《Forged by Falcrest》


 Chapter 1 - Cold Beginnings

    A frail-looking young boy with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes sat on a rusty bench. If anyone had bothered to glance his way, they would have seen his dark brown eyes fixed on the academy gates ahead, his thumb idly twirling around the steaming cup in his hands.


    He raised it to his lips and took a sip. The taste was bitter, leaving a sharp tang in his throat, but the warmth was welcome. All around him, the world was blanketed in white, the winter snow had started falling the night before, covering the mountain in an unforgiving chill.


    The mountaintops were a cold, desolate place. Why anyone had chosen to build a village here, he would never understand.


    People bustled past, wrapped in thick woolly jackets. No one spared him a glance.


    He looked down at his stained and tattered jacket and sighed. Winter was always the worst for him.


    He finished his coffee. He hated it. It tasted like shit. But at two coppers, he wasn¡¯t about to waste it.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s rough,¡± he muttered to himself, crumpling the cup in his hands.


    He stood and aimed for the trash bin. The cup missed¡ªby a lot. Sighing, he shuffled over and placed it in properly.


    As he turned, a man walked past and shot him a scowl. Maybe he¡¯d seen him staring at the academy in envy, or maybe it was because someone like him didn¡¯t belong on this side of town.


    ¡°It¡¯s not because I smell, is it?¡± he muttered.


    Lifting his frail arm, he sniffed at his sleeve, then wrinkled his nose before quickly lowering it.


    ¡°Nope. Definitely not because of the smell.¡±


    With one last glance at the towering academy gates, he lingered, listening to faint bursts of laughter from within. Behind those walls, people were laughing, learning, living. He couldn¡¯t imagine what that felt like.


    He sighed again, deeper this time, then turned and began to walk away. The snow crunched under his feet, and the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the streets.


    He was in the nicer part of the city. Large stone buildings loomed around him, their windows glowing with warm light and smoke curling up from the chimneys. Everything about this district seemed pristine, untouched by the struggles that plagued him.


    Snow began to fall, the flakes settling on his thin shoulders. He felt the dampness seep through his less-than-useful jacket, and he shivered.


    It was time for a new one. He knew exactly where to get it, too.


    With a five-finger discount, of course.


    But the thought of a new jacket didn¡¯t quiet his growling stomach, a reminder that he hadn¡¯t eaten since yesterday. With a sigh, he trudged on, leaving the bustling city center behind as he headed down the mountain.


    The lower he descended, the more the city changed. The houses became rugged, with crumbling walls and patchy roofs, and the streets grew quieter, littered with the debris and the stench smell of manure.


    Glancing down a dark alley, he spotted two figures talking in hushed tones. One passed a small package to the other, who gave a curt nod in return.


    ¡°Figures,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    One of the men turned toward him. He wore a long black coat, and a balaclava obscured the lower half of his face, but the scar slashing down through his eye was unmistakable.


    ¡°Beat it, kid,¡± the man growled.


    He didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He picked up his pace, pulling his thin jacket tighter against the cold as the sun dipped behind the mountain and darkness fell. He lifted his hood over his head, its frayed edges barely offering any protection, and slunk deeper into the shadows.


    It didn¡¯t take much longer¡ªmaybe half an hour¡ªbefore the building came into view. It was run-down, its stones crumbling and missing in places, and the patched roof looked like it could collapse any day. Yet, despite its sorry state, smoke still rose steadily from the chimney.


    A smile tugged at his lips. Quickening his steps, he darted through the shadows, jumped the gate with practiced ease, and rushed to the door.


    Inside, the noise hit him like a wave. The place was alive with shouting and laughter as young kids played and chased each other through the cramped space. The head matriarch, a stout woman with graying hair, sat on a stained sofa, overseeing the chaos like a weary monarch. She spotted him instantly.


    ¡°Where have you been, Atlas!¡± she half-shouted, rising to her feet. ¡°How many times have I told you to be back before sundown?¡±


    Atlas put on his best smile, the one that made him look all wide-eyed and innocent, and even had the audacity to lower his head like a scolded puppy.


    ¡°Sorry, Madam. I thought I¡¯d make it back with plenty of time, but I got caught up,¡± he said, voice dripping with regret.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    She folded her arms and gave him a long, pointed look. ¡°When will you stop calling me ¡®Madam¡¯ and start calling me Granny Lisa?¡± she grumbled, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.


    ¡°And what exactly got you so ¡®caught up¡¯?¡±


    Atlas glanced up. Her sharp gray eyes were locked on him, piercing through his defenses like a blade. It almost sent a shiver down his spine.


    ¡®I was watching the academy and spent the money you gave me on a crap coffee while scouting out potential marks¡­ Yeah, right, I can¡¯t say that.¡¯


    He tried to look as apologetic as possible. It was a skill he¡¯d honed over the years, and he was getting pretty good at it.


    ¡°I got chased out of Uppertown,¡± he said, trying to sound dejected. ¡°Then I had to find my way back through the slums.¡±


    A shameless lie. Well, mostly. He did get chased out of Uppertown pretty often¡ªjust not this time.


    Granny Lisa¡¯s sharp eyes narrowed for a moment, studying him like she could see straight through the cracks in his story. Finally, she let out a huff and waved him off.


    ¡°Well, go on then. Get yourself some food. And for the hundredth time stop going to uppertown.¡±


    Atlas let out an inward sigh of relief. A small, triumphant smile crept onto his face. Maybe he was getting better at this after all.


    Unbeknownst to him, the old lady was still watching, a glint of knowing mischief in her eyes.


    The food was rubbish as always, but Atlas didn¡¯t blame Granny Lisa. He knew she did everything she could to keep the kids fed. Still, knowing that didn¡¯t make it any easier to choke down this slop.


    The soup looked like someone had chewed up the remains of a bird, added water, and spat it back into a bowl.


    Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe he wasn¡¯t. Either way, it sucked.


    The dining room bustled with noise, mostly from the younger kids. Atlas realized, not for the first time, that he was the oldest one left here. Come the end of winter, he¡¯d be out on his own. The government only funded orphans until they turned twelve, which, in Atlas¡¯s opinion, was complete bullshit.


    He picked at his bowl halfheartedly, the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes washing over him. Once, he¡¯d been like them¡ªcarefree, loud, happy. But everything changed when his childhood friend awakened his core and left for the academy. Ever since, he¡¯d found it harder to connect with anyone. He was too busy trying to grow up.


    ¡°Atlas!¡± Ren¡¯s excited voice cut through his thoughts. The younger boy rushed over, his short black hair gleaming in the firelight. Atlas sighed¡ªagain.


    ¡®I¡¯m way too young to be sighing this much.¡¯


    Before Ren could even open his mouth, Atlas cut him off. ¡°No, you¡¯re not coming.¡±


    Ren¡¯s mix-matched eyes widened, catching something in Atlas¡¯s tone. ¡°So you are going somewhere tonight!¡±


    ¡®Crap.¡¯


    ¡°I mean, no,¡± Atlas stammered, trying to backpedal. ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything tonight. It¡¯s too cold outside.¡± And it was¡ªthe snow was coming down heavy now, blanketing the city in white.


    But Ren¡¯s grin only widened, a gleam of triumph sparkling in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling,¡± he teased, spinning on his heel and making a beeline for the front room.


    ¡°Wait, you little bastard!¡± Atlas hissed after him, keeping his voice low so Granny Lisa wouldn¡¯t hear.


    Ren stopped and turned back, a smug, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Atlas¡¯s fist itched to wipe it off.


    ¡°So, when do we leave?¡± Ren asked, the words dripping with mockery.


    ¡°Midnight, obviously,¡± Atlas snapped before he could stop himself.


    ¡®Damn it all.¡¯


    Atlas was upstairs in the dorm. They didn¡¯t have individual rooms¡ªjust one wide-open space with cots scattered across the floor and narrow walkways weaving between them. Privacy was a luxury no one here could afford.


    His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, with the occasional fake snore slipping out. It was a trick he¡¯d picked up after that time he and Alex had tried to sneak out and got caught by Granny Lisa. If you breathed loud and snored just enough, she assumed you were asleep. It wasn¡¯t foolproof, but it worked most of the time.


    He inhaled deeply and let it out through his nose, forcing a low, convincing snore. Around him, the other boys lay fast asleep in their cots, peaceful and undisturbed. He hoped Ren was among them. The kid was smart and quiet on their late-night outings, which made him useful, but¡­ he was also quite annoying.


    Atlas cracked one eye open, scanning the room. The firelight cast a warm glow, making the shadows dance across the stone walls. Slowly, he pulled the blanket off and sat up. He was still fully dressed¡ªor as dressed as his tattered clothes allowed. When his bare feet touched the stone floor, he almost yelped as the cold shot up his spine. He grabbed his worn boots from under the cot and slipped them on.


    He moved carefully, stepping on the balls of his feet as he weaved through the maze of cots. When he reached the window, he slid the latch open, and the biting cold hit him like a slap to the face. Grimacing, he climbed out quickly, shutting the window behind him before the wind could wake anyone.


    The snow-covered roof greeted him with a few inches of fresh powder. As he turned to make his way to the hidden ladder on the roof, his foot slipped. The snow shifted beneath him, breaking away and sending him sliding uncontrollably.


    ¡°Shit!¡± he hissed under his breath, grabbing at the roof for support¡ªa mistake he immediately regretted. Snow was cold, painfully cold, and his fingers burned as he scrambled to find something solid.


    But it was no use. The roof¡¯s edge came faster than he could react, and before he knew it, he was falling.


    He held his breath, more concerned about staying silent than the landing itself. One, because getting caught would mean big trouble with Granny Lisa. And two, which he thought was far more important, because this was so incredibly embarrassing.


    The snow softened his landing, leaving him sprawled out in a heap of limbs and frost. He groaned quietly, brushing himself off. At least no one had seen him, and he wasn¡¯t hurt. If anything, this was just a shortcut.


    Or so he thought.


    When he looked up, Ren was standing there, that familiar shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The kid¡¯s shoulders shook as he covered his mouth with one hand and pointed with the other.


    ¡®Bugger that guy,¡¯ Atlas thought bitterly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say a word,¡± Atlas whispered as he got to his feet, brushing snow off his jacket. Less than five minutes into this adventure, and he was already freezing and getting laughed at. Fantastic.


    Ren dropped his hand and drew an exaggerated cross over his heart, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him.


    ¡°So, where are we going?¡± Ren asked, his voice dripping with amusement.


    Atlas had just managed to shake the snow out of his jacket¡ªthough some had inconveniently found its way down his trousers. He shivered and tried to muster what little dignity he had left.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to Uppertown,¡± he said, trying to sound in control. ¡°I saw this nice little jacket. Looked like the perfect size.¡±


    Technically, he had seen the jacket. Of course, someone had been wearing it at the time. He¡¯d had to follow them a good while before figuring out where they probably lived.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Ren said, the smugness never leaving his tone. ¡°You spot anything for me?¡±


    Atlas reluctantly nodded. ¡°Yes¡ªwell, no. But I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be something.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he turned and pulled his hood over his head, the tattered fabric barely shielding him from the cold. Ren followed suit, falling into step behind him.


    Together, they slipped into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

 Chapter 2 - Above and Below

    ¡°Owww,¡± Ren muttered, rubbing his elbow as Atlas shoved him up the wall.


    ¡°Come on, give me a hand now,¡± Atlas said, reaching out an arm.


    Ren shot him a glare but grabbed his hand anyway. With a grunt, Atlas jumped, his feet scrabbling against the stone as Ren pulled with all his might. After a few seconds of effort, Atlas finally hauled himself onto the top of the wall.


    They stood together, catching their breath on the dividing line between Uppertown and Midtown. Atlas still didn¡¯t know why they called it Midtown. It wasn¡¯t nice enough to deserve the name¡ªit was the slums, plain and simple.


    He turned his gaze away from the eyesore below and looked up at Uppertown instead. That view was far more appealing. From this vantage point, he still had to crane his neck to take it all in. Like its name implied, Uppertown climbed higher up the mountain, its buildings pristine and orderly even under the faint moonlight.


    The wind bit at his face, sharp and unforgiving. He tried to pull his hood tighter around him, but a ripping sound stopped him short.


    ¡°I really need that jacket,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Ren asked, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.


    Atlas glanced at him and couldn¡¯t help but grin despite himself. Ren¡¯s nose was running, and his cheeks were flushed red from the cold, but the kid still looked determined. Atlas shook his head. He still didn¡¯t understand why Ren always insisted on tagging along.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Atlas said, waving him off. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving. I need that jacket, and tonight¡¯s my only chance. After this, it¡¯s going to get too cold to even try.¡±


    Ren clapped his hands together, the sound echoing down the wall. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong about that.¡±


    ¡°Shhhh!¡± Atlas spun toward him, pressing a finger to his lips. ¡°Do you want the guards to hear us?¡±


    Ren froze, looking a little sheepish. ¡°Right. Sorry.¡±


    Atlas sighed and took the lead again, carefully making his way down the other side of the wall. The climb wasn¡¯t difficult¡ªit wasn¡¯t even that well-guarded. The gates between Uppertown and Midtown were open during the day for trade and movement, so the wall itself was more of a symbol than an actual defense. It was there to remind people where they belonged.


    The wall stood around ten meters high, its solid stone surface imposing and unyielding. Climbing it would have been nearly impossible if not for the small protrusions of stone here and there, just enough for their small frames to find footing.


    Atlas¡¯s boots hit the snowy ground with a soft crunch, quickly followed by Ren¡¯s. Firelight flickered along the wall, growing brighter as it moved closer. A deep voice called out, gruff and sharp, ¡°Is someone there?¡±


    Atlas and Ren exchanged a wide-eyed glance before bolting into the shadows.


    They barely reached the cover of an alley when a large figure rounded the corner. The man¡¯s silhouette was intimidating, with broad shoulders and a sword strapped to his side. In one hand, he held a burning torch, its glow casting eerie shadows across his scarred face as he scanned the area.


    His gaze landed on the footprints in the snow. He let out a long, deliberate sigh and muttered under his breath, ¡°Fucking kids.¡±


    Without another word, he turned and walked back the way he came, his heavy boots crunching with every step.


    Atlas let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding, but Ren was still clutching his forearm like a lifeline. His grip was tighter than Atlas thought possible.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Atlas whispered. ¡°He¡¯s gone now.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ that¡­ that was a Nightblade,¡± Ren stammered, his voice barely audible.


    Atlas nodded slowly. He should have been scared, but instead, a strange excitement coursed through him. When the man had turned the corner, it was like a beast had opened its eyes and stared straight at them. The man¡¯s aura had been suffocating, overwhelming.


    But Atlas didn¡¯t feel fear. He felt awe.


    A grin spread across his face. He wanted that. He needed to be that.


    He had to be Ascendant at least, maybe even Transcendent.


    Atlas didn¡¯t know much about magic. He knew that awakening your mana core made you an Awakened, like his friend Alex. After that, there were Ascendants¡ªthe ones who made up most of the Blades. And beyond them were the Transcendents, the leaders.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.But what came with those titles? What made them so powerful? He had no idea.


    Sitting outside the academy gates all those times, he had made himself a promise: One day, I¡¯ll find out. I¡¯ll climb out of Midtown¡ªno matter what it takes.


    ¡°Hey, are you there?¡± Ren voice pulled him from his thoughts, followed by a sharp poke to his cheek.


    Atlas blinked, startled. ¡°What the hell was that for?¡±


    Ren grinned. ¡°You went pale. Thought you got so scared you passed out standing up.¡±


    Atlas raised an eyebrow, then slowly lifted the edge of his jacket, revealing fresh nail marks where Ren had been clutching his arm earlier. He stared pointedly at the marks, then back at Ren.


    Ren¡¯s grin faltered, but only slightly. ¡°Uh¡­ anyway,¡± he said quickly, changing the subject. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Let¡¯s get this done while it¡¯s stopped snowing.¡±


    Atlas rolled his eyes but couldn¡¯t help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    Making their way through Uppertown was much easier than navigating Midtown. The streets were safer, cleaner, and though there were patrols, they weren¡¯t constant. Everyone knew the consequences of getting caught breaking the law in Uppertown.


    So why was Atlas about to do exactly that? Some would say it was because he was stupid. Others might chalk it up to him being young. He would say it was because he¡¯d been freezing his ass off for the past two winters.


    He slowed his approach, and Ren bumped into his back.


    ¡°Ah, what the hell?¡± Ren muttered, rubbing his nose.


