LIGHTNOVELONLINE 92. POV of a Knight
While Lord Arzan was busy with the ball and everything else that went on inside the palace, Killian was immersed in his things. Among them, his priority was practising and enhancing the techniques he already knew along with training the guards.
To do that, he had already gotten permission to use part of the palace courtyard as a training ground. Currently, Killian was in a mock battle with three guards and Gorak.
He knew only Ansel among the guards well; the man would repeatedly ask him questions back in Veralt and even participate in his personal training sessions. The other two were newbies that had joined recently and Gorak had agreed to take part in it because he was bored.
Killian stood poised, his eyes flicking between the three guards and Gorak, their figures circling him. The tension was palpable, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle.
Without warning, the first guard lunged at him, sword gleaming in the broad sunlight.
Killian sidestepped effortlessly, his movements a blur. In a fluid motion, he countered, his sword striking with lethal precision. The guard fell, clutching his side as he crumpled to the ground.
He gave him a second glance, just to make sure that the guard wasn’t harmed.
He moved to put distance between a charging guard and looked at him mockingly. He planned to take on the two newbies first and then focus on Ansel and Gorak.
Taking the bait, the guard launched forward, pushing his sword forward. His speed and ferocity were expected as Killian prepared to deftly twist, invoking his [Lightning Step], his form disappearing and reappearing in a flash of movement.
The guard's blade swung through empty air, leaving him momentarily unbalanced. Seizing the opportunity, Killian's sword struck out, disarming the second guard with a swift, decisive blow.
The newbies were both out of his hair.
Now, it was the turn of Gorak and Ansel who patiently waited for their turn, calming observing the battle till now.
Gorak watched with a cold, calculating gaze, his experience evident in his measured movements. He stepped forward, joining the fray just as Ansel pushed himself forward and resumed his assault. Killian knew he had to be strategic; Ansel could predict his moves, and Gorak's seasoned prowess was a threat he couldn't underestimate.
He focused, his mind narrowing to a single point of clarity. His sword became an extension of his will, each block and parry calculated with precision. He drew Ansel and Gorak closer, manipulating their movements with his own, bringing them to the right where he wanted them.
Killian’s mastery of the [Lightning Step] had become second nature by this point and he was in control of it, an evidence of his training. But now, he sought more than speed.
Lord Arzan had told him to think more about the properties of lightning and what he felt while thinking about it, focus on the sensation it gave him and throughout their travel to the capital, Killian had been pondering upon it.
He had realised that lightning was not just fast— it was powerful, precise, and full of untapped potential.
He wanted to tap into that potential and use the lightning to wield powerful attacks, just as Lord Arzan did. If he can't do it, he will never be able to stand against the upcoming beast wave.
As Gorak and Ansel closed in, their intent clear, Killian felt the storm building within him. He let the power surge through his veins, channelled it through his arms, and into his blade. Lightning crackled along the edge, a brilliant blue glow that illuminated the dark courtyard.
With a guttural roar from his throat, he unleashed the [Lightning Strike]. The energy exploded from his blade, a searing arc that cut through the air with devastating force and hit the ground right in front of him.
The force even managed to throw him back and he barely held onto his sword. Killian's feet stomped on the ground, trying to keep his balance.
Ansel and Gorak were caught in the blast, their weapons clattering to the ground as they were thrown back, stunned and defeated. The lightning hadn't been as powerful as he expected, but it was still too much for the two to defend against.
The courtyard instantly fell silent, the echo of the strike lingering in the air.
In a matter of seconds, the fight was over.
Ansel and Gorak were defeated, their eyes wide with astonishment. The former simply stared at him with an incomprehensible expression while the latter frowned, clearly not happy about losing such a lopsided battle.
The other guards, who had witnessed the spectacle, exchanged hushed whispers.
The two newbies who had been defeated first looked at him in horror and it was clear that they were thankful they hadn't been on the opposite end of the attack.
Gorak, his pride temporarily humbled, managed a croak, breaking the silence. "What was that?"
Killian sheathed his sword, the lingering electricity sparking around the blade. “Just another attack I have been working on," he replied simply. "I've been learning a few attacks for the beast wave.”
Ansel nodded in understanding, looking like he had already expected it.
“It would work well for the bears. The attack is too lethal not to,” Killian explained further. A smile passed his lips. “Thank you for duelling with me.”
Ansel wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned. "I got to learn a lot from it. With this, you might even be able to stand against the Mage that Lord Arzan is fighting tomorrow."
