Reawakening: I Can Absorb Infinite Skills - Chapter 110: Sharpening Strength

Chapter 110: Chapter 110: Sharpening Strength

The next few days fell into a steady rhythm. Mornings were for cultivation, afternoons for training, and evenings for quiet recovery.

With their breakthroughs into the Vein Bloom Realm, both Nyra and Rael carried a new sharpness in their auras.

The change wasn’t only about stronger cores or heavier strikes, but about the way their affinities began to manifest around them, almost like their elements were breathing through their skin.

During one session, the lord stood before them with his arms behind his back, his voice calm but firm.

“The Vein Bloom Realm isn’t just about raw power. Your affinity will now answer you more vividly. Nyra, ice won’t just freeze at your call, it will move as if it belongs to you. And wind, let it guide you, not scatter. Rael, your lightning and Ice won’t be limited to your strikes, it’ll become your rhythm. Learn to treat them as companions, not tools.”

He lifted a hand, summoning his own domain with ease. Ice mist spread outward, delicate frost trailing through the air, then curling back to him in a sphere before dispersing with a flick of his wrist.

“This is only a fraction. What matters isn’t how much you can force, but how much you can control.”

Nyra’s eyes glimmered as frost began to gather faintly around her palms, thin shards of ice forming and breaking apart with the brush of her breath. A breeze coiled around her shoulders as if eager to lift her higher. Rael steadied his breathing as sparks crawled up his arms, jumping between his fingers. Both were eager to test themselves, but the lord wasn’t done.

“You won’t learn this by watching. You’ll learn it by fighting.”

And so the sparring began.

The matches weren’t about winning or losing, but about exploring. The lord reminded them constantly to take risks, to test what they could make their affinity do rather than fall back on old habits.

Nyra was first, her wind surging too wide when she tried to bind it with her ice. The lord stepped in, cutting her attempt short with a sweep of cold air that froze her gust mid-motion.

“Too scattered. You’re wasting your core. Focus. Keep the wind close, let the ice sharpen it.”

She gritted her teeth, trying again, this time weaving the two more tightly. Ice spiraled within her wind, condensed and sharper, striking the floor with a crack that echoed through the hall. The lord nodded once.

“Better. Remember, ice without precision is only brittle frost, wind without control is noise. Together, they can cut.”

Rael’s turn brought a crackle of energy across the hall. Lightning sparked wildly when he tried to dash, his steps faster but less stable. Zephyra, surprisingly, took that match. She lunged at him, her movements fluid and low, the glow in her cerulean fur dim but fierce. Every time Rael pushed with speed, she intercepted, forcing him to anchor his energy instead of scattering it.

“Lightning isn’t only about speed,” the lord called from the side, watching closely. “It’s about timing. If you strike too soon or too late, it’s wasted. Match your pulse with your attack.”

Rael steadied himself, nodding as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Again.”

Zephyra bared her fangs in what might have been her way of agreeing, crouching low with her tail lashing. The second clash was cleaner. His movements carried more weight, less wild sparks, more directed bursts. He still lost, Zephyra knocking him onto his back with a growl, but the lord gave a faint smile.

“That’s how progress looks.”

Arden rarely joined their spars. Instead, he stood by, arms crossed, his expression sharp as he listened to the lord’s corrections. When the man explained something about channeling affinity through breathing or compressing energy, Arden’s gaze narrowed, storing every word.

During one break, Nyra teased him.

“You’re just going to stand there and watch forever?”

Arden smirked, shrugging. “Why would I jump in when I can let him scold you instead? Saves me the trouble.”

Rael chuckled quietly, while the lord shook his head, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “You learn more by observation than you admit. That’s not a bad thing. But don’t get too comfortable.”

The routine continued, day after day. Nyra’s control over wind and ice became sharper, Rael’s lightning and ice got steadier, and even Zephyra, though not chasing realms like the others, seemed to refine her movements.

She sparred often, her instincts forcing Rael and Nyra to adapt in ways the lord didn’t always need to explain. The beast’s way of fighting was direct, and that made her an invaluable partner.

The people of Greyhold had noticed. Whispers spread in the training hall and in the taverns.

They spoke of the lord training with outsiders, of his daughter shaping frost and wind around her, of Rael’s lightning splitting the air. Some saw it as favoritism, others as a sign of something greater brewing.

The lord ignored it all. To him, the time with them mattered more than appearances. He saw Nyra shaping her own path, clearer each day, her potential already brushing against the edge of a domain.

He saw Rael finding steadiness where before there had been only raw energy. And he saw Arden, always quiet, always learning, guiding his friends in ways subtle but sure.

There was mystery in Arden, one the lord hadn’t unraveled even with all his experience. The boy carried strength that didn’t come from the realms they knew, yet his intentions were clear. He wasn’t reckless, nor selfish. He led with patience, even if he didn’t always step to the front. For now, that was enough for the lord to trust him.

On the fourth day of training, the lord ended their spar with a raised hand. The hall quieted, their breaths heavy, sweat clinging to their skin.

“That will do for today. You’ve all grown, but growth isn’t a race. Let your cores settle.”

Nyra let frost dissolve from her fingers, exhaling. “Not bad for a few days.”

Rael rolled his eyes. “You nearly froze your own boots yesterday.”

“Details,” she said with a smirk.

Arden only shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Save your bickering for later. He hasn’t dismissed us yet.”

The lord’s expression softened as he looked at the three of them together.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on his daughter, then on Arden. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“You’ve waited long enough. Belric should have your weapons ready. Go and see what the artificer has prepared. If I know him, he’s poured everything into this work.”

At that, all three straightened, the exhaustion on their faces giving way to anticipation.

Even Zephyra pricked her ears, sensing the shift in mood.

The group left the hall together, the whispers of onlookers trailing behind them. The streets of Greyhold stretched ahead, lively and sunlit, but their minds were elsewhere. Each of them carried their own image of what Belric’s craft might look like, their imaginations feeding off the weight of expectation.

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