Heart of Yggdrasil, Elf Kingdom

Summer had settled over the elf continent. In this isolated enclave, far from the Academy and the noises of war, time had lost its linearity. Two years had passed since Jasper had started his training. .

He stood at the center of a cleared area, a clearing where the short grass bent under a breeze laden with pollen. He was shirtless, letting his skin of an alabaster pallor be exposed to the sun filtering through the giant canopy. His body had changed radically: his muscles were now sculpted. His white hair, once mid-length, now fell along his back.

Facing him, the Patriarch of the Luna clan, his uncle, observed him.

"You have changed a lot," noted the Patriarch, his narrowed eyes analyzing the density of Jasper’s mana which, in two years, had reached heights few elves of his age could hope for.

"It’s thanks to grandmother," replied Jasper in a monotone voice, turning his head slightly toward Norah.

She was seated under a tree, a few meters away, quietly drinking her tea.

"By the way old skin, why did you call me?" asked the Patriarch, turning a displeased look toward her.

Norah delicately set down her cup, a smile stretching her lips. "Isn’t it obvious? Today marks the end of his training. What is better than a little fight?"

The Patriarch grunted, scratching the back of his head with an annoyed gesture. "You could do it yourself..." he murmured, although he knew perfectly well that his own warrior-mage level was the only one capable of truly testing Jasper’s new limits.

"Since this is your final fight, you can fight with the intention to kill," added Norah in a voice that did not tremble. "You can begin."

The atmosphere changed instantly. The summer breeze seemed to freeze. The atmospheric pressure increased, saturated by the sudden deployment of two auras. They stared at each other for a long silence, the Patriarch and Jasper, each sizing up the other.

"I would never have believed that you could master those eyes one day," spoke the Patriarch, his voice filled with sincere admiration. "You impress me."

"Without your help, I would never have been able to get here," replied Jasper by anchoring his feet in the fertile soil.

"Well..."

The Patriarch nodded before suddenly tilting his body to the side. In a leap, he covered the distance separating them. In an instant, he was on Jasper. His palm, charged with pure mana, shot straight toward his face. Jasper did not use his hands; with a simple pivot on his right heel, he shifted his torso, letting the blow whistle a few millimeters from his ear.

Taking advantage of his momentum, Jasper in turn threw a palm strike aimed at the Patriarch’s chin. The latter reacted with disconcerting fluidity, parrying Jasper’s arm with his right forearm to deflect the trajectory. Simultaneously, he launched a sharp punch aimed at Jasper’s solar plexus. Jasper blocked the impact with his free palm. The clash between their two auras caused a deflagration of compressed air that made the grass of the clearing ripple in concentric circles.

They stared at each other for a brief instant, hands locked, before separating with a synchronous leap to regain distance. This time, Jasper did not let him dictate the rhythm. He rushed forward, initiating the assault with a quick circular kick. The Patriarch blocked it with his arm, but Jasper immediately followed up by spinning on himself to deliver a heel reversal. The Patriarch dodged by suddenly crouching, attempting to sweep Jasper’s legs with a circular movement on the ground. Jasper jumped, executing a backflip to avoid contact and land in precarious balance.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, the Patriarch was already on him, taking advantage of his landing to deliver a violent knee strike to the face. By reflex, Jasper tilted his head, feeling the wind of the blow cleave the air next to his temple.

The fight gained in intensity. Each exchange of blows became wilder, more destructive. The ground of the clearing was now plowed with deep grooves. Sweat beaded on Jasper’s torso, shining under the summer light as his muscles began to protest under fatigue. The Patriarch was no longer testing him; he was really trying to pierce his guard with brutality.

Suddenly Jasper brought his hand to his face. His fingers closed on the black fabric of his headband. In a slow and deliberate gesture, he lowered it.

The explosion of mana was immediate and terrifying.

His eyelids opened onto his irises, whose pupils reflected the light like polished glass, seeming to absorb all the surrounding energy. The world, until then muffled, became a symphony of colors and flows. Jasper saw everything: the circulation of mana in the Patriarch’s veins, the micro-vibrations of the air, and even his opponent’s intentions before they became movements.

No more drop of blood flowed from his eye, a sign of the sensory overload. The Patriarch froze for a moment, petrified by the sight of Jasper’s fully awakened eyes.

"So this is it... your true power," he murmured, his aura redoubling in intensity to compensate for the pressure Jasper now exerted.

The fight resumed, but on a totally different scale. Jasper no longer simply dodged; he intercepted. When the Patriarch tried to strike him, Jasper saw the flow of his mana concentrate in his shoulder long before his arm moved. He deflected the Patriarch’s fist with a precise flick on his wrist and delivered an elbow strike to the ribs that sent him back several meters.

Jasper did not use a bow, but his hands had become vectors of concentrated mana. Each movement of his arms left energy remnants in the air, creating a network of invisible traps around the Patriarch. The latter released a mana shockwave to dissipate the energy threads, but Jasper was already behind him.

His speed, boosted by the absolute perception of his Moon Eyes, now exceeded the Patriarch’s reaction capabilities. The fight became a blur of surgical strikes and devastating counterattacks. The clearing was now nothing but a field of smoking ruins.