Capítulo 343: An Ice Flower IV
As the banquet began to wind down, Seraphina reached for Arthur's hand, her cool fingers entwining with his. Her eyes, usually so guarded, softened as she leaned in to whisper.
"Use your mana," she said quietly, her voice carrying a trace of nervous excitement. Arthur nodded, his mana unfurling like a protective cloak around them, concealing their departure from prying eyes. Together, they moved swiftly and silently through the halls of the Mount Hua sect's grand palace.
The door to Seraphina's room slid open with a faint hum, revealing a space as elegant and serene as its owner. The polished wooden floors gleamed in the dim light, and the faint scent of plum blossoms lingered in the air. Arthur stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a quiet finality.
Seraphina's heart raced, her normally calm demeanor now tinged with anticipation. This was a moment she had thought about, yet the reality of it brought a whirlwind of emotions. She turned toward Arthur, her ice-blue eyes meeting his with an intensity that spoke volumes.
Without a word, she closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, trembling slightly but steadying as she felt him respond.
"Give yourself to me, Arthur," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with conviction.
Arthur's gaze softened as he cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading through her silver hair. "Always," he replied simply, his lips meeting hers once more, this time with unrestrained fervor. Their bodies drew closer, their connection deepening in a moment that needed no further words.
The ice flower bloomed.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The early morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Arthur stirred, his gaze falling on Seraphina as she slept peacefully beside him. Her serene expression, free of the weight she so often carried, was a sight he found himself unwilling to disturb. Her silver hair spilled over the pillow like moonlight, and her breathing was soft and even.
Rising quietly, Arthur moved to the window, the events of the night still fresh in his mind but overshadowed by thoughts of what lay ahead. The road before him was fraught with challenges, each more daunting than the last.
The Tower of Alchemy, an ancient institution shrouded in mystery and rife with opportunity, loomed as the first major hurdle. Beyond that, the civil war brewing within the Slatemark Empire threatened to upend the delicate balance of power. And then, of course, there was Mount Hua itself—a sanctuary under siege both literally and figuratively as its legacy was tested against the growing shadows.
Arthur exhaled deeply, his hand gripping his phone, as if seeking solace in its familiar weight. These weren't just trials to survive; they were opportunities to shape the future, to ensure that the world he was building alongside the people he cared for would endure.
He glanced back at Seraphina, a small smile forming on his lips. She was one of the reasons he fought so fiercely, and he would face whatever came next with unrelenting determination.
The pieces were moving on the board, and Arthur intended to make every move count.
The first significant step Arthur planned to take was to strengthen Noctalis. However, achieving this required ascending to low Ascendant-rank and securing his 8-star license. His mind spun with strategies, but for now, he set his thoughts aside and turned to wake Seraphina.
She stirred slowly, her movements as graceful as a fairy emerging from slumber. Her ice-blue eyes blinked open, and she stretched her arms above her head before wincing, her serene expression twisting into one of mild irritation.
"...Beast," she muttered, her cheeks faintly flushed.
Arthur couldn't help but chuckle as she slid out of bed, gathering the sheets around herself in an almost theatrical attempt at modesty as she walked toward the bathroom.
"Do you really need to cover yourself?" he teased, his grin widening.
Seraphina paused in the doorway, her lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. "You'll want me more if I don't."
With that, she disappeared into the bathroom, though Arthur noticed her movements were slightly stiffer than usual. Still, she bore it better than Rachel or Cecilia—likely due to her rigorous training as a swordsman, which had honed her body to withstand far greater strains.
Arthur turned on his phone, his eyebrows shooting up as he saw the time. 'Three in the afternoon.' He let out a low whistle before setting the device aside. They'd lost all sense of time, it seemed.
After both of them had dressed and cleaned up, it was time for a belated lunch with none other than Mo Zenith, the Celestial Dragon of Mount Hua Sect.
Unlike Li or Seraphina, Mo's swordsmanship leaned heavily on tradition. His style wove together wind, water, and earth mana into plum blossoms of breathtaking beauty and devastating precision. Arthur couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous anticipation at meeting the formidable figure again.
