Beneath the ever burdensome crimson sun gathered a collective of curious eyes.

The Gold District of Venus City’s central plaza was alight with silent stares. There sat the youth clad in garments of black, Rapture, who was accompanied as ever by the city’s enforcer, Amelia.

The boy's legs were crossed, his eyes were closed as well. He entered into a meditative state of mind before the eyes of all who gathered here, girls both young and mature.

His Ash, now blue as the untainted sea, flowed in free orbit around his human body like the rings of a gaseous planet.

Often that blue Ash danced around freely, signs of it losing its form would occur from here to there, but such instances were now truly rare. The ring expanded outwards, then collapsed inwards, all was linked to the breathing of the boy.

He opened his eyes and at that precise moment the mass which composed the sphere of Ash quickly shuddered and paused.

The boy then moved, he flexed his neck muscles and nothing more but that alone cause a titanic change.

The ring of Ash began twisting and turning, taking form around the boy like a hurricane. That giant swirl of ocean blue generated winds heavy enough to draw attention from even the nearby buildings.

Rupturing echoes, thunderous bellows, all who sat present here heard these sounds on the wind.

Then the boy stood up. He reached out to grasp the wall of wind beside him and watched as his fingers bore jet shaped holes into its rushing form. Satisfied, he gripped the storm and swung out his arm.

The spiral burst apart, it scattered but did not disperse. All of the Ash he'd released lingered in the air for a time before clustering around his outstretched hand.

The boy clenched his fingers as a solid object took form within their grip. The clustering Ash scattered to reveal a crude sword handle first.

The blade that followed looked dented and misshapen, its edge looked duller than a butter knife.

The gazes of the amassed crowd fixed upon the weapon. Some refined ladies amongst them lowered their teacups, others ceased in their chatter to witness the scene.

Over the past three tens of days, from time to time, the nearly three digit number of residents of this district had snuck glances of Rapture, whether he be training in the morning or reading books in the afternoon.

They knew what his level had roughly been when he arrived, they knew what level he was at twenty days ago and they knew what level he was at just ten days after. They knew, they knew very well, that he was growing too damn quickly.

Though the weapon in his hands did not look at all reliable and indeed it even started crumbling to dust almost from the moment it had finished being forged, they had all bore witness to its brief existence.

Rapture let out a tired sigh. He had been living in Venus for quite a while now, his mind and heart had settled. He noticed the glances of the crowd, but made no attempt to return them. He faced only Amelia, his mentor, and bowed to her.

“I failed,” He said. Amelia did not agree, not one whit. Indeed she stared at him even more blankly than those other women. His words met her ears clear as day, but her brain took forever to break them down.

“You’re sure you’re human, right?” She couldn’t help but mutter those words aloud, but there was nothing else for it but to accept the reality and shake her troubled head.

“What failure?” She asked him, “Keep going at this rate and you’ll even awaken Advanced Mutation around your fifteenth birthday, that is to say, before you’re even fully grown up.” She then paused in thought.

Theoretically it was typical to assign someone their Class from the moment they became mature because until then nobody could say for sure where their powers would come to settle. Naturally, there were no chances of Bronze Class parents birthing Silver or Gold Class children, but the inverse could happen, and it did so more often than not.

Rapture meanwhile had an amount of Ash that firmly secured him in the Platinum Class before he'd even had his fifteenth birthday, he was more than a true rarity, he was an absolute absurdity.

Rognir’s blessing was truly a frightening thing, she could understand all too clearly now why Abel was so zealously determined to keep the Immortal Clan, who had inherited that blessing, locked away in Svartalfheim.

The boy looked like a monster in her eyes for a split second, but the thought didn’t fill her with any fear, instead it made her suffer a bit of melancholy.

“Is there even a point in me teaching you?” She wondered. Rapture trembled somewhat in response to those words. He misunderstood, his mood fell into a downtrodden state, indeed a hint of black seeped into his ocean blue Ash.

“I’ll try harder,” He firmly replied. Amelia glanced at him through the gaps of her fingers. She saw the look in his eye. She reexamined her own words and felt a bit guilty. However in the end she concluded that it was just better to not let the boy grow conceited, she could ill afford to be the factor that cripples his future progress.

Amelia expelled her ill feelings of inadequacy and then looked firmly towards the boy. Her eyes held within them a sense of pride. Even if it may be in name only, she was his master.

“Let’s continue then,” She said, nodding firmly towards the boy, “take it from the top, and concentrate on the image you want to create.” The boy nodded back, he sat down and crossed his legs. Soon, the familiar image of that sword, just the tiniest bit more refined than it had been before, began to take form.

________________________________________

Two blades swept through the morning wind, one heavy, the other standard of weight and size.

Alexander slammed down the heavier of the swords into the soil. Upon this spot lay many gaps, all of them clearly made by this sword.

The youth then took a tired breath. He raised in his hand the second blade, the smaller one, and fixed his gaze upon it for a moment.