    ¡°Shhh, this is it,¡± Atlas whispered, pointing at a large stone building ahead. It was at least twice the size of the orphanage. Which made this place massive. The orphanage managed fifty kids, but this place was immaculate, it could easy house them all.


    The stones were pristine, and the roof looked as though it had never needed a single repair. No cracks, no crumbling, nothing out of place. Atlas felt a flicker of envy. These people had no idea how good they had it. If only they knew what it was like to live in Midtown.


    He shook the thought away. He had a job to do.


    Ren moved up beside him, watching the building with wide eyes.


    ¡°You can stay here if you want,¡± Atlas offered. ¡°I¡¯ll grab you something nice.¡±


    Ren shook his head vigorously. ¡°No way. I walked all this way¡ªI¡¯m not stopping now.¡±


    Then, more quietly, he added, ¡°Besides, someone has to watch your back.¡±


    His voice was so soft that Atlas had to strain to catch it. When he did, it made him pause. His breath hitched for just a second.


    He wasn¡¯t used to people caring about him. Sure, Granny Lucy was always there, and he knew he owed her his life ten times over, but other people? That was rare.


    Atlas didn¡¯t know how to respond. So, he didn¡¯t. Instead, he pushed the moment aside.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, then,¡± he said, his voice steady as he turned back toward the building.


    They rushed under the moonlight, sticking to the shadows as the snow began to fall again. Soon, they were standing beneath a wooden window. Atlas reached out to open it, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Locked.


    He scanned the building, frustration bubbling, until he spotted a balcony above.


    The window there was slightly cracked open, a thin sliver of light visible from inside. On the floor of the balcony lay the stub of a cigarette, still faintly smoking.


    Atlas pointed to it, and Ren nodded in understanding.


    ¡°How are we doing this, boss?¡± Ren asked quietly.


    Atlas looked around some more, weighing his options. His eyes landed on a climbing rose bush winding up the side of the building. It was covered in thorns, but it was the only way up.


    He grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ll climb it. No point in both of us getting torn up. Just stay down here, keep watch, and make sure no guards come by. Call out if you see anything.¡±


    Ren hesitated, his brows furrowing, but eventually nodded. ¡°Okay, but be quick. It¡¯s starting to snow again.¡±


    Atlas crept toward the base of the bush, crouching low as he moved. The vines snaked up the wall, covered in sharp thorns that glinted in the moonlight. He glanced at the open window again, then back at the bush, debating.


    Bugger it. In for a nickel, in for a dime.


    Shrugging off his tattered jacket, he braced himself as the cold air bit into his skin. To his surprise, it wasn¡¯t much worse without the jacket. Clearly, the thing hadn¡¯t been doing much good anyway.


    Wrapping the worn fabric around his hands, he grabbed hold of the vines and began to climb.


    The ascent wasn¡¯t as bad as he¡¯d expected. He earned a few scrapes on his legs and tore his already ragged pants, but his hands were spared by the makeshift padding. By the time he reached the balcony, though, his jacket was in worse shape than ever.


    Atlas sighed, tossed it back down to the ground, and gestured for Ren to grab it.


    He turned his attention to the slightly ajar window. Carefully, he pushed it open, wincing as the hinges let out a faint creak. He froze, holding his breath.


    Come on. Not even the hinges at the orphanage made noise. This place is supposed to be nicer!


    Minutes seemed to pass, though it was likely only seconds. When no further sounds came, he let out a slow, silent exhale and slipped through the window.


    The instant he closed it behind him, the warmth of the room enveloped him, chasing away the cold. For a moment, he stood there, letting himself take it in.


    The wooden floor gleamed in the light of a crackling fireplace, and a massive fur rug sprawled across the center of the room. At the heart of the space stood a polished wooden desk, its surface neat and orderly.


    Atlas took a cautious step forward, only to freeze as he heard the sound of water dripping onto the floorboards. Looking down, he cursed silently. His boots were soaked, and melting snow was pooling beneath them.


    Gritting his teeth, he quickly removed them, placing them near the window to dry. At least now he¡¯d make less noise.


    Barefoot and jacketless, Atlas took another step forward, his eyes scanning the room. It looked like a study, but the fine furniture and the warmth of the fire made it feel like another world compared to the orphanage. A pang of envy threatened to rise, but he shoved it aside.


    Focus. Get in, get the jacket, and get out.


    Steeling his nerves, he crept forward, determination burning in his chest. He was cold, tired, and shoeless, but he would make this work. He had to.

 Chapter 3 - The Devil鈥檚 Dance

    Atlas crept through the study, his socked feet barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. The warmth of the room wrapped around him, almost enough to make him forget the cold outside. Almost. He glanced back at the window he¡¯d come through, reassuring himself it was still an escape route if things went south.


    Steeling his nerves, he moved to the door, easing it open. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, with small mana lights. He stepped out, keeping close to the wall as he listened for any signs of movement. The house was mostly silent, save for the faint crackle of fire burning in distant rooms.


    Atlas pressed on, his breath steady but shallow. Every creak of the floorboards beneath him felt like a thunderclap in the stillness. He passed a doorway to his right and peered in. A dining room, empty. He kept moving.


    The next door was slightly ajar, and light spilled out into the hallway. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open just enough to see inside.


    A boy, about his age, was lying on a large bed with thick blankets pulled up to his chest. His breathing was slow and steady¡ªhe was asleep. The room was everything Atlas had imagined a rich kid¡¯s life to be. The bed was massive, the kind you could roll over on ten times and still not fall off. A plush rug covered most of the floor, and shelves lined the walls, filled with books and trinkets that gleamed in the firelight.


    Atlas¡¯s eyes scanned the room, looking for his target. There, hanging on the back of a chair near the fireplace, was the jacket. It was even nicer up close¡ªa deep green with fur lining the collar and cuffs. It looked warm, too warm for someone who probably never had to feel the kind of cold Atlas did.


    He glanced back at the boy, who shifted slightly in his sleep but didn¡¯t wake. Atlas crept inside, moving as silently as possible. His fingers brushed the jacket, and he carefully lifted it off the chair. It was heavier than he expected, the kind of weight that screamed luxury.


    But then his eyes landed on another jacket, draped over the corner of the bedframe. It was smaller, not as nice as the one he¡¯d already grabbed, but still leagues better than anything Ren had. He hesitated for only a moment before reaching for it. Ren deserved something decent, too.


    The smaller jacket slipped off the frame easily, but the moment he had it in his hands, the boy stirred. Atlas froze, holding his breath. The boy mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.


    Atlas let out a silent sigh of relief and crept back toward the door, both jackets bundled in his arms. He didn¡¯t bother looking back as he slipped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.


    His heart was pounding now, the reality of what he was doing settling in. He didn¡¯t stop, though. He retraced his steps to the study, the window still slightly ajar where he¡¯d left it.


    Atlas had just turned toward the window when he froze. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. His stomach dropped. There wasn¡¯t enough time to climb out.


    He darted toward the side of the room, his eyes landing on a tall wardrobe tucked into the corner. Without thinking, he slipped inside, pressing himself against the back panel. The space smelled faintly of polish and something dusty, like old fabric. It was cramped, and the jackets he¡¯d grabbed were bunched awkwardly against his chest, but he didn¡¯t dare move.


    The door to the study creaked open, and heavy boots thudded against the wooden floor. Through the narrow crack between the wardrobe doors, Atlas watched as a man strode into the room.


    He was tall and broad, his shoulders practically filling the space. Dark hair streaked with gray fell just above a neatly trimmed beard that framed a sharp, angular face. His expression was hard, tired, as if he hadn¡¯t slept in days. His coat was simple yet impeccably tailored, and as he moved, the air around him seemed to shift¡ªalmost imperceptibly, like a ripple in water.


    Atlas couldn¡¯t explain it, but he knew immediately, this man was Awakened. There was a weight to him, an invisible presence that pressed against Atlas¡¯s chest and made the space inside the wardrobe feel even smaller.


    The man walked straight to the desk and sank heavily into the chair, leaning back with a deep sigh. For a moment, he just stared at the firelight flickering across the walls. Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle of something amber-colored, and took a long swig.


    Atlas didn¡¯t dare move, but his heart pounded painfully against his ribs. He didn¡¯t know what he was feeling¡ªfear, maybe? Or awe? He just knew that this man wasn¡¯t like anyone he¡¯d ever encountered before.


    The man set the bottle down on the desk with a dull thud and rubbed his temples. He looked¡­ distraught. Not angry or commanding like Atlas had expected.


    Then the man¡¯s voice broke the silence, deep and steady but tinged with irritation. ¡°Come out now. Stop wasting my time.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s breath hitched. He knows I¡¯m here. His mind raced, panic gripping him. He could feel the jackets in his arms like they were made of lead, each one a reminder of what happened to thieves caught in Uppertown.


    He was about to step out, to throw himself at the man¡¯s mercy, when a shadow shifted in the corner of the room.


    Atlas froze again, his eyes darting toward the movement. From the darkness stepped a woman, her figure sharp and deliberate, like the edge of a blade.


    She wore dark leather armor, reinforced with steel plating at the shoulders and forearms. A crimson scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck, the fabric catching the faint light from the fireplace. Her eyes, piercing and cold, locked onto the man at the desk with a calm intensity that made Atlas shiver.


    Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and two short, curved daggers hung at her hips. Every movement she made was controlled, almost unnaturally so, like she was holding back some immense force. There was something dangerous about her, something far more terrifying than the man she¡¯d just approached.


    Atlas didn¡¯t know who she was, and he didn¡¯t want to.


    The woman stepped closer, her movements fluid and predatory, like a cat toying with a trapped mouse. The man didn¡¯t stand, he stayed seated, his hands gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    She stopped just behind him, her leather boots making almost no sound against the wooden floor. Slowly, she reached out and ran a hand along his shoulder, her touch light and deliberate. The man visibly shuddered, his whole body stiffening as if her presence alone had drained the warmth from the room.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Darion?¡± she purred, her voice smooth but laced with venom. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply at first. His head was bowed slightly, his breathing shallow and uneven. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, thick with desperation. ¡°Please. Leave my family out of this.¡±


    Her lips curled into a smile¡ªa cruel, mocking thing that sent a chill down Atlas¡¯s spine. She tilted her head, circling the man slowly, her fingers trailing over the back of his chair like she was savoring the moment.


    ¡°Your family?¡± she said softly, amusement dripping from her tone. ¡°Oh, Darion. You should have thought about them before you decided to defy us.¡±


    Darion flinched but didn¡¯t lift his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice. You were asking for too much¡ªthose cores¡­ I couldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t?¡± she interrupted, her voice suddenly sharp. She stopped in front of him now, leaning down so her face was level with his. ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t. And worse, you ran to that man.¡± Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of something cold and deadly crossing her expression. ¡°My boss doesn¡¯t like when people talk out of turn, Darion. You should¡¯ve listened.¡±


    Darion¡¯s body sagged slightly, his strength draining out of him. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything,¡± he said hoarsely, his voice breaking. ¡°Just¡­ just leave them alone. I won¡¯t fight. Just let my family go.¡±


    Her laughter cut through the room like a blade, light and cruel. ¡°Oh, Darion. They¡¯re already dead.¡±


    The words hit like a thunderclap. Darion went stock still, the air around him seeming to shift and pulse with an almost tangible energy. The faint shimmer that Atlas had noticed earlier now flared into something far more intense, the temperature in the room rising sharply.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± Darion whispered, his voice low and trembling.


    Her smirk widened, and she straightened, taking a slow step back. ¡°Am I? Check for yourself.¡±


    For a moment, the room was silent, the air charged with something raw and furious. Then, in an instant, Darion erupted. His hands slammed down onto the desk, and flames burst to life around them, licking hungrily at the polished wood.


    The air seemed to come alive with heat and power, the firelight casting long, twisting shadows across the walls.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this!¡± Darion roared, and with a violent motion, he threw his hands forward. A massive fireball surged across the room, its heat so intense that Atlas felt it even through the crack in the wardrobe door.


    Atlas pressed himself further into the back of the wardrobe, his breath shallow and rapid. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he wondered if they could hear it over the roaring flames. He had imagined power as something awe-inspiring, something amazing. But this? This wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d imagined at all.


    This was terrifying.


    The fireball tore across the room like a living beast, engulfing everything in its path. Atlas couldn¡¯t help the small yelp that escaped his throat as the wardrobe grew hotter, the flames licking just outside its doors.


    Through the crack, he saw the woman, standing motionless as the fire roared toward her. At the last possible second, she lifted one of her curved blades and swung it in a wide, fluid arc. The fire split apart, rushing to either side of her, the heat scorching the walls but leaving her untouched.


    Atlas gawked in disbelief. The air around her shimmered as water coiled down her arms, twisting unnaturally like snakes. The liquid solidified, taking on her form until another version of her stood at her side, armed and deadly, both blades gleaming in the firelight.


    ¡°You made a mistake,¡± the woman said, her voice calm but sharp as a dagger. Then she moved.


    Darion bellowed in rage, the flames around him intensifying, casting his silhouette into a monstrous, fiery form. He thrust his arms forward, and another blast of fire shot out, searing the air. Atlas could feel the heat even as he cowered inside the wardrobe, his sweat mixing with the blood on his scraped arms.


    The two women moved as one. The original darted to the side, her movements unnaturally fast, while the duplicate surged forward, meeting the fire head-on. The fire struck the water figure, and steam exploded in all directions, hissing and clouding the room.


    Atlas choked as the room filled with scalding mist. His lungs burned, and his vision blurred, but through the haze, he saw the original woman reappear behind Darion. Her blade flashed, aiming for his neck.


    Darion spun, his hand blazing as he formed a fiery shield just in time to block the strike. The clash of blade and flame sent sparks flying, igniting the desk and bookshelves. The study was becoming a warzone.


    ¡®I need to get out of here.¡¯


    The thought screamed through Atlas¡¯s mind, but his body wouldn¡¯t move. He was frozen, his back pressed against the wardrobe, his instincts at war with his will. Then he thought of Ren. Where was he? Was he still outside? Did he know what was happening?


    A deafening crash jolted Atlas back to reality. Darion had slammed his fist into the ground, and fiery cracks spiderwebbed across the floor. The flames erupted upward, devouring everything in their path. The ceiling groaned as beams began to fall, sending ash and embers scattering like stars.


    Atlas scrambled out of the wardrobe, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. He had to get out of here. The room was chaos¡ªflames licking the walls, the air thick with ash, and the sounds of clashing steel and roaring fire drowning out his thoughts.


    ¡°Ren!¡± Atlas croaked, his voice barely audible over the destruction.


    He stumbled forward, his legs shaking beneath him. The woman spared him a glance and he swears he saw her smirk.


    Her and her water double were relentless, their movements precise and deadly. One blade struck high, the other low, forcing Darion back with every swing. He retaliated with blasts of fire and bursts of heat so intense they warped the very air, but the woman seemed untouchable. Every attack he launched was deflected or dodged, her duplicate taking the brunt of the hits as she circled him like a predator.


    Atlas ducked as a piece of the ceiling crashed down beside him, splintering into shards that nicked his arms and legs. He winced, the pain was sharp and immediate, as his flesh began to burn but he pushed forward, crawling over debris and broken furniture.


    ¡°Ren!¡± he called. His voice cracked with desperation.


    A sudden explosion shook the house, and Atlas was thrown off his feet, landing hard on the splintered remains of a table. His head throbbed, and warm blood trickled down his temple. Through blurry eyes, he saw the woman standing over Darion, her blade raised high.


    Darion was on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth, the fire around him sputtering and dying. He looked up at her, his face a mask of fury and defeat. The flames in his hands flickered one last time before extinguishing completely.


    Atlas tried to turned away as the blade came down. But he was too late, both the woman¡¯s blades angled down and stabbed into either side of his neck. Blood sprayed out as she removed the daggers. He dropped to the floor, a pool of crimson slowly surrounding him.


    The crash of the ceiling giving way roared through the house, and Atlas barely registered the burning wreckage around him as he crawled forward. His hands and knees scraped against jagged wood and hot embers, but he didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Ren!¡± he shouted again, his throat raw.


    Finally, he saw a small figure buried beneath debris near the far wall. Ren¡¯s jacket was torn and bloodied, his face pale and motionless.


    Atlas¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°No, no, no,¡± he muttered, dragging himself toward the boy. His arms trembled as he began pulling debris away, ignoring the blood dripping from his own hands and the searing pain in his ribs.


    ¡°Ren, come on,¡± Atlas whispered, his voice breaking. ¡°Wake up.¡±


    Smoke filled his lungs, the heat unbearable, but he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t stop.


    Searing heat raced up his legs as he felt his foot be pinned to the burning wooden floor.


