Odyssey of the Renegade Sovereign
Chapter 30: Unexpected Guest

Chapter 30: Unexpected Guest

The sounds of wooden swords clashing rang out sharply across the sunlit training grounds. Each strike echoed like a drumbeat. Fast and precise. Astrael’s body twisted and flowed, his muscles responding to every strike of Avalon. His feet shifted over the cluster of dirt in smooth arcs, digging, weaving and countering with efficient movements. Every movement was calculated and strategic. Sweat clung to his brow, but his eyes burned with focus.

It had been a few days since his return from the dungeon, and learned the truth about the sword in his soul.

ENDER. Now, Elyndra.

He named her after much deliberation.

"You named me Elyndra," she said suddenly in his mind.

"Yeah. Calling you ’ENDER’ felt too generic."

"Hmph. I don’t mind Elyndra. It sounds... good."She paused.

...

He wasn’t sure what scared him more. The sheer weight of what she was, or the fact that she seemed to enjoy watching him struggle.

Avalon’s blade came from the left, fast and sharp.

Astrael ducked low, the wooden sword in his hand sweeping up to parry the blow. But with a loud crack, Avalon counterstruck by spinning to redirect the force before lunging with a forward thrust.

Astrael grunted before falling down.

"Your footwork’s improving," the older man said.

"But you’re still too reactive. Start leading."

"Trying," Astrael grunted through clenched teeth.

With determination, Astrael gritted his teeth, he retrieved the fallen wooden sword and readied himself. With a fierce light reignited in his eyes as he charged forward, ready to face the attack.

Each strike from Atticus was sharp and deliberate, every counter smooth and instinctive; he wasn’t just fighting, he was applying everything he’d learned. The lessons weren’t just remembered; they were part of him now. His mind moved quickly, guided by instinct and a sharp intelligence that made every move count.

He had so many questions to ask Elyndra.

The first few days after the awakening had been filled with long internal conversations with Elyndra. He had bombarded her with inquiries: Legendary sword techniques? Forbidden arts? Time-warping slashes? Multiverse cleaving combos?

And what did she say?

...

"Pfft."

Her laughter echoed in his mind.

"Why would I waste time memorizing techniques?" she had said, lounging in the spiritual space with an invisible glass of juice. "Everything I faced, I cut down. Techniques are what the weak use to imitate sharpness."

"You lived through the Primordial Age!" Astrael had snapped.

"You didn’t learn anything?"

"I didn’t need to."

She twirled a strand of her spectral hair.

"When you’re as sharp as me, everything in front of you becomes pieces."

"...You’re the worst cheat item ever."

"You’re the worst host I’ve ever had, so we’re even."

"...You’ve only had one host."

"Exactly."

...

Back in the real world, Astrael gritted his teeth and brought his sword up again to block a sudden overhand strike from Avalon.

The blow slammed down like a hammer, forcing him to his knees for a split second before he twisted, rolled to the side, and came up with a backhand swing aimed at Avalon’s ribs.

It missed.

Then a blow to the back of his body, met with a devastating blow, sprawling him onto the ground.

CRACK!

The training blade slammed into Astrael’s back with brutal precision

The impact was enough to make Astrel drop his weapon, his hand instinctively reaching to cradle the spot of impact. His back throbbed, and he winced in response. ’Fuck, that hurt!’ Astrael gasped.

He was no stranger to pain. He had felt it in the dungeon—on the edge of death, bleeding and broken. But this pain? It was different.

And in his mind, a ripple across the spiritual bond.

"Tsk."

Elyndra’s voice slid into his thoughts like silk over steel.

"You let go. Weak."

Astrael grimaced, still hunched.

"Not everyone can tank divine strikes without flinching, Your Majesty."

"Pain is just a reminder you’re not sharp enough yet." Her tone turned sharper.

"Do you plan on collapsing every time someone hits you from behind?"

He straightened slowly, wincing.

"I wasn’t ready."

"There’s no such thing."

...

After nearly two hours of getting beaten into the dirt by Avalon and his own mounting frustration, Astrael decided he had earned something rare and sacred

A proper bath.

Astrael lowered himself slowly into the tub, the warm water swallowing his limbs inch by inch until it reached his chest.

"Now this..." he muttered, leaning back with a sigh, "this is what we call relaxing."

He spread his arms along the edges, head tilted back, eyes closing as the steam curled around his face.

For a brief moment, the world was quiet. Just warmth and peace.

His muscles finally loosened. The soreness of his body began to subside.

Until-

"Hoooh~ your body looks better than expected for a twig."

Astrael flinched so hard he splashed water up his nose.

He sat up instantly, coughing.

"Elyndra!?"

"What?" her voice echoed, smug and musical. "You bathe, I observe. Consider it part of our bond."

"There was no clause about bathing observation!"

"Maybe read the fine print next time, mortal."

Steam was rising from the bath, so smoke was from Astrael’s head. Literally.

His cheeks had turned crimson, like a tomato.

"You—You—!" he spluttered, pointing toward nothing in particular.

But Elyndra’s voice danced in his mind, too amused to care.

"Flustered already? How are you supposed to survive the unforgiving world if a girl rattles your nerves?"

"You’re not even—!! Just—get out of my soul space or whatever this is!"

"I am your soul space, darling."

He sank lower into the water, submerging everything but his face. His hands covered his eyes. "I swear to every god in this realm, I will find a way to mute you."

"Ooh~ try. Please. It might even be cute watching you fail again."

KNOCK! KNOCK!

A sudden knock jolted Astrael halfway out of the tub.

He scrambled upright, slipping once and cursing under his breath before steadying himself.

"Y-Yes?!"

A polite voice called through the door.

"Young Lord, the Baron wishes to see you."

Astrael blinked, still wiping water from his face.

"Father? Did he say... why?"

"No, Young Lord," the maid replied calmly. "But there is a guest with him."

A guest? His brows furrowed.

"Understood," he called back. "Tell him I’ll be there shortly."

The footsteps receded.

Astrael slowly stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel.