Rakshas: Tales of the Summoned Lord

The private chamber was dimly lit, the flickering glow of a single lantern casting long shadows along the walls.

The muffled sounds of the grand banquet outside were distant now, like echoes from another world. Inside, however, an entirely different kind of exchange was taking place—one of power, knowledge, and legacy.

Allen sat across from Instructor Claude, his expression composed yet keen, his every move deliberate.

Claude watching him with quiet scrutiny, waiting to see what purpose had drawn them into seclusion.

Allen turned his head and gave a subtle nod to Hilter, who had been standing quietly in the corner like a sentry. Without a word, the ever-loyal summon stepped forward and produced a leather-bound document—aged yet carefully preserved.

He placed it in Allen's waiting hands before stepping back into the shadows.

Allen took a deep breath, then respectfully presented the document to Claude. Both hands, palms up. A gesture of sincerity and reverence.

Claude arched an eyebrow but took the document, his calloused fingers brushing against the worn leather before he carefully unfastened the binding. The moment his eyes fell upon the pages, a flicker of something rare passed across his face—surprise.

For the first time that evening, Instructor Claude, the ever-composed and indifferent warrior, was caught off guard.

He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the contents. A silence stretched between them, but in that silence, Allen could sense the gears turning in the veteran instructor's mind.

The document was nothing short of a relic of history and a parting gift from his father—the personal notes of Baron Eric Styles, a name that still echoed through the halls of martial legend.

"Amazing…" Claude muttered under his breath, flipping the pages with newfound urgency.

Baron Eric Styles. A commoner who had risen through the ranks, from a mere foot soldier to a general of the empire. His name was carved in history not only for his ascension but for his swordplay—his mastery so fluid, so elegant, that he was known as the 'Sword Dancer.'

It was said that the King himself had bestowed the surname 'Styles' upon him—a mark of distinction, a name meant to symbolize the grace and technique of his blade.

But this was more than just history.

The notes before Claude contained the original insights of a Gold Rank Battle Master who had created his own path. His techniques were not inherited but forged, carved out through discipline, battle, and relentless ambition. He had taken the standard imperial military techniques and elevated them, shaping them into something uniquely his own.

Claude had read many manuals. He had studied under great warriors. But even he, a seasoned Gold Rank master, had only ever possessed personal notes from his own master, the headmaster of Divine Academy, and one from a famous adventurer.

Yet now, before him, lay the wisdom of a legend.

"This is… incredible," Claude finally admitted, closing the document slowly. If it was just battleforce meditation technique then wouldn't have been much impressed but the unique insight that Baron Eric had on swordplay was undeniable.

His gaze met Allen's, no longer indifferent but calculating, interested. "This knowledge… it is meant only for descendants and the most trusted disciples. You are willing to hand this to me?"

Allen's lips curled slightly. "I understand its worth, Instructor. And I know that even for someone of your caliber, there are always new perspectives to explore."

Claude tapped his fingers on the document, his mind undoubtedly racing. "You are not wrong," he murmured. He had reached Gold Rank, but he was still seeking further mastery, still searching for the elusive path beyond. The insights within these pages might not only refine his understanding of battle force and swordplay but help him break through.

For a brief moment, the room fell silent once more.

Then, Claude exhaled, setting the document down. His expression had changed—not by much, but just enough. There was no longer the dismissive air he had worn upon entering the banquet. No longer the aloof instructor looking down upon an ambitious young nobleman.

Now, there was respect.

He leaned back slightly. "You've bought my interest, Allen Styles. Now, tell me—what do you want in return?"

Allen smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning.

For a moment the private chamber fell into silence except for the distant hum of the banquet outside. Instructor Claude sat across from Allen, his fingers still resting on the notes of Baron Eric Styles. Though he had composed himself, there was no mistaking the intrigue in his gaze.

Allen leaned forward slightly, his expression steady. "Instructor Claude, you understand what it means to stand at the threshold of a breakthrough but lack the final push. The knowledge within those pages is valuable, but it's not exactly a lost treasure."

Claude's brow arched slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"The Royal Family has a copy of these notes. And from them, who knows how many others have pried into the secrets of my ancestor? Yet the Styles family still stands tall. They have continued producing strong warriors every generation—not because of mere written knowledge, but because of their will, their talent, and their perseverance."

Claude nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in Allen's words. "And what is it that you seek in return for such a gesture?"

Allen met his gaze without hesitation. "I want to train under you, Instructor. I want to break through to Gold Rank."

