Chapter 377. The Power Isn’t Coming From My Muscles, It’s Coming From the Metal

Kaela turned away from the circle of onlookers, her eyes locking onto a massive, solid steel testing block that Grock had bolted directly into a reinforced anvil stand. The block was a slab of tempered industrial steel, designed to withstand the hammer blows of a giant without flinching. It was the perfect victim.

A dangerous stillness settled over her. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, feeling the strange, living hum of the Tempest Fang pulsing against her skin.

The gauntlets weren’t just equipment; they felt like a predator awakening in her palms. She could feel the electric blue veins beneath the metal responding to her quickening pulse, the energy coiled like a spring, waiting to be unleashed.

’This is it,’ she thought, her jaw tightening. ’No more holding back.’

’No more fighting like I’m afraid to break something...’

’Today, I break everything.’

She planted her feet wide, her muscles coiling with lethal intent. She drew her right fist back, twisting her torso to load every ounce of her strength into her core.

The air around her seemed to crackle, the blue etchings on the gauntlets beginning to glow with a fierce, hungry light.

"Watch this," she whispered, though it was more of a promise to herself.

With a primal roar that echoed off the stone walls of the forge, Kaela exploded forward. She didn’t just punch; she unleashed a hurricane.

The movement was so fast it left an afterimage in the air, a blur of silver and electric blue.

The impact was not a simple sound; it was a cataclysm.

When her fist connected, there was no metallic clang. Instead, there was a wet, bone-deep CRUNCH followed by an explosion of shrapnel.

The steel block didn’t dent; it catastrophically failed. The tempered metal shattered as if it had been made of glass, sending jagged, razor-sharp fragments screaming across the workshop.

One piece embedded itself in a wooden beam with a thunderous thwack, while others pinged off the anvils like deadly crossbow bolts. The shockwave of the impact sent a visible ripple through the air, knocking several loose tools off nearby workbenches.

A deafening silence followed, broken only by the ringing in everyone’s ears and the fading hiss of sparks from the gauntlets.

Ellie let out an involuntary shriek of terror that immediately dissolved into delighted, high-pitched laughter. Clara’s pen had frozen mid-stroke, her mouth hanging open in genuine shock as she stared at the carnage where a solid block of steel had stood seconds before.

Kaela remained frozen in her follow-through stance, chest heaving, knuckles quivering. She stared down at the gauntlet, watching as the electric blue glow slowly faded back to a steady hum.

Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated awe.

"This," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "this feels like me."

"That’s precisely what I intended it to feel like," Grock rumbled.

His voice was thick with satisfaction as he stepped forward, already beginning to gather the scattered fragments with the satisfied efficiency of a god surveying a successful creation. "Every measurement I took while you slept, every alloy ratio I recalculated until my eyes bled, every single joint I reworked a dozen times until it moved like water instead of metal—all of it, Princess Kaela."

"All of it was aimed at exactly this moment."

Kaela finally lowered her hands, looking at Grock with watery eyes. "Grock, I... I don’t even know how to begin to thank you for this."

"This isn’t just armor... This is..."

"Don’t waste your breath on thanks," Grock interrupted gruffly, though the fierce pride in his eyes betrayed his obvious delight.

He pointed a massive finger at her. "Just go out there and use them properly."

"Don’t let that power go to waste."

"Make something of that promise you showed me the first day that you’d become someone who could protect what matters."

"That’s thanks enough for an old smith."

The tension broke as Ellie came charging in like a whirlwind, circling Kaela with undisguised excitement. "Oh my gods! Kaela!"

"That was amazing! Did you see that?! It exploded!"

"Can I touch them?! Are they warm?! They look like they’re warm!"

Kaela laughed, the adrenaline finally beginning to ebb into a warm glow of triumph. "They’re just metal, Ellie."

"Special metal, though!" Ellie insisted, reaching out with hesitant fingers.

"Fair point," Kaela conceded, holding out her hand so the younger girl could inspect the flawless craftsmanship.

Meanwhile, Clara had already recovered from her shock. Her eyes were narrowed in intense concentration as she knelt beside the wreckage of the testing block.

Her pen was flying across her parchment in a furious blur as she began documenting the fragment pattern and the trajectory of the debris. "Incredible..."

Clara muttered to herself, her voice clinical but tinged with fascination. "The impact distribution suggests a near-perfect transfer of kinetic energy with minimal loss to vibration."

"The structural failure pattern indicates... unprecedented force."