    He turned around in shock, only to see a dagger sticking out of his leg and going into the floorboard.


    The woman was standing above him, her smile most would think was pretty, Atlas only saw as the devil.


    ¡°Enjoy the show?¡± She purred.

 Chapter 4 - Cat and Mouse

    Atlas¡¯s breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling as his eyes locked on the woman standing above him. Her curved dagger was still embedded in his leg, pinning him to the burning floor. Smoke swirled around her, framing her sharp silhouette like a specter of death.


    She tilted her head, a playful smirk curling her lips. ¡°You¡¯ve got some fight in you, don¡¯t you?¡± Her voice was smooth and teasing. ¡°Most would be begging by now.¡±


    Atlas clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself away, but the pain in his leg was searing. He bit back a scream, his fingers trembling as he braced himself to push. The dagger stayed firm, anchoring him in place.


    The woman knelt beside him, her crimson scarf catching the firelight as she leaned closer. She studied him like he was some fascinating specimen. ¡°Red hair,¡± she murmured, reaching out to twirl a strand of his matted locks between her fingers. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it before. I like it¡­ reminds me of blood.¡± Her smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Cute, too, in a pathetic sort of way.¡±


    Atlas flinched, his teeth gritted against the pain and her words. He felt the heat of her presence, something intangible yet oppressive. It pressed down on him, suffocating and inescapable, like the very air was alive with her power.


    Despite the moment he was in, or perhaps because of the moment he was in, his mind wondered as he felt her power. It wasn¡¯t just her. He could feel¡­ something else. A faint thrum in the air, like a distant hum resonating through his body. He recognized it, dimly. He¡¯d felt it when the fire-wielding man had unleashed his flames. He¡¯d felt it in the alley earlier, when the Nightblade¡¯s gaze had swept over him.


    It wasn¡¯t fear, not exactly. It was a presence. A weight. Like standing too close to a raging storm.


    The woman tilted her head, watching him with faint curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s that look in your eyes?¡± she asked, her voice almost mocking. ¡°You¡¯re not crying, so you must be thinking. What¡¯s on your mind, little mouse?¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t answer. He barely heard her. His focus narrowed, locking onto that sensation, that faint pulse of power around her. He could almost see it now, like ripples in the air. It radiated from her, from the space around her blades, and from the floor beneath him where the fire had burned hottest.


    He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus. The pain in his leg, the smoke in his lungs, even the mocking tone of her voice¡ªall of it dulled as he reached for that feeling. It wasn¡¯t something he could touch, but it was there, faint and distant. And the more he focused on it, the clearer it became.


    ¡°Cute and quiet,¡± the woman purred, leaning closer. Her breath was warm against his ear. ¡°But you¡¯re no fun if you don¡¯t scream.¡±


    She reached down and twisted the blade.


    Atlas clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms and let out a scream. The thrum grew louder, resonating deep within him now. It wasn¡¯t just around her anymore. It was in the air, in the earth, in his very bones.


    And then, all at once, it was inside him.


    A shockwave of warmth burst through his chest, spreading outward like fire in his veins. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought the smoke and pain had finally taken over. But this wasn¡¯t smoke. It was light. Blinding, radiant light that seemed to pulse from somewhere deep within him.


    The woman drew back, ripping the dagger out as she moved. Her amused expression shifting to something more cautious. ¡°Well, now,¡± she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡±


    Atlas gasped as the warmth condensed, tightening into a single point just below his ribs. It felt like something had ignited within him, a spark catching flame. His body trembled, not with fear, but with energy¡ªraw, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its intensity.


    His hands gripped the floor, and with a burst of strength, he pushed himself upright. The pain flared, but it was distant now, drowned out by the roaring heat inside him.


    The woman stood, her head tilted as she observed him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. ¡°Well, well, little mouse,¡± she said, her voice lilting. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got some teeth after all.¡±


    Atlas staggered to his feet, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. His body felt¡­ different. Stronger. The pain in his leg still throbbed, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm him. Around him, the world was chaos.


    The manor behind them was a broken shell, its roof caved in and flames licking the night sky. Smoke billowed into the frigid air, mingling with the falling snow. Embers floated around them, glowing like fireflies against the darkness. The icy ground beneath Atlas¡¯s boots was slick with melted snow, ash and blood. His footing unsteady as he turned to face the woman.


    She stood a few paces away, framed by the blazing ruins like a demon stepping out of hell. Her crimson scarf fluttered in the cold wind, her dark armor glinting in the firelight. She held her curved blade loosely at her side, her predatory grin never wavering.


    ¡°Oh, this is delightful,¡± she said, her voice brimming with amusement. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect much from you, little mouse, but you¡¯re full of surprises. I wonder how long you¡¯ll last?¡±


    Atlas¡¯s chest heaved as he glanced toward the debris-strewn courtyard. He could see Ren still buried beneath a pile of shattered stone and wood. The boy hadn¡¯t moved. His heart twisted, panic threatening to overwhelm him. But there was no time to check. Not yet.


    The woman¡¯s presence pressed down on him, her power shimmering in the cold air. It mingled with the remnants of Darion¡¯s fire, an invisible weight that set every nerve in Atlas¡¯s body alight. But he didn¡¯t shrink back. He clenched his fists, the unfamiliar energy coursing through his veins.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    With a roar, he lunged at her.


    The frozen ground cracked beneath his feet as he charged, snow and ash spraying up around him. He swung his fist, clumsy, but fueled by desperation. The woman sidestepped effortlessly, her blade flashing out. A sharp sting cut across his arm, blood splattering onto the snow. He stumbled, nearly falling, but caught himself and swung again, aiming for her head.


    She ducked, laughing as his fist sailed over her. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re adorable,¡± she said, circling him like a cat playing with its prey. ¡°That strength is impressive, but you¡¯ve got no idea what to do with it.¡±


    Atlas gritted his teeth, refusing to let her words sink in. He charged again, this time leading with a kick. She blocked it with the flat of her blade, the impact ringing out in the cold air. Pain lanced up his leg as her weapon scraped against his shin, he tried to ignored it and swung again. This time, his fist grazed her shoulder, and she staggered back slightly.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± she said, rolling her shoulder as if shaking off the blow. ¡°You¡¯ve got some fight in you, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    But before Atlas could press the advantage, she moved. Her speed was blinding, her blade slicing across his ribs before he even saw her coming. He gasped as the pain flared, warm blood soaking through his shirt. He stumbled back, the cold wind biting at his wounds. He held his hand where he had been cut, blood was flowing through his fingers.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know when to quit, do you?¡± she said, her voice carrying over the roar of the flames. ¡°I like that.¡±


    The icy ground beneath them was slick with slush and blood. Atlas slipped as he tried to regain his footing, his socks skidding against the frost. Snowflakes swirled around him, melting instantly as they drifted too close to the heat of the burning manor. He fell to the floor, blood pooling beneath him from his wounds.


    Still, he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t. His eyes burned from the smoke, his legs felt like lead, but he surged forward again, swinging wildly. The woman danced around him, her movements fluid and precise. Her blade found him again and again¡ªa cut across his shoulder, a slash to his thigh. Each wound sent fresh pain coursing through him, leaving streaks of crimson in the snow.


    Atlas stumbled, his vision blurring as the world spun around him. Blood dripped from his temple. The flames behind him cast shifting shadows that seemed to mock him, their flickering light making the woman appear even more menacing.


    ¡°Get up,¡± she said, her tone almost playful. ¡°Come on. Show me what else you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Atlas planted his hands on the icy ground, his fingers scraping against frozen debris. The cold bit into his skin, numbing the pain in his limbs, but he forced himself upright once more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. He didn¡¯t know how he was still able to stand. There was no white in the snow anymore.


    He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. ¡°I¡¯m not done yet,¡± he growled, his voice raw.


    The woman¡¯s grin widened as she tilted her head, watching him with amusement. ¡°You¡¯re the most fun I¡¯ve had in years,¡± she said, her voice soft and almost affectionate. She tapped her chin before nodding, ¡°I should savor this.¡±


    The embers falling around them glowed brighter as the fire behind them roared louder, and the snow-covered courtyard seemed to shrink as the fight dragged on. Atlas could feel his strength fading, but something deeper burned inside him. He wasn¡¯t going to stop¡ªnot now, not while Ren lay in the rubble.


    The woman raised her blade again, her eyes gleaming with excitement, as Atlas stumbled forward once more, more dead than alive, fists clenched and resolve burning brighter than ever, if this was his last moments then so be it.


    Atlas lunged forward again, his body aching with every step. He swung his fist, his movements wild and desperate, but she danced out of reach effortlessly. Her blade flicked toward him, grazing his arm in a deliberate, shallow cut. The sting was sharp, and warmth trickled down his sleeve, but he barely registered it.


    The woman¡¯s grin widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Still standing? Impressive, but stubbornness can only take you so far.¡±


    She moved like the wind, her blade a blur as she delivered another strike¡ªlight, almost teasing, yet precise. She nicked his cheek. Atlas stumbled back, slipping on the icy ground, but he caught himself before he fell. He knew if he hit the ground again he wouldn¡¯t be getting back up.


    ¡°You¡¯re fun,¡± she said, circling him. ¡°Most would¡¯ve given up by now. But you just keep getting back up.¡± She tilted her head, her expression shifting to something almost thoughtful. ¡°Do you even know why? What are you fighting for?¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t. His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, the air freezing in his lungs. His legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but he stayed on his feet. His gaze flicked toward the debris-strewn courtyard, where Ren was still buried somewhere. That was his reason. That was why he couldn¡¯t stop.


    The woman followed his gaze, her grin sharpening. ¡°Ah, I see. It¡¯s for someone else. How boring.¡± She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. ¡°But tell me, little mouse, what happens when you fail? What happens when they fall because you weren¡¯t enough?¡±


    Atlas clenched his fists, the unfamiliar energy in his core flaring briefly before fading. He felt its warmth, but it wasn¡¯t enough to drive back the cold fear spreading through him. Still, he grabbed a burning splinter of timber and he forced himself forward,. She sidestepped with ease, her blade glancing off his shoulder in a quick, controlled strike.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± she said, but her tone was light, teasing. ¡°If only I could keep you alive, just so I can see how long it takes for your spirit to break.¡±


    Atlas swayed, the world tilting around him as exhaustion threatened to take over. The snow beneath his boots was stained red, the cold seeping through his torn clothing. His vision darkened and he finally fell to his knees, dropping the burning timber.


    The woman stepped closer, her blade gleaming in the firelight. ¡°Unfortunately it¡¯s time to end this,¡± she said, raising her weapons.


    Atlas braced himself, his fists clenched and his knees trembling. He knew he couldn¡¯t block her, couldn¡¯t dodge, but he wasn¡¯t going to cower. If this was the end, he¡¯d face.


    But just as she began to move, she froze.


    Her head snapped up, her sharp eyes narrowing as she stared into the distance. The air seemed to shift, a subtle ripple that Atlas could feel even through the haze of his exhaustion. Her grin faded, replaced by a look of irritation.


    ¡°No,¡± she muttered, stepping back. ¡°Not here. Not now.¡±


    Her gaze flicked back to Atlas, and for a moment, she seemed almost¡­ happy. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, little mouse,¡± she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. ¡°I¡¯ll be seeing you later. Do keep impressing me.¡±


    Then, just as suddenly as she¡¯d appeared, she vanished. The space where she¡¯d stood shimmered faintly, and she was gone, leaving only the faint echo of her presence in the cold night air.


    The world spun, the edges of his vision darkening. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his thoughts drifting to Ren. He had to get to him. He had to make sure he was okay.


    A faint sound reached his ears¡ªa measured, deliberate footstep crunching through the snow. Atlas turned his head, his gaze locking onto a shadowy figure approaching through the smoke and firelight.


    The Nightblade.


    Even at a distance, Atlas could feel the weight of his presence. It pressed down on him, suffocating yet strangely steady, like the calm at the center of a storm. The man¡¯s dark coat billowed slightly in the cold wind, his face obscured by shadows. He moved with the precision of someone who had nothing to fear, his aura humming faintly in the frozen air.


    Atlas tried to move, to speak, but his body refused to obey. The last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him was the Nightblade¡¯s piercing yellow eyed gaze, unyielding and cold.


    Then everything faded.

 Chapter 5 - The White Room

    Atlas¡¯s eyes cracked open, and he immediately regretted it. The dim torchlight that flickered against the damp stone walls stabbed at his throbbing head. He groaned, his breath visible in the frigid air as his chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Every inch of his body ached, a deep, bone-deep ache that made him question how he was even alive.


    Alive.


    The thought sent a jolt through him. He blinked hard, trying to focus, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was the fight, the flames, the blade, the cold bite of the woman¡¯s dagger pinning him to the ground. He¡¯d thought for sure that he was done for, that he wouldn¡¯t wake up again. But here he was.


    His arms were chained, the iron cuffs digging into his wrists as he shifted slightly. A clinking noise followed the movement, the chains taut as they anchored him to the wall behind him. His legs were similarly bound, and the rough stone floor beneath him sapped what little warmth his body had left. He looked down at himself, his breaths hitching as he took in the state he was in.


    His clothes were gone, replaced by thin, trousers. His torso was bare, revealing a patchwork of bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs and arms, completely covering his upper body. Blood had soaked through many of them, the rusty red stains standing out against the pale linen. He shifted again and winced as a sharp pain shot through his side. The bandages felt too tight, like they were the only thing holding his body together.


    He shouldn¡¯t have been able to move. He shouldn¡¯t even be alive. He¡¯d lost so much blood during the fight. He remembered collapsing, the world spinning, his strength fading. His wounds had been deep, the thought of the snow covered in his blood sent a shiver down his spine.


    Atlas touched his ribs gingerly, half-expecting the pain to split him in two. It hurt, but not as much as it should have. His fingers brushed his chest, stopping just below his ribs. That spot. The place where he¡¯d felt the warmth, the energy, his mana.


    Mana.


    The realization hit him like a bucket of icy water. He¡¯d awakened his mana core in that fight, hadn¡¯t he? He could remember it vividly, the surge of energy, the power that had ignited in him, driving him to stand when he should¡¯ve fallen. And now? Nothing. The warmth was gone, replaced by an emptiness so profound it felt like a part of him had been ripped away. His chest tightened at the thought, panic creeping in. He raised his hands more and felt the cold chill that was a bracket around his neck. The side of his face stung as his fingers brushed the skin, he quickly lowered his hand and looked around.


    ¡°Ren,¡± he rasped, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. He tried again, louder this time, though it hurt to speak. ¡°Ren! Where is he?¡±


    Only silence answered him. The air in the cell was heavy and oppressive, the cold biting at his bare skin. His breath clouded in front of him as he looked around, desperate for any sign of where he was, or who had brought him here. He could see through the bars of his cell into the sprawling maze of Midtown below. The familiar sight did little to comfort him. Midtown was a place of suffering, but this¡ªthis was worse.


    ¡°Is anyone there?¡± he shouted again, his voice cracking. He tugged against his chains, ignoring the way they bit into his wrists. The metal clinked loudly, the sound echoing down the stone corridor.


    ¡°Hey, shut it, kid,¡± a gruff voice snapped from somewhere nearby.


    Atlas turned his head, squinting through the dim light. Across the hall, in another cell, a man sat slumped against the wall. He looked older, with a rough, weathered face and a long scar running from his cheek to his jaw. His eyes glinted in the faint light, sharp and impatient.


    ¡°Stop making noise,¡± the man hissed. ¡°You¡¯ll bring the guards down here, and trust me, you don¡¯t want that.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I need to know where he is. The boy I was with, do you know anything?¡±


    The man let out a humorless laugh. ¡°What makes you think I know anything? I¡¯ve been stuck in this shit hole longer than you. Just keep quiet.¡±


    Atlas swallowed the anger rising in his chest, his hands balling into fists. He wanted to yell, to demand answers, but he was exhausted. He slumped back against the wall, the cold stone pressing into his bandaged back with a sharp sting.


    For the next few hours or maybe maybe days, Atlas couldn¡¯t tell, he did little but sit there, staring out at the flickering torches in the distance or the faint glimmers of life in Midtown below. Food came occasionally, shoved through the slot at the base of his cell door by a faceless guard. It was little more than a bowl of watery gruel, tasteless and cold, but he forced himself to eat. He tried questioning the guards once, but the sharp slap across his face silenced him quickly. His cheek still stung from it.


    He spent most of his time trying to feel for his mana core. It gave him something to focus on, something to cling to in the stillness of his cell. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how deeply he concentrated, he felt nothing. Just an empty void where that warmth should have been.