Killian paused, considering the weight of Ansel's words. Before he could respond, one of the other guards chimed in, "Yes. You could definitely hunt Mages now, Knight Killian. Just like the Mage hunter from the stories."
Another guard nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely! You've got the skills, Knight Killian. Mages won't know what hit them."
Killian listened, a contemplative look on his face. The story of the Mage Hunter was one of the fairy tales that every kid would grow up to listen to in Lancephil. It was about an ordinary man who had trained his body to a level where he was able to stand against the spells of Mages.
The tales would mostly be him taking on necromancers and other cursed Mages. Killian had always doubted the tale, thinking of it as a fantasy. But maybe, the Mage hunter was simply an Enforcer.
As his thoughts reached there, he wondered if he would actually be able to be like a Mage hunter in the future. Lord Arzan had indeed mentioned that Enforcers could easily grow stronger and take on Mages.
But he doubted he was at that level yet.
For now, Killian needed time to process a few things. He soon shook his head, understanding the absurdity of his thinking.
“Well, I'm not taking on any Mages. Either way, I’ll be going now, it’s my day off. Good practice today.” He gave a curt nod to Ansel and Gorak.
The guards stood straight in respect and waited till he moved.
He excused himself from the group, a strange feeling washing over him as he walked past the palace grounds and moved towards the streets.
Normally, he would be training till the evening and would have gone with Lord Arzan to the ball, but today, he had specifically taken a day off to meet his family who resided in the capital.
Until he was five, he’d also lived in the capital. Then, he was sent to training right after. Which was why he knew a few places even though he’d changed a lot throughout the years.
Not only him, but a lot of things in the streets had changed. The marketplace to a few buildings right around the corner— he faintly remembered how they were before. And that gave him a bittersweet feeling.
A lot of businesses had shut down from the last time he had been here and a lot of people had migrated to different places. The air also felt a bit heavy, but he ignored it and hastened his pace.
His destination was a modest house in the noble district.
Killian was from a house of knights, a lineage of warriors who had served the kingdom for generations. Even if they weren't technically nobles, their standing in the society was better than commoners and one of his ancestors had even served one of the former kings directly.
The memories flooded back as he saw his house in the distance– playing with a few kids from the neighbourhood, the smell of his mother's cooking, the thrill of his first sword fight in the backyard.
As he approached the house, a wave of emotions washed over him. It was a homecoming, but it was also a farewell to a part of himself he had left behind. He stepped onto the familiar porch, his heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.
The familiar scent of polished wood and leather greeted Killian as he stepped into the house, using a spare key he always held.
He immediately headed towards the living room and took in the layout.
The worn armchair by the fireplace, the bookshelves overflowing with dusty tomes, the different weapons on the walls— All of it was the same as when he had left.
"Young master!" a familiar voice called out, breaking the spell of nostalgia. An elderly servant— Nora, her face etched with lines of age and loyalty, hurried towards him, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I heard the door opening and knew you were back.”
“How have you been, Nora?”
“Been well, young master. You look healthy,” the old woman’s voice was filled with affection as she looked at him with a familiar glint in her eyes.
Killian couldn’t help but nod at her.
"Good that you’ve been well. Where is my father?" Killian asked, his voice steady despite the surge of emotions.
"The master is in his study, young master," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "He was expecting your arrival."
With a nod, Killian made his way upstairs, towards his father's office and found the door open.
It was a room as austere and imposing as the man himself. The walls were adorned with weapons, and trophies from countless battles, and the air was thick with the scent of leather and old parchment.
His father, a grizzled knight, sat behind a large oak desk, his gaze fixed on a stack of documents. His appearance matched his, but his hair had signs of whitening.
He looked up as Killian entered, his expression a mask of indifference.
"You're back," he said, his voice as gruff as ever. "Should have come sooner."
"Lord Arzan had some business to attend to," he replied. “Had been busy with that.”
His father grunted, his gaze returning to the documents. "I heard the lousy third son is now a Mage," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of disbelief. “Is that true?”
Killian's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nodded.
His father snorted. "The previous Duke, may his soul rot in the depths of hell, sold you off to serve that arrogant fool. But fate, it seems, had other plans for our house. Who knew someone as brittle as Arzan Kellius would awaken as a Mage at this age. He even dared to go against Reyk Chase. I have been hearing things about this duel these days. I hope he survives this or you miss this great chance.”
“What chance?” Killian barely stopped himself from frowning.
“You should be as close to Arzan as possible and make sure that your son studies under the Mage. I don’t know how good he is, but with a Mage teaching your son, he’d surely come out as one.”
