Odyssey of the Renegade Sovereign-Chapter 47: Elderwood Forest

CLANG

A gentle dawn light poured over the Ravenastra training grounds. Astrael stood alone in the arena, his long-sheathed sword—gleaming faintly with a bluish tint—strapped securely at his waist. Sweat dripped steadily from his temple, soaking into the fabric of his tunic, but his focus didn’t waver in the slightest.

He unsheathed the blade in one smooth motion. Astrael took a deep breath, planting his feet shoulder-width apart. He lifted the sword—black steel framed in silver, and it felt perfectly balanced in his grip. He raised it effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing.

Then he moved.

A simple slash. Clean and sharp. The blade sliced through the air with a sharp whisper, precise and controlled.

He repeated it again. And again.

One stroke turned into ten. Ten into thirty. His body followed the motion as if guided by instinct. Footwork shifted slightly with each swing, building speed, adjusting balance. The muscles in his arms burned slightly, his breath gradually growing heavier. But he didn’t stop.

With a faint clack, he sheathed the blade and let out a long breath. Then, quietly, he sat down on the edge of the stone platform, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve.

It’s been a month, Astrael thought.

A full month since the awakening ceremony.

He remembered his father’s words during dinner on that day.

....

During dinner, just after the awakening ceremony, Astrael had sat quietly while the servants brought in dish after dish—roasted meat, boiled vegetables, fresh bread, and herbal soup. The room was warm, and the aroma of the food drifted through the air.

Then his father finally spoke, setting down his silverware with a faint clink.

"Astrael, now that your awakening is done, it’s time we talk about cultivation," Baron Kaelen said, his voice calm but steady. "Specifically, about the mana cultivation technique."

Astrael looked up from his plate, eyes sharpening. He had been waiting for this.

"There are many ways to cultivate," the Baron continued, "but the method—the technique—you use determines the efficiency. Without a proper technique, your progress will be slow, unstable, and dangerous."

Astrael nodded quietly, listening intently.

"The essence of cultivation lies in the core. That is what determines your future strength."

He paused to take a sip of water before going on.

"There are two types of core. The Aura Core, which forms in the heart—this is the path for Aura Masters. And the Mana Core, which is formed in the lower dantian—that is the path of a Mage."

"Is it possible to have both?" Astrael asked without hesitation.

His father gave a slow nod, his expression serious.

"In rare cases, yes. But cultivating both is extremely dangerous. Even if one has the talent for both paths, managing them without proper control could cause internal collapse. Most people die trying."

"But the people who tried this path had very slow progress. It’s easier to give you all one path than multiple paths."

Astrael nodded, but the thought lingered in his mind.

He already had a high-grade soul space. He had awakened two divine talents. Could he...?

The Baron interrupted his thoughts. "You will begin with a foundation technique. It will help gather mana into your lower dantian, form the mana core, and purify your control. Your mother and I chose a suitable one for you."

He reached into his coat and placed a black scroll on the table, tied with red string.

"This is the Raven Astra Scripture. A mid-tier mana cultivation technique and the legacy of the Ravenastra family. It was created by the founder of the family. It’s stable and efficient. It won’t rush your progress, but it’ll build you a foundation as steady as a mountain."

Astrael reached out and took the scroll in both hands.

"Thank you, Father."

The Baron gave a faint nod. "Begin cultivating as soon as possible. The earlier you progress your core, the faster you’ll grow."

That night, after dinner, Astrael sat on the edge of his bed, the scroll unrolled before him.

.....

He sighed before focusing on the status screen.

...

Host: Astrael Ravenastra / Age: 15 yrs / Race: Human

Title:...

....

Skills and Abilities:

[ Appraise ]

[ Inventory ]

[ Sword Mastery (Master) ]

[ Quick Draw (E) lvl. 9(max) ]

[ Mana Augmentation (E) lvl. 9(max) ]

[ Bood Berserker (C) ]

[ Predator’s Clarity (C+)]

-------------------------------

Sword Mastery was already at the Master rank, but still not enough.