    He didn¡¯t know how much time had passed. His wounds, while still sore, had begun to ache less.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor. Atlas tensed, his chains rattling faintly as he straightened. There was something different this time. He could feel it, the faint hum of power in the air, a presence that sent a chill down his spine.


    A man stepped into view, his silhouette tall and lean. He couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty-five, his sharp features illuminated by the faint torchlight. His dark coat hung loosely around him, the edges swaying slightly with each measured step.


    The man stopped in front of Atlas¡¯s cell, his piercing eyes meeting Atlas¡¯s. He didn¡¯t speak at first, just stood there, watching him with an unreadable expression. Then, without a word, he unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.


    Atlas flinched as the man grabbed the chains binding his wrists. With a sharp tug, he yanked Atlas to his feet. Pain flared in his leg, and he staggered, barely managing to keep his balance. The man didn¡¯t care. He turned, dragging Atlas toward the hallway.


    ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± Atlas demanded, his voice hoarse.


    The man didn¡¯t answer, didn¡¯t even glance back. His grip on the chains was firm, unyielding.


    Atlas looked back at the prisoner across the hall, but the man only shook his head slightly, his expression grim.


    Atlas was led into a room unlike anything he had ever seen before. The walls were a stark, clinical white, smooth and seamless, unlike the rough stone or timber he was used to in Midtown. Something strange lined the walls, a texture he couldn¡¯t place, almost like polished glass. It reflected the faint light in a way that made the room feel cold and unnatural, amplifying the eerie silence that seemed to press down on him.


    The man dragging him forward didn¡¯t spare him a glance. Atlas limped behind him, the pain in his leg flaring with every step. His ribs throbbed with each breath, and the burn of reopened cuts sent jolts of pain through his nerves. It was a miracle he was even able to move, though every movement came with a price.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    At the center of the room was a table and a single chair. The man didn¡¯t hesitate. With a firm shove, he forced Atlas into the chair. Atlas let out a grunt of pain as his sore body hit the cold surface. Before he could adjust, the man secured his arms and legs with strange leather bindings that buckled tightly, leaving him no room to move.


    The warmth of the room, however, was unexpected. For a brief moment, it was almost welcome after the biting cold of the cell.


    Still, Atlas tried to speak. ¡°Hey¡ª¡± His voice cracked, raw from days of shouting in the cell. ¡°What¡ªwhat is this? Where am I?¡±


    The man didn¡¯t respond. He turned on his heel and left without a word, his boots clicking softly against the floor. The door slid shut behind him with a mechanical hiss, leaving Atlas alone in the stark silence.


    Atlas twisted in the chair, testing the restraints. They didn¡¯t budge. He craned his neck to take in the room. There was nothing¡ªno decorations, no furniture apart from the table and chair. Just endless white.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered under his breath, wincing as his ribs protested even that small motion. ¡°This is just perfect.¡±


    Minutes passed, or maybe hours¡ªit was hard to tell in this strange place where time felt like it didn¡¯t exist. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than the dull ache spreading through his body. His mind kept wandering to Ren. Was he okay? Was he even alive?


    The silence was unbearable. He tugged again at the leather bindings, frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, his voice echoing off the white walls. ¡°I know someone¡¯s out there! What do you want from me?¡±


    No response.


    ¡®Pricks, I bet someone¡¯s watching.¡¯


    Atlas slumped back into the chair, letting out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. The image of the woman with the daggers flashed through his mind for the millionth time, he watched as she slid her daggers through his stomach, she enjoyed every second of it. His eyes snapped open, pushing away the memory¡¯s that had been haunting him.


    The door hissed open.


    Atlas¡¯s head snapped up. A woman walked in, her footsteps deliberate and measured. She was pretty, her features sharp and devoid of any emotion. Her posture was stiff, her movements precise. She wore a simple gray uniform that matched the starkness of the room, and her eyes were cold and calculating as they locked onto him.


    She didn¡¯t hesitate. She crossed the room with purpose and sat across from him, her back straight, her hands folded neatly on the table. Atlas stared at her, trying to make sense of the oppressive aura she carried. It wasn¡¯t like the Nightblade or the woman who had attacked him. It was more subdued, Subtle. But just as scary.


    ¡°Name,¡± she said, her voice flat and emotionless.


    Atlas hesitated, his mouth suddenly dry. ¡°Atlas,¡± he croaked.


    ¡°Full name.¡±


    ¡°Atlas¡­ just Atlas.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed slightly, though her face remained impassive. ¡°Why were you at the manor?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Atlas faltered. Something about her presence made him want to answer, to spill everything. He fought the urge, clenching his fists against the bindings.


    ¡°Answer the question,¡± she said, her tone unchanging. ¡°Why were you there?¡±


    Atlas licked his lips, his heart pounding. ¡°I was¡­ stealing. I needed a jacket.¡±


    Her gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And the attack? Who were you with?¡±


    Atlas shook his head, wincing as the motion pulled at a sore muscle in his neck. ¡°No one. I wasn¡¯t part of the attack. I don¡¯t even know what that was about. I was just¡ª¡± He stopped, his voice cracking. ¡°I was just trying to get out of the cold.¡±


    Her eyes bore into him, unblinking. ¡°How did you survive?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Atlas admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m still alive.¡±


    Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, searching for something he couldn¡¯t name. Finally, she stood, her movements just as precise as before.


    ¡°You¡¯re an anomaly,¡± she said, more to herself than to him. Her voice was calm, detached, as though she were commenting on the weather. ¡°An Awakened like you shouldn¡¯t have survived when a Transcendent died. It doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    Atlas opened his mouth to respond, but she didn¡¯t give him the chance. She turned and walked out of the room, the door hissing shut behind her, leaving him alone once again.


    Atlas slumped in the chair, his head falling forward. The silence returned, heavier than before. His thoughts spiraled, questions piling on top of each other with no answers in sight.


    ***


    Haley left the white room, the door sealed behind her. The sterile quiet of the hallway was a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind. The boy¡¯s words replayed in her head, every one of them ringing with the truth, her bloodline ability made sure of that. And yet, the situation didn¡¯t sit right with her.


    She walked briskly, her boots clicking against the polished floor, until she reached a nondescript door. Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Three men waited in the room, their postures ranging from relaxed to rigid. At the head of the table sat Lukas, their elder and leader, his sharp eyes focused on a sheet of parchment in his hands. Despite his calm demeanor, she had seen what he could do. Transcendent were scary.


    Derek, who had dragged the boy into the interrogation room, leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed. He was smirking, clearly anticipating her report. Darcy, her other teammate sat stiffly at the table, his weathered face etched with suspicion.


    Haley closed the door behind her and took her place near Lukas. Darcy was the first to speak.


    ¡°Well?¡± he asked, his voice rough and impatient. ¡°Did the brat lie?¡±


    Haley shook her head. ¡°No,¡± she said simply. ¡°He told the truth.¡±


    Derek let out a low whistle, pushing off the wall. ¡°A coincidence, then? Two street rats, both Awakening their cores during a Transcendent¡¯s death? Seems a bit too convenient to me.¡± His smirk widened, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. ¡°Bet he¡¯s hiding something.¡±


    Haley glanced at him, her expression unreadable. ¡°He¡¯s not hiding anything,¡± she replied. ¡°My bloodline would¡¯ve caught it if he was.¡±


    Derek shrugged, unbothered by her certainty. ¡°Maybe. Or maybe he¡¯s just good at playing dumb.¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Lukas¡¯s voice was calm but commanding, silencing the room instantly. He looked up from the parchment, his piercing gaze settling on Haley. ¡°What¡¯s your take?¡±


    Haley hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know anything about the attack,¡± she said finally. ¡°He claims he was there to steal a jacket. That¡¯s it. But¡­¡± She frowned slightly. ¡°If that¡¯s true, then why didn¡¯t he mention the body? The dead son was in the room he broke into. He should have seen it.¡±


    Darcy leaned forward, his brow furrowed. ¡°You think he¡¯s suppressing something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Haley admitted. ¡°Or there¡¯s more to this than we realize.¡±


    Lukas nodded slowly, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. ¡°What about his injuries?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t make sense,¡± Darcy interjected before Haley could respond. ¡°The kid should be dead. Even with our ward healers working on him, he shouldn¡¯t have recovered this fast.¡±


    Haley inclined her head. ¡°Darcy¡¯s right. If it¡¯s not his mana core keeping him alive, then it could be a bloodline we don¡¯t recognize.¡±


    ¡°Bloodlines don¡¯t just appear out of nowhere,¡± Darcy muttered, his skepticism clear.


    Derek let out a chuckle, leaning back against the wall. ¡°Easy enough to figure out,¡± he said, his grin taking on a predatory edge. ¡°Let me in there, Elder. I¡¯ll get him to spill everything.¡±


    Haley¡¯s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice even. ¡°That¡¯s not necessary,¡± she said firmly. ¡°He¡¯s not hiding anything. Torturing him won¡¯t change that.¡±


    Derek rolled his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re too soft, Haley. Sometimes a little pain is all it takes to get to the truth.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Lukas said again, his voice cutting through the rising tension. He raised his papers and shook them.


    ¡°His records are¡­ interesting,¡± he said. ¡°No family. No last name. He appeared in Midtown shortly after the War of Blades. Aged six, with no memories.¡±


    The room fell into silence as the implications of his words sank in. Darcy was the first to break it.


    ¡°Kids don¡¯t just appear like that,¡± he said, his tone heavy with suspicion. ¡°And for him to survive those injuries¡­ even the Transcendent didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we need answers, but it¡¯s also not uncommon. We all know how many orphans there were after the war. The only interesting thing is he doesn¡¯t seem to be from the lands of draegar.¡± Lukas said, his tone calm but firm. He looked back at Haley. ¡°Do you believe he knows more than he¡¯s letting on?¡±


    Haley hesitated, then shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s lying, Elder,¡± she said carefully. ¡°But I also don¡¯t think we¡¯ve asked the right questions yet.¡±


    Lukas nodded, his sharp gaze unwavering. ¡°Then ask them.¡±


    Darcy crossed his arms, his frown deepening. ¡°And the other boy? What¡¯s the plan for him?¡±


    A flicker of something cold passed through Lukas¡¯s eyes. He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. ¡°The other boy¡­¡± he said slowly, ¡°requires more¡­ delicate handling. We¡¯ll tread carefully with him.¡±


    Haley raised an eyebrow at his tone but said nothing. She knew better than to question Lukas¡¯s judgment.


    Derek let out a low chuckle. ¡°Delicate, huh? Sounds boring.¡±


    Haley ignored him, her mind already returning to the white room and the boy sitting alone inside it. There was something about him, something she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on. Coincidence or not he had survived and see needed to find out why.

 Chapter 6 - A New Path

    Atlas had been in the white room for hours, maybe longer. Time felt meaningless in a place like this. The walls were too pristine, too smooth, and they reflected the light in a way that made his eyes ache if he stared too long. He had tried everything to distract himself. Counting the cracks in the ceiling. There were none, so that game ended rather quickly. Tapping his fingers against the chair. The restraints dug into his wrists, stopping him quickly. There was nothing.


    And to make it worse his nose itched. It wasn¡¯t just a mild itch either, it was the kind of itch that burrowed into his thoughts and refused to leave. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore it, but the sensation only grew worse. Finally, he leaned forward, pressing his face against the edge of the table to try and rub the itch away. It didn¡¯t work, but at least it gave him something to focus on.


    With nothing else to do, his mind wandered back to the fight. He didn¡¯t want to think about it, but the memories crept in anyway. The flames, the shouting, the blood¡­ It was the first time he had seen someone killed, and the image wouldn¡¯t leave him maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad if it wasn¡¯t so gruesome. But instead he had seen a man get nearly decapitated. It was sickening even thinking about it.


    Midtown wasn¡¯t exactly kind, he had seen stabbing before. But this had been different. The raw brutality of it, the finality of death, it was something he hadn¡¯t been prepared for. And he didn¡¯t think he ever would be.


    The metal device around his neck only added to his frustration. He couldn¡¯t see it, but he could feel its weight, cold and unyielding against his skin. Every time he shifted, it pressed into the tender spots on his neck, irritating him further.


    He longed for the warmth he had felt in the fight, that surge of energy, that brief connection to something greater than himself. It had been his mana, he was sure of it. For the first time in his life, he had touched it, felt it. And then, just as quickly, it had been ripped away. The emptiness it left behind was almost unbearable.


    The door opened, pulling him from his thoughts. He straightened in his seat, lifting his head off the deck. His eyes narrowing as the woman from before stepped inside. Her calm, measured demeanor hadn¡¯t changed. She walked to the table with the same deliberate grace, her sharp eyes locking onto him as she sat down across from him.


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Atlas shifted uncomfortably, the restraints around his wrists pulling taut as he adjusted his position. Her gaze was unsettling, as if she could see right through him.


    ¡°Start from the beginning,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me everything. Don¡¯t leave anything out.¡±


    Atlas blinked, caught off guard. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°From the beginning,¡± she repeated. ¡°Every detail. Why you were there. What you saw. What happened.¡±


    He hesitated, his throat suddenly dry. ¡°I already told you I don¡¯t know anything about the attack.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking about the attack,¡± she said, her voice calm but firm. ¡°I¡¯m asking about you. Start from the beginning.¡±


    Atlas leaned back in his chair as much as the restraints allowed, letting out a frustrated breath. ¡°The beginning? You mean, like, Midtown? Because that¡¯s where it starts for me.¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond, her expression unreadable as she waited. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting. Finally, he relented.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°You want the whole story? Here it is.¡±


    He began to speak, his voice low and steady. He told her about Midtown, about sneaking out with Ren that night. He described the wall, the climb, and the freezing air that bit at their skin. He told her about breaking into the manor, about the jacket he had been so desperate to steal. And then, hesitantly, he recounted the fight.


    He tried to keep his voice steady, but the memories made it hard. The fire, the blood, the way the man¡¯s body had crumpled¡­. He could still feel the heat of the flames, the sting of his wounds where the woman¡¯s blade had entered, the cold weight of the dagger pinning him to the ground while she laughed at him.


    Through it all, the woman didn¡¯t say a word. She didn¡¯t react, didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t even blink. She just watched him, her piercing eyes fixed on him like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve.


    When he finally finished, the silence in the room felt deafening. Atlas slumped back in his chair, exhausted from recounting the ordeal. He stared at her, waiting for some kind of response, but her expression remained unchanged.


    After a long moment, she stood. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said simply.


    And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving Atlas alone in the white room once again.


    He let out a shaky breath, his head falling forward. ¡°Could¡¯ve just asked that the first time,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Would¡¯ve saved us both some time.¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t have to wait much longer. The door opened once again, honestly he was getting sick of it, a man stepped inside. He was older than the others, probably in his forties, with sharp features that seemed chiseled from stone. His skin was weathered, but his movements were precise, deliberate. His dark hair, streaked with gray, was combed back neatly, and his eyes¡ªpiercing and cold¡ªseemed to see straight through Atlas. He carried himself with an air of authority, the kind that demanded respect without ever needing to ask for it.


    The man wore a black coat that reached his knees, its high collar brushing the bottom of his jaw. The edges of the coat swayed slightly with each step, the faint clink of metal emanating from beneath it. His boots echoed against the pristine floor, their polished surface reflecting the cold, sterile light of the room.


    He walked over to Atlas without a word, his gaze unwavering. Reaching down, he unfastened the restraints holding Atlas in place with a practiced ease, the leather bindings releasing their grip on his arms and legs. Atlas flexed his wrists, wincing slightly as blood rushed back into them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try anything,¡± the man said,The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Atlas didn¡¯t need the warning. He could feel the man¡¯s power radiating off him, like heat from a forge. It wasn¡¯t just strength¡ªit was control. Precision. This man had an aura about him, one that reminded Atlas of the Nightblade he had seen at the wall. The weight of his presence pressed against Atlas¡¯s chest, making it hard to breathe.


    The man straightened and gestured toward the door. ¡°Come with me.¡±


    Atlas hesitated, his mind racing. He was sick of this. Sick of the questions, the waiting, the constant feeling of being watched. Whatever this was, it was bigger than him, way bigger. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d gotten himself into, but he wanted out.


    The man¡¯s hand rose again, this time more insistent. The air seemed to shift, a subtle ripple of pressure brushing against Atlas¡¯s skin. It wasn¡¯t a direct threat, but it was enough to make him understand. He didn¡¯t have a choice.