The dining hall was an elegant blend of modern simplicity and timeless grandeur, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of plum blossoms. At the far end of the room, Mo sat at the head of the table, his silver hair catching the light like molten starlight. Beside him was Li, his ever-cheerful demeanor lighting up the room.
Li's face brightened further as he saw Arthur and Seraphina enter. "Well, there they are," he said warmly, gesturing for them to join. "I trust you two had a... restful morning?"
Arthur caught the knowing gleam in Li's eye and cleared his throat, doing his best to maintain composure. Seraphina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes and took the seat next to her uncle, her expression returning to its usual cool calm.
Mo's sharp gaze flicked briefly between Arthur and Seraphina before settling on Arthur. His expression was inscrutable, but his presence was as commanding as ever.
"Let's eat," Mo said, his tone as brisk and direct as his swordsmanship.
Arthur nodded, slipping into his seat beside Seraphina. Despite the Celestial Dragon's imposing aura, there was a faint trace of warmth in his voice—just enough to hint at the pride and affection he kept tightly guarded. It was, after all, his daughter's coming-of-age day, and even the sharpest blade softened at the sight of blooming plum blossoms.
"You have found yourself a good man, Seraphina," Mo Zenith said, his voice as calm and unyielding as a mountain's shadow at dusk. His eyes, cold as the northern winds yet glinting with a reluctant approval, rested on Arthur Nightingale. The young man stood steady beneath that gaze, an iron-clad serenity etched into his posture.
Mo Zenith was not a man to dispense praise lightly. His heart, though fiercely devoted to his daughter, was tempered by the weight of his station and the wisdom of countless battles fought, both on the battlefield and in the halls of power. Yet here stood Arthur Nightingale, a paradox of youthful vigor and ancient strength, an heir to greatness who bore its weight as if born to the burden.
And Mo found he could not fault him. Not truly. Not for his talent, nor his demeanor. There was, however, one thing that soured his disposition—a flaw not of Arthur's making, but one carved into the older man's heart by years of disdain. Arthur was the disciple of him. Magnus Draykar.
Mo's jaw tightened imperceptibly, and his thoughts strayed to the past, where his clashes with Draykar had burned as fiercely as the sun upon a desert plain. It was a rivalry forged in the fires of ambition, pride, and principles too unyielding to bend. Yet, to let that enmity tarnish his perception of Arthur would be petty, even for him.
Arthur Nightingale was, after all, a luminary in his own right—a flame so brilliant it threatened to overshadow even the Zenith name.
'The Sovereign of Mythos Academy,' Mo mused silently, the title heavy with its own significance. This was no ordinary accolade, for it had been earned in the academy's brightest year—a year of prodigies and paragons, of contenders who would one day shape the course of history. And yet, Arthur stood above them all.
They called him the future Paragon of humanity. A title bestowed lightly by none, but it was not the title that gave Mo pause. It was the epithet whispered in hushed tones across the empire: Zenith Blade. A name meant for the one destined to scale the Wall and claim the mantle of Ascendant-rank.
Mo studied Arthur again, his gaze narrowing. How could he not wonder? How could anyone not wonder? What manner of man could best Nolan Wright, the Vice-Captain of the Second Division of the Imperial Knights—a peak Ascendant-rank warrior, no less? The feat was no secret. It had spread like wildfire, igniting awe and speculation in equal measure.
'He is a talent that burns brighter than even the Sun,' Mo thought, his inner voice tinged with both awe and wariness. Sun Zenith, Mo's adopted son and the most luminous name in his family's history, had achieved Ascendant-rank at the youngest age ever recorded. To surpass him would be unthinkable.
And yet, Arthur Nightingale seemed poised to do just that. If the boy continued at his current pace, he would eclipse even Sun by half a year.
But raw power was not what unnerved Mo. It was Arthur's relative strength, his presence. Talent without discipline was but a wildfire—dangerous and unsustainable. But Arthur was a storm, deliberate in its path, inexorable in its force.
"How strong will you be when you scale the Wall, Arthur Nightingale?" Mo murmured under his breath, a question meant for the wind, not for ears.
Arthur would reach it. Of that, Mo had no doubt. But what lay beyond for a man who could already defeat the most hardened warriors of this world? That was the question that whispered through Mo's thoughts like an unseen specter, both thrilling and foreboding.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder