The morning started off almost normal for Leonard Exparti — or as normal as things could get, considering his life had turned upside down. A hearty breakfast, a quick bath, and then the moment that made it all real: putting on his uniform for the first time.


    It carried the colors of Param — deep red, sharp black, and gold accents — but unlike Wesley’s heavily decorated ensemble, Leonard’s was plain, almost painfully so. No medals, no marks of distinction. Just a stark reminder of his rank: Recruit.


    With a knapsack slung over his shoulder — packed with essentials and the determination he had spent all night trying to summon — Leonard stepped out into the quiet hallway of the inn where they had been staying.


    He rapped his knuckles on the door next to his, glancing around as he waited. No answer.


    “Sam’s already gone to the barracks,” a familiar voice said.


    Leonard turned to see Mara leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed and watching him with mild amusement.


    “Oh...” Leonard muttered, a flicker of disappointment slipping through before he could hide it.


    Mara smirked. “I know, I know — you can’t bear to be apart. But trust me, once you start training, you’ll be too busy praying for mercy to think about her.”


    Leonard raised an eyebrow, trying to play it off. “It can’t be that bad... right?”


    Mara pushed off the wall, motioning for him to follow. “Normally? Not too bad. But Master Valentine pulled some strings for you.” She shot him a knowing look. “He made sure you’re getting the best instructor in all of Param. And believe me when I say — some of her methods will make you wish you were dead.”


    Leonard swallowed hard, falling into step behind her, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the strap of his bag.


    They walked in silence for a while, the inn fading behind them as they turned into the main street. Leonard couldn''t help glancing around at the towering buildings and sharp, fortified walls of Mistra — a city that felt both alive and ancient, and nothing like the quiet, rural life he''d left behind.


    Here, soldiers marched in neat lines. Mages in long coats hurried down the stone paths, their staves clinking against the ground like rhythmic warnings. Every now and then, a patrol of armored knights on horseback passed, eyes sharp and wary.


    Leonard swallowed, the weight of his plain uniform suddenly heavier on his shoulders.


    "Still not used to living here?" Mara asked, glancing sideways at him.


    He nodded. "It''s... a lot."


    "Better get used to it," she said, smirking. "You’ll be seeing more of this when they ship you out to the frontlines."


    The frontlines. Richard.


    The words echoed in his head like a curse.


    Before he could reply, they turned a corner and came into view of the barracks — a sprawling complex of stone and steel, split into two massive courtyards. One side was filled with recruits in various shades of leather and mail, sparring and drilling in formation. He tried to catch a glimpse of Samantha, but there were too many bodies in the way. Instead, he focused on the other side.


    Leonard''s stomach twisted as he watched the scene before him — people in mage coats stood in formation, hands outstretched. Instructors stalked between them, barking orders as walls of flame erupted in controlled bursts, lightning arced between targets, and shimmering shields formed and shattered under magical assault.


    This is where I''m supposed to belong?


    Mara chuckled at the look on his face. "Impressed? Don''t be. Half those fireballs are gonna fizzle out before they hit anything. That''s what you''re walking into — a bunch of amateurs trying not to set themselves on fire."


    "Comforting," Leonard muttered.


    "Still, don’t get too cocky." Mara stopped at the gates and turned to face him, her expression a little more serious. "Your case is... complicated. You’ve got more raw mana than most of these recruits combined, but if you can’t control it? You’re as good as dead. And trust me — she won’t go easy on you."


    "She?"


    Before Mara could answer, a sudden explosion of fire rocked the yard, a shockwave of heat rushing past them.


    Leonard flinched as a figure marched out of the smoke — a tall woman clad in a black and red officer’s coat, her silver hair tied back in a severe braid. Her eyes scanned the recruits like a hawk sizing up prey.


    "That," Mara said, gesturing with her chin, "is Instructor Halbrecht. The best battle mage in Param. And your worst nightmare."


    As if on cue, Halbrecht’s voice cut through the yard like a blade.


    "If you think waving sparks around makes you a mage, think again! On the battlefield, hesitation gets you and everyone around you killed!"


    Her gaze swept the yard, sharp as a dagger — and when her eyes landed on Leonard and Mara, they narrowed.


    "You there! Fresh meat?"


    Leonard blinked, then realized she was talking to him.


    "Uh — yes, ma’am!"


    "Get over here. Let’s see if you’re worth the strings Valentine pulled to get you in."


    Leonard shot Mara a desperate look, but she only grinned and gave him a pat on the back.


    "Good luck. You’ll need it."


    With a sinking feeling, Leonard stepped forward, past the gate, as every mage recruit turned to look at him — sizing him up like wolves sniffing out a new lamb.


    Instructor Halbrecht crossed her arms as she loomed over him.


