The Devouring Knight-Chapter 137 - 136: Sparring Hearts

Training Yard - Late Afternoon

Dust kicked up underfoot as the two clashed once more, spear against blade. Lumberling’s spear whistled low, but Aurelya slid to the side and flicked her rapier up, grazing his ribs.

"That’s the third time today," she said, smirking. "You’d think a Knight could defend his left flank better."

Lumberling grunted, stepping back to reset his stance. "You’d think a True Knight wouldn’t flaunt it every time she lands a lucky hit."

"Lucky?" Aurelya scoffed. "Please. I’ve seen trees react faster than your hips."

"Maybe if I stopped carrying the emotional weight of your ego," he shot back, "my hips would move better."

She barked a laugh. "Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure your hips don’t move at all."

Their blades clashed again, laughter laced in steel. After several more exchanges, both fell back, breathing heavily. The setting sun bathed the field in gold, casting long shadows between them.

Aurelya wiped sweat from her brow. "That’s enough swordwork. Time for your dose of magical misery."

Lumberling groaned, falling onto a training stump with a thud

He shook his head with a smile, then closed his eyes and slowly began breathing in rhythm, starting the Concordia Cycle.

It had been weeks since Aurelya first offered to help him with the Concordia Cycle. Under her guidance, his progress had accelerated noticeably, each session smoothing out flaws and deepening his control.

In return, he helped her refine her Knight Skills through daily sparring. Though she was already a True Knight, their bouts served as mutual sharpening, pushing them both to greater precision and instinctive mastery.

She grew quiet beside him, and found herself holding her breath without realizing it.

This wasn’t the same man she had dismissed when they first met.

Something had changed.

Or maybe... she had.

Minute after minute passed as he struggled to align his internal mana threads, one part breath, two parts will, three parts sheer pain. His brows furrowed, back straight despite the growing tremble in his hands.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast.

But it was focused.

Steady.

Aurelya watched him in silence.

Something stirred in her chest, pride, perhaps. Or was it warmth?

Progress crawled at the pace of decades, but he still showed up, as if the slowness made the challenge more sacred.

’Maybe that’s why he’s strong,’ she thought. ’Even with limited talent, he pushes forward. No complaints. Just resolve.’

The fire within her, once dulled by routine and quiet complacency, flared anew. Something inside her shifted.

She felt... inspired.

Rising to her feet, she brushed dust from her gloves.

"We’ll pick this up tomorrow," she said, voice steady. "I’ll be back."

And then she turned, brisk but thoughtful, leaving behind the quiet rhythm of his breath and that ever-burning will.

Lumberling cracked open one eye, watching her silhouette as it caught the orange of the fading sun. He didn’t reply, only nodded.

She walked away, her rapier over her shoulder, jaw set in new resolve.

As her figure disappeared into the trees, Lumberling let out a slow exhale and leaned back.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"...It’s not bad having someone to train with."

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It simply slipped out, quiet, almost lost in the wind. But it was true.

For so long, he had trained alone. In the battlefield, in the forest, in the dead of night. When obstacles rose before him, he faced them head-on, reworked his methods, and pushed through relentlessly, but always in solitude.

He had grown strong like that. Hardened, sharpened.

But now...

He glanced toward the spot where Aurelya had stood moments before, her footprints still fresh in the dirt. She had started as a teacher. Yet over the days, her presence had begun to shape his rhythm, just as he unknowingly shaped hers.

She challenged him. Questioned him. Matched his pace without needing to compete. And most importantly, she stayed.

He exhaled, long and slow, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Maybe he didn’t have to walk this path entirely alone.

Not anymore.

.....

Elven Encampment - Midday

The parchment glowed faintly beneath Lumberling’s fingertips as he followed the diagram Thessalia had drawn, a lattice of arcane symbols representing a basic mana conduction array. He was halfway through redrawing it when Thessalia suddenly looked up from her own book.

"I’ve noticed Aurelya," she said, voice sharp and precise, "suddenly speaking of training. Becoming... diligent."

Lumberling paused, glancing up from his notes.

"And?" he said cautiously.

