Astral Epoch

The first light of dawn broke over the ruins, casting a faint glow across the barren field. The air was thick with the dampness of morning mist and the lingering heat rising from the ground after the thunderclaps. Adrian stood in the open training grounds, swinging the Thunder Spear with swift precision. Lightning flashed through the still morning, arcs of electricity weaving in the air like shattered stars. Each strike was full of force, and the shockwaves left in its wake rattled the earth, as though the very ground trembled beneath the power of his blows. Yet, despite the sheer strength behind every strike, there was a lingering fog in his heart. He knew his power had not yet been fully mastered.

Not far off, Cassius stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze cold and detached, as if nothing existed outside of his control. He did not join the battle but watched Adrian with an air of indifference, a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth. After a few moments, he moved forward slowly, his steps silent as he walked through the morning mist, his eyes fixed firmly on Adrian. A hint of contempt flickered in his gaze, his voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, "Waving around a Thunder Spear, and you think you've mastered the power of the stars? Each of your strikes is nothing more than a futile effort." His words were soft, yet they carried a biting provocation.

Adrian's grip tightened around the Thunder Spear as he slowly lowered it, his brow furrowed and a flicker of anger crossing his face. "What are you trying to say?" he replied coldly, his voice carrying both defiance and confusion. He could sense the provocation in Cassius's words—every strike he made in his training felt powerful, yet there was an invisible barrier he couldn't break, an unseen force holding him back.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Cassius's lips, his gaze growing even more disdainful. "Fight me," he said, his tone flat yet sharp. "If you can't even handle me, don't even think about inheriting the name of Azure Dragon." He paused, his eyes turning colder. "You can't control your own power. Then you don't deserve to wield it." His words were devoid of passion, but they carried an undeniable weight, an aura of authority that left no room for argument.

The moment the last word left his lips, Cassius moved like a shadow, his speed almost blurring. In a flash, his sword gleamed in the morning sun, its edge aimed directly at Adrian's heart.

Adrian's Thunder Spear shot forward like a bolt of lightning, the crackling energy enveloping it as it clashed against Cassius's sword. Each strike sent ripples of fury through the air, the sound of thunder tearing through the still morning, shaking the ground beneath them. Yet Cassius remained eerily composed, his movements flawless and calculated. His sword danced through the air, its edge slicing with surgical precision. Each strike sent waves of deadly sword energy toward Adrian, cutting through the thunderous onslaught like a knife through silk.

Their forms blurred as they collided in midair, the crackling thunder of Adrian's spear meeting the sharp hum of Cassius's blade. The collision rang out like a storm, filling the air with a deafening roar, as though the very sky trembled at the chaos between them. With every swing, Adrian poured all his might into the blow, yet Cassius's sword was always one step ahead, countering with terrifying accuracy.

In this brief exchange, Adrian felt something different from his previous battles with Seth. Cassius wasn't fighting with brute force; this was precision, a deadly elegance. Every strike had purpose—there was no wasted motion, no hesitation. His blade moved with the inevitability of fate itself. Adrian's heart raced, his mind racing to keep up. Despite his best efforts, anxiety seeped in. He could feel it—the crushing sense of powerlessness. No matter how fiercely he fought, Cassius's blade was always there, always threatening, always just beyond reach.

Adrian fought back his growing frustration, but deep down, he knew the truth. He had yet to truly master the power within him. The strength he was destined to wield—the very force that should have made him unstoppable—remained just out of his grasp. With each clash, that truth became harder to ignore.

Cassius's fighting style was a stark contrast to Adrian's. While Adrian's strikes were wild and untamed, driven by the raw fury of the storm within him, Cassius moved with the precision of a seasoned master. Every movement was deliberate, every strike a calculated work of art. He was a shadow on the battlefield, fluid and seamless, his sword a silver streak cutting through the air with the sharpness of a lightning bolt. With every swing, the blade closed the distance between them in an instant, always aiming for Adrian's heart—as though it were alive, intent on tearing him apart.

Cassius's swordplay wasn't just a series of attacks—it was a rhythm, a deadly dance. Each dodge, each parry, each riposte was woven seamlessly into the fight, like a macabre ballet, where the outcome was always certain, and the dance itself was designed for death. It wasn't just skill—it was a brutal elegance, an execution of inevitable fate.

For Adrian, however, the fight felt like an overwhelming onslaught. Every time he closed in, every time his spear sought to pierce the storm of Cassius's blade, he found himself gasping for breath. No matter how much power he summoned, he remained on the back foot, reacting rather than controlling the battle. Each time he thought he might land a decisive blow, Cassius's sword would appear—out of nowhere—blocking, deflecting, parrying, closing off every opening.

The pressure weighed down on him, suffocating. His frustration surged, and his doubts began to surface. Why couldn't he break through? Why was it so hard to control his power, to wield it the way it was meant to be? The weight of those questions pressed against him, heavy as stone. But deep within, Adrian knew that the only way forward was to surpass these limits, to break through the invisible wall that kept him from mastering his strength. If he was ever going to inherit the true power of the Azure Dragon, he had to shatter the cage of his own hesitations and fears.

