Kael stood in the middle of a circle drawn with white chalk, his palms open facing upwards. Before him, a small wooden ball hovered a few inches above the floor, moving unsteadily like a boat in the middle of a storm. Sweat poured from his forehead, not from the heat, but from the concentration that drained all his strength.
"Focus," Magistra Clara's voice sounded from outside the circle. "Don't force it. Let the Aether flow, don't push it."
Kael followed the instructions. He released his tension, trying to let the energy within him flow like water, not crash like a wave. But every time he managed to calm his mind, something else surfaced. Shadows. The flash of black claws. His father's screams.
The wooden ball hit the floor with a loud clatter.
"Again," Clara instructed with a neutral and firm tone, without anger or disappointment.
Kael took a deep breath and lifted the ball back with his hand. He closed his eyes, trying once more.
The second day of the second week of training. Ever since the discovery of his extraordinary Light Aether affinity, Magistra Clara had given Kael special attention. It didn't mean he received special treatment. On the contrary, the expectations placed upon him were higher. He was required to master the basic Aether techniques faster than the other recruits, a task that felt impossible considering he had only just learned the theory last week.
"Your power is immense," Clara said as Kael struggled to control the energy in his hands. "But power without control is a boomerang. You can destroy your enemy, or you can destroy yourself."
Kael knew that. He had felt for himself how Light Aether could surge out of control when his emotions peaked. Thirteen years ago in Greenwood. Last week when the crystal exploded with golden light. Every time, he couldn't control it. He could only hold it back.
Around the training circle, other recruits were also practicing their respective tasks. Erik tried to create a small fire from a simple rune, his face full of frustration as the flame kept dying. Thomas struggled to lift a rock with Earth Aether. And Marcus Valerius...
Marcus stood in the opposite circle, the wooden ball before him hovering steadily. Small flames burned at his fingertips, swirling gracefully around the ball. He made it all look easy, almost like a performance.
"Very good, Valerius," Clara said approvingly. "Your control is already good for a Novice level."
Marcus turned toward Kael with a faint smile on his lips. Not a friendly smile. It was a sneer of victory, a reminder that even though Kael had a stronger affinity, Marcus had better control.
Kael looked down at the wooden ball before him. He wasn't envious. He wasn't angry. What he felt was a deeper determination. Marcus had trained with private tutors since childhood. Kael only had himself and the worn books from the village library. But that didn't mean he couldn't learn.
He took a deep breath once more, closed his eyes, and tried a different approach. Instead of pushing the Aether outward, he tried pulling it inward. Instead of thinking about the wooden ball, he thought about the light inside him. The light that had been there since the day his father died. The light that had protected him in his dreams.
The wooden ball began to hover. Slowly, unsteadily, but hovering.
"Interesting," Clara said in a lower voice. "You're using an internalizing method. Not standard technique, but... effective."
Kael opened his eyes. The ball hovered a foot above his hand, still moving unsteadily, but better than before. For the first time in this training, he felt a little progress.
Lunch in the recruit canteen was always an unofficial social battleground. The long tables were filled with exhausted recruits, flocking to fill their stomachs before the afternoon training began. Kael sat at the end of a table with Erik, Thomas, and Joran, the group that had formed since the team competition last week.
"I don't understand," Erik complained, staring at his plate containing pieces of meat and boiled vegetables. "Why is the Fire Rune harder than I thought? The theory is simple. Draw a triangle with a vertical line in the middle, channel the Aether, and the result is fire. But the reality? Just a small spark that dies in seconds."
"You think too much," Thomas said between bites of his food. "I have the same problem. Every time I try to lift that rock, I just feel dead tired instead."
"Earth Aether drains stamina," Joran said in his characteristically calm voice. "You have to build up energy reserves first."
Kael listened while eating his food ravenously. After the exhausting Aether training, his stomach felt like a bottomless pit. He didn't join the conversation, focusing more on replenishing his energy.
"What about you, Kael?" Erik asked. "You managed to lift the ball. That's more than I could do."
"Just a little," Kael answered in a flat voice. "Still unsteady. I need more practice."
"At least you have an affinity," Erik sighed. "I'm not even sure if I have one at all."
"Everyone has an affinity," Kael said, remembering Magistra Clara's words. "It's just that the types and strengths differ."
The conversation was cut short as a group of recruits entered the canteen noisily. In front of them, Marcus Valerius walked with his head held high, surrounded by his three companions who followed him everywhere. They headed to the table opposite Kael's, but Marcus stopped right beside Kael's group.