Kaela watched them all—her friends and her family—and for the first time in a long time, the weight of her future didn’t feel like a burden. With the Tempest Fang gleaming on her hands, it felt like a weapon she was finally ready to wield.

...

Two days later, the atmosphere at the academy’s main training ground was not merely charged; it was volatile. Word of Grock’s masterpiece had spread through the student body like wildfire, transforming a routine sparring session into a spectacle.

A massive crowd had gathered along the perimeter, their hushed whispers creating a low hum of anticipation that felt like the static before a storm. Even several senior instructors had positioned themselves on the elevated viewing platforms, their arms crossed, eyes narrowed with professional interest.

They weren’t here for entertainment; they were here to witness the birth of something dangerous.

In the center of the dusty arena, Kaela stood transformed. The Tempest Fang gauntlets gleamed with a predatory silver sheen under the harsh afternoon sun, the electric blue veins pulsing in sync with her quickening heartbeat.

Across from her, Lia held her greatsword with practiced ease, but there was no casual slouch in her shoulders today. Her grip was white-knuckled.

The usual pre-match banter, the teasing about Kaela’s terrible footwork or Lia’s overly serious demeanor, was conspicuously absent. A heavy, suffocating tension hung between them.

Both women understood that this wasn’t just practice anymore. This was a test of whether Kaela had truly ascended or if she had simply traded discipline for raw, uncontained destruction.

Lia raised her blade, the tip pointed directly at Kaela’s throat. Her blue eyes were cold and analytical.

"This won’t be like the others, Kaela... Don’t expect me to pull my punches!"

Kaela shifted her weight, feeling the familiar, comforting hum of the gauntlets vibrating through her radius and ulna.

Her inner voice was uncharacteristically quiet, replaced by a single, driving instinct: ’Strike. Break. Dominate.’

"I’m counting on it," Kaela replied, her voice dropping an octave.

She settled into her stance, her fingers curling instinctively within the enchanted metal. "Don’t hold back, Lia!"

"Because I won’t!"

The instructor’s signal hadn’t even fully faded before Kaela exploded into motion.

The difference was terrifying. In their past encounters, Kaela had been a brawler—loud, telegraphed, and reliant on momentum.

Now, she was something else entirely. She moved with the terrifying economy of a lightning strike.

CLANG.

The first collision was deafening. Kaela didn’t swing wildly; she drove a straight punch aimed directly at the center of Lia’s guard.

When the Tempest Fang connected with the flat of Lia’s greatsword, the sound wasn’t a ring; it was a thunderclap. Lia’s entire body jerked backward, her boots carving deep furrows into the packed earth as she fought to maintain her footing.

Lia’s breathing hitched.

’What the hell was that?’ she thought, her teeth grinding together. ’It felt like being hit by a falling siege engine.’

Lia immediately activated Undertow Surge, the magical barrier designed to absorb and redirect kinetic energy. Usually, the technique would flow smoothly, drawing the impact into the earth.

But as Kaela unleashed a rapid-fire combination of left hook, right uppercut, and spinning elbow, the technique began to fail.

CRACK.

Kaela’s fist slammed into Lia’s sword arm. The magical barrier flickered violently, sparks of blue energy spraying outward like blood from a wound.

Lia’s greatsword trembled uncontrollably in her hands, the metal singing with the strain of trying to contain the impossible force.

"You’ve gotten considerably stronger," Lia shouted over the chaos, her voice strained with genuine shock.

Sweat began to bead on her forehead as she ducked under a vicious horizontal swipe that whistled past her ear with enough force to split the air.

Kaela didn’t answer with words. She answered with violence.

She pressed the advantage, her movements becoming a blur of silver and blue. Each strike was calculated to overwhelm, to find the microscopic weakness in Lia’s defensive rhythm.

’I can feel it,’ Kaela thought, her vision narrowing until only Lia’s guard existed. ’The power isn’t coming from my muscles anymore...’

’It’s coming from the metal! It’s coming from somewhere deeper!’

She pivoted on her heel, bringing both gauntlets together in a crushing hammer blow aimed at Lia’s ribs. Lia twisted desperately, catching the blow on the hilt of her sword, but the sheer pressure was nauseating.

Lia felt a sharp, sickening pain shoot up her forearm, the sensation of bones grinding against each other under impossible stress.

"Told you," Kaela shot back, her eyes blazing with a feral intensity. "I’m not the same girl you fought before, Lia!"

"The storm has already arrived."