    With a sigh, Atlas pushed himself off the chair, his legs shaky from sitting for so long. He followed the man out of the room. The walls outside were just as pristine¡ªsmooth, seamless white that stretched endlessly in both directions. The light was cold and artificial, casting no shadows. The whole place felt sterile, almost unnervingly so.


    Atlas glanced around as they walked, his mind trying to piece together the purpose of this place. He had never seen anything like it. Midtown¡¯s stone and timber were a far cry from this futuristic, alien architecture. Everything here was too clean, too perfect. It didn¡¯t belong in the same world he came from.


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°I guess it does make it more nerve racking.¡±


    The man didn¡¯t respond, didn¡¯t even look back. He walked with purpose, his footsteps steady and unhurried. Atlas followed, the tension in his chest growing with every step. He had no idea where they were going, but something told him he wasn¡¯t going to like it.


    ***


    Atlas had been wrong¡ªplain and simple, dead wrong. He loved where this man had taken him.


    The building was a far cry from the sterile white of the interrogation rooms. Lined with dark wood and sturdy stone, it felt familiar, comforting even. Atlas let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. For the first time in days, he felt like he wasn¡¯t in some strange nightmare.


    Inside, the place was bustling with activity. Men and women in robes hurried down the hallways, carrying trays of supplies or guiding patients on stretchers. The faint scent of herbs and antiseptics hung in the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional barked order.


    Atlas realized they were in a hospital. Relief washed over him, bringing a small, involuntary smile to his lips. Finally, maybe someone would take care of the pain gnawing at his ribs and the burns still stinging his skin. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he wasn¡¯t hurting. The thought of relief, even temporary, was enough to lift his spirits.


    The man leading him glanced back and caught the smile. A knowing look crossed his face. ¡°Yeah, you got pretty messed up, kid,¡±


    Atlas started to nod, but the cold collar around his neck shifted, pressing into the raw sore it had worn against his skin. He winced, the pain sharp enough to make his smile falter.


    They rounded a corner and stopped at a desk where a woman was seated. She looked busy, her hands darting between stacks of papers and files, but she glanced up as they approached.


    ¡°I need this boy healed,¡±


    The woman barely looked up at Atlas before reaching for a small sheet of paper.


    ¡°Just fill this form out for me, will you?¡± she said, sliding the paper and a pen across the desk.


    Atlas blinked at the paper, then at the pen, and then back at the woman. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t know how to do that,¡± he admitted.


    The woman froze, her eyes wide with what Atlas could only assume was horror. She looked at him like he¡¯d just stomped on her cat and then kicked it down a flight of stairs.


    ¡°Oh, bloody hell, boy,¡± the man grumbled, stepping forward to snatch the paper and pen. He scrawled something across the form with quick, sharp strokes before slamming it back onto the desk. ¡°Just send a healer and get this done. We have things to do.¡±


    The woman nodded mutely, grabbing the paper and scurrying off like she couldn¡¯t get away fast enough. Atlas watched her go, then turned back to the man, who was now glaring at him.


    The man crossed his arms, his sharp eyes fixed on Atlas. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.


    Atlas shrugged, unbothered by the reaction. ¡°What? How is that my fault?¡± he said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Where I grew up, there wasn¡¯t exactly a queue of teachers lining up to help.¡±


    The man¡¯s scowl deepened, but he didn¡¯t say anything. Atlas guessed he was trying to think of a retort, but honestly, there wasn¡¯t much he could say. Midtown wasn¡¯t the kind of place where kids got to learn things like writing, well there were schools but they cost money. Something Atlas didn¡¯t have.


    The only education Atlas had ever received was from himself, and Granny Lucy occasionally but she had her hands full just keeping everyone alive.


    Besides, he figured, what did it matter now? He was here, wasn¡¯t he? He¡¯d gotten by just fine without knowing how to fill out some stupid form.


    The man let out a sharp sigh, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with,¡± he muttered. ¡°We don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    Atlas smirked slightly, letting his gaze wander around the bustling hospital. Whatever was about to happen, he figured it couldn¡¯t be worse than the interrogation rooms.


    ***


    They were waiting in a small cubicle. The man stood beside the door, his arms crossed and his boot tapping impatiently against the floor. Atlas shifted uncomfortably in the chair, glancing around the cramped space, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of his trousers.


    He couldn¡¯t take the silence anymore. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s your name, anyway?¡± he asked, tilting his head up at the man.


    The man looked down at him, his dark eyes sharp and assessing. ¡°I¡¯m Reaver Lukas,¡± he said curtly, his tone making it clear he wasn¡¯t interested in a conversation.


    But Atlas wasn¡¯t one to back down from a little coldness. If anything, it made him more determined. Talking was something he was good at, he could do it for the both of them.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s going on?¡± Atlas pressed, his voice light despite the tension in the room. ¡°Am I free to go after this?¡±


    Lukas shook his head, a look of mild irritation crossing his face. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, boy.¡±


    Atlas frowned. ¡°What do you mean? Why not?¡±


    The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was dealing with an irritating child. ¡°Are you dense? No Awakened can just roam around freely. It¡¯s not how things work. I¡¯ll be taking you to the academy.¡±


    Atlas froze at the words, his heart skipping a beat. ¡°The academy?¡± he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.


    That¡­ that was everything he had ever dreamed of. He had spent countless nights staring at its gates from the shadows of Midtown, imagining what it would be like to walk through them, to learn, to grow. The thought alone plastered a wide, uncontrollable smile on his face.


    Finally.


    Finally, he could have the chance to prove himself, to be something more than just a street rat. The idea sent a thrill of excitement coursing through him, so much so that he almost forgot where he was.


    Despite all the times he told himself it didn¡¯t matter, that reading and writing weren¡¯t important, that he didn¡¯t need those things, he knew deep down he was lying. He wanted it. He¡¯d dreamed of it for years, even tried teaching himself with scraps of discarded books, but it was no use. It was too hard on his own.


    And now¡­ now he had the chance.


    He was still lost in thought, his mind filled with visions of what the academy might be like, when the door creaked open. A man stepped inside, wearing the long robes of a healer. His presence immediately filled the room with a sense of calm, and his warm smile made the tense atmosphere feel just a little less suffocating.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the healer said, ¡°I understand you¡¯re in need of some assistance.¡± His gaze shifted briefly to Lukas, giving him a respectful nod.


    Lukas grunted in acknowledgment but said nothing.


    Atlas straightened in his chair, trying to look composed. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°That would be¡­ ideal.¡±


    The healer chuckled lightly at his choice of words, ¡°Let¡¯s see what we¡¯re working with, shall we?¡±

 Chapter 7 - Healers

    The healer made his way toward Atlas, his hands moving with a calm confidence as he reached for the edge of the bandages wrapped tightly around him.


    Atlas, however, wasn¡¯t about to let him work in silence. ¡°At least tell me your name first,¡± he muttered, raising an eyebrow.


    The healer froze, his eyes widening comically as he blinked down at Atlas.


    ¡®Sucker¡¯


    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lucas¡¯s lips twitching, a ghost of a smile creeping across his otherwise stoic face. But when Atlas turned to look, his expression hardened again, he shaked his head in disappointment.


    The healer recovered quickly, giving a small, sheepish chuckle. ¡°My apologies, young man. My name is Curate Ambro,¡± he said, his tone warm and polite as he resumed unwrapping the bandages. He paused just long enough to flash a gentle smile. ¡°It¡¯s okay to continue now?¡±


    Atlas tilted his head, letting the moment drag out just a little longer before nodding. ¡°Good to meet you, Curate. My name¡¯s Atlas.¡±


    Ambro let out a soft laugh at that, shaking his head. ¡°Oh, I know who you are, Atlas. And for the record, Curate¡¯s not my name, it¡¯s my title.¡±


    Atlas frowned, curiosity piqued. ¡°Title? What do you mean by that?¡±


    Ambro paused, looking up briefly. ¡°I¡¯m a Lightblade,¡± he explained. ¡°Curate is my rank. It¡¯s my position within the order.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s eyebrows lifted slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. He knew about the Lightblades and Nightblades, everyone did, but the ranks? That was new to him. He thought about pressing further, but before he could ask another question, Ambro moved to the last few layers of bandages.


    ¡°Now, hold still,¡± Ambro said, his tone light. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more after I¡¯ve seen the full extent of¡ª¡±


    The words died in his throat as he pulled away the final layer of fabric.


    Ambro froze, his hands hovering over Atlas¡¯s exposed skin, his expression twisting into something caught between shock and anger. He stared at the wounds crisscrossing Atlas¡¯s torso¡ªdeep, jagged gashes, poorly stitched together with uneven threads. Burns that had barely begun to heal marked his sides, and fresh cuts were inflamed and raw.


    ¡°This¡­¡± Ambro muttered, his voice low and tense. ¡°This is¡­¡±


    His head snapped toward Lucas, his gentle demeanor vanishing in an instant. His voice rose, sharp and demanding. ¡°What is this? How in the gods¡¯ names did you let him walk in here like this?¡±


    Lucas frowned, stepping forward to get a closer look. His jaw tightened as his gaze swept over Atlas¡¯s injuries. Even he seemed caught off guard by the extent of the damage.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t seen them uncovered,¡± Lucas admitted, his voice carrying a rare note of hesitation. ¡°He was already bandaged when he was given to me to handle.¡±


    Ambro¡¯s anger didn¡¯t waver. He gestured at the makeshift stitches holding Atlas¡¯s wounds together. ¡°Bandaged? You call this bandaged? This is a disaster! Who treated him? Was it a butcher?¡±


    Atlas shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, his ribs protesting the movement. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m right here,¡± he said, trying to inject some levity into the situation. ¡°And for the record, I¡¯m not dead, so whoever did it couldn¡¯t have been that bad.¡±


    Ambro¡¯s eyes snapped back to him, his anger softening slightly but his concern still evident. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be alive, Atlas,¡± he said firmly. ¡°These wounds¡­ They¡¯re beyond what any untrained hand should have been able to manage. The fact that you¡¯re even sitting here¡­¡±


    He trailed off, shaking his head as if the words wouldn¡¯t come.


    Lucas crossed his arms, his sharp gaze flicking between Ambro and Atlas. ¡°We¡¯ll fix him up now,¡± he said, his tone brooking no argument. ¡°Just do what needs to be done, Curate.¡±


    Ambro hesitated for a moment before nodding, though his frustration lingered. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, his voice tight. ¡°But this will take more than simple healing. These wounds are layered with mana trauma. It¡¯s no wonder he¡¯s in this state.¡±


    Atlas blinked, his confusion growing. ¡°Mana trauma? What does that mean?¡±


    Ambro didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he began to move with renewed urgency, gathering supplies from a nearby tray as he muttered under his breath.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Ambro moved back over to Atlas, setting a syringe on the table before pulling out a vial filled with a clear liquid. He carefully filled the syringe, tapping it lightly to ensure there were no air bubbles.


    ¡°This is just going to take the edge off the pain while I heal you, understand?¡± he said, his tone firm but not unkind.


    Atlas nodded absentmindedly, his focus shifting to the exposed wounds crisscrossing his torso. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.


    When the bandages were still in place, it was easier to ignore, easier to pretend it wasn¡¯t as bad as it felt. Sure, the pain had been unbearable, keeping him awake for endless nights, but this, seeing the extent of the damage, was something else entirely.


    His eyes went wide, his mouth dry as his mind raced.


    ¡®That bitch cut me to ribbons¡¯


    He didn¡¯t even notice the needle piercing the vein on his wrist until the sharp sting brought him back to the moment. The effect was immediate. A wave of bliss washed over him, dulling the pain to nothingness. For the first time in days, maybe longer, his body felt¡­ good.


    No, better than good. He felt amazing. His mind swam in a foggy euphoria, the world around him losing its sharp edges. A lazy grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he exhaled deeply, sinking into the sensation.


    Ambro gestured for him to lie down. ¡°Lay down.¡±


    Atlas nodded eagerly, still riding the high. His thoughts floated.


    ¡®My core awakened. I¡¯m going to the academy. Everything is perfect. This is the best I¡¯ve ever felt.¡¯


    He stretched out on the table as instructed, his gaze flitting up to the ceiling. When Ambro leaned over him, the healer¡¯s voice was low, almost reverent as he murmured, ¡°Healing Art¡ªGreater Release.¡±


    A soft, golden glow enveloped Ambro¡¯s hands, illuminating the dim space with a faint, soothing light. He placed his glowing hands on Atlas¡¯s chest, and warmth immediately spread through Atlas¡¯s body like sunlight chasing away a cold morning.


    The combination of the warmth and the drugs made Atlas feel like he was on cloud nine. His head lolled slightly to the side as a goofy grin spread across his face. ¡°This is amazing,¡± he muttered, his voice slightly slurred. He thought the words stayed in his head, but Lucas¡¯s smirk told him otherwise.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± Atlas asked, his curiosity cutting through the haze of euphoria.


    Ambro¡¯s response was quick and curt. ¡°Be quiet.¡±


    But it was hard to stay quiet. The feeling was unlike anything Atlas had ever experienced. He watched in awe as the gashes on his body slowly began to knit themselves together under the healer¡¯s glowing hands. It was magic, seeing it work up close was something else entirely.


    He didn¡¯t even notice the strain it put on Ambro until the glow began to dim. The healer pulled his hands away, his face pale and his breathing labored. Beads of sweat clung to his brow, and his shoulders slumped as though he had just run a marathon.


    The euphoria began to fade as quickly as it had come. Atlas¡¯s body came back into sharp focus, and with it, the dull throb of lingering pain. He winced, a low hiss escaping through his teeth. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he had relied on the drugs masking the pain.


    Ambro straightened slowly, still catching his breath. ¡°I¡¯ve closed the wounds and removed the infections,¡± he said, his voice steady but noticeably weaker. ¡°But I can¡¯t do anything about the lingering pain. Your body still needs time to heal properly. If you push yourself, you¡¯ll risk reopening the wounds.¡±


    Atlas nodded, his grin fading as the reality of his condition set back in. The brief moment of relief had been glorious, but it hadn¡¯t lasted nearly long enough.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered, his voice low.


    Lucas glanced at the healer. ¡°Can you spare the boy some clothes?¡± he asked.


    Ambro paused, his eyes drifting over Atlas, who was sitting awkwardly on the edge of the examination table. With the bandages removed, he had nothing but a pair of tattered pants to his name. His ribs were faintly visible through his pale skin and he would be lying if he said he hadn¡¯t been freezing.


    Ambro sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Of course. Give me a moment. We should have something that fits.¡±


    Atlas watched as the healer left the room, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. For the first time in a while, he might have proper clothes, something not stitched together by granny Lucy¡¯s desperation and worn beyond recognition. He shifted uncomfortably, trying not to let the cold metal table bite too much into his skin while he waited.


    It wasn¡¯t long before Ambro returned, carrying a neatly folded bundle of clothes. ¡°Here,¡± he said, setting them down beside Atlas. ¡°I believe these should fit well enough.¡±


    Atlas grabbed the bundle, his fingers brushing over the fabric. The material was soft but sturdy, a far cry from the scratchy, worn things he¡¯d been used to. The jacket on top, in particular, caught his attention. It was dark brown, thick, and looked like it could actually keep him warm¡ªpractical, but nice enough that it wouldn¡¯t look out of place in Uppertown.


    For a brief moment, his mood soured. This jacket was just as nice as the one he had risked his life to steal. The thought made him scowl internally. The entire mess that had led to his current situation could have been avoided if someone had just handed him something like this from the start.


    Lucas raised an eyebrow at the expression on Atlas¡¯s face. ¡°Problem?¡± he asked.


    Atlas quickly shook his head and forced a half-smile. ¡°No. Just¡­ thinking.¡±


    He started to put on the clothes, sliding into the shirt first. It was a perfect fit, and the jacket was the cherry on top.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Atlas said, glancing at Ambro. The healer waved him off with a tired but genuine smile.


    ¡°Take care of yourself, boy,¡± Ambro said. ¡°And try not to end up in another mess like this.¡±


    Lucas, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed himself off with a nod toward the door. ¡°Come on. Time to move.¡±


    Atlas hesitated for just a second, looking back at Ambro. There was something about the healer¡¯s exhausted but kind expression that struck him. He gave him a quick nod of gratitude before following Lucas out.


    The jacket felt heavy on his shoulders, but not in a bad way. It was warm, comforting, a reminder that maybe things were finally turning around. As they stepped into the cold air outside, Atlas pulled the collar up, shielding his neck from the wind. For the first time in a long while, he didn¡¯t feel like the cold owned him. It was a small victory, but one that made him smirk quietly to himself as he followed Lucas.