"Farmer," Marcus said in a voice loud enough for the whole canteen to hear. "How was your Aether training today? Still struggling to lift that little wooden ball?"
Several recruits stopped eating to watch. Kael didn't lift his head from his plate. He continued eating as if Marcus wasn't there.
"I'm talking to you," Marcus stressed, his voice slightly louder.
"I heard," Kael replied without looking. "There is nothing that needs to be said."
Marcus's expression changed, his eyes flaring with annoyance. He wasn't used to being ignored. As a son of the Valerius family, he was used to getting the attention he wanted, whether it was admiration or fear.
"You think because your affinity is slightly stronger, you're on the same level as us?" Marcus lowered his voice to a sharp tone. "That Light Aether, you don't even know how to use it properly. Power without control means nothing."
Kael finally turned, looking at Marcus with calm eyes. "You're right."
Marcus was taken aback. He clearly didn't expect Kael to agree.
"I don't know how to use it properly," Kael continued in a flat voice. "That's why I train. Every day. Until I know."
He returned his gaze to his plate and continued eating, as if the conversation had ended. Marcus stood in his place for a few seconds, his face shifting between confusion and anger. Then he turned and walked toward his group's table, leaving Kael and his friends.
"That was... intense," Erik whispered after Marcus was far enough away. "Aren't you afraid he'll retaliate?"
"What can he do?" Kael asked without lifting his head. "Here, we are all the same. Same training, same rules."
Thomas and Joran exchanged glances. They knew the world wasn't that simple. But no one said anything.
That night, after the brutal physical training from Sergeant Brok, Kael slipped into the backyard of the complex. A crescent moon hung in the sky, providing enough light to see. In his hands, he carried the book Magistra Clara had given him about Light Aether theory.
He had read the book three times since receiving it. Theories about how Light Aether worked, how to direct it, how to shape it into something useful. But theory and practice were two very different things.
Kael sat cross-legged in the middle of the yard, placing the book beside him. He closed his eyes and began to meditate, a technique he learned from one of the book's chapters.
"Visualization," the book explained. "Imagine the Aether as light within you. A fluid flowing through energy vessels. To control it, you must first be able to see it in your mind."
Kael tried. He imagined golden light inside his chest, flowing into his arms and legs. He tried to see it, not with his eyes, but with something deeper. Something he couldn't explain with words.
Slowly, he felt something. A familiar vibration within himself. He tried to direct it to his palm, shaping it into a useful form. A sphere of light, as shown in the book's diagram.
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Light began to form above his hand. Unsteady, flickering like a flame threatened to be extinguished. Kael tried to maintain it, trying to give it a more permanent shape.
Suddenly, a flash of shadows appeared in his mind. Black claws tearing flesh. His father's screams. Blood everywhere.
The light in his hand exploded, scattering golden flashes in all directions before disappearing completely. Kael fell backward, his breathing heavy. Not from physical exhaustion, but from mental shock.
"Damn it," he grunted, punching the ground beside him.
This had happened many times. Every time he managed to awaken the Light Aether, shadows from his past appeared and shattered his concentration. It was as if something inside him didn't want him to control that power. Like guilt, or perhaps fear.
Kael sat back up and took a deep breath. He looked at the crescent moon in the sky, remembering Erik's words from that night. "You move like every movement has a purpose. Like every strike is a promise."
What promise? A promise to protect? A promise to seek revenge? Or a promise to never be a victim again?
He didn't know. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. What he knew was that he had to master this power. Not for himself, but for the people he might be able to save in the future.
With renewed resolve, Kael closed his eyes once more and tried. And failed. And tried again. And failed again.
Five times he tried. Five times he failed. But on the sixth attempt, something different happened.
Instead of fighting the shadows in his mind, Kael accepted them. He acknowledged their existence. Yes, his father died. Yes, he witnessed it. Yes, it was painful. But that pain was not a reason to give up. That pain was the reason to keep fighting.
The light in his hand flickered, then stabilized. Not entirely solid, but not disappearing either. A small golden sphere hovered a few inches above his palm, emitting a soft but real light.
Kael opened his eyes and looked at the light. It was the first time he had consciously managed to shape Light Aether and maintain it. Only for a few seconds, before the light finally went out. But it was a small victory that meant everything.
"One step," he whispered to himself. "One step at a time."
