Chapter 88 - 83 – Lesson
The grove was quiet. Not even the wind dared disturb the silence that wrapped around the secluded place, a sanctuary hidden away, known only to two souls.
Khael perched high upon a branch, lungs drinking in the crisp air. His body still ached from the academy battle, muscles bruised and spirit shaken, but heavier than the pain was the knot of turmoil coiled inside him.
He dropped down lightly, boots pressing into the moss-soft ground with a muted thud.
Beneath the shadow of an ancient tree, waiting as though time itself bent around him, sat Master Isen.
Golden hair spilled like threads of fire beneath the sun. His calm blue eyes, gentle yet unfathomably deep watched the world with both kindness and weight. Draped in black and silver robes, he looked less like a man of flesh and more like a sage carved out of legend.
The Keiryuu.
The Blood Flow Leader.
The Supreme Commander of the Veinwalker Corps.
The man who once split a dragon's heart.
Khael's lips trembled before the words slipped out.
"Master…"
Isen turned, his faint smile carrying both warmth and gravity. It was gentle enough to disarm, yet heavy enough to silence all doubt.
"Khael. You're here."
Khael stared at him, feeling the invisible weight of his presence. The robes may have been simple, and the smile almost playful, yet the air pressed upon his lungs like an immovable mountain.
Khael's hands tightened into fists.
(Every time I stand before him… it feels like I'm facing the whole world itself.)
Isen's gaze flickered not sharp, not intrusive, but piercing in its quiet way. He read Khael's storm of thoughts as if they were ink on an open scroll.
His voice followed, calm yet edged with finality.
"Sit, Khael. Today, you will learn something that will change the way you walk forward."
Khael lowered himself, but his jaw tightened. He clenched his fists on his knees.
"Master, you know I'm not here for that… You know I called you during that situation… and I know you already know about that situation. We could have been killed, you know—"
Isen chuckled softly, closing his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of Khael's words was but a ripple against an endless ocean.
Then he smiled. Calm. Gentle. Yet infuriating.
"Tell me, Khael… do you know why a gardener places a seed in the soil… and then simply lets it grow?"
Khael blinked, caught off guard. His frustration spiked.
"Master… this isn't the time for riddles! I'm talking about life and death! That clown— that void bastard— he was—"
Isen lifted a finger, silencing him without force. Just presence.
"A gardener cannot pull on a sprout to make it grow faster. If he tries, the stem breaks. Growth takes time. Seasons. Rain. Sun. And yes—" he opened his eyes, sharp as polished glass, "storms."
Khael gritted his teeth, his breath trembling.
(Storms… like that fight… like Kaen losing control. Like me… hiding my own blood.)
Isen leaned forward slightly, his smile fading into something quieter.
"Khael. I knew of your battle. I knew the risk. And still… I allowed it. Because only in the storm do you see what survives. A gardener tends his soil… but the sprout must endure its own wind."
The words sank heavy in Khael's chest.
"So what— we're just seeds to you?" he spat, anger and confusion mixing.
Isen's lips curved again, this time more amused.
"No. You are not seeds. You are… roots that will one day hold the weight of forests."
Silence fell. Even the wind seemed to hush.
Khael's throat tightened. He wanted to speak, to argue, but the weight of Isen's calm crushed every word before it left.
(Roots… forests… Is he saying… we'll grow strong enough to carry the world?)
Isen leaned back against the tree, his golden hair catching another streak of sunlight. His eyes, however, burned with quiet certainty.
"That is why I didn't step in. Not because I didn't care. But because I know… you must learn to care for your own storm. To shape it. To suffer it. To rise from it."
Khael finally whispered, barely audible.
"…Master. Then what if the storm destroys us before we can grow?"
Isen's answer came without hesitation, his voice a whisper like thunder rolling in the distance:
"Then you were never meant to be forests."
Then Isen stood, robes shifting like shadows and light. He looked directly into Khael's eyes, that gentle yet terrifying smile on his lips.
"Also… I knew my disciple would not be killed."
Khael's brows furrowed. His voice cracked with frustration.
"How could you know that? How could you be so sure I wouldn't be killed by that bastard?"
Isen's smile softened, and he raised his hand slowly—then pressed his knuckles against Khael's chest, over his pounding heart.
"Because I believe in you."
Khael froze. His master's words slammed into him harder than any strike.
Isen's voice grew quieter, yet heavier.
"Besides… you are the Dragon Knight. You carry the blood of the dragon. That power runs deeper in you than fear, than pain, than death itself. You are stronger than you think… stronger than you look."
Khael's gaze dropped to his own hands. His fingers trembled, flexing, as though he could almost feel scales beneath the skin. The faint, cursed warmth of his hidden mark pulsed along his palm.
Isen's eyes never wavered, patient but unrelenting.
"It's about time, Khael. Stop hiding your strength."
Khael's throat tightened. He wanted to protest, to cling to the quiet anonymity he'd fought so hard to keep. But Isen's words cut through him like blades of truth.
"I know," Isen continued, his tone edged with both sadness and pride, "that if you reveal yourself, your path will not be easy. Many will turn their eyes to you. Some will bow. Some will curse. Some will hunt you. Whether their gaze is of awe or of envy… it will weigh on you. Heavily."
His smile curved, calm yet resolute.
"But that… is what life is."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the whisper of the leaves above.
Khael closed his fists, trembling. His voice was a whisper, half to himself:
"…If I show it… if I reveal the dragon within me… will I even remain myself as khael?"
Isen's expression shifted, a rare shadow of gravity flickering across his eyes.
He answered not with riddles this time, but with a single, resolute truth:
"That depends entirely on you."
Khael's lips pressed into a thin line. After a pause, his shoulders dropped, and he exhaled.
"...Then I'll think about it, Master."
Isen's stern gaze melted instantly into satisfaction, his tone softening.
"Good…"
Then, with whiplash suddenness, the Honored One of the world clapped his hands together, a boyish grin spreading across his face.
"By the way! I saw your fight. That seal technique you pulled off—the one with the golden chains snapping into place around Matthew, wrapping his void-wreathed body—ohhh, that was so cool!!"
Khael blinked, caught off guard, and sighed as though suddenly very, very tired.
"…It's called Severing Seal, Master."
Isen pumped a fist in mock excitement, eyes wide with exaggerated awe.
"Severing Seal, huh? So badass. Tch—wish I had something that flashy when I was your age."
Khael just shook his head, half a smile threatening to break through despite himself.
But behind the facade, Isen's eyes softened again as he watched his disciple. His thoughts flowed like an undercurrent beneath his goofy grin:
(My master, Yuna… she too wielded sealing arts. But hers were different. Fierce, absolute. No escape.)
His fingers brushed idly at the air, recalling the sensation of chains snapping shut around impossible foes.
(So… each Dragon Knight awakens with their own variation. Their own "truth.")
(Interesting… Khael's path may be more dangerous than even he realizes.)
Isen tilted his head back, grinning once more.
"Still, chains of gold? Way cooler than some dusty old spear. You might outshine me yet, brat."
Khael groaned quietly.
"…Master, you are literally the man who slew an ancient dragon."
Isen wagged a finger at him.
"Details, details. Besides—dragons are just overgrown lizards if you squint."
The disciple stared. The master laughed.
But between the laughter and the banter, an unspoken truth remained: the storm inside Khael was only beginning to stir.
To be continue