The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic

"…Take care," Freya said, her voice softer than usual.

Linda stepped forward, raising her staff quickly. A glimmer of mana flared under her fingers. "Haste: Gale Feet."

A light-blue circle spun beneath Sol's boots, wrapping his legs in transparent wind that shimmered with energy. His limbs felt lighter instantly, time seeming to slow around him.

Without waiting another moment, the rest of the team darted toward the outer boundary, weaving through broken crates and smoke, trying to vanish before Adele's fury turned on them again.

Sol, now alone, exhaled long and slow, then bolted forward like a cannon shot.

Meanwhile, the fight between Kael and Adele had turned savage.

Adele had gone feral—her elegance shattered into raw violence. Her blade howled with each swing, churning the air into slicing wind arcs that cracked the ground and split containers in half. Kael weaved through the assaults with uncanny precision, diving, sliding, and pivoting with his boots skimming the ground. His breath was sharp, his eyes locked not on her blade but her feet, her hips, the flick of her fingers tracking her next move even before it came.

A savage cross-slash nearly took his head, but Kael ducked, letting the blade's pressure singe across his shoulder as he tumbled back and then slid not away, but toward her.

His movements were unnatural, low, and serpent-like, leaving Adele briefly thrown off. Her brows furrowed as she adjusted her stance—only to suddenly feel a shiver crawl down her neck.

A new presence.

She turned just in time to see Sol breaking through the smoke, racing straight at her like a meteor. With a cry of warning, Kael's eyes flicked toward Adele he had seen it too—and Sol saw the briefest flash of alarm in them.

"Know your place, IDIOT!" Adele roared.

She whipped her sword horizontally, unleashing a wide, curved wind blade toward Sol. The air screamed as it tore across the space between them, shattering loose debris in its path.

But Sol didn't stop. He leapt twisting in midair and the blade passed just beneath him. With both hands gripping the scabbard tightly, he landed just a few feet from her, knees bent, head lowered.

Adele stepped forward to finish him, sword raised high and that's when it happened.

Sol's eyes opened. They glowed faintly, like steel catching dawn's light. With one clean, fluid motion, he unsheathed his blade.

The moment the edge left its scabbard, the air froze. A dense, silent pressure rippled outward.

Adele's body seized, her instincts howling in panic. She spun her blade reflexively and conjured a wind barrier, layers of compressed air howling around her—but it was already too late.

The release of the blade was not a swing rather it was an eruption.

The eruption was like the release of a dam causing a torrential surge of waves rushing ahead to slam one who stood in front of it.

A stored aura that had been compressed for gods know how long suddenly detonated outward. A wave of pure sword intent burst in all directions—shimmering arcs of translucent silver light tore through the air like spectral blades.

Each arc hummed as if whispering a death sentence. They cut everything.

Steel containers were sliced cleanly as if made of paper. Cranes in the distance groaned and collapsed as support struts disintegrated. The ground split into dozens of jagged scars, and the aura struck the shipping crates, leaving lattice-like cuts, glowing briefly with residual energy before caving in.

Even the wind itself howled in protest—slashed apart, its structure destabilized. For a brief moment, it was as if even air didn't dare come close.

The swordlight exploded, drowning the entire front part of the port.

BOOOOOOM!

The sonic aftermath roared, drowning everything in a blinding explosion of silver-blue light. The port lit up like noon for a fraction of a second, before plunging into darkness once more.

When the light subsided… silence.

A crater had formed, deep and round—no explosion marks, just clean cut lines etched into the stone. All around were signs of devastation. Crates and scaffolding had collapsed. Even the dock's iron railings had been sliced at awkward angles. Slivers of metal and debris lay everywhere like dead leaves.

At the center stood a lone figure—Adele, hunched slightly, sword still held—but her eyes wide in shock.

A thin trail of blood trickled down her arm where the aura had grazed her, and her wind barrier had been cleaved. She looked down, her cloak fluttering in the dead wind. All around her, nothing stood unscathed.

She was surrounded by perfect silence—like the eye of a storm that had already passed.

And for the first time since the battle began…

Her eyes were filled not with anger, but disbelief as he saw no one..

"Th…They escaped."

Far away…

Sol, breathing heavily, lowered his blade, its tip still glowing faintly from the backlash. His hand trembled slightly.

Kael, standing on the outskirts, narrowed his eyes.

"So… you've been hiding all that power.."

"Nah..It was just a trick.."Sol spoke with a smile and looked ahead.

"Let's run."

.....

Far away on the southern edge of the port, amidst collapsed beams and swirling dust,

Martina clashed against the masked man under the flickering glow of lantern shards. Their battle was tight filled with fluid footwork, parried blows, and short bursts of destructive magic exploding around them.

Suddenly..

BOOOOOOM!

The entire port shook with the sound. A blinding flash illuminated the night sky for an instant, and the deep rumble that followed felt like thunder tearing through their bones.

Martina halted mid-spin, her heel skidding lightly on the stone floor as her amber eyes flicked toward the northwestern docks. The wind stirred her short hair as she narrowed her gaze.

The masked man instinctively paused as well, glancing briefly at the source before snapping his eyes back toward her.

Martina tilted her head, a sharp smirk curling on her lips."…That aura. It seems that guy had finally drew his sword," she murmured under her breath.