 Chapter 8 - Dreams Made True

    They were walking up the snow-covered cobblestone road, the sound of their boots crunching against the icy surface the only noise between them. The cold wind bit at Atlas¡¯s cheeks, but the growing weight in his chest was far worse than the chill in the air.


    As great as it was to have been healed, to have unlocked his core, he couldn¡¯t shake the gnawing guilt that twisted his stomach. Ren¡¯s face flashed in his mind¡ªpale, still, lifeless. He hadn¡¯t seen or heard anything about him since the attack, and the silence was becoming unbearable.


    He glanced at the stoic figure walking ahead of him. Lucas hadn¡¯t said much since they¡¯d left, but Atlas couldn¡¯t hold it in anymore. The question burned on his tongue, demanding an answer.


    ¡°What happened when I was found?¡± His voice broke the stillness, raw with worry. ¡°Was there another boy there?¡±


    Lucas paused mid-step, just briefly, before continuing his steady pace. ¡°Besides you,¡± he said, his tone even and measured, ¡°there was one other survivor. But he¡¯s in critical condition.¡±


    The words hit Atlas like a punch to the gut. He didn¡¯t know whether to sigh in relief or collapse where he stood. A weight lifted, knowing Ren was alive, but it was quickly replaced by a suffocating sense of failure.


    ¡®I was supposed to protect him.¡¯


    His thoughts spiraled. The image of Ren lying there, unmoving and surrounded by chaos, replayed in his mind. At the time, he had thought the worst, had feared the boy was already gone.


    ¡°I have to see him now!¡± Atlas demanded, his voice louder, more desperate. ¡°I need to make sure he¡¯s okay.¡±


    Lucas didn¡¯t stop walking, didn¡¯t even turn his head. His response came quickly, flat and resolute. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not possible.¡±


    The finality in Lucas¡¯s tone left no room for argument, but Atlas¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, frustration bubbling under his skin. The cold air felt heavier now, biting deeper as his thoughts churned.


    He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a breath, but the guilt stayed, gnawing at him.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I see him? He needs me there,¡± Atlas said, his voice rising with frustration.


    Lucas didn¡¯t even glance back. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need you, and he will be fine. His matters are of no concern to you. You need to focus on entering the academy. The new year has just started, so you¡¯re lucky they¡¯ll even squeeze you in.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s excitement about the academy, something he had dreamed of for years, felt muted, buried under the weight of worry for Ren. His friend was out there somewhere, hurt, possibly worse, and there was nothing he could do. The thought gnawed at him like a splinter he couldn¡¯t reach.


    Lucas must have sensed his mood. ¡°He will meet you in the academy next year.¡±


    Atlas froze mid-step, his mind racing as he tried to process the words. He quickly jogged to catch up to Lucas. ¡°What do you mean? Meet me next year? How?¡±


    Lucas let out a small sigh, as though the answer was obvious. ¡°The boy awakened his core as well,¡± he said simply. ¡°But he¡¯s in no condition to start this year.¡±


    The tension in Atlas¡¯s chest eased, his breath coming out in a long exhale. Not only had Ren survived, but he had awakened his core too. Relief flooded through him, warming him against the cold.


    A small smile crept onto his face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. They had both made it out of that hell, and while it wasn¡¯t perfect, it was better than he could have dared to imagine.


    The academy gates that Atlas had stared at throughout his childhood loomed before him. They were massive, constructed from a dark metal that gleamed in the sunlight, standing as a formidable barrier to the world within. The intricate design of the gates allowed no clear view of what lay beyond, blocking his attempts to catch a glimpse of the training grounds he had imagined so vividly.


    But that didn¡¯t stop his mind from racing. He had spent countless nights dreaming of this moment, filling the unknown with stories and fantasies. He could almost hear Granny Lucy¡¯s voice again, telling the younger boys her bedtime tales. Tales of great heroes who rose from nothing, wielding all four elements in harmony to defend their nation and protect the weak.


    Those stories had lit a fire inside him. From the first time he heard them, he had never looked back. His one goal, his only dream, was to become a Blade. To be one of those heroes. And now, he stood at the threshold of that dream.


    He wouldn¡¯t back down. Not now. Not ever.


    As they approached the gates, Atlas¡¯s steps quickened. His breath hung in the air as he took in every detail, from the imposing metalwork to the faint hum of activity beyond. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn¡¯t notice when Lucas stopped to speak with the guard stationed by the entrance.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The man was enormous, towering over both of them. His broad shoulders seemed capable of bearing the weight of the entire gate, and the massive axe strapped to his back only added to his intimidating presence. His sharp eyes flicked toward Atlas, then back to Lucas as they exchanged a few low words.


    Lucas¡¯s tone was even, his words too quiet for Atlas to catch. Whatever he said, the guard responded with a short nod before turning to Atlas. His gaze lingered for a moment, assessing, before he stepped aside and unlocked the gate.


    The heavy doors groaned as they swung open, revealing the path ahead.


    This was it. The moment Atlas had waited for all his life. The barrier between his dreams and reality had finally opened. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward.


    He was about to step into the world he had only ever imagined. A world of heroes, of Blades, of opportunity.


    ***


    Atlas walked through the open gates, Lucas still leading him.


    As he passed the threshold, he let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. His eyes swept over the cobbled path ahead, framed on either side by rolling, snow-covered fields. The jagged lines of the mountains in the distance seemed to cut into the pale sky, their peaks dusted white.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± Lucas said, his voice as steady as ever.


    Atlas nodded, quickening his pace to match the man¡¯s long strides. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, but he barely felt it. His attention was locked ahead, on the towering building in front of them.


    He¡¯d seen it many times from behind the gates, but never like this. Never this close. The front doors loomed larger with every step they took. It was real. The dream he had clung to for so long was finally within reach.


    His heart began to pound in his chest, quick and loud, his lingering injuries forgotten in the rush of excitement.


    They climbed the stone steps, each step echoing faintly in the stillness. Atlas barely registered the weight of his boots on the stone as Lucas reached out and pushed open the massive wooden doors.


    The cold vanished the moment they stepped inside, replaced by a comforting warmth that seemed to wrap around him. The heavy doors swung shut behind them with a dull thud.


    Atlas lowered his jacket hood, shaking off the light snow that clung to it, and gave his jacket a quick dusting. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the chill outside, and for a moment, he simply enjoyed it.


    His eyes moved to a large wooden desk in the center of the room. Behind it sat a middle-aged woman, hunched over and scribbling furiously on a stack of papers. She seemed utterly engrossed in her work, her quill moving with quick, precise strokes.


    Atlas followed Lucas across the polished stone floor, their footsteps echoing faintly. The man¡¯s imposing figure made it easy for Atlas to slip into his shadow unnoticed.


    When they reached the desk, the woman still hadn¡¯t looked up, her focus unwavering. Lucas tapped his knuckles lightly on the desk and cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the room like a bell.


    The woman jumped slightly, her quill scratching an unintended mark across the paper. She looked up, startled, her wide eyes flicking between them.


    ¡°Oh my gosh, where did you two come from?¡± she exclaimed, her voice flustered. ¡°Sorry if I kept you waiting. I didn¡¯t hear anyone come in.¡±


    Atlas couldn¡¯t help but smile at her frantic energy. She looked as though she¡¯d been completely absorbed in her task, and the sudden interruption had thrown her off balance.


    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, miss,¡± Lucas said, his tone calm and polite. ¡°I¡¯m here to enroll the boy.¡±


    The woman¡¯s gaze shifted to Atlas, taking him in for a brief moment before she nodded and began rifling through the stack of papers in front of her. ¡°Ah, yes. Here it is,¡± she said, pulling out a sheet and scanning it quickly.


    ¡°Atlas,¡± she read aloud, her voice steady now. ¡°Aged twelve, raised in Midtown.¡± She looked up from the paper, her sharp eyes meeting his. ¡°Is that correct?¡±


    Atlas straightened slightly under her scrutiny, nodding. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    She nodded in response. ¡°Okay, I see we still need to test your affinities. That¡¯s no problem. Let¡¯s get you set up first, and I¡¯ll organize the testing room. Follow me if you will.¡±


    She stood up, smoothing the creases in her robes before gesturing for them to follow.


    Before Atlas could take a step, Lucas cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the moment. ¡°Sorry, miss, but this is where I¡¯ll part ways. My mission was just to get the boy to the academy.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Thank you for your time, Reaver,¡± she replied, giving him a polite nod.


    Lucas turned his attention to Atlas, his sharp gaze making the boy straighten instinctively. ¡°Make sure you behave,¡± he said, his tone firm but not unkind. ¡°After the investigation, I¡¯ve decided to clear your name. You won¡¯t like it if I come to regret that decision.¡±


    For a brief moment, Atlas could almost feel the power radiating off the man, like the quiet tension of a snow leopard ready to strike. He swallowed hard and nodded weakly. ¡°Yes¡­ Sir.¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t call me Sir,¡± Lucas corrected, his tone softening ever so slightly. ¡°I¡¯m Reaver Lucas. But you will learn all about formality¡¯s soon enough anyway.¡±


    He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he looked Atlas over. ¡°Oh, right. Almost forgot about this,¡± he said, stepping closer.


    Before Atlas could ask what he meant, Lucas reached out and touched the cold metal around his neck. A faint click echoed in the quiet hall as the collar fell into Lucas¡¯s hands.


    Atlas blinked in surprise. To be honest, he had completely forgotten about the collar aswell. Everything happening around him¡ªthe academy, the healers, the excitement of his core awakening¡ªhad pushed it to the back of his mind.


    But the moment the collar was gone, something inside him shifted. The absence he slowly forgot about was replaced by a sudden rush of warmth and vitality. His mana roared to life, flowing through him like a river unblocked. It was like being whole again, a missing piece finally clicking into place.


    He let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away.


    Lucas nodded in approval. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll see you around, kid,¡± he said, turning to leave without waiting for a reply.


    Atlas watched him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he called out, ¡°Thanks¡­ Thanks for everything.¡±


    Lucas didn¡¯t turn around, but Atlas caught the faintest nod as the man disappeared down the hall.


    ¡°Well then,¡± the woman said, snapping Atlas out of his thoughts. ¡°Let¡¯s carry on, shall we?¡±

 Chapter 9 - New Home

    Atlas walked through the wide corridors, his boots tapping softly against the stone floor as the woman led him along.


    They passed rooms every now and then, and Atlas couldn¡¯t help but peek inside whenever a door was slightly ajar. One room caught his attention, a large space filled with rows of seats. Students sat quietly, their eyes fixed on someone standing at the front, speaking with confidence. He lingered for a moment, wishing he could stay and watch, but the woman¡¯s brisk pace didn¡¯t allow for it.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Atlas spoke up, his voice hesitant as he quickened his steps to catch up to her.


    The woman turned her head slightly, her expression calm but focused. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Would I be able to send something to the orphanage? Just to let them know I¡¯m okay?¡± he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.


    She continued walking, her tone casual as she replied, ¡°Of course. That¡¯s already been taken care of. You don¡¯t need to worry about anything.¡±


    Atlas felt a wave of relief wash over him, the tension in his shoulders easing. ¡°Thank you,¡± he murmured, his steps feeling a little lighter as they continued down the hall.


    Eventually, the corridor opened up, and the cold hit him again as they stepped outside. Atlas pulled his hood up, shielding himself from the fresh snowflakes that drifted lazily from the sky.


    The area before him was expansive, with little stone huts scattered across the open field. Narrow pathways wove between them, and the soft glow of lanterns hanging near some of the doorways gave the place a cozy, almost magical feel.


    ¡°This is the living compound,¡± the woman explained, gesturing to the huts. ¡°Everyone has their own accommodation. Because you¡¯ve come in late, unfortunately, you don¡¯t get to pick yours.¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t respond right away. He was too busy looking around, his wide eyes taking in the sight. The idea of having his own space was something he had never even considered.


    As they walked along the snow-covered pathways, Atlas found himself staring in awe at the little huts. Smoke rose from some of the chimneys, and he could see faint light spilling from behind curtains in the windows.


    The snow crunched softly underfoot as they made their way toward the edge of the field. Atlas didn¡¯t mind that he wouldn¡¯t get to choose his hut. He was still processing the fact that he¡¯d even have one.


    Finally, the woman stopped in front of a small hut at the very edge of the compound. There were only a few others nearby, the rest of the area open and quiet. Atlas tilted his head, surprised.


    ¡°This is yours,¡± she said simply, handing him a key and stepping aside to let him take it in.


    He stared at the modest structure, its stone walls sturdy and its wooden door slightly worn. He couldn¡¯t understand why this hut was still available. Being on the edge of the compound, with fewer neighbors, seemed like it would¡¯ve been one of the first spots taken.


    But he wasn¡¯t about to complain.


    The lady¡¯s voice broke the quiet. ¡°I¡¯d say I¡¯ll give you some time to unpack your things and settle in, but it¡¯s obvious you have nothing. So instead, feel free to have a look around. I¡¯ll prepare everything for your testing and send someone to fetch you this evening.¡±


    Atlas nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She smiled and then turned, she walked back down the path, leaving Atlas alone with his new home.


    He stood there for a moment, staring at the hut. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was his. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pushed the wooden door open.


    The inside was modest, just as he expected. A small cot sat against one wall, with a desk and chair positioned on the opposite side. At the foot of the bed was a chest, its surface worn smooth from use. In the corner of the room, a tiny fireplace was set into the wall, its stonework simple but sturdy.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The air inside was cold. He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them as his eyes scanned the space.


    Atlas wandered over to the chest first, flipping it open with a creak. It was empty. Next, he pulled open the desk drawers, but they were just as bare. He glanced at the cot¡ªno blankets, just the bare mattress.


    ¡°Well, this is cozy,¡± he muttered, his breath visible in the icy air.


    He moved to the fireplace, crouching in front of it and running a hand along the cold stone. It was clean, unused.


    ¡®No point sitting here freezing,¡¯


    Straightening up and brushing his hands off. If he was going to make this place livable, step one was getting some heat. And for that, he¡¯d need wood.


    He glanced around one last time, as if expecting something to magically appear, but the hut remained as empty as when he¡¯d walked in.


    ¡°Right,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Wood.¡±


    Atlas grabbed the door handle, pulling it open and stepping back out into the cold. The snow was still falling, though lighter now, and the soft glow of the afternoon sun made the world seem almost peaceful.


    The thought crossed his mind to sit and wait, to take it easy until someone came to fetch him. But he knew himself too well. Sitting idle would only make him restless.


    The snow crunched beneath his boots as he wandered back toward the pathways connecting the huts. A few other students were out and about, some talking in small groups while others hurried toward the main building. No one paid him much attention.


    He pulled his hood tighter, his breath puffing out in little clouds as he glanced around. There had to be some kind of storage for firewood¡ªor at least a place he could scavenge some.


    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll find out,¡± he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and setting off down the path.


    ***


    Atlas wandered around for what felt like half an hour before he started getting bored. Everything was new to him, sure, but identical huts and empty pathways got old fast.


    In the distance, he noticed a small group, a girl and two boys, chatting among themselves. Deciding he had nothing better to do, he headed toward them.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he called out. They didn¡¯t seem to notice, so he tried again, louder this time. ¡°Hello¡­¡±


    One of the boys turned, irritation written all over his face. ¡°What?¡± he snapped. ¡°Can¡¯t you see we¡¯re talking?¡±


    Atlas blinked at the hostility. ¡°Uh, yeah, sorry about that¡­ Anyway, do you know where I can get some firewood around here?¡±


    The boy looked at him like he¡¯d just asked the dumbest question in the world. Atlas resisted the urge to glare back.


    ¡®What the hells his problem¡¯


    It was the girl who spoke up instead. She had long blonde hair tied back loosely and a small, delicate nose. Her voice was soft and sweet. ¡°Are you new here?¡±


    Atlas paused, caught off guard. He realized this was probably the first time he¡¯d spoken to a girl his age, Midtown¡¯s orphanage hadn¡¯t exactly been co-ed. He snapped out of it a moment too late, a bit flustered. ¡°Uh, yeah. Just got here today.¡±


    ¡°Good for you,¡± the rude boy cut in again. ¡°Now piss off.¡±


    The second boy sighed, his tone more exasperated than anything. He was shorter than the first, with dark brown hair and eyes that seemed a little kinder. ¡°Drop it, Aaron. He¡¯s obviously lost, stop being a dick.¡±


    Aaron rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever.¡±


    Atlas cleared his throat, trying to regain some ground. ¡°Anyway¡­ about that firewood?¡±


    The second boy gave him a small nod. ¡°It¡¯s back toward the main building. All the supplies are kept there. You won¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thanks,¡± Atlas replied.


