The courtyard behind the Kira estate was walled with gray stone and draped in silence, broken only by the sound of fists meeting flesh.
Crack.
My back slammed against the dirt. Blood ran from my lip, the taste of iron settling on my tongue.
"Again!" roared Lord Calmreich, towering above me. "You fall like a leaf in autumn."
I dragged myself to my feet, breathing hard, hands clenched. The bruises on my ribs ached. He wasn't pulling his punches anymore.
"You think you're strong just because your mana glows?" he spat, stepping forward, his foot slamming into my stomach before I could dodge. I staggered.
"You've got the same blood as my daughter, and yet you fight like a frightened servant. Pick up the sword!"
A long, gleaming training blade landed beside me with a dull thud. I didn't look at it.
"No."
His eye twitched. "No?"
"I said no. I don't want to use a sword," I muttered through gritted teeth. "Fists… feel more honest."
For a moment, silence. Then his face twisted into fury.
"You dare disrespect the art of the blade?"
His next strike was faster. A sharp elbow cracked against my cheek. I stumbled, spit and blood flying. He moved like a seasoned warrior—decades of battle compressed into raw instinct. I raised my arms to block as he rained down fists like hammers.
"Fine! Let's see how far your fists take you, cursed boy!"
Each punch thundered through my bones. I refused to scream.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Velvet curtains fluttered as sunlight spilled into the private chambers of Lady Veyra. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air.
She stood before a long mirror, her bare skin pale against the red drapes. Her curves shimmered like white fire under the morning light. Darius stood across the room, fully dressed in noble robes, arms crossed. His eyes, however, were far from her body—they were fixed on the crystal orb hovering in the air, reflecting the courtyard below.
The image of me being thrown to the ground repeated again.
Darius's jaw tightened. "It's been two weeks. Two weeks of brutal training. And still—no mana. No control. Nothing but a boy who bleeds."
Veyra smirked. "He's stubborn. Not without value. But even iron must be heated to become a blade."
"You speak of blades," he replied coldly, "but all I see is a cracked vessel."
She moved behind him, her hands running down his arms, pressing her chest against his back. "Isn't that what makes it exciting? The gamble of failure. Or greatness."
"I don't gamble with legacy."
"No," she whispered into his ear, lips brushing his skin, "but I do."
He shrugged her off, but she only chuckled and turned to the side table where a scroll sat half-unfurled.
"I've decided to send him on a mission."
He looked at her, frowning. "He's untrained. You'll get him killed."
"Or I'll awaken something useful."
She traced a rune on the scroll and it glowed faintly. "There's been a minor infestation near the Spade Kingdom border. A cursed ruin. Low risk. High chance of fear and pressure." She smiled. "Perfect for drawing out what's buried inside him."
Darius's silence stretched.
Veyra tilted her head, mock innocence in her eyes. "You want him to succeed, don't you?"
He looked back to the orb. I was still standing, still refusing the sword. Still getting beaten.
"I want him to stop wasting our time."
I followed the servant in silence, feet padding across the polished stone floors of the Kira estate. The hallways were dim, lined with ornate carvings of dragons, grim-faced ancestors, and gilded reliefs depicting forgotten wars.
Then I saw him.
My father.
Lord Darius stood beneath a crimson banner, his robes as immaculate as always. He was speaking with one of the stewards but stopped when he saw me approaching.
Our eyes locked.
There was no rage this time. No fire. Just the same emotionless gaze that had haunted me since I was born—the cold weight of disappointment carved into a man's face like stone eroded by decades of regret.
He said nothing.
And I? I didn't flinch.
It wasn't anger I felt anymore. Not sorrow. Not even longing.
Just something deeper.
Disgust.
Not at what he was.
But at what he chose to be.
I walked past him without a word. The silence between us was louder than any curse he'd ever thrown.
The corridor twisted, narrower now, with velvet carpeting and incense sweetening the air. The walls were painted deep emerald and hung with mirrors that distorted reflections slightly—enough to keep you unsettled.
Then came her door.
Lady Veyra's chamber.
The servant knocked once and left. He had no desire to linger.
"Enter," came the sultry voice beyond the door.
I pushed the handle open.
As always, her office was lit by candles that cast shadows far longer than the flames should allow. Books of forbidden spells and cursed scrolls lay scattered in elegant disarray. A glass of wine, half-finished, trembled slightly as she leaned on the edge of her desk.
She wasn't wearing her noble robes.
Just a black silk wrap that clung to her curves and revealed far more than it hid. One leg crossed over the other, her pale skin shimmering in the candlelight.
She smiled, lips red as blood. "Ah, my favorite little enigma arrives."
I didn't respond. I never did.
She liked the game too much.
Veyra rose and walked toward me, fingertips trailing across my shoulder as she circled me. "You smell like mana," she whispered in my ear. "Finally. Something in you is starting to wake."
I stood stiff as stone.
She giggled and stepped back. "You still flinch, but you're learning to hide it. Good. That'll help where I'm sending you."
I finally spoke. "You said there was a mission."
"Straight to business," she pouted. "Very well."
She returned to her desk and tossed a parchment onto it.
I picked it up. The wax seal had already been broken.
"The western border," she said. "A small outpost. Bandits have been raiding our merchant caravans and magic researchers. The fools has stolen one of the items i bought in an auction. I want you to retrieve anything they've stolen... and test yourself."
I narrowed my eyes. "Test myself how?"
Veyra's grin widened. "By bleeding, of course."