    "So," she said, eyeing him from head to toe. "You’re the so-called prodigy that insufferable fucker’s been harping up about. Let''s see if there’s anything in there worth training — or if you''re just a pretty puppet dancing on Meyers'' strings."


    Leonard stiffened at the insult, but before he could say a word, she tossed a wooden staff at his feet.


    "Pick it up."


    He did, awkwardly, the wood feeling heavier than he expected.


    Halbrecht pointed toward a row of practice dummies, charred and scarred from countless magical strikes.


    "First lesson, Exparti: show me what you''ve got. Attack that target — and don’t hold back. If Valentine has taught you anything, I want to see it."


    Leonard swallowed as the recruits gathered to watch, whispers already starting to spread through the yard.


    No pressure, right?


    He tightened his grip on the staff, closed his eyes for a moment — and reached inside, feeling for that well of energy, that strange foreign magic now buried in his soul.


    It stirred — wild, volatile, and far deeper than he expected.


    He opened his eyes.


    "Alright," he muttered under his breath. "Here goes nothing."


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    As the first crackle of power surged through his body, a strange sense of both terror and exhilaration filled his chest.


    As Leonard tightened his grip on the staff, the murmurs of the recruits around him began to fade, replaced by a single voice echoing in his mind — Wesley’s voice.


    <hr>


    "Magic isn’t about words or fancy hand movements," Wesley had said one evening, leaning back lazily against a tree outside the inn. Smoke from his cigarette drifted into the air as he eyed Leonard like a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved yet. "It’s about understanding. You can’t summon fire if you don’t know what fire is. Can’t cut through a man if you don’t know what it entails."


    Leonard had sat across from him, brow furrowed. "But how do I ''understand'' something I’ve never done before? I’ve never shot lightning or thrown fire at people."


    Wesley had smirked, tilting his head toward the woods. "Then don’t start there. Start with what you do know."


    He’d taken a long drag from his cigarette before gesturing lazily toward Leonard. "Tell me — when you swing an axe, what’s going through your head?"


    Leonard blinked. "I mean... I don’t know. I aim for the weak part of the wood. You line up the cut, put your weight behind it, and —"


    "Exactly," Wesley interrupted. "You see the strike before you make it. You know what the tree will feel like, how the blade bites in, where the split will run. Magic’s no different. If you wanna cut something with magic, you have to understand what it means to cut. You’re not a mage who fights — you’re a lumberjack who happens to use magic."


    He’d pointed a finger at Leonard’s chest then, sharp and direct.


    "So next time you wanna hit something, don’t think about spells. Think about your axe. Picture it. Feel it. Swing it. And then let the magic follow."


    <hr>


    The memory faded as Leonard’s gaze locked on the training dummy ahead of him, still hearing Wesley’s voice like a steady guide.


    Think about the axe. Think about the swing.


    His fingers adjusted on the staff, and in his mind, it wasn''t a piece of wood he held — it was the axe handle, rough and solid in his hands, the weight of the blade pulling down toward the earth.


    The tree stands before you.


    You see the grain, you see where the cut needs to go.


    Swing true.


    Leonard inhaled slowly. And then, as if he were back in the woods, he swung.


    But as he did — magic surged to life in response to that mental image.


    A faint golden light burst from the staff’s tip, following the motion of his imagined axe. At first, it was just a flicker — but then something deeper woke, Byron Meyers’ latent mana responding like a sleeping beast stirred from slumber.


    The light flared suddenly, a sharp arc of raw force slashing outward from the staff — a cleaving wave that smashed into the target dummy with a sound like cracking timber.


    For a moment, everything was still.


    The top half of the training dummy slid clean off, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, while a thin trail of smoke curled from the cut.


    All around him, the other recruits stood frozen, staring with wide eyes. A few of them had been smirking before — now, not so much.


    Halbrecht''s sharp eyes narrowed.


    "Again."


    Leonard blinked, caught off guard. "W-What?"


    "Again," she repeated, her tone like ice. "But this time, control it — or you’ll be cleaning up the mess when you destroy the yard."


    Leonard swallowed, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. His hands were trembling slightly from the surge of power that had come out of nowhere — a reminder that what was inside him was not entirely his own.


    He glanced over to Mara at the gate, who gave him a small nod, arms still crossed, watching like a proud but expectant sister.


    Halbrecht stepped closer, her presence looming.


    "You''ve got power — fine,” she whispered. “But power without control is a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I don’t care if you’ve got Meyers’ magic inside you — until you learn how to wield it properly, you’re nothing."


    Leonard gritted his teeth, nodding.


    "Good," she said. "Now again. And this time, show me you know what it means to strike only what you aim for — not everything in the way."


    He tightened his grip on the staff again, feeling sweat bead at his temple.