Adrian's body was on the brink of collapse, each swing of the Thunder Spear sapping what little strength he had left. Despite the overwhelming power of the Azure Dragon's might coursing through him, he couldn't quite grasp it, couldn't fully release it. Every strike felt like an effort to tear the very earth apart, but with each blow, it only drained him further. His breath came in ragged gasps. The lightning crackling from his spear felt as if it were tearing him apart, a double-edged sword that consumed his energy as much as it struck down his enemies. And yet, no matter how fiercely he fought, the control remained elusive, always just out of reach.

Then came the final push. Cassius's sword flashed, its tip a breath away from Adrian's chest. The speed of the attack left him no room to maneuver. He was trapped in the rhythm of the fight—a deadly dance where each step led him closer to his demise. The lightning crackled, the sword swept in. His mind went blank, his heart pounding in his chest. Time seemed to stretch, the space between life and death narrowing until it was nothing more than a single heartbeat.

And then—the voice.

"Control it."

The words hit him like a shockwave, deep, commanding, and filled with urgency. It wasn't a whisper—it was a truth, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion, shattering the chaos of battle. A moment of clarity, sharp and pure, pierced through the storm.

Adrian's eyes snapped open, the realization crashing over him like a wave. He had never truly controlled the Azure Dragon's power. It wasn't about unleashing anger or rage. It wasn't about raw, unchecked bursts of energy. The Azure Dragon's power was about focus. About control. About precision.

He felt it now—this energy wasn't a beast to be tamed with brute force. It was a force of nature, a river that could either flood the land or be channeled through a dam. He needed to become one with it, to guide it. And as he stood on the edge of failure, the truth blossomed inside him: He could control it.

A surge of warmth spread through his chest, a steadying calm that replaced the storm of confusion and anger. His grip on the Thunder Spear tightened, no longer frantic, but measured. The erratic, violent sparks of lightning that had once surged from him now gathered in focused, controlled bursts. The power wasn't chaotic—it was a controlled storm, channeled into a singular purpose. The Thunder Spear hummed, almost as though it recognized the shift, as if it too had been waiting for this moment.

Adrian steadied himself. His heart slowed, his breath deepened. His vision sharpened. This time, as he faced Cassius, there was no hesitation. No panic. No fear. Just the raw, unrelenting force of the Azure Dragon's might, now under his command.

And then, with a single, decisive motion, he unleashed it.

The Thunder Spear crackled with energy, the air itself bending under the power of the blast. A roar like thunder filled the sky, and lightning surged from the weapon, far fiercer, more focused than ever before. This was no wild explosion—it was a precise, singular strike, each bolt guided by an unshakable force of will, a controlled fury that could only come from true mastery.

The storm in Adrian's heart matched the tempest he now commanded. For the first time, he was truly one with the Azure Dragon's power. And with that unity, he was no longer a mere wielder of power—he was its master.

Adrian's Thunder Spear shot forward with blinding speed, tearing through Cassius's attack as if the very air was rent by the force. A burst of lightning exploded like a thousand stars, crackling and surging, shattering the sword energy Cassius had conjured. The electric currents spiraled outward, leaving a trail of jagged light in their wake.

Cassius took a step back, his eyes flashing with brief surprise—and something else, something like approval—before he swiftly regained his composure, resetting his stance. He was already preparing for Adrian's next move, his every muscle coiled with lethal precision.

But then, the pressure from behind Adrian abruptly vanished. The relentless presence of the assassins seemed to dissipate, as though the weight that had pressed upon him was suddenly lifted. He turned instinctively, his sharp eyes catching the sight of several Legion of Dusk warriors being driven back, their retreat clear and undeniable. Lia's music had done its work, unraveling their formation, throwing them into disarray.

For a moment, the battlefield seemed to breathe. The relentless clash between Adrian and Cassius paused, the balance tilting ever so slightly in Adrian's favor.

Cassius's gaze met Adrian's, the air thick with unspoken understanding. A faint, almost imperceptible smile curled on Cassius's lips, but it wasn't a smile of victory—no, it was a smile that hinted at something more. Something deeper. As if Cassius had known all along that Adrian would rise to this point.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Cassius turned away, his eyes narrowing as a complex gleam flickered in them. "Not bad. You've made some progress," he said, his voice smooth, cool, but underscored with something that felt like a quiet challenge.

Adrian, breathless, lowered his spear, the weight of the fight settling in his bones. His heart thrummed with a mixture of emotions—triumph mingled with frustration. The glimpse of potential he had caught in this battle was enough to ignite something fierce within him. But it also made him painfully aware of how far he still had to go.

He wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. His resolve to push forward burned brighter than ever. This fight had been just another step on his path to power, but it was a step that left him hungry for more.