An Unordinary Extra

Li stood in silence, his gaze flickering between Arthur's still form and the faint scar where the boy's strike had landed—a wound that, while superficial, had marred his body before rapidly vanishing under the regenerative power of his Immortal rank. 

It shouldn't have been possible.

Arthur was a low Ascendant-ranker, an entire rank and two tiers beneath him. The disparity between their levels was a chasm so vast it bordered on the absurd. And yet, despite the gap, the boy had managed to draw blood.

Li's fingers brushed the spot, the faint memory of pain a ghost against his skin. The clash hadn't even been at his full strength. He had held back—of course, he had held back. No arts, no Gift, no Domain, nothing beyond the raw presence of his rank and the tempered edge of his blade. To do more would have been excessive, unfair even. And still…

He exhaled, his breath slow and deliberate, as though to steady the thoughts swirling in his mind.

It wasn't envy. No, envy was too small, too brittle an emotion to encompass what he felt. 

This was something deeper. Pure, unfiltered awe.

Li had seen prodigies before. But none had been like this. None had been Arthur.

The boy's progress defied logic, a surge of power that seemed to laugh in the face of natural order. It wasn't just talent—it was hunger, raw and insatiable, a drive that pushed him to grow at a rate no one could have anticipated. Li had seen it in the way Arthur moved, the precision of his strikes, the focus in his eyes. Every action was deliberate, every decision a calculated step toward something greater.

"Monster," Li murmured, echoing the word he had spoken earlier. It wasn't an insult, not when spoken like this. It was an acknowledgment, a recognition of the force Arthur was becoming.

He turned away, his sword sliding back into its scabbard with a faint click. The training ground was quiet now, the echoes of their clash lingering in the air like the fading notes of a symphony.

Arthur lay still, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement. He would recover, Li knew that much. The boy's resilience was as much a part of him as his relentless ambition.

And yet, as Li walked around, a faint smile played on his lips—a rare expression for a man so accustomed to the weight of his own strength.

"Perhaps," he mused aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper, "this generation truly will reach heights we never dared dream of."

Because if Arthur Nightingale was any indication, the future wasn't just bright—it was blinding.

At the same time, Li couldn't entirely suppress a flicker of concern—a shadow that drifted into his thoughts unbidden, like the whisper of a breeze in a still room.

Seraphina.

He sighed inwardly, his mind turning to his niece. Seraphina was, by all measures, an extraordinary talent. Her swordsmanship was the pride of the Mount Hua sect, her potential blazing brighter than the dawn. But Arthur Nightingale wasn't merely extraordinary; he was something else entirely. A storm. A force of nature. A phenomenon.

And in that, Li saw the problem.

"It's good he's so strong," Li murmured to himself, his words nearly swallowed by the empty training grounds. "But… Sera, how will you keep pace?"

He wasn't doubting her ability—never that. Seraphina's growth was astounding in its own right. But when compared to the meteoric rise of Arthur, even the exceptional could seem ordinary. The gap between them wasn't just one of talent; it was a chasm carved by relentless hunger and an arsenal of abilities that bordered on absurd.

Li paused in his pacing, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Arthur's greatest strength was also his greatest challenge. He had too much. Too many gifts, too many techniques, too many tools. The boy's potential was staggering, yes, but it was also unwieldy, a juggernaut still learning to move with precision.

"It'll come," Li muttered, nodding to himself as though to affirm the thought. "When he reaches mid Ascendant-rank, it should all fall into place."

At that stage, Arthur would no longer be constrained by the limitations of his rank. His abilities would harmonise, his movements flowing like a symphony finally played in tune. Right now, Li could see the gaps in his refinement—the slight hesitations, the overcorrections, the moments when Arthur's body and mind weren't quite aligned with the sheer volume of power he commanded.

But that would change. Time and experience would smooth those rough edges. And when they did…

Li exhaled sharply, a mixture of awe and trepidation flashing in his eyes. When they did, Arthur wouldn't just be a phenomenon. He would be unstoppable.

Still, his thoughts circled back to Seraphina. She had pride, that much was certain, but she also had a quiet strength, a determination that burned steadily rather than explosively. It was the kind of strength that could carry her far, perhaps even far enough to one day stand beside Arthur as an equal. Yet the journey to that point would not be easy, and Li couldn't help but wonder if the disparity between them would weigh on her.

"She'll find her way," Li said aloud, the words more for himself than anyone else. Seraphina wasn't one to crumble under pressure. If anything, she thrived in it, her resolve hardening like tempered steel with every challenge she faced.

Even so, he couldn't entirely banish his worry. The path she was walking wasn't just steep—it was treacherous. And Arthur's shadow, vast and ever-growing, would only make it harder to navigate.

Li turned back to where Arthur still lay, recovering from their clash. The boy's chest rose and fell steadily, the faint glow of vitality radiating from him even in repose. 

"Refinement," Li repeated softly. "That's all he needs."

And Seraphina? She needed only to believe in herself as fiercely as Arthur believed in her. Because if there was one thing Li knew, it was this: the greatest heights were never reached alone.

"How should I help him?" Li muttered to himself, pacing slowly around the training ground. His sword, still humming faintly with the remnants of astral energy, felt heavy in his hand as if sharing his burden.

He had already provided Arthur with the Spectral Sword, a Grade 4 art. That boy, to Li's astonishment, had devoured it—not just learned it but absorbed it into his very essence, weaving it into his Sword Heart until it was no longer a separate technique but a natural extension of himself. Arthur's ability to merge the Spectral Sword with his Grade 5 art—now brushing the zenith realm of mastery—was nothing short of monstrous.

And yet, there was more.

"He's missing something," Li murmured. His mind sifted through Arthur's current arsenal: the ferocious speed of God Flash, the overwhelming dominance of Hollow Eclipse. These movements were devastating, yes, but they lacked a critical element—control over the battlefield itself.

"A third movement," Li mused, his lips curling into a rare smile. "Yes, that's what he needs."