The wind gathered, twisted and turned, as his free hand rose up.

He grasped that wind as silver Ash coalesced therein. The form of a blade, from the hilt forward, took shape there in his hand.

This blade was crafted in the image of the one he held in his left hand even now, a standard sized straight sword.

Alexander's Advancd Manifestation appeared more refined than Rapture’s, the blade that was formed looked sharp and useable. Alexander stared at it blankly for a time, and then he stabbed the blade in whose image it was crafted firmly into the soil.

He held the blade made of Ash two handed. His legs took a firm stance, it was clear he was well practiced. The blade swung forward, left to right, churning up the wind and scattering the unburied mud hiding in the grass around him.

The sword of Ash struck the heavy blade buried in the soil and shattered against it like glass. The youth could not help but sigh. He shook his head and retrieved his two swords.

Alexander turned on his heels and decided to walk off his frustration. He advanced towards the five buildings at the heart of the district and, before long, he bore witness to a fantastic sight.

There gathered a sphere of Ash as blue as the ocean. There sat the boy, Rapture, holding a crude and misshapen blade.

“I see,” Alexander said as he stepped boldly forward, “So we’re at the same level, you and I.”

Masters of Ash Manifestation, yet novices at Advanced Manifestation, that was their current level. He was intrigued by this, and so he advanced into the courtyard.

Gazes drew upon Alexander from all directions, soon the commotion even drew Amelia’s attention, but the boy ignored them all, he passed them by until at last even Rapture opened his eye.

The blue Ash disbursed, the sword shattered, all of this was caused by Alexander, who had thrust his heavier sword down into the soil.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked him. Her tone was cold as ice but Alexander paid her no mind, his attention was focused solely upon the boy before him. Rapture and Alexander, their eyes locked upon each other, as if communicating in silence.

“I’ll ask again, why are you here?” Amelia said sternly, but again Alexander ignored her. He focused upon Rapture to the very end until, finally, his lips parted to speak.

“It is said that there’s much two warriors can learn by crossing blades,” Alexander raised his hand, Ash gathered therein to form a seemingly sturdy silver blade.

Rapture watched him in silence, it was as if he gleaned something from that sight. Thus he stood up with no weapon in hand and did as Alexander did.

The boy's Ash took form, this time with no fanfare, it layered and layered again until it took the shape of a sword. The ever cautious Amelia watched as Alexander’s sword finished forming, she then kept watching as the lad waited sportingly for Rapture to do the same.

“Could it be?” A woman from the crowd muttered. Gossip spread like wildfire, some girls even started fluttering off, intent to spread the word. Amelia felt a headache coming on.

She could grasp from their words that these girls thought that the two youths were fighting over Ru, and why would they not think so? One of them was Rusalka’s current fiance as far as their laws were concerned, while the other was a boy who always should’ve been so.

Then the inevitable happened, an even larger crowd gathered by the time Rapture had fully formed his third sword.

Alexander smiled, he raised his standard sized blade and then tossed it, scabbard and all, to the ground. Then, as he readied his blade of Ash, it became clear to the onlookers that there was an unspoken rule between the two men: neither of them would use any other weapon but those they forged through Advanced Manifestation.

Two young men stepped forward, one was immediately sent flying back. Rapture hit the dirt, his sword shattered like glass from just a single blow. His body ached, he groaned, but his pride would not let him lay down in defeat.

Rapture's body was weak, he knew it, and his Manifested weapons were inferior to Alexander’s by merit of sheer experience. Rapture had more Ash, true, but so long as it was blunt and not sharp, that extra power meant nothing before Alexander.

“That’s enough,” Amelia called out, but Alexander shot her only a glance before turning back to face Rapture. He raised his blade for all to see, he revealed it to Rapture’s glaring eyes.

“Those two swords over there,” He said as he pointed towards the spot where he’d dumped his metal blades. “They exist only for one reason, as substitutes, until I can manage to master Advanced Manifestation...however, I have found that, in truth, they can fulfil a second purpose.” He raised his sword and stared blankly upon the cracked dent where Rapture’s blade had struck it. “They formed, for me, the image that I needed to envision for this sword to take form.”

Silence ruled the courtyard, the girls clammed up, especially those who, like these two young men, were still working to master this power themselves, even Amelia was somewhat given pause.

Thinking back, it was the same for her, the knives she swung about during the Third Invasion of Alfheim were long broken, but they had inspired the image for her first Advanced Manifestation weapon.

Rapture stood up, an image firmly formed in his mind. He still carried it on his back; his mother’s trident. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hand reached out and, a moment later, that familiar storm appeared once more.

“Yes,” Said Alexander, “That’s the way.” With a low sounding boom, the Ash coating Rapture’s newly formed trident scattered to the wind. He took a stance, like a wolf ready to strike, and then sprung forward. Amelia as last lowered her guard. She chose to watch, to wait and see what would happen next.