call footwork, huh?"

The thought amused him. When he first learned to flow like the wind, he hadn’t realized it counted as some kind of official technique. Made sense though. Not like he ever had a proper master to hammer the terms into his head. Julius only bothered teaching him about domains—never sword styles.

"You mean you didn’t know that was your style’s footwork?" Oliver asked, brows raised in surprise as he shoved Cassian back, halting the clash for a breath.

Cassian just nodded, too fired up to care about the pause. Every exchange, every shift in movement was sharpening his blade work. And best of all? He was doing it without burning a single precious training point from the system.

Cassian lunged at Oliver again, blade flashing. "I know now—"

He didn’t get to finish. Oliver’s smile widened, eerie in its sudden warmth, and before Cassian could react, the air around him dropped into a biting chill. The world spun as his body was hurled backward, slamming hard into a wall with bone-rattling force. The last thing he registered before darkness swallowed him was Oliver’s voice, low and amused, and the thrill dancing in the man’s eyes.

"I’ve found a damn genius..."

Cassian crumpled into a chair, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, breath ragged and shallow.

"Sir Oliver!" Brigid’s voice cracked across the hall as she rushed to his side, fury flashing in her eyes. "You promised you wouldn’t attack him!"

Oliver scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish despite the lingering excitement in his gaze. "Ah... I may have gotten a little carried away."

His eyes flicked to Cassian, who was bleeding and likely nursing more than a few broken bones. The smashed wall behind him only deepened Oliver’s guilty wince.

"Don’t worry. He’ll be fine," Analisa said, her voice calm, almost casual. She’d already seen Cassian’s unnatural recovery firsthand during last night’s little torture.

Brigid knew it too, but Oliver clearly didn’t. His eyes widened as he watched the boy’s wounds knit themselves back together, the bleeding slowing with unnatural speed. "He has... healing abilities?" he asked, disbelief slipping into his tone.

"Yeah," Analisa nodded, though her gaze lingered on Cassian with something sharper than mere acknowledgment. Then, tilting her head, she asked, curious, "But that domain... what was it exactly? I’ve never felt killing intent that dense. It was suffocating."

Oliver exhaled slowly, his hand brushing over his bald scalp as though trying to ground himself. "It’s my first time seeing anything like it. Even rattled me, sent a chill down my spine." His brows furrowed, not in fear but in deep thought. "I don’t know how a boy that young could awaken such a domain... or what he must’ve gone through to do it."

Brigid hesitated, her expression cautious, as if weighing whether she should speak. Finally, she said quietly, "I know about his domain."

Both Analisa and Oliver turned toward her, curiosity sharp in their eyes.

"It’s called... the Killing Domain," Brigid explained.

The words struck like a blade. Analisa’s eyes widened, her mask slipping for just an instant into something close to terror—panic flickering at the edges. Oliver, meanwhile, frowned in confusion, muttering under his breath, "Killing Domain... where have I heard that before?"

Analisa tried to steady herself, forcing her composure back into place, though her voice betrayed a faint tremor. "He’s from the ven Dyke dukedom..."

Brigid already knew this, but Oliver’s head snapped toward Analisa, shock flashing across his face. "Fuck—" He bit the word off as Analisa’s glare cut into him. He bowed his head slightly, apologetic. "Forgive the foul tongue, my liege. But this boy... he’s no ordinary talent. He’s a one-in-a-million genius. It wasn’t arrogance when he claimed he could beat those above his rank. With that domain... and his swordsmanship... hell, he learned footwork without even realizing what it was. He’s a gem."

"Really?" Brigid blinked, looking genuinely confused. She had always known Cassian was unusual, but the word genius had never crossed her mind.

Even Analisa looked taken aback. "Truly? Even better than my grandson?" she asked, her voice laced with both skepticism and curiosity.

Oliver hesitated only a moment before replying, respectful but firm. "I haven’t met the crown prince of Morgenster personally, my liege... but yes. He might be better. He’s already mastered a sword style so difficult that even a seasoned Circle Warrior like me wouldn’t attempt it—unless I was desperate for a breakthrough and hoping it would carry me to form another circle."

His excitement was plain as he turned to Brigid, eyes gleaming. "But, Lady Brigid—how did you get your hands on a ven Dyke brat like him?"

The question made Analisa shift her gaze, sliding toward Brigid with quiet weight. Brigid, caught between them, looked troubled—hesitant, as if unsure how much of the truth she could survive revealing.

Finally, she forced herself to answer, her voice steady but cautious. "He was with the Magisterian reinforcements we attacked. Circumstances... pulled him away from them, and I happened to catch him while making my own escape."

She could feel the weight of both their stares pressing down on her. Circle Warriors were said to be natural lie detectors, though Oliver—being only Third Circle—couldn’t truly pierce her words. Still, the pressure was real.

But for Analisa, things were different. Her grandmother’s instincts had always been sharp—sharp enough to sense when someone was lying. Still, sensing wasn’t the same as confirming, and she had never considered that her own granddaughter would lie to her over something so trivial. So she didn’t even entertain the thought.

Instead, she simply nodded and said, "Well, that’s fine. But have you thought about what will happen when those war-maniacs find out you’ve taken one of their descendants as your slave? And not just any descendant—one who’s awakened a Killing Domain. Even among their kind, only one or two appear in a generation... sometimes not even that."

Brigid’s eyes widened, genuine shock flickering across her face. She had known Cassian’s domain was unusual, but not this rare. The realization struck hard: the boy who had already stolen her sleep-filled nights was an even bigger figure than she had imagined.

Oliver, meanwhile, looked positively thrilled. His voice carried both reverence and eagerness as he spoke. "If my liege permits me," he said, bowing slightly, "I would like to teach this youngster the cult’s holy sword style—the Chaos Sword."