    Alright, Wes. Axe, tree, clean cut. I can do this... right?


    Leonard took a slow, shaky breath and reset his stance, gripping the staff tighter, his arms sore from tension. His first strike had felt like swinging a storm — wild, uncontained.


    Focus.


    He exhaled through his nose.


    Axe. Tree. Just like Wesley said.


    He pictured it again — the weight of the axe, the feeling of muscle memory in his arms, the exact angle he used when splitting a log down its center. He visualized the cut, felt the impact before it even happened.


    With a smooth motion, Leonard swung the staff a second time.


    The glow was there, but smaller now, tighter, and when the energy burst out, it formed a focused crescent, much more contained. It struck the replacement dummy with a sharp crack, leaving a deep gouge but not splitting it in two.


    Gasps rose around him.


    "Better," Halbrecht said coldly, though there was a glint in her eye now — a glimmer of reluctant approval. "You might not be a total waste of my time."


    Leonard, panting slightly, turned to look at her. She was standing arms folded, her wolf-like eyes watching him as if trying to figure out how dangerous he could become.


    "Get in line, Exparti," she said after a moment. "You''re not special here. Not yet."


    Leonard nodded, stepping back into formation as the rest of the recruits watched him out of the corners of their eyes — some with respect, others with suspicion.


    Not special yet, he repeated to himself, glancing at his hands. But what was that feeling when the magic burst out? Like something had stirred within him — something deeper than his own will.


    The training continued without incident until the sun dipped beyond the horizon, painting the skies in streaks of red and purple. By nightfall, Leonard collapsed onto his cot in the crowded barracks, body aching in ways he didn’t know were possible. He stared up at the wooden ceiling beams, mind racing.


    The other recruits talked quietly among themselves, some giving him sideways glances, but no one approached.


    Just as he was about to close his eyes and give in to exhaustion, a familiar voice whispered from the door.


    "Hey, tree-splitter."


    Leonard blinked and turned his head. There was Samantha, dressed down from the day’s training, though her bow still hung casually over one shoulder. She smirked at him, eyes sparkling mischievously.


    "Sam?" he muttered, sitting up.


    She tilted her head toward the door. "Come on. You look like you could use some air."


    Without waiting for him to respond, she was already slipping back into the night.


    Leonard hesitated, then grabbed his coat and followed her out into the cool night air.


    Samantha led him away from the barracks, moving with surprising ease for someone who had probably spent all day getting drilled by instructors. She ducked around a quiet corner of the compound, past a few supply sheds, and then — much to Leonard’s confusion — climbed up the side of a storage building with practiced ease.


    "Samantha, what are you—?"


    "Shhh," she waved him up. "Trust me. You’ll like this."


    Grumbling softly, Leonard followed, pulling himself up to the roof with effort. When he finally stood beside her, his breath caught in his throat.


    From their vantage point, the whole camp spread out below them — training yards lit dimly by torchlight, rows of tents and barracks, the faint glimmer of the city in the distance. And above, a sky so clear and vast that Leonard could see every star.


    "Wow..." he murmured.


    "Told you," Samantha said, sitting on the edge, her feet dangling off the side. "Found this place on my first day. Good place to breathe when you feel like you’re drowning."


    Leonard sat beside her, still catching his breath. "Drowning... yeah, that about sums it up."


    They sat in silence for a moment, just taking in the view.


    Then Samantha nudged him gently with her shoulder. "Heard about what you did today."


    "Let me guess — everyone''s talking about the kid who almost destroyed the yard?" Leonard muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.


    "Something like that," she grinned. "But I saw the cut you made. Clean, powerful. You know, for a lumberjack, you’re not too bad with magic."


    Leonard chuckled faintly. "Yeah, well, I almost lost control. Again."


    Samantha looked at him for a long moment. "Scared?"


    Leonard hesitated. "...Yeah. I don’t even know what’s really inside me. Every time I touch that power, it feels like… like something’s watching me from inside. Like it’s not fully mine."


    Samantha was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "That makes two of us."


    He turned to her, surprised.


    She smirked, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "This whole soldier thing? I’m good with a bow, but out there, when the real fighting starts? I don’t know if I’m ready. I’ve always fought to protect myself but this is different."


    Leonard swallowed. "Feels like we got thrown into something way bigger than we can handle."


    "Yeah," she agreed, and leaned back on her arms, gazing up at the stars. "But at least we’re in it together, right?"


    Leonard smiled faintly. "Yeah. Together."


    There was another pause — a quieter, gentler one — and Leonard glanced over at her, noticing how the moonlight softened her sharp features.


    "Hey, Sam?" he said, voice quieter now.


    "Yeah?"


    "...Thanks. For this."


    She smiled sideways at him, bumping her shoulder into his again. "Anytime, tree-splitter."