"Just having the skills isn’t the same as mastering them in real battle," he reminded himself, clenching his fists lightly. "What good is a divine talent if I can’t survive long enough to use it?"

He had been trying to break through his current limits in swordsmanship for weeks now. No one knew the extent of his mastery with the blade. He kept it hidden, choosing not to reveal it for now. After countless hours of silent training, dawn to dusk, bloodied palms and aching arms, he had reached the Master rank. It took ten years.

But to advance beyond that—to reach the next tier—was a hundred times more difficult.

Grandmaster.

An elusive rank. One that he had only read about in texts and war journals. It wasn’t just about technique or repetition anymore; it was about insight, about awakening a deeper connection with the weapon itself.

Astrael didn’t know—because no one had told him—that just reaching Master rank in weapon mastery was an achievement most warriors dreamed of. Many Aura Masters, people considered elites in their path, never even reached it in their lifetime.

Being a Master of a weapon wasn’t just about raw strength. It was about dominance, precision, and control. It meant the weapon had become an extension of the body, a natural reflex.

Those who held Mastery were respected wherever they went. Feared even.

If Astrael were to reveal his swordsmanship, openly demonstrate his level in public?

He could easily be offered a place as a Royal Guard. Maybe even more.

But he wasn’t looking for praise. He didn’t need applause or empty titles. Not yet.

He wanted strength. Pure, unshakable strength.

And for that, he needed to push even further.

He sighed.

He had hoped that asking the self-proclaimed progenitor sword would help him break through to the next stage. But her answers were always the same—vague and cryptic, like a riddle wrapped in poetry.

"Don’t force it," she had said once, her voice light and almost teasing. "It comes naturally. Let it flow just like water. Merge your goal, your imagination, your intent."

Easy for her to say. She had probably seen countless swordmasters rise and fall.

But for him, standing here, alone on this training ground, drenched in sweat and filled with restlessness—that answer wasn’t enough.

He needed something concrete. Something that would tell him he was close.

He looked at his calloused hands.

All this effort. All this pain.

Still no answer.

And speaking of Elyndra...

He frowned slightly.

She had gone into "sleep mode", or whatever she called it, a week ago. No warning, no explanation. One moment, she was tossing snide remarks in his mind, the next... nothing.

It was so sudden that he didn’t even get the chance to ask why.

Now, the back of his consciousness felt oddly quiet. No sarcastic voice chiming in. No opinionated commentary about his sword swings or his posture.

It was strange how quickly he had gotten used to her presence.

But Elyndra... wasn’t like other spirits. She was a mystery.

Still, he couldn’t waste time worrying about her now.

If she were truly a powerful being, she’d wake when she wanted.

And when she did, he had a long list of questions waiting.

Again, he sighed.

He opened the system interface mentally, seeing that his progress was slow but steady.

His eyes landed on the talents. Two talents that changed everything. The plan he made for the future. Divine-grade. Even now, it still felt surreal. Sometimes he doubted it was real at all.

"I’m not strong enough," he muttered aloud, staring at his hands. "Not yet."

He knew it. Sword training alone wouldn’t be enough.

He needed real combat. Real blood. Real danger. There was only one place close enough for that kind of growth.

Elderwood Forest.

A dark, sprawling land beyond the eastern mountains, cloaked in endless mist and the old legends, known for its thick canopies, shifting paths, and deadly creatures. Shifting paths, vanishing trails, and illusions that twisted the mind. It was a place few dared to tread.

And yet, it was also a place where opportunity bloomed.

The kingdom barely kept it in check because of the risk, though guards were stationed near the perimeter for any unforeseen situation.

There were many monsters that made it their home, and it was said there were remnants of a dragon, also. And due to the harsh conditions in the forest, it gave birth to many rare treasures, because of which, many adventurers came for exploration, treasure hunting, and more.

And for Astrael, that meant one thing.

Opportunity.

He stood up again, his breath calm.

"If I want to level up," he whispered, "I’ll need to kill."

The words came out colder than he expected. But they were true.

He picked up his sword and turned toward the manor. He would need to prepare.

Because the forest wouldn’t show mercy.

And neither would he.