Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 356: The Iron Marquis’ Pride

The air was electric, a tempest raging both above and across the training field as it swirled downwards. Lassim’s spiritual pressure bore was like a terrifying storm, forcing even the seasoned warriors among the guardsmen to their knees as its crushing weight rippled outward. Not only that, but the divine mana’s presence made every aspect of the storm feel a hundred times more intense for everyone next to the field and even among the city far beyond the Vanthar estate walls.

Rain poured torrentially from the heavens, drenching the gathered crowd of soldiers, attendants, and servants who stood in stunned silence, their eyes locked on the center of the battlefield.

Lassim stood as the eye of the storm. His halberd glowed with fused mana, the swirling currents of lightning, water, and spatial distortion surrounding him in a chaotic yet controlled symphony.

Above, his Leviathan constellation loomed, its crimson eyes gleaming with eerie intelligence as it coiled within the darkened clouds. Iridescent lightning fish darted and weaved around Lassim, their playful movements juxtaposed against the raw, devastating power emanating from him.

Across the field, Everard Vanthar—the Iron Marquis—stood firm, his fiery aura burning, like a flame in the wind, yet trying to hold firm. His bastard sword glowed red-hot, the flames licking along its edge. His armor steamed as the rain drops poured down on him.

Then, Lassim swung his halberd and released a maximum strength [Storm Slash]

It tore through the air like an unstoppable force of nature. The spiraling tempest of fused mana distorted the space around it, lightning and water and shards of space cascading in a deadly vortex that seemed to devour the air itself. The ground beneath its path cracked and split, unable to withstand the sheer magnitude of the attack.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, finally remembering to breathe, as the storm bored its way towards his father. The soldiers who had fought alongside him in countless battles clenched their fists, their breaths frozen in their chests.

For the first time, doubt flickered in the eyes of those who had always believed Everard to be invincible.

But the Iron Marquis did not waver.

With a defiant roar, he raised his bastard sword high, his fiery aura flaring to its peak, fighting against the rain and storm. The roaring flames of his constellation surged in tandem, creating a barrier of flames that evaporated the rain and rose to meet the oncoming tempest.

The clash was deafening.

Fire met storm in a cataclysmic explosion of steam and light, the shockwave shaking the entire training field.

Soldiers stumbled, shielding their faces from the searing heat and blinding flashes.

Even Gryphon was forced to take a step back, his mouth agape and face stuck in a wide-eyed awe.

Lassim’s mother calmly held her position without moving as those with keen eyes would notice a surprising amount of roots had grown from the ground and held her in place.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed the flames might hold. The fiery barrier pushed back against the spiraling storm, holding its own against the immense force bearing down on it.

But as if the vortex of fused mana was just playing around, it suddenly swirled tighter, its relentless energy broke through the flame barrier like it was no more than dry parchment. The [Storm Slash] pressed forward, unimpeded, threatening to consume the Iron Marquis.

Then, with a barely audible crack of thunder—lost amidst the roar of the [Storm Slash]—Lassim disappeared.

The spiraling tempest continued its trajectory toward Everard, but just as it was about to make contact, Lassim reappeared directly in front of his father.

His movement was instantaneous, a seamless activation of [Storm’s Dance] that placed him between Everard and the raging spiral.

Lassim raised his left hand calmly. With a deliberate wave, the [Storm Slash] responded immediately, the vortex unraveling at his will.

The violent currents of fused mana dissolved into harmless gusts of wind and faint arcs of lightning, dispersing into the rain-soaked air. The iridescent lightning fish sprites faded, their forms blinking out like extinguished stars.

The battlefield fell silent. The storm clouds above seemed to still for a moment as well, their rains coming to an abrupt halt in intensity from the torrential pour to a light sprinkling.

Lassim met his father’s fiery gaze, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "Got’cha," he said simply.

For a heartbeat, Everard remained frozen, his chest rising and falling as he stared at the weapon poised to strike. Then, as realization dawned, his expression shifted.

A booming laugh erupted from the Iron Marquis, the sound carrying across the field.

Lowering his sword, Everard reached out to clasp a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Well done, boy," he said, his voice filled with pride. "You had me there for a moment. I thought you were going to let that actually hit."

Lassim withdrew his halberd with a flourish, letting the weapon dissolve into motes of mana that vanished into his inner heart world. "I wasn’t going to hurt you, Father," he said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "But, you did ask and want to know what I’m capable of."

Everard’s fiery aura dissipated, the steam rising from his armor fading as he turned to face the gathered crowd.

