Time passed.
Liam spent most of his days diligently training, pushing his mind and body past any limit it might’ve had.
Of course, he couldn’t actually advance his body, but only perfect its capabilities by improving his mental prowess.
Liam spent more time completing missions than staying within the mansion.
…Truthfully, he did that to avoid his half-siblings and unwanted attention, but when Elsa and Ian began harassing his mother, he needed to stay behind.
‘They’re not smart enough to do that on their own… Adrian is giving them orders,’ Liam figured.
That inevitably slowed down his progress.
The twins realized Liam’s body had regenerative properties, allowing them to express much harsher torture upon him.
Quite honestly, Liam thought they were too green… despite being three years older than him.
Most of their torture didn’t faze him at all, just annoying him to no end and wasting his time.
On the side, Liam didn’t have much time to spare for his forging and Blood Weaving, but he didn’t think he could create a powerful spell or weapon any time soon.
Liam kept in touch with his teachers via the Rank 2 Jade, but hadn’t met with them for too long.
Other than that, the tournament was getting closer by the day.
Ripples of excitement spread across Ucladd and every other major city, which Liam had actually visited during his many missions.
Ucladd, Erivol, Crigate, Logras, Vence and Rizt were the six noble cities, each with their own specialities and characteristics.
Among them, only Erivol had major problems with Ucladdians.
Elsa, Ian and a few other of Liam’s half-siblings were going to participate within the Regional Tournament.
Of course, they didn’t really need the Rank 4 tempering method – being of the main branch gave them massive privileges, which was partly why they were so arrogant.
It was their failure of a dad’s acknowledgement they sought.
Meanwhile, Liam tried his best in finding a way to participate within the competition. Mainly, he spoke to Samuel about it, and the head guard promised to look into it.
///
Liam stood in the middle of his messy room – his body bare –? gripping his worn-down blades with a passive stance.
He had just taken a bath, washing out his piss-stained robe for the umpteenth time.
‘I’m gonna crush that monkey’s skull one day.’
Heaving a calming breath, Liam loosened his grasp and dropped his black katana and wakizashi.
…But right before the pair of weapons fell to the ground, a dark chain made of darkness wrapped around their hilt pulled them back to his hands.
Liam smiled in satisfaction.
‘Dark Chains… swallowed four months worth of merits, but it’s worth it.’
What Liam was referring to, was a Rank 2 spell that allowed the user to produce a darkness-made link from their palms, allowing for painful ensnarement, or convenient utility.
How long the user wanted them depended on how much ‘Ora’ the spell consumed, which was quite a bit for Liam at the moment.
More importantly, Liam solved his range problem – Purgatory Night didn’t have any projectile attacks, but with the chains… he could hurl his weapons without losing them, similar to a kusarigama.
Liam wrapped the chains tightly around his katana and wrists, before twirling them like a rope and sending the blade flying.
He was inexperienced with the movements at first, but after some practice, he was able to swing his blades with the chain – combining a deadly mixture of both close-range and mid-range attacks.
However, upon a closer look, the chains started to damage the hilts of his weapons.
‘…I can’t maintain this fighting style for long, but it’s good against those that like to keep a distance.’
Nodding in satisfaction, Liam sheathed his blades when a knock surfaced on his door.
Opening it, Liam found Samuel looking at him with a mixture of complicated emotions.
“Samuel, I wasn’t expecting you,” said Liam. Over time, he nurtured a friendship between the Royce family soldiers, hence the lack of respective terms exchanged.
It helped that he wasn’t a snobby brat like the rest of his siblings.
“I don’t mean to bother you during your practice, are you free now?” asked Samuel.
Liam nodded, attempting to invite the man into his room, but realized it reeked of sweat.
“No matter, I was finishing up anyway. Would you like to come inside?” he asked, hoping the man would say no.
Samuel raised his hand. “That’s fine, I just wanted to tell you about the upcoming tournament.”
A hint of a scowl grew on Liam’s face.
“…Yes?”
After a short, tense pause, Samuel spoke with a slight smile:
“You’ve been allowed to participate… but on one condition,” Samuel paused. “You enter as a peasant.”
Liam beamed, completely uncaring of Samuel’s second point.
‘Finally. Entering as a non-noble would probably garner some annoying attention, but a small price to pay.’
Seeing his reaction, the head guard heaved a sigh of relief. Truthfully, he liked Liam, which was why he personally delivered the news.
“I’ll be on my way, then. Good luck, lad.”
As soon as the head guard left, Liam visited his mother.
“I got permission,” Liam revealed, speaking to Eve in her living room. “I’ll be able to participate.”
Eve flashed a smile, but Liam could sense she was uncomfortable with that.
Most mothers were that way with fighting, but Eve had been used to it from a much younger age with her son.
Nonetheless, she put on a smiling face and congratulated him, before Liam had to go and prepare for his upcoming competition.
///
Throughout the next month, Liam had mastered the first and second forms for Purgatory Night, simultaneously honing his sea of consciousness to a sharp level.
‘Dark Rend’, the first form of his art, allowed the blade’s smoky coating to burst into dark flames. Liam could maintain that ferocious state for roughly five minutes before feeling depleted.
The second form, ‘Mordant Severer’, manipulated the coating of smoke to whir into a layer of sharpness, bolstering its lethality. Similarly to Lethality Mantle, it required a constant stream of ‘Ora’, but didn’t cost too much.
Although Liam tried, he couldn’t master the third form to his satisfaction. He did learn it, but its execution was a bit… difficult. For now, at least. .
A month passed, and the day of the tournament arrived.