"The Solarian Edge: Blade of the Astral Realm"

The art of swordsmanship was a path few dared to tread to its ultimate peak. It was not just about strength or skill—it was about understanding the blade, resonating with it, and forging one's will into steel.

Achieving the rank of Edge Bearer was a feat only one in five hundred swordsmen could ever hope to accomplish. The path was structured into ten arduous levels, each pushing the swordsman beyond their limits, testing their endurance, reflexes, and most importantly, their intent.

Eira Blackwood stood as one of the rare few who had ascended beyond Edge Bearer. She was a Blade Walker, a title bestowed upon those who had transcended the mere physicality of swordplay and had begun to grasp the elusive sword intent. It was not just about cutting—it was about understanding the very nature of the blade, where one's will alone could cleave through iron, stone, or even the air itself. With such mastery, she could slice through an iron bar as though it were parchment, an ability achieved by only a handful in history.

Yet, even the title of Blade Walker paled before the legends of old.

Her father, the Legendary Hero, had once stood against three thousand soldiers alone, carving his name into history before succumbing—not to a blade, but to exhaustion. He had fought for the kingdom, bled for its people, and in his final moments, there was no one left to care for him. His sacrifice shaped Eira's discipline, her unwavering pursuit of strength, and the burden she carried as his sole heir.

Beyond Blade Walker, whispers of a higher realm existed—Void Striker. A level so unattainable that many dismissed it as myth. It was said that those who achieved this form of mastery could form a pact with their sword, allowing their very soul to guide the blade's will. A single strike from a Void Striker could unleash countless slashes in an instant, turning the tide of war single-handedly. Yet, no records confirmed such a swordsman in the present age. Some called it a lost technique. Others claimed it never existed at all.

But the final, most unfathomable level of all was Phantom Warden. A being that supposedly defied even human understanding. Those who believed in its existence claimed that a Phantom Warden could cut through dimensions themselves, their slashes bending the laws of reality. But even the most ancient texts held no proof of such a warrior.

Among the Blackwood forces, two warriors stood at the threshold of greatness—Ravel and Aldric, both trapped at level 10, unable to breach the domain of an Edge Bearer. Some said the path was set from the beginning, that only those who started their journey with flawless precision could ever hope to surpass the final gate.

Meanwhile, among their younger generation, Theo stood at level 6, while Vaelen remained at level 5, each honing their skills, knowing that every increase in level required relentless dedication. And Kaius—new to this world, new to its rules—had somehow already reached level 6.

His progress unsettled the others. He was not born into this discipline, yet he adapted faster than many who had trained for years. And now, with Eira's arranged marriage looming over them all, their once-stable world threatened to crumble.

Even as the training ground remained filled with the echoes of clashing steel, a restless silence hung in the air.

Eira had not spoken much. She carried herself with the same discipline, her form never faltering, her movements precise as ever. Yet, something was missing. She no longer lingered to correct the stance of the younger soldiers, nor did she observe each individual's progress with her usual intensity. She came, she trained, and she left—her figure vanishing into the corridors of the estate.

For the others, their worry turned into frustration. Theo grumbled under his breath, his strikes against the wooden post harsher than usual. Vaelen, seeing the tension rise, nudged his friend, muttering, "Tavern. We need a drink."

Theo blinked, then let out a deep sigh. "Yeah… Maybe we do."

That night, the three of them—Theo, Vaelen, and Kaius—left the training grounds, their bodies aching from the relentless drills, their minds heavier than usual. They drank, letting the warmth of the liquor dull their unease.

As they stumbled back toward the mansion, the moon hung brilliant in the sky. The streets were empty, save for their quiet steps. And in the distance, beyond the grand estate, shadows moved in secret—three figures cloaked in blue whispering behind the mansion's walls.

"It's almost time," one of them murmured. "Everything is in place. Once the marriage happens, the Blackwoods will be bound to us. The moment Eira signs her name, everything will be ours."

And the moon bore witness to it all.