Claude exhaled, crossing his arms. "That's no small request," he mused. Then, after a pause, his sharp eyes locked onto Allen's. "Before I consider it… answer a few questions."

Without warning, he began.

"Tell me, when refining battle force, what's the most common mistake Silver Ranks make when attempting a breakthrough?"

Allen responded without missing a beat. "Over-reliance on forceful accumulation rather than refinement. Many Silver Ranks think they can brute-force their way into Gold Rank by absorbing as much energy as possible. But that only leads to stagnation… or worse, backlash."

Claude smirked slightly. "Correct. Then tell me—what is the greatest advantage of a Gold Rank Battle Master over a Silver Rank?"

Allen's eyes flickered with understanding. "The fusion of battle force with instinct. A Gold Rank doesn't just use energy; they wield it like an extension of themselves. It no longer requires conscious activation—it flows naturally, enhancing every movement and reaction."

Claude tapped his fingers on the table, impressed. "Hmph. You've studied well. One last question." He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "What do you lack to break through?"

Allen's expression turned serious. He clenched his fists slightly before responding.

"A guide. Someone who has walked the path before and can show me what I can't see for myself."

For the first time that night, Claude let out a low chuckle.

"Not bad," he admitted. "You really are close to breaking through." He exhaled, rubbing his chin. "Fine. I'll take you as a disciple—for now."

Allen's heart pounded, but he remained composed.

Claude continued, "But be warned—this won't be easy. I can guide you, but I can't promise success. It could take you a month… or it could take years. Your comprehension, talent, courage, perseverance—and, most of all, luck—will decide the outcome."

Allen nodded without hesitation. "I understand. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Claude gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Then be prepared. You'll need elixirs, herbs and medicines—none of which are cheap. If you want to break through, you'll need to pay for them yourself."

After hearing about using medicine Allen hesitated. "Instructor. I'm… eager to breakthrough but I am hesitant about relying on external items to break through."

Claude's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"

Allen met his gaze. "Because such external aids are used by people with low talent—those who cannot break through on their own. It forces a breakthrough but damages the foundation, limiting their future potential. I don't want to cripple my growth just to rush into Gold Rank."

Claude remained silent for a moment, then chuckled. "So, that's what's bothering you."

Allen didn't respond, waiting for Claude to elaborate.

"You're right," Claude admitted. "Many so-called 'miracle breakthroughs' through elixirs are nothing but illusions. They force the body past its limits, leaving the battle force unstable and the warrior permanently weaker in the long run. That's what happens when you use low-grade or forced medicinal breakthroughs."

Allen exhaled. "Exactly. I don't want that."

Claude's expression turned serious. "But that's not what I'm offering you."

Allen frowned slightly. "Then what's the difference?"

Claude leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "The medicines I'm procuring for you aren't breakthrough enhancers—they are meant to nourish and refine your body. These elixirs will expand your battle force meridians, strengthen your internal energy circulation, and enhance your physical resilience. You won't just reach Gold Rank—you'll have a stronger foundation than most who reach it naturally."

Allen absorbed the information, his hesitation still lingering. "But even so, isn't there still some risk? Nothing comes without drawbacks."

Claude nodded. "That's true. The only drawback is the cost. These elixirs are exponentially more expensive than common breakthrough medicines. The resources I'm acquiring are the type used by royalty and ancient martial sects—things even Gold Rank warriors struggle to afford."

Allen tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "So instead of forcing a breakthrough, this will prepare my body for it?"

"Exactly," Claude confirmed. "Think of it like forging a blade. You're not just hammering weak metal into shape—you're tempering it, refining it, making sure it won't shatter under pressure. Your talent is there, but with these resources, you'll reach Gold Rank with a sturdier foundation."

Allen closed his eyes for a brief moment. He had been cautious for years, knowing that the path to power was riddled with pitfalls. But this was different.

When he opened his eyes, he gave Claude a small nod.

"Are you willing to spend some money?"

Allen smirked. "I was already planning to spend everything I have to reach Gold Rank. Consider it an investment in my future."

Claude grinned, standing up. "Then your training begins tomorrow. Take a hiatus from your academy duties—I'll push you to your limit."

Allen rose as well, extending a hand. Claude glanced at it for a moment before clasping it firmly.

"Don't disappoint me, Styles."

Allen's grip tightened.

"I won't sir."

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A/N: Guys if you like the story, please comment and leave a review. You can also give your power stone to motivate me. Thx