Yuder rested his hands on the stone railing and stared down at the sea, forgetting everything for a moment.

The sea of Peleta felt like ancient nature itself.

A place that simply existed, untouched and uninvaded by anyone.

As if it had nothing to do with the noisy affairs of the world, it stood serene and overwhelming. And the sight of it stirred in his chest a strange sense of liberation.

Yesterday, he had only briefly seen the village entrance before going straight up to the castle, so he hadn’t had a chance to see the sea. That’s why, up until just now, Peleta’s sea had only existed in Yuder’s memory as the brief glimpse he’d caught in his previous life—when he had infiltrated the place.

A pitch-black sea, on a cold night so frigid it made his bones ache. He hadn’t even properly looked at it—he had only searched for the entrance to the secret passage and immediately turned his back to it.

That vast darkness, splashing and crashing behind him like a feral hound chasing down an intruder with the scent of blood—was that really the same sea now spread out before him?

He couldn’t believe it. It looked like an entirely different place.

Then, Yuder suddenly recalled what Kishiar had said in the Great Forest.

“At first, I thought it was a desolate, godforsaken place. But after I changed my mindset and looked again, I realized there was no sea in the world more beautiful.”

Yes. Now, Yuder could agree with those words.

It’s not only things bright and dazzling that are beautiful. Sometimes, even the darkest and roughest things carry their own appeal. If this silent, mesmerizing water—its stillness gripping him like it might suck him in—couldn’t be called beautiful, then what word could?

Yuder drew in a long breath and closed his eyes.

And he focused all his senses on the wind brushing past his ears and the sound of distant waves.

—Whoooo...

All thoughts slowly began to settle. The senses he’d always kept sharpened, his awareness—everything faded into calm. And in that still moment, a long-forgotten conversation floated to the surface of his mind, like a bubble rising through water.

“—Will you ever go to Peleta? There’s a sea there too, you know.”

Yes. That voice had belonged to someone he hadn’t remembered in a long time. He’d only recalled it again after hearing Kishiar talk about the sea in Peleta back in the Great Forest.

It had been when Yuder Aile was truly twenty years old. The time when he, more than any other member, remained at the training field long into the night, practicing alone—and would sometimes run into the Commander, returning from who-knew-where.

After Yuder had mastered the sword manual following Kishiar’s cryptic advice—whether it was a provocation or genuine instruction—Kishiar had begun appearing at nearly the same time ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) every night, watching his training. Yuder had realized that Kishiar’s words helped fill in the gaps in his technique. And once he was sure Kishiar didn’t mind whether Yuder paid him any attention or not, he stopped caring about his presence altogether.

He didn’t remember them exchanging many words. The silence should have been uncomfortable—but it wasn’t. Despite his striking appearance, Kishiar had a strange ability to erase his presence and simply watch without disturbing.

Yuder never understood what was so entertaining about watching someone else train. But Kishiar had said it had become more fun than going out. Still, now and then, he’d let out sighs or faint sigh-like groans that carried a hint of regret—just enough to weigh down Yuder’s mood.

Over time, their conversations began to extend beyond just training advice. Kishiar would ask Yuder about life in the Cavalry. Yuder, in turn, told him if he was that curious, he should come see for himself like a proper Commander. He only dared to say something so impertinent after realizing that Kishiar, strange as he was, didn’t seem to take offense at such remarks.

Kishiar had laughed heartily—and then, sure enough, showed up the next day to observe the daytime duties of the squad members. The members, startled to see their rarely-seen Commander, fumbled and made mistake after mistake. Watching that, Yuder vowed never to say such things again. He felt like he’d been roped into something and didn’t like the feeling.

At that time, Yuder was just starting to develop a vague idea for a combat style that combined his elemental powers and swordsmanship. It was something he now did as naturally as breathing, but back then, there was no precedent, and his knowledge was far too lacking. With only vague ambition and motivation, progress was impossible.

What did he need to study to achieve his goal? What training or experience would let him reach the level he desired?

He didn’t have anyone he could ask.

Only one person came to mind.