The next morning, Kael woke up with a body that felt like it had been hit by a carriage. Practicing all night had drained his energy reserves, but he felt satisfied with the small progress he had made.
As he prepared for morning training, he looked for his wooden training sword where he usually kept it. Under the bed, tied with the leather strap he got from Aunt Helena. But when he reached under the bed, his hand only grasped empty air.
Kael blinked, then searched again. Maybe he misplaced it. Maybe he forgot where he put it last night. He searched every corner of his room, behind his blanket, under the other recruits' pillows.
"Are you looking for this?"
Kael turned around. Erik stood in the doorway of their room, holding a wooden sword that had been shattered into pieces.
"I found it in the trash behind the barracks," Erik said with a dark face. "It was already like this."
Kael took the pieces of wood from Erik's hands. His training sword had been broken into three pieces, clearly intentionally. This couldn't be an accident. This couldn't be a coincidence.
"Marcus," Erik said, mentioning a name that wasn't surprising at all.
Kael stared at the pieces of wood in his hands with an unreadable expression. This wasn't the first time Marcus had done something like this. But before, he only used words and condescending glares. This was an escalation. This was a direct attack.
"What are you going to do?" Erik asked with a worried voice.
Kael was silent for a moment. A part of him wanted to confront Marcus directly. Demand answers. Maybe even retaliate in kind. But another part of him, the part that had learned from his experiences in dreams and training, knew that wasn't the right path.
"I will report this to Captain Aldric," Kael said in a calm voice.
"And that won't bring your sword back," Erik said in frustration. "The practical sword test starts in two hours. You don't have a spare."
Kael stared at the pieces of wood once more. Then, without a word, he walked out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Erik yelled behind him.
"To find a new sword," Kael replied without looking back.
He didn't go to Captain Aldric. He didn't go looking for Marcus for a confrontation. Instead, he went to the small workshop at the edge of the recruit complex, where the instructors kept spare equipment.
There, he met an old man who was repairing a leather sandal. The man looked at Kael with sharp but unfriendly eyes.
"What do you need, young man?"
"A training sword," Kael answered directly. "Mine is broken."
The old man looked him up and down, then nodded toward a pile of wooden swords in the corner of the workshop. "Take one. Any of them."
Kael took the simplest sword from the pile. No decorations, no fancy leather grip. Just hard wood shaped into a sword with a decent weight.
"Thank you," Kael said before turning to leave.
"Wait a minute," the old man called out. "You're the boy whose Light Aether affinity was just discovered last week, aren't you?"
Kael stopped and turned. "Yes."
The old man smiled, a smile full of unrevealed knowledge. "Light Aether is a rare power. Rarer than you think. Use it wisely."
Before Kael could ask what he meant, the man went back to repairing his sandal, as if the conversation never happened. Kael stood in place for a moment, then walked back to the barracks with his new sword in hand.
The training arena was filled with over a hundred recruits standing in neat rows. In the center of the arena, Captain Aldric stood with several instructors beside him. Today was the first practical sword test since training began, and every recruit had to demonstrate their skills.
"This test is simple," Aldric said with a booming voice. "You will fight one-on-one with your peers. The instructors will evaluate your technique, form, and defensive abilities. The best will receive an award. The worst... will get special attention from Sergeant Brok."
Several recruits gulped nervously. Sergeant Brok smiled with a smile that was not comforting at all.
Kael stood in his row, holding his new wooden sword with a steady hand. This sword was different from the old one, slightly heavier and longer. But he had trained with various types of swords over the years. He could adapt.
"Marcus Valerius vs Kael!" an instructor's voice called out.
Murmurs rippled through the ranks of recruits. This was no coincidence. Marcus must have arranged this. Or maybe the instructors intentionally paired them to see who was better.
Marcus stepped into the arena with his high-quality sword, clearly crafted by the best artisans. The hilt was wrapped in leather and decorated with the Valerius family symbol. A stark contrast to Kael's simple sword that looked like a roughly chopped tree branch.
"Interesting," Marcus said in a fairly loud voice. "You had to find a new sword. Mine broke just like that."
Kael didn't react. He assumed the Dawn Blade Style stance he had honed over the years. Left foot forward, sword at his right hip with the tip pointing down.
"BEGIN!" Aldric signaled.
Marcus moved first with a rapid strike aimed at Kael's shoulder. He clearly had studied Kael's fighting style from their previous bout, as his attack was designed to force Kael out of his defensive posture.