    ¡°No problem,¡± the boy said, extending a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Seth. That¡¯s Rea,¡± he nodded toward the girl, ¡°and that guy is Aaron.¡±


    Atlas shook his hand. ¡°Atlas.¡±


    Aaron let out a snort, whether it was at being called out or at Atlas¡¯s name, he couldn¡¯t tell. Rea, on the other hand, smiled warmly.


    ¡°Actaully¡­ We¡¯re heading that way for our lesson,¡± Seth offered. ¡°You can tag along, and I¡¯ll show you where to go if you like.¡±


    Atlas hesitated briefly, then nodded. ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, thanks.¡±


    ***


    The walk back to his hut took longer than he had hoped. By the time Atlas said goodbye to the group and began his trek with an armful of firewood and a fire starter, he was already feeling the strain.


    After taking a few wrong turns he finally reached his hut. As he stood outside, the realization hit him. Now he understood why this spot had been one of the least desirable. The isolated location, combined with the long and winding walk, made it a pain to get to.


    By the time he pushed the door open, he was sweating, his arms shaking from carrying the wood. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. Ignoring his exhaustion for the moment, Atlas focused on getting the fire started. Once the flames crackled to life, spreading much-needed warmth through the small room, he collapsed onto the cot.


    His body still ached from everything he had been through, and the day¡¯s efforts hadn¡¯t helped. He lay there for what felt like an hour, staring at the wooden ceiling as the heat from the fire slowly thawed his bones.


    A knock at the door broke his quiet. Atlas groaned as he sat up, his muscles protesting the movement. He shuffled over and opened the door to find Aaron standing there, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Atlas was too surprised to speak.


    Aaron didn¡¯t waste time. ¡°I¡¯m here to take you to your testing. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Atlas blinked but nodded, stepping out into the cold once more.

 Chapter 10 - Affinities

    Aaron led Atlas through the rows of huts, his pace brisk and his face set in a permanent scowl. The two walked in silence, though Aaron occasionally threw Atlas a glance, his expression making it clear he wasn¡¯t thrilled about the task.


    Atlas didn¡¯t bother trying to make conversation. The boy¡¯s attitude reminded him of the people in Uppertown who used to shoo him away when he lingered too long in their streets. He was used to it. Instead, he focused on the path ahead, the light snowfall dampening the sound of their steps.


    After a short walk, they arrived back at the main building. Aaron pushed open the heavy doors without a word and motioned for Atlas to follow. Inside, the air was warm, a welcome change from the cold outside. Atlas let his hood fall back as he took in the familiar sight of the front desk and the middle-aged woman seated behind it.


    The woman looked up as they approached, her pen pausing mid-scribble. ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°Thank you, Aaron. That will be all.¡±


    Aaron gave a curt nod, muttering something under his breath as he turned to leave. Atlas watched him go, relieved to be free of the boy¡¯s sour company.


    The woman stood and gestured for Atlas to follow her. ¡°Come along. It¡¯s time to get your affinities tested.¡±


    Atlas hesitated for a moment before falling into step behind her. As they walked through the building, he couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°What exactly is this test? What do I need to do?¡±


    The woman glanced back at him, her expression calm. ¡°The test is simple. You¡¯ll step into the array, and it will measure your connection to the elements. You don¡¯t need to do anything but stand still and let the array work.¡±


    Her words did little to ease the knot tightening in his stomach. ¡°What if my affinities are¡­ weak?¡± he asked quietly.


    She chuckled softly, turning her attention forward again. ¡°Even with average affinities, everyone has the potential to grow. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here¡ªto learn, to train, to unlock your full capabilities. The strength of your affinities is just a starting point, not a limit.¡±


    Atlas nodded slowly, her words offering some comfort. Still, deep down, he couldn¡¯t help but hope for something more than average. He wanted to be strong, to prove he belonged here.


    The air grew cooler as they descended a set of stone stairs. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly, the dimly lit corridor stretching on ahead of them. Atlas noticed the faint hum in the air, like a distant vibration that seemed to grow stronger with every step.


    They finally stopped in front of a heavy door, its surface engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with light. The woman placed her hand on the door, the runes glowing brighter at her touch before it swung open with a low creak.


    ¡°This is the testing chamber,¡± she said, stepping aside to let him enter.


    Atlas took a hesitant step forward, his eyes widening as he took in the room. It was massive, the walls lined with glowing symbols that seemed to pulse in time with the energy in the air. The ceiling disappeared into shadow, and at the center of the room was a large array carved into the stone floor. The lines of the array were intricate, weaving together in a pattern that seemed both deliberate and chaotic.


    The woman gestured toward the array. ¡°Step into the circle, and the array will activate. It will reveal your affinities.¡±


    Atlas stared at the glowing lines on the floor, his nerves threatening to get the better of him. ¡°What happens if I don¡¯t have strong affinities?¡± he asked, his voice quieter now.


    The woman gave him a reassuring smile. ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it. Everyone has their own strengths, and this is just the first step. Relax and let the array do its work.¡±


    He nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. With cautious steps, he approached the circle, the hum of energy growing louder as he got closer. The moment he stepped into the center, the runes flared brighter, their light casting shadows across the room.


    Atlas stood still, his hands at his sides as he waited. The air around him felt alive, charged with energy that seemed to buzz against his skin. He wasn¡¯t sure what to expect, but the anticipation was almost unbearable.


    Then, with a soft hum, the array came to life.


    Four pillars of light shot up around the circle, each one representing an element. The first was red, the flames twisting and crackling as they reached upward. The second was blue, water swirling and rippling in a mesmerizing dance. The third was green, vibrant and pulsing with the energy of life itself. And the fourth was transparent, barely visible but unmistakable in the way it stirred the air, sending a soft breeze that brushed against his face.


    Atlas turned slowly, taking in the sight of the pillars. Each one was different, unique, and their presence filled the room with a sense of power. The hum of the array vibrated through his chest.


    ¡°This is incredible,¡± he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting between the glowing columns. He could feel their energy, not as something pulling at him, but as a quiet presence that surrounded him completely.


    The woman¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Relax, Atlas. Don¡¯t fight it. Just let the array do its work.¡±


    He nodded again, his hands unclenching as he let out a slow breath.


    Fire danced toward him, flickering and crackling as it moved with purpose. Atlas instinctively tensed, his heart racing as the flames closed in. He thought they were going to burn him, that he was about to be engulfed in pain, but the moment the fire touched his skin, a wave of warmth spread through him instead.


    It wasn¡¯t hot or scorching like he expected. It was soothing, like stepping into the sun on a cold day. He could feel it running through his body, coursing through his veins and filling every corner of him. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant.


    But then it started to build. The warmth grew stronger, more intense, pressing against his senses like a wave ready to crash. He clenched his fists, his breath hitching as the feeling climbed higher and higher, until it felt like it was about to overwhelm him.


    Just as panic began to creep in, the pressure disappeared. The flames vanished, leaving only the faintest trace of heat in their wake, as though they had never been there at all.


    Atlas barely had time to catch his breath before the next element moved toward him.


    Water flowed forward, a glistening column of liquid that twisted and surged as though it had a mind of its own. It swirled around him before plunging into his body like the fire had. The sensation was different this time¡ªcool and refreshing, like diving into a clear stream. It washed over him, cleansing and invigorating.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    But just like before, the feeling began to build. The soothing coolness turned into a torrent, rushing through him with an intensity that left him gasping. It was as though he were standing beneath a waterfall, the sheer force pressing down on him, relentless and unyielding. He thought he might drown in it.


    And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the water receded. The pressure lifted, leaving him standing there, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing.


    Earth was next.


    The green pillar pulsed, the ground beneath his feet trembling as its energy surged toward him. This time, the sensation was grounding, solid and firm. It rooted him to the spot, steadying him even as it entered his body. He felt connected, as though he could feel the weight of the mountains and the strength of the earth itself.


    But the pressure returned, stronger than before. It felt like he was being crushed, like the weight of the world was bearing down on him. His legs trembled, his knees threatening to buckle under the strain.


    And then it was gone. The weight lifted, leaving him standing tall once more.


    Finally, the transparent pillar stirred. It was almost invisible, just a shimmer in the air, but Atlas could feel it. A soft breeze brushed against his face before rushing toward him. Unlike the other elements, this one didn¡¯t make him tense or recoil. Instead, he felt¡­ calm.


    When the air touched him, it wasn¡¯t invasive like the others. It wrapped around him gently, like an embrace, and for a moment, Atlas could swear it was welcoming him. A smile tugged at his lips unbidden as the breeze wove through him, filling his lungs and lifting his chest.


    The lightness of it was exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a cliff and feeling the wind carry you, just for a second. There was no panic, no fear, only the sensation of weightlessness, of freedom. The air seemed to hum around him, brushing against his skin and whispering secrets he couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    But then, like the others, the intensity began to rise. The gentle breeze grew stronger, swirling within him like a gale. It rushed through his veins, filling every inch of him with its boundless energy. Atlas didn¡¯t feel crushed or overwhelmed, though¡ªhe felt alive. It was as if the storm was lifting him, pulling him higher and higher until he thought he might fly.


    Just when it felt like the wind might carry him away, the storm calmed. The energy settled, leaving a lingering sense of lightness in its wake. Atlas exhaled, his breath steady as the faint shimmer of the transparent pillar returned to its place.


    Each element had touched him, tested him, and left its mark. But something about the air felt different. He couldn¡¯t quite place it, but it stayed with him, even as the chamber grew quiet again.


    As the glow of the array began to dim, the room fell silent. The gentle hum of energy faded into nothingness, leaving Atlas standing in the circle, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The experience still lingered in his body¡ªthe warmth of the fire, the rush of water, the weight of the earth, and, most of all, the freedom of the wind.


    The lady stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor as she approached a small device near the edge of the array. She glanced down at the sheet of paper it was producing, her brows knitting together slightly as she read the results.


    Atlas watched her, his curiosity rising along with his nerves. Her slight gasp made his heart skip a beat.


    ¡°Well,¡± she began, looking up at him with an expression that was equal parts surprise and approval. ¡°It seems your results are quite interesting.¡±


    Atlas tilted his head. ¡°Interesting how?¡± he asked, his voice laced with both excitement and apprehension.


    She adjusted her grip on the paper and cleared her throat. ¡°Your wind affinity is 85,¡± she said, her tone carrying a note of astonishment. ¡°That¡¯s exceptionally high.¡±


    Atlas blinked, He didn¡¯t know much about affinities yet, but the way she said it made him feel like it was something to be proud of. A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips.


    ¡°And the others?¡± he asked, trying to keep his tone casual even as his heart raced.


    She glanced back at the sheet. ¡°Your fire affinity is 70. That¡¯s above average and shows great potential,¡± she continued. ¡°Earth is at 62, and water is 60¡ªboth are solid, though closer to average.¡±


    Atlas nodded slowly, processing the information. The numbers swirled in his mind, but it was the wind affinity that stood out. 85. That had to mean something. Right?


    ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s good?¡± he asked hesitantly, unsure if he was supposed to feel accomplished or disappointed.


    The lady smiled warmly. ¡°It¡¯s very good,¡± she reassured him. ¡°Your wind affinity is quite rare at that level. Most people only ever reach the mid-60s or 70s in their strongest element. You¡¯ve been blessed with a strong connection to wind.¡±


    Atlas felt a surge of pride, but it was tempered by a strange mix of relief and determination. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but hearing his results made everything feel real. He wasn¡¯t just some kid from Midtown anymore. He was here. He had potential.


    ¡°And the others?¡± he asked again, his voice quieter this time. ¡°Are they¡­ bad?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Not at all. Your fire affinity is impressive, and your earth and water are more than sufficient. Most Blades have one strong affinity and a few weaker ones. Your results are quite balanced, which will give you a lot of versatility in your training.¡±


    Her words eased the last bit of tension in his chest. Atlas nodded, his smile growing a little wider. He had hoped for strong powers, but now he realized that being here¡ªbeing able to stand in that circle and have any affinity at all¡ªwas already more than he could have asked for.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said earnestly, his voice steady.


    The lady folded the paper neatly and tucked it into a small folder. ¡°You¡¯ll receive a copy of your results, and your instructors will use them to guide your training. For now, just focus on getting comfortable here. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to explore your potential.¡±


    Atlas nodded again, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. He could already feel the weight of the training, the challenges, and the expectations pressing down on him. But for the first time in a long while, it wasn¡¯t overwhelming. It was exciting.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± the lady said, motioning toward the door.


    Atlas took one last glance at the array, the faint traces of light still etched into the stone. Then he stepped forward, following her out of the room.


    The woman handed Atlas a small bundle of items before he left. ¡°Here,¡± she said, her tone gentle. ¡°You¡¯ll need these. Blankets, clothing for the school year, and a few essentials to get you started.¡± She paused, looking him over with a kind but firm gaze. ¡°Someone will come by in the morning to guide you to your first class. Be ready.¡±


    Atlas nodded, clutching the bundle tightly. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, his voice sincere.


    She gave him a small smile and a nod before gesturing toward the door. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed. Rest well.¡±


    Atlas turned and made his way back through the now-familiar halls, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The warmth of the blankets in his arms and the weight of the clothes felt oddly comforting. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt prepared, not just for the night ahead, but for the challenges to come.


    By the time he reached his cabin, the sky had deepened into twilight, the stars just beginning to peek through the darkening clouds. The snow had stopped, leaving the pathways covered in a soft, undisturbed layer of white. Atlas pushed open the door, and the warmth of the fire greeted him like an old friend.


    Stepping inside, he carefully shut the door behind him, cutting off the cold entirely. He moved to the cot, placing the bundle of gear on the mattress before sitting down. The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.


    He unfolded the blankets, spreading them over the cot with deliberate care. They were thick and warm, far better than anything he¡¯d had back in Midtown. The clothes were simple but sturdy¡ªa few pairs of trousers, shirts, and a thicker jacket that would serve him well in the harsh mountain cold.


    Atlas sat back on the cot, letting out a long breath as he looked around the small space. The chest at the foot of the bed, now filled with his belongings, seemed almost surreal. The fire¡¯s glow made the room feel cozy, and for the first time since arriving, he felt a true sense of ease.


    He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, and let his gaze wander. His mind drifted to Midtown¡ªthe cold, the hunger, the uncertainty that had been his constant companions. He thought of Granny Lucy¡¯s stories, of sitting on the hard orphanage floor, dreaming of a life beyond those streets. And now, here he was, in a place he had only ever imagined.


    The cot creaked slightly as he lay back fully, staring up at the wooden ceiling. A smile tugged at his lips, small but genuine. He had clothes, a warm fire, and a roof over his head. He had awakened his core. Tomorrow, he¡¯d begin his journey as a Blade.


    For so long, survival had been his only goal. Now, he had something more¡ªa future. The struggles of Midtown weren¡¯t gone, but they felt lighter now, like distant memories rather than chains holding him back.


    Atlas closed his eyes, the warmth of the fire and the softness of the blankets pulling him into a deep, restful sleep. For the first time in years, he felt truly content.

 Chapter 11 - A Warm Welcome

    Atlas woke to the soft sound of knocking on the door. Groggy, he burrowed deeper under the thick blankets, savoring the warmth.


    This was the first proper sleep he¡¯d had since the incident, and he wasn¡¯t ready to give it up.  But the knocking didn¡¯t stop.


    Whoever was outside clearly wasn¡¯t going away. With a groan, Atlas swung his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled toward the door, one heavy step at a time.


    He pulled it open, blinking against the early morning light.  Standing there was the blonde-haired woman from the previous day. He squinted, trying to recall her name, but it escaped him. Her expression was calm, though there was a faint tinge of red on her cheeks.


    Atlas frowned and glanced past her. The sun was barely cresting over the mountains, its golden light just beginning to stretch across the snow-covered fields.


    It¡¯s way too early for this.


    When he turned back to her, he noticed her gaze wasn¡¯t quite meeting his. Her eyes flitted down briefly, then back up to his face. That¡¯s when he realized, she was blushing.


    Confused, he followed her line of sight and looked down at himself. His stomach dropped. He was shirtless, his chest bare and his auburn hair falling messily over his eyes. The only thing he had on was his pair of trousers and bandages covering his wounds.


    His face heated instantly, and he quickly slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against it.


    ¡®Man, I¡¯m stupid,¡¯ he thought, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment.


    ¡°Give me a minute!¡± he called out, his voice a little higher than usual.