Killian's blood ran cold. "Lord Arzan?" he spat out. “I'm not working as his knight so he gives tutelage to my future generations."
His father's expression remained impassive. “I see that you are still naive," he said, his voice flat. "Besides, it's the truth. The world runs on power, and magic is the only way for us mortals to achieve it. Do tell me, son, have you gotten close to this young lord? Gotten some benefits out of serving him?” Killian’s father shook his head disapprovingly.
His father cleared his throat, continuing further. “You should really think about how to improve our house to rise up as nobles, rather than being a lowly knight. My father failed, I failed and even you failed… but our future generations can't.”
"And what if no Mage rises out of our bloodline?" Killian retorted, his voice rising. “Should I forever keep chasing the power of the Mages? Being a Mage is not the only way to be a noble! Why do you think so?"
His father leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a cold intensity. "You think being a knight is enough? You can swing a sword, but can you command the elements? Can you heal the sick, or act like gods on earth? No, my son, you cannot. War might be a way to rise up as a baron, but there’s no guarantee you will even make it out alive and even if you did, you might not gain the title of a noble. I was in wars, but look at me, I'm still nowhere close enough to a noble. But every Mage after a point gets a noble title. That’s the only way for our house to be of something… For our name to be something! You really underestimate the power of a Mage."
The last sentence came in just above a whisper. His father had been telling this story for a long time, and even though it wasn’t the complete truth, Killian knew that it had become his reality now.
The words were like daggers, piercing through him.
"I've seen what magic can do," Killian admitted. "But I've also seen the limitations. A warrior's strength lies not just in power, but in skill, strategy, and the ability to adapt,” he said, but only got a snort in return.
Anger bubbled up inside of him as he thought back to what the guards had been talking about.
Not only able to keep it in, he asked. “What if a knight can defeat a Mage, father? Will you still think the same?”
His father shook his head, dismissing his argument with a wave of his hand. "You're a fool, Killian. The world respects power, not skill. You are my son and I know you have decent skills, but please don't have delusions. They’re not mortals like us. Live a hundred lives, fight in all of them against Mages— you still won’t be able to defeat one.”
Those words were enough for his lightning to flare up around his arms, but Killian quickly hid his hands behind his back. He could feel the vibrations at the tip of his fingers as he clenched them into a fist. One wrong move could end up in regrets, therefore he held himself back.
He looked up from his fist to see his father nonchalant to his anger that was reeking from every part of his body.
“Nice to see you again, father.” Killian gritted the words out. “You haven’t changed one bit and safe to say that I’m not here for it.” He turned around. “I will be leaving by night.”
“Our house needs to become something, Killian! A legacy of knights isn't good for anything. You need to work for our name and ancestors. Son, listen to me,” his father’s voice lowered in the end. Killian halted in his footsteps, his back towards the old man. “I have been talking to houses who had Mages in their ranks and you can marry someone from the same bloodline as a Mage. It might help us produce a Mage.”
A sigh left Killian’s lips.
He walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silent room. As he reached for the handle, he still felt the surge of power, a flicker of lightning dancing across his fingertips.
"Marriage?" Killian scoffed, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. "I have no intention of settling down anytime soon. And next time, please don't insult the lord I serve. Even if you are my father, I can't tolerate that."
The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the house. He needed to clear his head, to process the conversation. But when he raised his head, there was a familiar face in the hallway.
Killian managed a wry smile. "He's still the same old man, set in his ways."
Nora exchanged a sympathetic look with Killian. "You know how master is. Don’t take his words to heart.”
Killian appreciated the sentiment. "I know," he replied, his voice softening.
“Young master, I believe one day you will be able to defeat a Mage too. You have always been very good with the sword.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Nora. I hope so. But I wonder if even that would be enough for my father.”
“It will be, young master. I am sure.”
Killian nodded, sighing in regret that his father never knew of the existence of Enforcers. Maybe if he had, then he might not be as obsessed with Mages.
His mind wandered back to his childhood, a time when dreams of becoming a Mage had filled his days. He'd been raised with that thought in mind, taught basic magical theory and fed things that were thought to help in awakening and was often talked about the future through that lens.
But when it had become apparent that he lacked the fundamental three organs required to become a Mage, his world had shattered.
His father, once a beacon of pride, had become a source of disappointment. The pressure to please him had been immense and he had given his all in a different path, one of the sword. But no matter what he did, his father had always looked at him like he was a failure.
He suddenly felt suffocated by his own childhood and frowned.
"I'm going to get something to eat," he said, breaking the silence. "And then I'm going to see mother."
Nora nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. Killian turned and walked away.
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