Kael parried with minimal movement, then launched a counter that forced Marcus to step back. But Marcus had learned. He dodged and immediately attacked again, slash after slash flowing smoothly.
This fight was different from the first one. Marcus no longer underestimated Kael. He fought seriously, using every technique he learned from his private tutor. And for the first time, Kael felt pressured.
But then, something happened. In the middle of the fight, as Marcus's sword swung toward his head, Kael felt something vibrate within him. The Light Aether he had practiced with all night, which he had struggled to control, flowed into his hand without him realizing it.
His wooden sword moved faster than before. Not because of physical strength, but something else. Something that made his movements sharper, more precise.
Marcus was taken aback. He didn't expect this sudden change. His attacks that should have been unavoidable were parried easily, and suddenly he found himself on the defensive.
Kael didn't waste the opportunity. He launched a series of strikes that forced Marcus to retreat step by step, until finally Kael's sword stopped right at Marcus's throat.
Silence.
"Kael wins," Aldric announced with a voice that showed no surprise. "With an... interesting technique."
He looked at Kael with sharp eyes, as if trying to see something invisible to others. Kael lowered his sword, feeling exhaustion suddenly wash over him. The Light Aether he just used had drained most of his energy reserves.
Marcus stood with a pale face, his eyes staring at Kael with an expression he couldn't hide. Fear. This time, the defeat wasn't just about technique. There was something else, something he couldn't understand or defeat.
That night, Kael couldn't sleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind kept spinning. The fight with Marcus had unlocked something inside him. The Light Aether he had practiced all night, which he was just beginning to understand, had flowed naturally when he needed it.
That was dangerous. He knew that. Without proper control, Aether could manifest at unexpected times and drain him until he couldn't move. On the battlefield, that meant death.
Kael sat on his bed, looking at the moon through the window. Next to him, Erik snored softly, exhausted after a long day. Throughout the barracks, the other recruits slept peacefully, unaware that somewhere in the north, the demon army was advancing.
Kael closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But as his eyes closed, the shadows began to appear.
The Greenwood forest in darkness. Screams in the distance. The smell of smoke and blood. And in the midst of the chaos, a massive figure with black claws gleaming under the moonlight.
A Shadow Drake.
Kael tried to wake up, but his body wouldn't move. This was a dream, he knew it, but that didn't make it any less real. The creature turned to him with glowing red eyes, and Kael could feel its foul breath that smelled like rotting meat.
"Kael..." the voice whispered, but not from the creature. The voice came from a different direction. A voice he recognized. A voice he had listened to for years.
"Father?"
Behind the Shadow Drake, Dorian's figure stood. Not bloody, not broken. Just standing with the same smile Kael remembered from his childhood.
"You've grown up," Dorian said in a soft voice. "So big."
"Father..." Kael tried to move, tried to run toward his father. But his feet felt anchored to the ground.
"Don't forget," Dorian said, his voice starting to fade. "True strength is not about defeating enemies. True strength is about protecting the ones you love."
"Wait!" Kael yelled. "Don't go!"
But Dorian was gone. The Shadow Drake was gone. The Greenwood forest was gone. All that was left was darkness and the sound of his own screams.
Kael woke up panting. Sweat poured down his forehead. Next to him, Erik shifted but didn't wake up. Throughout the barracks, no one realized that Kael had just escaped the most intense dream since he arrived at this complex.
He sat on the edge of his bed with trembling hands. The dreams always came and went, but tonight was different. Tonight, for the first time, he saw his father. Not as a broken victim, but as the figure still alive in his memories.
"Protecting the ones you love," Kael whispered, repeating his father's words.
He looked toward the window, where the moonlight streamed in softly. Somewhere in this city, his mother might be sleeping. Somewhere in the palace, Elara might be looking at the same moon. And somewhere in the north, the demon army continued to advance, threatening everything.
Kael clenched his fists. The second week had ended with a small victory and a painful reminder. But tomorrow, the third week would begin. And with it, greater challenges.
He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if he would succeed in mastering the Light Aether. He didn't know if he would be able to protect the people he loved. But there was one thing he knew for sure.
He would never stop trying.
With that resolve in his heart, Kael lay back down and closed his eyes. The dreams might come again, but he was ready to face them. Because every dream, every shadow, every pain was a reminder of why he fought.
And when dawn arrived tomorrow, he would be ready for whatever awaited him.
— To be continued in Chapter 9 —