"Welcome, son."
Theron's voice cut through the quiet like a blade through silk, snapping Caelan out of the trance-like state he had been locked in since witnessing his father's display of sword mastery. The echo of those two words still clung to the walls of the training hall as Caelan quickly dipped his head into a respectful bow.
"I greet the clan head," he said with a voice laced in both reverence and nerves.
"Be at ease," Theron replied, his tone calmer now, the edge of battle faded into stillness.
Caelan slowly lifted his gaze and saw his father lower himself onto the polished wooden floor, folding his legs into a meditative posture. There was no fanfare, no royal cushion, no pretense. Just a man—bare-chested, scarred, focused—whose presence still felt like a blade half-drawn.
Caelan mirrored his father's position, sitting cross-legged across from him. But his heartbeat didn't settle. The weight of what he had just witnessed pressed on him like gravity.
After a moment of silence, Caelan found the courage to speak. "Was that... sword will?"
Theron gave a quiet hum, almost dismissive, but the affirmation was clear.
Caelan's eyes lit up.
> "No wonder Father is hailed as the strongest under the Grandmaster stage," he thought.
It made sense now. The reverence, the awe others held for Theron. He hadn't just mastered swordsmanship—he had transcended it.
> "This... this is what I have to surpass if I want to stand at the peak of power."
His fists clenched on instinct. And as if responding to his burning will, a faint warmth stirred inside him. A twitch. A flicker. His bloodline—Everblood—responding ever so subtly to his drive.
But before Caelan could dwell further, his father's voice broke through again.
"What brings you here at this early hour?"
Caelan blinked, grounding himself. "I came to speak with you about something important… the Lionheart School of Swords and Magic. Their yearly entrance exam is in two months."
Theron raised a brow, interest gleaming in his crimson eyes.
Caelan continued, "The entry requirements… Initial Gold Stage or Senior Mage. I'm still Silver Stage and True Mage. And there's an age limit. You have to be at least eighteen. I'm only sixteen."
Theron's gaze turned inward for a moment, as if traveling through time. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Lionheart… It's been a long time since I heard that name."
Caelan tilted his head. "You know it?"
"I graduated from Lionheart. Years ago," Theron said. "It forged many of the continent's finest warriors. And it's not surprising you're aiming for it."
Caelan couldn't hide the hope that bloomed in his chest. "Then… do you think I can make it?"
Theron's smile grew sharper. "I know a way for you to meet both requirements."
Caelan leaned forward, eyes wide. "Really?"
"A pocket dimension recently opened in the Blackthorn Mountains. I scouted it personally. The beasts within range from E rank all the way to Peak C rank . It's a natural training ground."
Caelan's breath caught.
> "That's perfect. I could push my limits and rise in both paths—Warrior and Mage."
"That would help with the strength requirement," Caelan said aloud. "But what about the age?"
"I was getting to that," Theron said, folding his arms. "Time flows faster inside the dimension. Two months here will be over two years in there."
Caelan's jaw slackened. "Wait… I could come out not just stronger… but older?"
"Correct," Theron said. "In two days, you'll depart for Blackthorn. Train well, survive, and return ready."
For a heartbeat, Caelan was silent, overwhelmed by both the opportunity—and the weight of expectation.
He dropped his head into another bow. "Thank you, Father."
A pause followed, the tension thickening.
Then Theron asked, without warning: "So... Caelan. When did you awaken the dragon bloodline of our clan?"
Caelan's heart skipped.
> "Oh stars... he noticed."
His breath hitched slightly as a dozen thoughts raced through his mind.
> "Does he know about the Everblood too? No… he doesn't. Not yet. But he saw the healing, the flames, the surge during the fight with Silas... Of course he noticed."
But Caelan kept his expression neutral, though his mind spun like a storm.
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