That night, when the usual idle Commander showed up to watch him train, Yuder blurted out a question.

“May I ask you something?”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

The man, lying back with his arms folded behind his head atop a tree branch, looked at him with an unreadable expression before nodding.

“You’ve never asked me something first before. Hm. Go ahead.”

“I want to use my Awakened powers in harmony with my sword, but it isn’t going well. Do you know what I should do?”

“You want to blend your powers with your swordsmanship?”

Kishiar had gone silent for a while. Yuder had thought he might dismiss him as a fool. But he didn’t.

“If you succeed, you might rewrite history.”

It was a soft whisper, without any particular emotion—but that made it feel even more like an undeniable truth. Yuder felt momentarily unsettled. As he stood there, Kishiar asked him for more details. And Yuder explained the vague things he had only ever imagined before.

That even if he trained diligently now, he couldn’t match knights who had practiced swordsmanship since childhood. No matter how much talent he had, the years they’d spent training couldn’t be easily surpassed. But he had the power of nature at his command.

Couldn’t he use his powers to make up for his lacking swordsmanship, for his inexperience?

If he could coat his sword with fire or water and strike with it—or use wind and earth to create openings and then stab with the blade...

If he could blend those elements fluidly and naturally, then no matter if his opponent used weapons, magic, or powers like his own—he could overpower them all with flexible, overwhelming force. Even many enemies at once would be no problem. He was certain of it. But he wasn’t capable of pulling it off yet.

Looking back now, Yuder’s explanation had likely been all over the place. A boy who had lived in the mountains, never properly fought for his life, trying to describe an abstract, complex strategy—how clearly could he have explained it?

Yet Kishiar had understood. And he answered.

“You want to use sword and magic at the same time, essentially. There are knights who use magic tools even now—but what you want is something similar, only far stronger, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then continue training them separately until you can use both like extensions of your own limbs. If you try to combine them before mastering either, you’ll fail at both. Also, study tactics and strategy, and spar with as many different opponents as you can.”

“How do I study tactics and strategy?”

“I’ll recommend some books.”

Yuder memorized the titles Kishiar gave him. As he mumbled them aloud, the man, watching him, offered his first bit of advice on how to train his powers.

“You seem confident in your powers and don’t worry much about them—but if you get complacent, it won’t be your swordsmanship or your tactics that hold you back. It’ll be your powers. Explore the source of your strength. Don’t use it mindlessly—question it.”

Kishiar had been right. Up to that point, Yuder hadn’t tried to deepen or enhance his powers. They were already strong, and since he lacked in swordsmanship and knowledge, he’d only focused on making up for that.

But he thought Kishiar had a point, so he said he understood. A moment later, though, he’d asked again.

“My powers involve the elemental attributes of nature—but what does it mean to explore their source? Could you explain it in a way even a bumpkin like me could understand?”

“It means to observe those elements closely. If it’s fire, study fire. If it’s water, watch water. Let’s say this: when you think of unleashing powerful force—do you know how much power you can actually wield? Could you summon a fire big enough to swallow a mountain? Waves to consume the earth? A storm to rip out trees? An earthquake that shatters the ground beneath your feet?”

Thinking through Kishiar’s examples, Yuder realized some were possible, others not. He told him so, and Kishiar asked what determined that.

“It seems like... if it’s something I’ve seen or experienced, it’s easier to control. I’ve seen wildfires before. I know storms—one almost blew my house away. I haven’t seen an earthquake directly, but I know what a tremor feels like.”

But the sea—he didn’t know what that was.

For someone who had grown up in the mountains, a waterfall or a wide river was the limit. Even those he’d only seen on the way to the Capital. He had only heard of the sea in people’s stories—a being with a name unfamiliar to him.

Realizing Yuder had never seen the sea, the man had rubbed his chin in thought, then suddenly said:

“Will you ever go to Peleta?”

There’s a sea there too.

Yuder couldn’t remember how he’d responded. The man had changed the subject quickly, as if he’d never said it.

But that night, Yuder hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the sea—that unreachable place he couldn’t yet visit.