"Everyone, listen well!" he called out, his voice carrying over the now light rain and the whispers of awe. "My son has surpassed me. This is the dream of every parent when they first hold their child in their arms, and today, though it’s much sooner than I’d have ever anticipated, you’ve seen firsthand that the future of House Vanthar is brighter than ever!"

The soldiers erupted into applause, their cheers echoing across the training field. Many of the older guards exchanged smiles and murmurs of pride, ranging from quiet admiration to barely contained excitement.

"Hard to believe that’s the same kid who used to run around chasing that azure fox through the woods," one guard said with a chuckle, shaking his head in amazement. "Never caught it, but he sure gave it everything he had."

"Gave it everything?" another replied with a grin. "He fell out of that crimsonwood tree three times in one day trying to get it down while it taunted him."

The crowd chuckled, their laughter filled with warmth. Despite the display of raw power they had just witnessed, their memories of Lassim as a mischievous child juxtaposed and softened the moment.

Jorek, a grizzled veteran who had trained many of the estate’s younger guards, even Lassim as he practiced in his earliest days with the mortal version of the family’s [Fire Halberd] technique stepped forward.

His scarred face softened as he looked at Lassim, "Young Master Lassim," Jorek said, his deep voice carrying a bit of emotion to it. "We’ve trained you, sparred with you, and protected you since you could barely lift a wooden sword. To see you standing here like this today…" He paused, swallowing hard, then smiled. "Well, it makes all these years of serving the family worth it. You’ve made House Vanthar proud."

The surrounding soldiers murmured their agreement, some clapping Jorek on the back as he stepped away and rejoined the crowd.

The heartfelt moment was punctuated by a sudden and loud, dramatic sob.

The entire crowd turned to see Oren, one of the older stewards, crumpling into a teary heap near the edge of the field.

He clutched a handkerchief to his face, shaking his head as tears streamed freely. "It’s happening!" he wailed, his voice wobbling with a wild mix of pride and delirium. "With Young Master Lassim at the helm, House Vanthar will rise to a Dukedom! No—an Archduchy! I can feel it in my bones!"

A ripple of laughter broke out among the crowd.

"Get a grip, Oren," Gryphon said with a smirk, clapping Lassim on the back as he joined the pair in the middle of the field. "Though, he’s not entirely wrong. Lassim, you’ve outdone yourself today. Even I wasn’t expecting a show like that."

Lassim gave a small, self-conscious chuckle, "I wasn’t trying to make a spectacle," he said. "Father just wanted me to go all out."

"And you did," Gryphon replied. "Even the Iron Marquis can’t say you held back, right?"

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Egelina finally approached her two men, her emerald eyes filled with warmth and relief as she placed a hand on her son’s cheek. "You’ve grown so much, my love," she said softly, "But please—no more duels with that much power being thrown around. And certainly not without a healer nearby."

Lassim grinned, his stormy eyes releasing a few bolts of lightning as he said, "Mother, just so you know, I actually have a healing skill called [Lifestream Aegis]," he replied with a smirk.

Egelina narrowed her eyes, "Even so."

The gathered crowd began to settle, the excitement slowly giving way to quieter conversations as the moment’s significance sank in.

Lassim turned to his father, who had finally relaxed his stance and returned his bastard sword into his inner heart world.

For a moment, the two men exchanged a wordless look, the respect between father and son palpable.

The storm above began to finally fully dissipate as Lassim broke the silence, "I’d like to go visit the Drow village before I leave. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and Sanvra."

Everard raised a brow but nodded. "Let’s walk then. I’ve got a few questions about those techniques of yours."

The celebration continued behind them as the combatants dispersed. The three of them began walking toward the edge of the estate, the path leading into the dense greenery of the Emeraldwood Forest. The soldiers and attendants lingered behind, their voices filled with excited chatter as they discussed the duel.

The forest path felt like it’d come alive with the scent of the rain and the flowers dancing with their petals in the returned sunshine.

Everard and Egelina walked on opposite sides of Lassim, as his father began his questions.

"That movement technique you used," Everard said, his fiery gaze sharp. "What was it? One moment you’re there, the next you’re in front of me. It’s faster than any other lightning movement technique that I’ve seen. Is it something the Sect Master gave you for being his Personal disciple?"

Lassim glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I call it [Storm’s Dance]."

He demonstrated, disappearing in a crackle of lightning and reappearing several meters ahead. The storm seemed to ripple as he moved, bending space around him.

Everard frowned, his mind working through the mechanics or rather, his lack of understanding of what he was seeing. He was completely unable to follow his son’s movement. Even Egelina had a puzzled look on her face as she was also a Spirit Ascension stage cultivator, yet only level 5.