As Ethan fell down after being slammed by the Orc King brute force,he felt drowsiness clouding his mind.

He gritted his teeth trying to stand and reached for the potion but just as he stood on his feet,his wounds opened up and spurting blood,he fell down on the ground with a thud.

BANG!

COUGHH!

He coughed blood but despite that he gritted his teeth.

"I can't lose..I cannot.."

However his sight became hazy and his eyelids lowered down.

That's when he remembered a memory.

He didn't waste his time in Valor looking out for business..Being under an expert,Ethan heart yearned for guidance.

Such a precious opportunity,how can he waste it.

If he can get some insight,it might change his life so he asked Duke for help who was kind enough to extend a helping hand.

In fact,the Duke himself was itching to see Ethan talents..Such a young figure,he really wanted to mentor it.

And so he asked Ethan to fight him.

…..

The clash of steel rang across the training yard.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Ethan gritted his teeth and roared. "AHHHH!"

His greatsword swung again and again, each strike filled with all his strength. He tried to force Duke Philip back, or at least make him give ground.

But no matter how much power he poured into his swings, the man before him deflected them as if they were nothing.

Duke Philip did not even meet Ethan's strength with force. Sometimes, he only tapped the blade lightly with his own sword, and Ethan's heavy greatsword bounced away with shocking recoil.

The strikes sent jolts down Ethan's arms and forced him back step after step.

Ethan's breathing grew ragged. His hands shook. His arms felt heavy, as though iron chains dragged them down. At last, he lowered his greatsword.

Sweat rolled down his face, dripping onto the ground. He looked straight at the Duke with a bitter smile.

"It's too much difference," he thought.

He wiped his forehead and spoke, his voice unsteady. "Your Grace, how was my swordsmanship? Can it even be called swordsmanship? I know I lacked a bit."

His words hung awkwardly in the air. He looked uneasy, like a man baring his weakness.

Duke Philip lowered his sword and studied him with calm eyes. His tone was thoughtful and heavy. "It's good. In a way, your swings can be said to be quite perfect, almost textbook. However…"

Ethan's heart skipped. His face stiffened. "However?" he asked, his voice sharp with worry.

The Duke stepped closer. He pointed his finger at Ethan's chest with firm eyes. "However, it lacks the main thing a swordsmanship should have."

Ethan swallowed hard. "What is it?" he asked quickly, his voice carrying eagerness and a touch of desperation.

"The heart," Philip said. "The essence. The intent behind it."

"Intent," Ethan repeated softly. His lips trembled. His thoughts turned inward.

"I use my sword to protect my family," he said quietly. His voice carried a deep weight. These were not words he had thought of on the spot.

He had asked himself this question many times before. He had answered it in his heart again and again.

He did not want to lose his wife and his children. He wanted to protect them. He wanted to protect his people and his estate. As a lord, he wanted to stand like an umbrella that shielded them from every storm.

Philip's stern face softened into a faint smile. "You have an answer," he said. "But you have not poured it into your swordsmanship. It is not the lips that should answer. It should be your blade."

His voice deepened. "That answer must condense into intent, into form, into aura. That is the next stage."

Ethan's eyes widened. "Aura…" he whispered. The word was familiar. He had heard it before, but he had never understood what it truly meant.

"Is aura another manifestation of mana?" he asked carefully.

Philip shook his head. "No. No." He lifted his sword again, his expression grave. "Here. Watch."

He gripped his sword with both hands, and

Ethan saw mana flow across his arms. The blade glowed faintly as Philip swung it down.

The strike hit the ground.

BOOM! The earth split, a crater forming beneath the impact.

"You see," Philip said. "Mana is an enhancement. It increases your brute force. But aura…"

He raised his sword again. This time, a faint bluish light wrapped around the blade.

It was not loud or wild, rather it was sharp and calm.

Ethan's eyes grew wide.

Philip swung his blade.

SWISH!

The sound was light as Duke Philip's sword just tapped on the ground.Nothing seemed to happen.

But a heartbeat later…

BANG!

The ground split apart. A deep scar tore across the stone floor.

Philip turned to Ethan, his voice firm. "Did you see it? Your intent forms the aura. Everyone's aura is different. Some are silent. Some are madness and destruction. All of it comes from their deepest desire."

Ethan's chest tightened as his mind repeated those words.

"That is what separates a normal swordsman from a master," Philip said.

His voice was heavy and commanding. "You may think reaching the Advanced Knight Stage is great. But without aura, your path will be blocked. From here on, you must also cultivate your mind."

Ethan nodded slowly, absorbing every word. His eyes glowed faintly with a mix of doubt and determination. "Then… how do I awaken it?" he asked.

Philip let out a sigh, as if carrying the weight of many years. "That is a very difficult question. Some who are born with talent awaken aura easily. Others grind for their entire lives and may see only a faint vision. Many never awaken it at all."

He looked at Ethan with sharp eyes. "All I can say is this. Think about the feeling. The reason you fight. Every time you swing, ask yourself why you even picked up the sword. Why are you a warrior? Nurture your mind."

"Aura is not something you create. It is already inside you. It responds when you call. You must reach it by reflecting your deepest desire."

Ethan lowered his eyes and whispered. "True desire…" His voice was low, thoughtful. For a moment, he stood in silence, sinking into deep realization.

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