Chapter 362. The Birth of a New Kind of Warrior

William turned her hand over with the careful precision of a surgeon, but as he examined her knuckles, the adrenaline-fueled excitement that had been coursing through his veins began to curdle into something colder: concern.

The skin across her knuckles wasn’t just reddened; it was angry. The repeated, bone-deep impact against the padded target, which was never meant to withstand the kind of seismic force Kaela was now channeling, had begun to tear through the flesh.

Small, jagged abrasions had split open, weeping crimson droplets that smeared against the leather of the training gear. Even through the cushioning, her own knuckles had been punishing themselves.

"Your hands," William said, his voice dropping into a grim, low register. "This is a serious problem, Kaela."

Kaela glanced down at her own hands, the shock of the interruption finally allowing the pain to register. She winced as the cool air hit the raw nerve endings, but she tried to pull away, her jaw tightening.

"It doesn’t hurt that badly, Instructor Wade... Really."

"I can keep going. I feel—"

"I know how you feel," he interrupted, his eyes locking onto hers with unsettling intensity. "You feel unstoppable."

"You feel like you’ve finally found the key to the cage. But listen to me: it will hurt."

"Considerably worse, the longer we continue at this intensity without proper protection."

"You aren’t just hitting a target anymore; you’re trying to punch through reality itself."

He pressed lightly near one of the split wounds, watching her flinch. "You hit harder than any padded target or ordinary glove is designed to absorb."

"Those gloves are built for soldiers, for trained knights who follow proper form to distribute force."

"But you? You’re generating raw, concentrated devastation."

"If we keep training like this without addressing the equipment, you’re going to break something eventually."

"Probably several things... Your metacarpals could shatter, or worse, you’ll send a shockwave up your radius and snap your own forearm from the inside out."

Kaela’s face fell, the fire in her eyes momentarily smothered by frustration. The loss of momentum felt like a physical blow.

"So what? We just stop?" she asked, her voice cracking with genuine disappointment. "We finally find the thing that actually works, the thing that makes sense, and we just walk away because of some bruised knuckles?"

"We don’t stop," William said firmly, stepping closer to emphasize his point. "We adapt."

"We don’t fight the power, we armor it."

"We need better equipment. Something built specifically to handle the kind of monstrous force you’re generating."

"Standard smithing won’t cut it... We need materials that can absorb the kinetic backlash before it destroys your bones."

He paused, his mind already racing through contacts, weighing options, and calculating risks. "There’s only one person I trust to build something like that properly."

"Someone who understands that ’strength’ isn’t just about how hard you hit, but how much punishment the gear can take before it fails."

Kaela’s eyes brightened instantly, the disappointment vanishing as recognition dawned in her expression. "Grock...?"

"Yes... the dwarf. Grock," William confirmed with a single, decisive nod.

The tension broke like a fever, replaced by a sudden, unexpected lightness.

"Oh, I love Grock," Kaela said, an effortless, genuine grin spreading across her face at the mere mention of the name. "That grumpy old dwarf who’s constantly yelling at you about not maintaining Aetherion properly."

"I swear, half of my favorite memories from watching your training sessions involve him threatening to take that sword back if you don’t oil the hinges more often."

William couldn’t help it; a genuine laugh escaped him, the first real moment of levity since the training had turned violent. "He’s threatened that at least six separate times now."

"I’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt, but I’ve also never been stupid enough to actually test the theory by genuinely neglecting the maintenance."

Kaela laughed with him, the sound echoing strangely in the quiet yard where they had just been playing at war. "Wise choice, Instructor Wade."

"I definitely wouldn’t test that theory."

"He’s exactly the kind of craftsman who’d relish a challenge like this, honestly," William continued, his mind already working like a forge, hammering out the blueprints of what they needed. "We aren’t just talking about gloves, Kaela."

"We’re talking about kinetic dampeners."

"Something built specifically to channel your particular brand of devastation without shattering under the backlash."

"I’m thinking reinforced knuckle plating, not just steel, but something with a layered composition."

"Enough flexibility to allow your natural fluidity, but enough structural integrity to prevent your own bones from becoming shrapnel when you connect with a target."

Kaela wiped a streak of blood and sweat from her forehead, her breathing still ragged, her eyes fixed on her damaged hands.

"Do you think he could even make something like that quickly?" she asked, a note of genuine anxiety cutting through her excitement. "I mean, the man built Aetherion over four years."

"That’s not exactly a ’rush job’ kind of reputation."

"I don’t want to wait months while I’m stuck fighting like... like this."

"Aetherion was a magnum opus, Kaela."

"A passion project he’d been dreaming about for most of his career: a sword that could sing with the Aether," William said, offering a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach the calculating intensity in his eyes. "This is different."

"This is a problem of engineering and material science."

"It’s a much narrower problem to solve."

"Once I explain the physics of the impact—the sheer, bone-crushing force you’re generating—I think he’ll see the appeal."

"He’ll understand that this isn’t just equipment; it’s a solution to a new kind of threat."

William began pacing, the commander in him taking over. "I’ll send an urgent request back to the academy immediately."

"I’ll frame it as a critical necessity for operational readiness."

"Knowing Grock, he’ll probably be more thrilled than offended at the challenge."

"He’s mentioned more than once how bored he gets with standard commissions for noble bastards who just want shiny trinkets."

"How long do you think it’ll take?" Kaela asked, her fingers twitching against her thighs.

She was practically vibrating with impatient anticipation, the hunger for that raw, unbridled power still burning hot in her chest.

"Hard to say," William admitted honestly. "Grock doesn’t rush quality work, even when the world is ending."

"If he gets obsessed with the metallurgy, he will; it could be days... Could be longer if he decides he needs to hunt down rare materials to match your output."

Kaela let out a groan so dramatic it echoed off the training yard walls. She flopped backward onto a nearby stone bench with theatrical despair, staring up at the sky as if asking the gods for mercy.

"A few days? A few DAYS!?"

"I just found the thing that actually makes sense to me, the thing that makes me feel alive, and now I have to sit around and wait while my hands bleed?!"

"Patience," William said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good things are worth the wait."

"And considering what we saw today, ’good’ might be an understatement."

"We’re looking at something dangerous."

"Easy for you to say," she shot back, rolling onto her side to glare at him with playful accusation. "You’re not the one who just discovered their actual life’s purpose an hour ago!"

"You’re not the one who feels like they’ve been walking through mud their whole life and suddenly found solid ground."

William’s expression softened, but his words remained pragmatic. "No, you’re right."

"But I am the one who has to explain to Albert why I’m requesting an urgent, expensive, custom forging commission from the middle of a diplomatic crisis."

"So, I think we’re both suffering in our own particular ways."

Kaela barked out a laugh, the last of her theatrical misery dissolving into genuine amusement. "Fair enough... Point taken."

"Go, write your letter, oh great diplomat!"

"I’ll try to survive the waiting with whatever dignity I have left."

William shook his head, already moving toward the small writing desk positioned near the training yard’s entrance. "I have very little faith in that outcome, based on what I’ve witnessed from you today."

"Rude, but probably accurate," Kaela admitted, still grinning as she watched him sit.

As William dipped his quill, his jaw set in concentration, he began composing the letter. The words flowed with urgency, describing not just a request for armor but the birth of a new kind of warrior.

He knew that in a matter of days, when Grock’s work arrived, the trajectory of Kaela’s life and perhaps the fate of the kingdom itself would change forever.