"That’s not like her." Thessalia leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "What did you do?"

Lumberling blinked. "What, what did I do? Why are you asking me that?"

"You’re the only new variable," she said, matter-of-factly. "She barely pushed herself before. Now she’s talking about refining forms, staying up late, even asking me for correction drills. That’s not the Aurelya I know."

He leaned back, frowning. "Maybe she just realized she has room to grow?"

"Maybe," Thessalia said coolly. "But she’s not the type to seek growth unless something made her want to."

Lumberling scratched his head, then shrugged. "Look, based on what little I know of her, she might be hard-headed, yeah, but if she sets her mind to something? I can see her becoming serious. What’s so strange about that?"

Thessalia didn’t answer right away. She simply studied him, long enough that it became uncomfortable.

Then she looked away, muttering under her breath, almost as if to herself, "You really have no idea..."

Lumberling tilted his head. "What was that?"

She ignored him.

Inwardly, Thessalia’s thoughts stirred.

’He must not realize it. Lady Vaenyra always overshadowed Aurelya in raw talent and grace, but Aurelya... her affinity and talent are terrifyingly rare, even in the Empire. She didn’t even push herself, and she still stood near the top. That’s why she’s second-in-command, not me.’

But now... now that she’s putting in effort. Training. Committing?

She closed her book quietly.

What will she become if she truly tries?

Across the table, Lumberling went back to his diagram, oblivious to the silent gears turning in Thessalia’s mind.

And outside, the wind passed gently through the trees, unaware that the trajectory of more than one young soul had begun to shift.

.....

Over a month had passed.

At the training grounds, Aurelya was there again, trailing just a step behind him, as if it had become the most natural thing in the world.

At first, it had been out of curiosity. But now, it had become a habit neither of them openly acknowledged.

Each morning, before the sun fully crowned the treetops, Lumberling stood beneath the canopy and began his Concordia Cycle. Breathing in, holding, releasing. The rhythm was slow, exact. Every movement deliberate. From the outside, it looked like nothing, just a man breathing, but Aurelya had learned better.

She sat nearby, arms wrapped around her knees, watching him move with precision. His body was no longer stiff and unfamiliar like when they first met. Each breath carried weight. Each posture, silent strength.

Sometimes, she tried to match his breathing.

Other times, she simply watched in silence.

By the time noon approached, sweat glistened on both their skin, not from the stillness, but from what followed.

Sparring.

"You’re slower today," she teased, circling him, her golden braid swinging behind her.

"I’m pacing myself. Wouldn’t want to bruise that fragile pride of yours," he replied dryly, parrying her rapier with a flick of his wrist.

She lunged. He deflected. Sparks flew where metal kissed metal. Footwork danced across the dirt floor, and laughter interlaced with the clanging of weapons.

"You call that a feint?"

"Says the one who leaves her left side wide open."

"Deliberate bait."

"Deliberate nonsense."

The banter came as naturally now as their footwork. Neither admitted it, but they looked forward to these hours.

.....

From beneath the shade of an awning, Thessalia observed the pair.

Aurelya’s rapier hung at her side, but she hadn’t left yet. Not immediately. Not like before.

She said something, lighthearted, teasing. Lumberling smirked without looking up.

A moment passed. Aurelya lingered. Then, with a faint wave, she turned and walked off.

Thessalia narrowed her eyes.

The Aurelya she knew didn’t loiter after training. She didn’t repeat sparring sessions with anyone twice in a row.

But now? She showed up early. Left late. Her voice had softened, just slightly, around him.

Thessalia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression unreadable.

’So even she isn’t immune to him.’

She looked back at Lumberling, still seated cross-legged in the field. His aura was faint, tightly controlled, but heavy.

’What is it about him that draws us in?’

.....

By mid-afternoon, the clearing quieted. Aurelya sat on a fallen log, her fingers weaving threads of mana into shifting patterns of light. Swirls of silver and blue magic spun around her hand before fading like mist. She practiced quietly, lips moving in chant, adjusting runes and sigils in the air.

Across from her, Lumberling sat in meditation.

