The first frost of autumn crept across the academy grounds, glinting like shattered glass under the morning sun. Most students wore enchanted cloaks to ward off the chill. Kael wore the same worn uniform, patched at the shoulder, and tighter around the wrists now from recent growth. He had grown leaner—faster. More resilient
, though no one saw it yet.
Or so he thought.
Professor Lioren watched from his usual place at the edge of the sparring ring, arms folded behind his back, eyes unreadable. Kael moved through footwork drills alone. His steps were deliberate. Grounded. Controlled.
The boy was evolving. Not outwardly—but Lioren had spent decades training warriors. He saw it in Kael's tension, the ease with which he turned, and in the restraint. Like a bowstring pulled taut.
Just waiting to be released.
"Still wasting your time with that trash?" drawled a voice from behind.
Kael didn't turn.
Theron Vael approached, flanked by two other nobles—Darian of House Lynth and Jerris of House Morvain. Their robes gleamed, enchanted and spotless. Their eyes glittered with amusement and malice.
Darian stepped into Kael's path, bumping him with his shoulder. "Must be exhausting, pretending to belong here."
Kael paused.
"Say something," Jerris laughed, "or have you gone mute again, rat?"
Kael slowly met their gaze. But his expression didn't waver. He stepped around them and resumed his routine.
Theron's lips curled in irritation. "Coward."
Lioren's sharp voice broke through the tension. "Enough. Back to your formations."
They obeyed, grumbling, but the venom lingered in their stares.
---
That night, Kael trained alone in the northern courtyard—far from the lanterns, beneath the broken statue of a forgotten god. He ran drills with weighted stones strapped to his arms and ankles. Each strike, each pivot, was painful. And yet he kept moving.
He had to.
His breath steamed in the cold, forming ghosts that vanished too quickly.
"I should report you for being out after curfew," a voice said from behind.
Kael didn't stop.
Naya stepped into view, arms folded. "Do you ever rest?"
He finally paused, sweat dripping from his brow.
"You've been… different lately," she said, stepping closer. "Something's changed."
Kael didn't speak.
Naya tilted her head. "What are you hiding?"
Still, silence.
She sighed and turned. "You can't hide forever."
---
Later that week, Kael was summoned again—this time not by Lioren, but by an aging librarian named Wren, who rarely left the dust-choked halls of the Archive Hall.
"There's a delivery request," Wren said with a shrug, handing Kael a worn scroll. "Odd place. Past the Ember Caves, near the ruins of Valemoor."
Kael narrowed his eyes. That area was sealed. Forbidden even to upper-tier students.
Wren scratched his head. "Must be an error. But your name's on it."
He left without further word.
Kael stared at the scroll.
The seal bore a sigil he didn't recognize—curved horns around a downward sword, inked in faded crimson.
He hid the scroll inside his coat and left the library.
---
At dusk, Kael slipped past the southern gate and into the frost-covered forest beyond. The trees grew thicker near the Ember Caves, blackened and scorched in places from magic battles centuries ago. Wild mana hung in the air like static.
The cave mouth loomed like the throat of a giant.
He stepped inside.
Almost immediately, the path narrowed and sloped downward. Runes flickered faintly along the walls, then dimmed the moment he passed. It was a place of trials—abandoned, yes, but never unguarded.
After twenty minutes of descent, he entered a wide chamber. A worn stone bridge stretched across a chasm, with only fog beyond. The moment he stepped forward, the bridge shook—and then a massive shadow moved in the mist.
A beast—half reptilian, half metallic—unfurled its wings and shrieked.
Kael rolled left as a burst of flame shot toward him. The air roared with heat.
He grabbed a fallen sword lodged in stone—its edge chipped, but sturdy—and ran.
The creature lunged. Kael slid under its jaws, scraping his back against the bridge, and slashed upward—once, twice, quick like instinct. The creature screeched and recoiled, stumbling to the side.
Kael stood panting.
And barely standing.
For the first time in years, the thrill of danger didn't scare him. It called to him.
This was what he had trained for. What his body remembered. What his blood demanded.
He wasn't weak.
Not anymore.
---
Back at the academy, Lioren sat at his desk, staring at the fire.
Kael hadn't reported for evening drills.
He didn't need to ask where the boy was.
He simply whispered to the flame: "May you return stronger than when you left."
----
The bridge cracked beneath Kael's boots as the beast circled, wings beating like thunder. Its eyes glowed molten gold, and its roar reverberated through the cavern walls like a death knell.
Kael ducked behind a fallen pillar as the beast's tail slammed into the stone, sending shards flying. One grazed his cheek, blood trailing down his neck.
Too slow. He needed to think—faster.
The sword in his hand was dull. Useless for a direct assault. But there were chains—old, rusted ones—dangling from the ceiling above the bridge. Once used for tests of agility, maybe. Now forgotten.
He darted forward, narrowly missing another gout of flame that scorched the air behind him.
Kael threw the sword upward. It clanged uselessly off the stone. But it wasn't meant to hit.
It was meant to draw attention.
The beast lunged, mouth open wide.
Kael jumped toward the edge, grabbing a half-collapsed chain and swinging out over the chasm just as the creature dove.
It missed him by inches—and crashed full force into the stone wall, sending tremors through the cavern.
Kael swung, let go, and landed hard on the beast's back.
One strike—two—he drove a broken dagger he'd hidden in his belt deep into the weak joint between two armored plates near the neck.
The beast shrieked, bucked wildly, but Kael held on.
He twisted the dagger. Smoke hissed from the wound. Sparks burst from the creature's maw.
With a final lurch, it collapsed, half over the bridge, half dangling over the endless abyss.
Kael lay still on its heaving form, chest rising and falling in rapid gulps.
He couldn't feel his left arm.
His ribs burned.
But he was alive.
And it was dead.
---
He stumbled his way out barely holding on,the cave trembling behind him. Dust fell from the ceiling. The entire ruin felt… unsettled.
Something deeper inside had been disturbed.
As Kael limped through the exit, a soft glow flickered to his right.
Embedded in the wall, hidden behind vines and dust, was a symbol—a sigil of an ancient house. Long extinct.
The downward sword,it was the same as the one on the scroll,his hands move to touch it.
A faint hum pulsed through his fingertips,then it faded like wasn't there.
He stepped back, heart still racing.
Whatever this place was—it hadn't just been a forgotten ruin,It had been a test but he was sure by whom,and something had been watching him in the shadows.
-----
Kael limped back toward the academy under a rising sun, blood dried on his sleeve, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
His fight with the monster make him feel his strength is not yet sufficient.,but that didn't make him useless it make something deeper inside him stirred.
Not just power.
Purpose.
He hadn't been sent to die.
He'd been chosen to survive.