The Demon General

Phoenix cry

The sun hung high in the sky as Damien, Mia, and the young miss, Ella, frolicked around the estate.

They played a rousing game of hide and seek, and poor Mia was always the first one Damien found.

It was almost like she had a giant "HERE I AM!" sign taped to her back.

Meanwhile, Ella always managed to find the perfect hiding spot, places where not even the most imaginative mind would think to look. If there was a championship for hide and seek, Ella would surely take home the gold.

After playing for a while, Ella’s mischievous smile turned sly. “Let’s have a sword fight!” she declared, picking up a sturdy tree branch and handing another to Damien. Mia sighed, knowing what was coming.

Despite being a mere tree branch duel, Ella always won with ease, thanks to her being a martial artist of body refinement level 4.

She moved with the precision and strength of a seasoned warrior, which left Damien no chance of victory.

But over time, Ella began to notice that her victories were taking longer to achieve. What once took her only half a minute now stretched to a full minute.

“Wow, Damien, I can’t believe defeating you in under one minute isn’t possible anymore. How did you get better so quick?” she asked, curiosity and admiration mingling in her voice.

“Well, it’s all thanks to Milady, Little Miss for her teachings and going easy on me,” Damien replied, bowing theatrically.

“So, I’m a great teacher?” Ella asked, her eyes sparkling with pride.

“Yes, you are, Little Miss.”

“From now on, anytime we are training, you will call me teacher. Understand?” she demanded, trying to look stern but failing to hide her excitement.

“Yes, teacher,” Damien replied playfully, a wide grin on his face.

“That’s good. Let’s go back now, Mia,” Ella said, her face turning a lovely shade of red as she ran off, leaving a flustered Mia chasing after her.

“Oh my little... Little Miss, can you stop running? Are you sure you’re okay? Why is your face red? Are you breathing properly? Stop and rest a bit, Milady!” Mia panicked as she scurried after Ella, her voice a mixture of worry and exasperation.

‘This little lass is quite funny and cute,’ Damien thought, chuckling to himself as he returned to his tasks for the estate.

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, a grand banner draped down from above, showcasing a beautiful red fiery phoenix—the Krane’s crest, bestowed upon the first generation, the ‘Great General’ Mikael Krane, by his royal majesty Leonardo Granchis, first of his name. The royal family had chosen a dragon as their crest, symbolizing power and strength.

Baron Ichabud was sparring with his most trusted knight, Levi Lincoln. The Lincoln family had served the Krane family as loyal vassals for generations. As a baron, Ichabud was entitled to have five knights and twenty-five squires but he only have a single knight with only 10 squires.

all of whom were practicing the Krane’s family technique but not the secret techniques—a closely guarded art known only to the direct descendants of the Krane and their loyal vassals, the Lincolns.

Unlike most noble houses, where only the direct successor studied their respective houses' secret techniques, the decline of the Krane noble family meant their secret technique was taught to the head knight of each Lincoln descendant.

The sound of sword clashes echoed through the training grounds, filling the air with an electrifying energy.

"Are you ready, Sir Levi?" Baron Ichabud asked, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

"Always, my lord," Sir Levi replied with a respectful nod. He drew his sword, its polished blade gleaming in the early afternoon light.

The two men circled each other, their eyes locked in a silent understanding. This was not just a routine training session; it was a test of skill, strategy, and endurance.

Baron Ichabud made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful strike aimed at Levi’s shoulder. Levi parried the attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise.

The clash of their swords echoed through the training grounds, a sharp reminder of the deadly dance they were engaged in.

"Good, Levi. Your reflexes are as sharp as ever," Ichabud praised, stepping back to reassess his approach.

"Thank you, my lord. But I won’t go easy on you," Levi responded, a playful grin on his face.

With a swift spin, Levi launched a series of quick strikes, each one aimed at a vulnerable spot in Ichabud's defense. Ichabud met each blow with calculated precision, his years of experience evident in every move.

The two men moved with a rhythm that spoke of countless hours spent training together, each anticipating the other's next move.

The pace of the duel increased, their swords moving faster than the eye could follow. Sweat began to bead on their foreheads, but neither showed any sign of slowing down.

Ichabud's strikes were powerful and deliberate, while Levi’s were swift and agile.

"You're getting faster, Levi," Ichabud remarked between strikes, his breathing steady despite the exertion.

"And you're as strong as ever, my lord," Levi replied, ducking under a powerful swing and countering with a quick jab to Ichabud's side.

The impact of the blow forced Ichabud to take a step back, a grin spreading across his face. "Impressive. But let's see how you handle this," he said, launching into a series of complex maneuvers that tested Levi’s agility and defense.

Levi met the challenge head-on, his sword moving in a blur as he deflected each attack. The intensity of the duel reached its peak, both men pushing their limits in a display of skill and determination.

"Let's see how you handle my secret technique, Phoenix Cry!" Ichabud declared, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He shifted his stance and began to move in a way that seemed almost supernatural.

His sword strikes became faster and more unpredictable, as if he was harnessing some hidden power.

Levi’s eyes widened in surprise but quickly narrowed in focus. He had seen glimpses of this technique before but never experienced it in full force. He knew he had to dig deep and call upon his own secret technique to stand a chance. He shouted, "Raging Horse Strike!"

With a deep breath, Levi steadied himself and initiated his own hidden skill. His movements became almost dance-like, his sword flowing with a grace and precision that seemed otherworldly.

The air around him seemed to shimmer as he deflected Ichabud's strikes with ease and countered with swift, precise blows.

The two men were now locked in a battle of hidden arts, their swords moving with a speed and fluidity that left the onlookers in awe. Each strike was met with a perfect counter, each parry with a seamless riposte.

The clash of their swords created a symphony of steel, the sound ringing out across the training grounds.

The intensity of the duel reached its peak, the sheer force of their secret techniques pushing both men to their limits.

With a final, powerful strike, Ichabud knocked Levi’s sword from his hand, the blade clattering to the ground. Levi dropped to one knee, his chest heaving with exertion.

"You fought well, Sir Levi," Ichabud said, extending a hand to help his knight to his feet.

"Thank you, my lord. It is an honor to train with you," Levi replied, accepting the Baron's hand and rising to his feet.