The training fields of Velmora Central Academy baked under the heat of midday sun, a circular stretch of scarred earth surrounded by marble bleachers and ancient statues of long-dead heroes. Dust swirled where fists met fists, bodies slammed, and sweat painted the faces of young warriors dreaming of glory.
Kenneth Prince stood still amid the chaos.
His obsidian eyes scanned the field as students paired off. Some practiced kinetic deflections, others hurled flames, water, or illusions at each other under the watchful eyes of armored instructors. But Kenneth had no partner. Again.
Not because he was unwanted.
But because he was feared.
"Prince," came the familiar voice of Instructor Gaelis, arms folded across his chest. "With Zarek. Now."
Zarek Volen rose from where he'd been kneeling, his body steaming gently with latent lightning. He flashed a grin at Kenneth.
"Guess it's your lucky day, flame-boy."
Kenneth sighed, stepping forward. "Try not to cry this time."
Zarek chuckled. "Oh, I never cry. I just charge up."
The two faced each other. Kenneth stood loose but dangerous—shoulders slightly slouched, eyes lowered but watchful, his stance almost lazy. Zarek bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, every muscle coiled like a spring.
A signal sounded. The match began.
Zarek struck first—quick jab, twist, kick laced with crackling arcs of electricity. Kenneth swayed, twisted, blocked. His hands blurred, his counters were brutal but clean. No flames. No blood. Just precise, honed violence.
Spectators slowed their own training to watch.
Zarek lunged with a feint to the left—electric sparks flaring around his leg—but Kenneth caught his arm midair and slammed him into the dirt with a deafening thud.
"Inhuman," one student whispered.
Zarek groaned, lying flat. "You've been holding back," he muttered, coughing. "Again."
Kenneth offered a hand. "You'd die if I didn't."
Zarek took it, pulling himself up. "You scare people, you know."
Kenneth didn't answer. His expression was calm—too calm. Cold.
---
Later That Evening
"Come on," Zarek said, grinning and elbowing Kenneth in the ribs. "Let me come over for once. We can train, eat, play a few holo-fights... you can pretend to have fun."
They sat at the edge of the academy rooftop, looking out over Velmora's glowing skyline. The wind stirred Kenneth's dark curls.
"Not tonight," Kenneth replied, too fast. "My guardian... he's strict. Schedules and all that."
Zarek raised a brow. "You said that yesterday. And the day before that."
Kenneth offered a sheepish smile. "I'm a boring host."
Zarek looked at him—really looked.
"You don't have to hide everything from me, you know."
Kenneth tensed. "I'm not hiding."
But he was.
---
Elsewhere – Kael Drayven's Observation Hub
Down below, Kael sat alone in the data lab, his fingers dancing across a projection screen. Blueprints, surveillance feeds, and biometric signatures filled the air around him like ghosts. He wasn't supposed to be here this late. But Kael never asked for permission.
He zoomed in on slowed-down footage of Kenneth's earlier match. His eyes narrowed at how Kenneth's muscle groups moved unnaturally—too fluid, too fast. Blood concentration was… abnormal.
Kael touched the image and whispered, "What are you?"
He didn't feel fear. Just curiosity.
---
Back on the Rooftop
Zarek leaned back, staring at the stars.
"You know," he said quietly, "whatever it is you're carrying… you don't have to carry it alone."
Kenneth's jaw clenched.
"Thanks," he said, standing. "But I'm fine."
Zarek remained seated as Kenneth walked off, the rooftop door clicking shut behind him. The wind carried the faintest trace of fire—an accidental flicker escaping Kenneth's control.
Zarek blinked and touched the warm air.
"…Flame-boy," he muttered, lips quirking, but his expression was thoughtful.