Back straight. Eyes closed. Breaths even.

But something about this meditation was different from the morning Concordia Cycle.

Around him, the air shimmered faintly. Ripples moved through the grass. A strange power, foreign to her, circled him in rhythmic pulses. It wasn’t mana.

Qi.

She watched, curious, her spell forgotten.

Then click.

It was as if the wind itself paused.

A pressure snapped into place around Lumberling, like puzzle pieces finally locking together. His aura surged, subtle, but enough to stir the leaves. His body seemed... heavier.

(Beginner Imperial Mindseal Meditation has reached Level 1.

Power +100)

Lumberling’s lips curled into a small, victorious smile.

’Finally.’

Before he could open his eyes, Aurelya was already beside him.

"What did you just do? What was that?" she asked, golden eyes narrowed.

He cracked one eye open, his expression unreadable. "What was what?"

She huffed, arms crossed. "Hmph. If you don’t want to tell me, just say so."

"I didn’t say that."

"Then tell me."

He shrugged, standing slowly. "You wouldn’t understand."

"Try me."

Lumberling paused, letting the silence stretch as he dusted off his pants. Then he looked at her, an amused glint in his eye.

"Why are you even following me here every day?" he asked.

"Just checking on you," she replied too quickly.

"Really?"

"Really."

They stood there for a beat, the sun casting dappled light through the trees. For a moment, neither spoke.

Aurelya turned, then paused, not enough to seem deliberate, just enough for him to notice.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, voice lighter than before.

"Yeah."

As she passed him the training spear, her fingers brushed his. Just a graze.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull back.

Neither did he.

Her lips curved, not quite a smile, but close. Then she turned and walked off, the hem of her coat catching the breeze like a whispered thought she didn’t say aloud.

Lumberling exhaled slowly. The faint heat on his hand lingered longer than it should’ve.

....

As Aurelya left with a short wave, Lumberling didn’t head back to his home or the sparring grounds.

Instead, he made his way to a secluded cave nestled deep in the mountain. The place was quiet, damp, and shadowed from the sun, perfect for what came next. A small pool glimmered faintly at the center, its surface dark with dissolved toxins he had slowly brewed and collected over the weeks.

He exhaled and stepped in without hesitation.

The stinging sensation wrapped his legs instantly, biting into his skin like fire made liquid. But he didn’t flinch.

Lumberling sat cross-legged in the center of the pool, guiding his breath, circulating his qi with practiced control. The Ironblood Tempering Scripture demanded pain, demanded stillness in the face of it.

Hours passed in quiet agony.

Then...

(Beginner Poison Resistance has reached Lvl 1. Power +100)

A brief, invisible shiver ran across his spine. Lumberling opened his eyes for a second, and smiled faintly.

"Good," he muttered. Then he closed his eyes again.

The night passed without sleep.

At the break of dawn, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the cave’s cracks, another surge coursed through his body.

A weight lifted, and his entire being seemed... denser, tougher.

(Beginner Ironblood Tempering Scripture has reached Lvl 1. Power +100)

He clenched his fist and rolled his shoulder. His skin felt firmer. Muscles moved more efficiently. The fatigue that once lingered no longer held him hostage.

A few minutes later, the sound of boots crunching on gravel echoed at the entrance of the cave.

Aurelya stood there, arms crossed, squinting at him.

"You didn’t sleep again, did you?" she asked flatly, one brow raised.

Lumberling stood up slowly, steam rising from his skin as if his body was still releasing heat from the inner forge. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t," he said.

She stared at him for a long second, her eyes narrowing further. There was something different about him again, his movements were sharper, and even the air around him felt subtly heavier.

’Did he become stronger again? Overnight?’ she wondered, pursing her lips.

"Well," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "You better not pass out in our sparring later. Because this time, I’m not holding back."

Lumberling smirked as he stepped out of the cave, droplets of poison and sweat still trailing from his soaked garments. "I was hoping you wouldn’t."

He glanced at her. She caught it, smiled faintly, and looked away.

For now, it was enough, to train, to grow, to walk together.

But something had changed. And they both knew it.