THE LEGACY OF THE SWORD MASTER

Chapter five

The moment the king and his men disappeared beyond the gates, Dareth's smile vanished.

"Everyone out," he barked.

The guards hesitated, exchanging wary glances, but the edge in Dareth’s voice brooked no argument. One by one, the crowd dispersed until only Dareth, Kael, and a trembling Rand remained.

Kael stood still, chest heaving, dried blood caking the edge of his mouth. He didn’t miss the way Dareth’s hand went to his sword.

"You humiliated my son," Dareth growled. "Before the king. Before everyone."

"I didn’t ask for this," Kael said quietly.

"That’s the problem. You didn’t need to. You think your father’s blood gives you the right to rise?"

Kael’s spine straightened at the mention of his father. To think Dareth would taunt him each time about his father made him even more annoyed and pissed off.

Dareth smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You are nothing like him."

Then, without warning, he drew his sword.

Kael’s instincts screamed, but his body didn’t move fast enough. The flat of the blade slammed into his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. Dirt filled his mouth, blood throbbed in his head.

"Get up," Dareth snapped.

Kael didn’t. He couldn't. His arms felt like lead. He pressed his forehead to the ground. “Please... please don’t kill me.”

Dareth knelt beside him and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back.

“Look at me,” he hissed. “You may have impressed the king. But you are still nothing. You live under my roof. You eat because I allow it. If you ever think of outshining Rand again, I will carve out your tongue and offer it to the gods.”

Kael whimpered, and Dareth drew a dagger.

“No!” he screamed—but the blade didn’t go to his throat.

Instead, pain burst through his back as the dagger sliced deep and deliberate into his flesh. Kael howled.

Dareth leaned in, voice cold. “That scar—remember it. It’s my mark. You may wear the title of student, but you’ll always be mine.”

Kael gaze met Dareth's as he threw him to the dirt.

" Let go!" Dareth commanded as Rand walked right behind his father leaving Kael injured and bruised.

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When Kael arrived at the training academy, the sun was barely up. His shirt clung to the fresh wound on his back, the pain biting with every step.

The school was enormous—towering spires, statues of ancient swordmasters, and a courtyard paved with marble. Elites from all corners of the kingdom had gathered, boys and girls in polished armor and robes embroidered with their house sigils.

Kael wore rags and a bandage soaked through with blood.

Heads turned. Whispers followed him.

But he didn’t look away. Let them stare. Let them judge. The fire that burned in his bones now had a name.

Survival.

He was given a bunk in the farthest room—small, windowless, and cold. While others received robes and boots, he was told his size would take time to arrive.

Rand, of course, already had a full circle of friends.

“Meet the legend,” Rand boomed in the mess hall one afternoon. “The servant boy who tripped into glory.”

The laughter that followed was sharp, cruel.

Over the next weeks, Rand and his group made Kael’s life a living hell. Slop in his boots. Worms in his bedroll. Foul herbs slipped into his drinking water.

Sometimes it was physical.

Kael had bruises that never faded. One of his ribs might have cracked—he wasn’t sure anymore. But he never reported them. He learned to fight back in small ways—training in the dark, copying elite stances in secret, repeating drills until his muscles screamed for mercy.

But still... the loneliness hurt worse.

Then came the rumor.

“He murdered his father,” Rand whispered to a new batch of recruits during weapons practice. “Stabbed him in his sleep. He was a drunk, but still…”

“No wonder he stares at people like that,” one said.

Rand smirked. “You see his eyes? That’s not fire. That’s madness.”

Overnight, Kael became a ghost. Even instructors gave him distance. Most of them heard the rumour that says, Kael killed his father.

No one really knows what happend. Only Kael saw what happend that night and how Dareth killed his own father.

He stopped trying to speak.

******************************************************************

The worst came during a lesson on Hakana—the inner essence of spirit and energy, unique to each warrior. Awakening it marked one’s transition into a true fighter of the realm.

Students gathered in the sacred ring, placing hands over their hearts, breathing in unison as the master chanted.

One by one, glowing sigils lit up across their chests or hands or eyes. Shapes. Elements. Auras.

Rand’s lit like fire—brilliant, untamed, explosive. Cheers erupted around him.

Then it was Kael’s turn.

He placed his palm to his chest, closed his eyes, and searched.

But there was nothing.

No warmth. No flicker. No glow.

The master frowned. “Try again.”

Kael did. Over and over. Sweat trickled down his back.

Still—nothing.

Whispers buzzed.

“He’s empty.”

“He has no Hakana.”

“Maybe Rand was right.”

Even the master stepped back with a sigh. “Move aside, Kael.”

He did. But something in him cracked.

That night, as the students celebrated their newfound power, Kael packed his meager belongings and slipped out through the back wall.

He ran—not through the courtyard, not down the polished stairs, but straight for the mountains.

The wind howled as he climbed, the rocks cutting into his hands and knees, but he didn’t stop.

The world below had rejected him.

His father’s legacy, his chance at redemption, Layla’s silent support—it all felt like a distant illusion now.

When he reached the peak, he fell to his knees. The moon above was full, silver light bathing his face.

And then he screamed.

Not a cry for help.

But a raw, broken roar.

He heard the rustle of the leaf behind him.

Kael turned to see the man with the scar once again. He looked at him and said nothing yet again.

He was about to leave when Kael got up and threw himself at him. The man was swift, he unsheath his sword and wirba single jab landed to Kael's side of the stomach, he fell to the ground and fainted.