Izikel's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You healed me?" he asked, his voice laced with astonishment. "How?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how ridiculous the question was. Lyzah was a Druid. Of course, she could heal. But even still, wasn't she a little too young to have awakened her soul energy and perform miracles?
Before Lyzah could respond, Sophia and Dremlin arrived in a hurry.
"Master Izikel, are you okay?" Dremlin asked, concern evident in his expression.
Even Sophia, usually composed, fidgeted nervously behind him.
"There's no need to worry," Lyzah said confidently. "He was just exhausted. I've already restored his stamina and reduced his pain."
Izikel, now fully grasping the reality of what had just happened, struggled to keep his jaw from dropping.
"You're telling me she can heal people now?! And don't tell me you knew about this!" he demanded, looking at Sophia.
Sophia hesitated before answering. "I only found out recently when she joined my battalion as a support healer."
Lyzah smirked, puffing out her chest with pride. "I was going to tell you about my amazing power, but I didn't want you to feel too talentless under my burning brilliance."
Izikel groaned internally. 'Why is she so boastful?'
Still, he couldn't deny it—Lyzah was a prodigy. To be able to heal meant she had already awakened her soul energy and entered the second stage of Divinity. That was an astonishing achievement.
According to what he knew, the first stage of Divinity was called Grace. Most Divine Believers spent their entire lives in that stage. Over ninety percent of the military consisted of saints who had never progressed beyond it. In this stage, a Divine Believer was little more than a devoted follower, gradually strengthening their faith by passing three trials. However, they could not perform miracles.
This only applied to Saints and Legacy Anchors. Normal Anchors, on the other hand, would immediately awaken their soul energy upon igniting their Altar and enter the second stage—just as he had.
Legacy Anchors were different. They were anointed to inherit an already ignited Altar, the only circumstance where two Anchors could be linked to the same Altar. Lyzah fell into this category, meaning she should have had to pass all three trials before reaching the second stage.
Yet, despite her young age, she had done it. That kind of talent was the stuff of legends—people like her often grew to be immensely powerful.
A small smile crept onto Izikel's face as a realization struck him. He was the same. If Lyzah's rapid progression meant she would be powerful, then by that logic, so would he.
'But first, I have to overcome my first trial before getting ahead of myself,' he thought. 'I wonder if I can ask Lyzah about hers…'
But the thought of asking her didn't sit right with him. Knowing her, she'd probably mock him before giving him anything useful.
'I can't believe I'm getting bullied by a little girl,' he lamented, sighing.
He hadn't felt this way since high school. He found himself praying for just one victory—one moment where he could turn the tables and rub it in her face. Then he remembered he was a grown man and not a child.
Around her he usually found himself acting as if he had truly become a child again.
—
"Now that your stamina is fully restored, we can begin your sword training," Dremlin announced.
He took his stance, positioning his sword downward in a poised, almost effortless manner. His grey hair, neatly tied in a ponytail, swayed gently in the breeze. There was a grace to his pose, like a seasoned warrior or a mysterious fighting butler.
But Izikel wasn't paying attention to Dremlin.
His gaze had wandered to Sophia, who was effortlessly swinging her spear. Each strike sent powerful gusts of wind whipping through the air. Her movements were fluid and precise, each swing accentuating the strength of her form—especially without her armor.
"Master Izikel, please pay attention," Dremlin called out, snapping him back to reality.
"Ah—right, sorry," Izikel muttered, scratching his head awkwardly.
Then a thought struck him. "Wait, why are you the one training me? I thought Sophia was going to do it… unless… you're actually stronger than her?"
"That must be it! Why didn't I think of this earlier?"
His eyes widened, 'how could I have forgotten that Dremlin wasn't a human but a dark creature from the space in-between worlds. That means he should be extremely powerful and he could protect me from any danger, including the Legion commander.
Dremlin chuckled, shaking his head. "Master Izikel, the Dark creatures that make it out of the space in-between worlds are not normally strong. It is incredibly difficult for a great abomination to manifest in existence. The ones that do escape are hardly monstrous."
Izikel blinked. "Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Normally, our true forms are terrifying enough to petrify humans, but mine… is hardly intimidating."
"Then how did you kill those saints?" Izikel asked, puzzled.
Dremlin smirked. "I'm not completely defenseless. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But I doubt those skills would work against a Blessed Saint who has already reached the second stage of Divinity."
Izikel felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He had hoped that Dremlin would be a powerful ally in his survival against the Argenthex. But from the sound of it, he wasn't going to be much help.
"Wait… if you're not that strong, then why are you the one teaching me swordsmanship instead of Sophia?"
Dremlin's smirk deepened. "Because we decided it would be best if you learned the Strike Pattern your grandfather taught your father—the very same technique the great prophet, master Azrael Vau-Leotard, wielded in battle."