    From the other side of the door, he heard her quiet response. ¡°Oh¡­ okay.¡±


    Atlas sighed and turned to his small chest. He threw it open and grabbed the academy uniform the office lady had given him the previous day. He pulled it out hurriedly, shaking off the folds as he tried to calm his racing heart.


    Atlas opened the door once more, now properly dressed. The uniform fit snugly, made of dark, sturdy fabric with a tailored jacket that bore the academy¡¯s crest stitched in silver on the chest. A crisp white shirt peeked out from beneath, paired with black trousers and polished boots. It was simple but elegant, easily the best clothing he had ever worn.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he muttered, ruffling his hair awkwardly. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a morning person.¡±


    She smiled, seeming much more at ease now. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Anyway, I¡¯m here to show you around for your first day and help get you settled in. The new year started just last week, so you¡¯ll miss the basic introduction, but we¡¯ll catch you up.¡±


    Her voice was soft, melodic, but Atlas barely registered her words. He was too busy staring. Something about the way her blonde hair framed her face, or how her smile lit up her features, made it hard to focus. He mentally kicked himself.


    ¡°Uh, right,¡± he said, quickly glancing away. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much,¡± the girl said as they walked down the housing paths leading back toward the towering main facility.


    ¡°The year only started. All the other first years, including me, have just been settling in.¡±


    That eased Atlas¡¯s nerves slightly. He wasn¡¯t usually one to get nervous, but this was different. This was something he had dreamed about for as long as he could remember.


    ¡°Really? What¡¯s it been like so far?¡± he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.


    ¡°It¡¯s intense,¡± she replied with a sigh. ¡°We¡¯re forced to train constantly, even if we don¡¯t want to become Nightblades. Apparently, everyone still needs to learn the basics of combat.¡±


    To Atlas, that sounded incredible. Even though the fight that brought him here still haunted him, there was a part of him that couldn¡¯t deny how drawn he was to the idea of strength, of power.


    She must have noticed something in his expression, because she smirked. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re one of those.¡±


    Atlas frowned, her words catching him off guard. ¡°¡®One of those?¡¯¡± he repeated, scoffing slightly. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± she said, her smirk widening. ¡°A boy from a lower family with big dreams of rising to the top.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong, though she had no idea how close she¡¯d hit the mark. Minus the ¡°family¡± part, of course. Having her peg him so accurately left him uneasy.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he admitted, raising an eyebrow. ¡°But so what? What¡¯s wrong with wanting freedom and power?¡±


    Her expression softened, and her gaze drifted to his neck. ¡°What happened there?¡± she asked, pointing to just below his jawline.


    Atlas raised his hand instinctively, running his fingers over the rough skin of his neck. The texture was dry, almost leathery, and a faint twinge of pain shot through him when he pressed too hard. He let his hand drop, brushing off the discomfort.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said flatly. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen it yet. Probably a burn mark. Why?¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she murmured, her tone quieter now. ¡°Sorry to pry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, waving it off. ¡°And for the record, there¡¯s nothing wrong with wanting freedom and power.¡±


    She smiled at that, a soft, knowing smile. ¡°No, there isn¡¯t,¡± she agreed.


    The two fell into a comfortable silence as they continued walking, the sound of their steps echoing lightly off the stone pathways. Soon, they entered the academy¡¯s large corridors, their footsteps muffled by the sheer size of the place.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Atlas asked after a while.


    The blonde girl stopped, glancing back at him. ¡°Sorry, I should have told you the plan,¡± she said. ¡°At first light, everyone meets for breakfast. After that, we go to our classes until midday. Then we train until sundown.¡±


    Atlas felt his stomach twist at the mention of food. ¡°Is it free?¡± he blurted out before he could stop himself.


    She frowned, looking confused. ¡°Is what free?¡±


    ¡°The food,¡± he clarified, his voice quieter this time.


    Her expression shifted to one of shock. ¡°Of course it¡¯s free!¡± she said, almost offended at the question.


    Atlas couldn¡¯t help the grin that spread across his face. This might be better than he¡¯d ever imagined.


    ***


    The room was massive, far bigger than any Atlas had ever stood in. Towering stone walls stretched on either side, rising high up to the ceiling.


    He looked around for a few seconds, taking it all in, before the blonde girl spoke up. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get some food and then find the others.¡±


    Atlas nodded and followed her forward. They joined the line, and the girl handed him a tray.


    All around the hall, kids were laughing, shouting, and talking loudly over their meals. The noise was almost overwhelming, but it reminded him of the orphanage back in Midtown. Except this place was brighter, louder, and filled with an energy he wasn¡¯t used to.


    Soon, they had their trays full of porridge, and Atlas followed the girl as she wove her way through the crowded tables. He spotted a few familiar faces and immediately recognized them¡ªit was the two boys he¡¯d met yesterday.


    ¡°Atlas! Nice of you to join us,¡± Seth greeted with a bright smile as they approached.


    Beside him was Aaron, who glanced up, his gaze shifting between Atlas and the blonde girl. His scowl deepened.


    ¡®Oh great,¡¯ Atlas thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ¡®Honestly, what the hell is his problem?¡¯


    ¡°Morning,¡± Atlas said, keeping his tone neutral.


    Aaron¡¯s eyes flicked toward the girl. ¡°Why are you with him, Rea?¡±


    That¡¯s right¡­ Rea is her name. Thanks for reminding me, buddy.


    Rea didn¡¯t seem bothered by Aaron¡¯s sharp tone. She casually dropped her tray onto the table, the sound drawing attention, before sitting down. She gestured for Atlas to do the same.


    ¡°It¡¯s got nothing to do with you,¡± she said firmly, ¡°but if you must know, Atlas and I will be spending a lot of time together.¡±


    She didn¡¯t elaborate further, but her words hit their mark. Aaron¡¯s fists clenched, and his face turned a noticeable shade of red.


    Atlas wasn¡¯t used to girls and hadn¡¯t really spoken to any his age before. But he wasn¡¯t stupid either¡ªgrowing up on the streets didn¡¯t leave room for stupidity. He quickly noticed how Rea¡¯s comment affected Aaron.


    What have you done, woman?


    Aaron¡¯s hands were balled into fists, and his stare was sharp enough to cut through steel. Meanwhile, Rea looked smug, clearly enjoying herself.


    Before things could spiral out of control, Atlas decided to intervene. Thinking quickly, he said, ¡°She¡¯s showing me around. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Aaron scoffed, clearly unimpressed. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you, Remalion.¡±


    What the hell is he talking about?


    The tension inside him began to build. He was getting fed up with this boy¡¯s attitude. Normally, he tried to avoid conflict, but something about Aaron¡¯s tone made it hard to keep his temper in check.


    ¡°Okay, what¡¯s your problem?¡± Atlas said, his voice sharper than he intended. ¡°Your stupid face hasn¡¯t stopped glaring at me since you saw me. Do we know each other?¡±


    Aaron stood abruptly, the screech of his chair scraping against the stone floor drawing attention. His imposing posture loomed over the table, casting a shadow over Atlas.


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me like that,¡± Aaron snarled. ¡°You and your kind aren¡¯t welcome here. Piss off before I make you.¡±


    ¡®My kind?¡¯ Atlas thought, his annoyance flaring into anger. ¡®So he¡¯s just another scummy Uppertown boy who looks down on everyone.¡¯


    ¡°What¡¯s my kind, you ugly fuck?¡± Atlas shot back, his voice laced with venom. He could feel his core beginning to hum with power. His body grew warm as his mana responded to the anger boiling inside him.


    Aaron¡¯s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with disdain as he sneered, ¡°Remalion scum.¡±


    With that, he grabbed his tray and hurled it at Atlas. The action caught Atlas off guard. He raised his arms to block the tray from hitting his face, but the porridge splattered everywhere, soaking into his new uniform and dripping onto the floor.


    He heard Rea shout for Aaron to stop, but her voice was drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. His anger reached a tipping point.


    ¡°You piece of shit,¡± Atlas growled, lunging across the table before he could stop himself.


    The students around them scrambled back, gasps and shouts echoing through the hall. The noise quickly turned into a chant: ¡°Fight! Fight! Fight!¡±


    Atlas crashed into Aaron, sending both of them tumbling to the floor. He landed on top, his mana flaring instinctively as he drew strength from his core. His first punch connected with Aaron¡¯s jaw, the impact sending a jolt up his arm.


    Aaron didn¡¯t crumble like Atlas had hoped. Instead, he gritted his teeth and retaliated with surprising force, shoving Atlas off him and rolling to his feet.


    Atlas stumbled backward, caught off guard by the boy¡¯s strength. The chanting crowd only grew louder, their voices fueling the chaotic energy of the room.


    Atlas wiped a streak of porridge off his face, his chest heaving as his anger burned brighter. His core hummed like a drumbeat in his veins, urging him forward.


    Aaron smirked, his confidence unshaken. ¡°You¡¯re gonna regret that, Remalion.¡±


    Atlas clenched his fists, his muscles tense and ready. ¡°Bring it,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Aaron could hear.

 Chapter 12 - First Lesson

    Aaron lunged first, his fist swinging toward Atlas¡¯s face. Atlas ducked just in time, the blow whistling past his ear. His core flared as he countered, driving his shoulder into Aaron¡¯s chest and forcing the boy back a step.


    The crowd roared louder, their cheers and jeers fueling the chaos.


    Aaron recovered quickly, throwing a jab that clipped Atlas¡¯s chin. Pain shot through his jaw, but it only spurred him on. He grabbed the front of Aaron¡¯s uniform and yanked him forward, aiming a punch at his stomach. Aaron grunted as the blow connected, but he retaliated with a swift knee to Atlas¡¯s side.


    Atlas staggered, his ribs screaming in protest, but he refused to back down. He threw a wild punch, catching Aaron across the cheek, but it lacked power. Aaron snarled, grabbing Atlas by the collar and shoving him back into the table. Plates and trays clattered to the ground, spilling food everywhere.


    Before Atlas could stand back up, the crowd went quiet.


    ¡°Enough!¡± A booming voice cut through the chaos like a blade.


    Both boys froze as a towering figure entered the fray, their presence instantly silencing the crowd. The man¡ªa teacher by the look of his stern uniform¡ªgrabbed them both by the scruffs of their collars, lifting them slightly off the ground like they weighed nothing.


    Atlas¡¯s breath came in short bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. Aaron¡¯s glare didn¡¯t waver, but the fear flickering in his eyes betrayed him.


    The man¡¯s voice was low and dangerous. ¡°You want to fight? You do it in training, not my dining hall.¡±


    He let them go with a shove, both boys stumbling but managing to stay on their feet.


    ¡°Clean this mess up,¡± he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°And report to your instructor after breakfast. I¡¯ll make sure they know exactly what happened here.¡±


    The crowd dispersed quickly, the excitement replaced with murmurs and whispers. Atlas wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand, his anger simmering but no longer boiling over. Aaron shot him one last glare before turning away, muttering under his breath.


    Rea appeared by Atlas¡¯s side, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation. ¡°That was¡­ something,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have just ignored him?¡±


    Atlas let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a rag from a nearby table and crouching to clean up the spilled food.


    She rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t press further. Instead, she grabbed a tray and helped him clean, the awkward silence between them only broken by the occasional glance from passing students.


    Atlas threw the rag onto the now-clean table with a frustrated sigh, glaring at the mess that had been his breakfast. He turned to Rea, his chest still heaving from the fight. ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    Rea blinked at him, confused. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly what I mean,¡± he snapped, his voice low to avoid drawing more attention. ¡°You provoked him. You knew how he¡¯d react, and you dragged me into it.¡±


    She crossed her arms, her smug expression from earlier replaced with something more subdued. ¡°He was being a jerk. He deserved it.¡±


    Atlas clenched his fists, feeling his core hum faintly with residual mana. He forced himself to take a deep breath before continuing. ¡°Maybe he did. But I didn¡¯t need to be part of that. I¡¯ve been here for less than a day, and now I¡¯m already on someone¡¯s radar because you decided to make a point.¡±


    Rea opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, her cheeks flushing faintly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to get you in trouble,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Yeah, well, you did.¡± Atlas straightened, brushing crumbs from his new uniform.


    She flinched at his words, and for a moment, Atlas thought he saw genuine regret flash across her face. She nodded stiffly, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    The awkward silence between them lingered as they finished cleaning up. Seth and Aaron had already left, though Atlas caught a few lingering glances from other students who were clearly enjoying the aftermath of the drama.


    Once the dining hall was back in order, Rea led him down the corridors toward their first class. The towering stone walls loomed around them, the noise from earlier replaced with a heavy, uncomfortable quiet. Atlas kept his distance, his arms crossed as he followed her.


    She stopped outside a large wooden door, hesitating before pushing it open. ¡°This is our first class,¡± she said, her voice devoid of the enthusiasm it had carried earlier. ¡°Introduction to Combat Theory.¡±


    Atlas stepped inside, immediately noticing the rows of desks. Students were already seated, their chatter filling the room as they waited for the instructor. The space was larger than he¡¯d expected, with high ceilings and rune-covered walls that pulsed faintly with energy.


    Rea glanced at him, her expression cautious. ¡°You should probably sit in the back for now. Less chance of¡­ distractions.¡±


    He nodded curtly, walking past her without a word and taking a seat near the back corner. He dropped into the chair, leaning back as he observed the room. The students varied in age, some younger than him, others clearly older and more experienced. The air buzzed with anticipation as they waited for the lesson to begin.


    Rea hesitated by the door for a moment before finally taking a seat near the middle of the room. She didn¡¯t look back at him.


    Atlas let out a slow breath, the events of the morning still weighing on him. He¡¯d dreamed of this moment for so long¡ªhis first class, his first steps toward becoming a Blade¡ªbut the excitement felt muted now, overshadowed by frustration and regret.


    He closed his eyes for a brief moment, centering himself. This was what he¡¯d worked for, what he¡¯d dreamed of. No petty squabble was going to ruin it.


    The door at the front of the room creaked open, and the hum of voices instantly quieted. A figure stepped inside, their presence commanding immediate attention. Atlas straightened in his seat, his eyes locking onto the instructor as they strode toward the front of the room.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The instructor strode into the room with a presence that immediately silenced the scattered whispers. Atlas couldn¡¯t help but sit up straighter, his eyes fixed on the figure now standing at the front of the room.


    The man looked to be in his late thirties, though his sharp, weathered features hinted at a life far more experienced than his age might suggest. His dark hair was cut short, and his piercing gray eyes seemed to take in everything at once. His posture was rigid, and the scar that ran from his left cheekbone to the corner of his jaw only added to the intimidating aura he carried.


    He wasn¡¯t particularly tall, but the way he moved gave the impression of someone who was always in control. His uniform was simple yet pristine, the dark fabric tailored to fit him perfectly, with subtle embroidery along the cuffs and collar that marked him as an instructor.


    Atlas noticed how the man¡¯s eyes scanned the room, not just glancing at the students but truly looking at them, like he was evaluating each one individually. When his gaze briefly flicked over Atlas, it felt like the air shifted¡ªa faint hum of mana brushed against his skin, like the instructor was measuring him in some way.


    There was no need for him to raise his voice. When he spoke, his tone was calm, almost quiet, but it carried a weight that made every word sink in. ¡°My name is Instructor Torrin Emberforge,¡± he began, his voice steady and unyielding. ¡°You may call me Instructor or Sir. Nothing else.¡±


    Atlas couldn¡¯t help but swallow as Torrin¡¯s gaze swept over the room again. There was a sharpness in his expression, like a blade honed to perfection. This was a man who didn¡¯t tolerate nonsense, and from the way the other students sat up straight and kept their mouths shut, it was clear they knew it too.


    Torrin stepped forward, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. ¡°Let me make one thing clear,¡± he continued, his voice cutting through the silence. ¡°This is not a place for complacency. You are here to learn, to train, and to grow. If you are not prepared to give everything you have, you are wasting your time¡ªand mine.¡±


    Atlas found himself nodding along, his earlier frustrations momentarily forgotten. There was something about the man¡¯s presence, the way he carried himself, that commanded respect. Torrin Emberforge wasn¡¯t just an instructor¡ªhe was a warrior, someone who had lived the life they were all aspiring to.


    For a brief moment, Atlas wondered just how strong the man¡¯s core must be, how many battles he had fought and won. The scar on his face wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªit was a reminder of the dangers that awaited them all.


    Torrin¡¯s gaze landed on Atlas again, lingering just a second longer this time. It wasn¡¯t hostile, but it wasn¡¯t warm either. It was the look of someone who had seen countless students come and go, someone who didn¡¯t care about potential but about results.


    ¡°Welcome to Combat Theory,¡± