CHAPTER 366: PROBLEMS COMING

The magical training grounds of the witches’ royal castle awoke like a huge beast sensing the scent of combat. The runes etched into the floor—sinuous lines of blue and purple mana—pulsed lazily, but each pulse seemed more alert, more distinct, as the air filled with the heat and tension of the clash that was about to begin.

Kael took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he rolled his shoulders, feeling every muscle protest. Fighting the two of them had become routine, but something was different today. The way Amelia warmed her hands, letting her fingertips gleam with microscopic ice crystals. Irelia’s posture—impeccable, silent, centered—her hand firmly on the sword’s hilt, as if she could unleash a storm with just a raise of her arm.

They were taking it seriously.

He would have to, too.

"Ready?" Amelia asked, her voice soft but laden with a cold confidence that seemed to glide through the air.

Kael smiled slightly. "You should be asking yourselves that..."

She didn’t have time to finish.

Irelia lunged forward with such swift momentum that the ground beneath her feet cracked into tiny fissures, as if the stone were clay. Her body leaned at a perfect angle: torso low, sword drawn back, center of gravity shifted over her legs—the classic Ainsworth School move, the opening strike known as the Crescent Moon Thrust.

Kael raised his sword diagonally to parry, but the impact came with such force, such precision, that his knees buckled for an instant. He slid half a meter back, dragging the soles of his boots against the rune-covered floor, feeling the vibration surge through his hands, forearms, and shoulders.

Her form was flawless.

Better than he remembered.

Better even than Adalric had once executed before him.

And as he held her blade with his own...

The air around them froze. Amelia completed her training sister’s opening with surgical precision. There was no rush, no slip, just a delicate gesture—the tips of her fingers touching the air—and a thin film of ice ran across the floor like a living serpent. It wasn’t just ice: it was intelligent ice, guided by her magical intent, dodging Irelia, contouring Kael’s legs and seeking to rise, fix, trap.

Kael felt the cold climb up his ankle, too fast, almost painful.

"Seriously?" he growled, trying to recoil.

But Amelia only tilted her head, as if to say: I warned you we were stronger.

The ice rose.

Trapped.

Locked.

Irelia seized the moment with almost cruel mastery—she spun on her own axis, moving the sword in a lateral arc, forcing Kael to raise his arm to block or lose half his guard.

He blocked.

But Irelia’s strength, amplified by Amelia’s mana-enhanced sword style, made his entire arm tingle.

Kael took a deep breath, and the wind around him began to swirl, first like a timid breeze, then like invisible blades scraping the ground.

"Ascending Wind."

The air exploded beneath his feet.

The ice shattered into dozens of translucent fragments, and Kael was thrown backward, landing in a fluid roll, already regaining his stance and attack base.

He wiped the ice from his wrist and frowned.

"Okay... that was really uncomfortable."

Amelia smiled with the subtlety of someone who knows exactly what she’s done. "Queen’s Magic. It’s not simpler to handle."

Kael was about to reply, but Irelia didn’t give him time.

The elf advanced again, now with her center stance—the medium guard of the Ainsworth School. Feet wide apart, body erect, sword perfectly aligned with the center of the body.

It was the most balanced form, capable of transitioning to attack or defense in the blink of an eye.

Kael recognized the intention.

"Ainsworth Style — Three-Cut Transition."

He raised his sword in time to block the first horizontal cut, but Irelia had already transformed the movement into the second — a quick downward spin of the blade, striking his legs.

Kael leaped.

Her blade grazed beneath him, cutting the air with a soft whistle.

The third cut came in an upward motion, aiming for his chest.

Kael brought his sword down, locking metal against metal with a dry snap.

And then...

He smiled.

The shadows behind him rose like awakening serpents.

"You want to see this for real? Very well."

The darkness expanded, dense, heavy, swirling around his arms, his blade, his feet. His magic had always had that indomitable air, as if the force he summoned was not meant to be tamed, and yet he controlled it with an almost arrogant elegance.

Amelia felt the magical impact and recoiled slightly, opening her arms to conjure a circle of ice in front of her that stabilized the air. Crystals began to float around her body—small, shimmering, arranged in perfect orbit.

The ice wings opened behind her like two gigantic, ethereal blades.

"Kael," she called, her voice echoing with icy nuances, "don’t think you’re the only one who evolved."

She flapped her wings.

Arrows came like a deadly rain—hundreds, sharp as needles, too fast for ordinary eyes to follow.

Kael reacted only with instinct.

The shadow became a shield.

The wind became a wall.

But some arrows broke through his defense—and the sensation of the ice piercing his barrier made his arm tremble.

"These things really... hurt."

Before he could catch his breath, Irelia was there again, emerging from between the arrows conjured by Amelia, using them as cover, as if it had been rehearsed until it became a reflex.

The two were not just strong.

They were complementary.

Harmonious.

Lethal.

Irelia’s sword descended.

Kael condensed his shadow in his hand and grasped the blade directly, the black aura smoking as he held the bare, unprotected blow.

The clash of mana made the air crackle.

Irelia’s eyes widened for a moment—surprised—but Kael used his own shadow to pull her and spin her aside, throwing her away.

Amelia dove to catch her, folding her wings with impressive precision, holding her before the impact hurt her.

Kael was already chasing after the two, leaping with compressed wind on his legs—an explosive burst that sent him soaring into the air like a living arrow.

He raised his sword.

The shadow around her twisted into a narrow tornado, a swirling blade of dark storm.

Amelia and Irelia looked at each other—and decided without a word.

Amelia raised her hands.

Irelia placed her palm on her magic circle.

The fusion happened.

Cold.

Wind.

Rhythm.

Fury.

"Glacial Storm!"

They collided in mid-air.

The impact was so violent that the entire field trembled.

Runes all lit up at once.

Stones vibrated and cracked.

A shockwave cut through the air like thunder.

The wind howled.

Ice spiraled out of control.

The shadow shattered like paint thrown against glass. When the light finally dissipated...

Kael stood, but his breathing was heavy, his right arm burning from the force of the impact.

Amelia and Irelia also stood, equally tired, equally injured, but with that fierce glint in their eyes that only true warriors possess.

Kael let out a hoarse laugh.

"You two... You’re on another level. Seriously."

Irelia wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and replied with a wild smile:

"And we haven’t even started yet."

Amelia nodded, her smile too sweet to match her exhaustion and the icy aura surrounding her.

Kael took a deep breath.

The shadow rose behind him like a predator spreading its wings.

The wind swirled around his feet, shaking the ground.

He inclined his head slightly toward the two of them.

"So... let’s continue."

The magical dust hadn’t completely settled yet. Ice flakes melted in the air, shadows vibrated like newly extinguished embers, and the entire field remained suspended in a heavy silence—that silence that only exists after a fight so intense that even the mana of the environment is stunned.

And it was in this silence that a dry sound was heard.

"Pa. Pa. Pa."

Slow clapping.

Loud.

And absolutely unfriendly.

The three heads turned at the same time.

Exelia was there, standing at the edge of the training field as if she had appeared out of nowhere—her red cloak with black insignia fluttering, her expression completely serious, and that sharp general’s gaze that made even the most rigid air stiff.

She clapped again, just to make it clear that she was assessing the scene.

"Impressive," she said, her voice low but full of authority. "I was gone for ten minutes. Ten minutes. And you almost destroyed a field that took a hundred years to stabilize."

Amelia swallowed hard, discreetly hiding her hand behind her leg as if to disguise her giant ice wings.

Irelia just took a deep breath, retracting her sword with an elegant click.

Kael... well, Kael was as usual: panting, dirty, his hair tousled by the wind, and the shadow still pulsing behind him as if it had its own opinion about being interrupted.

Exelia crossed her arms.

"The charade is over. The Queen is calling you. Now."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"Did something happen?"

Her gaze became even more serious—which was already quite a feat.

"Yes. And it’s not a small thing."

Amelia approached, her wings dissolving into thin ice that turned into shimmering dust in the air.

"Is it urgent?" "

"The Queen doesn’t usually summon anyone in the middle of the morning without warning... unless the situation is truly serious," Exelia replied.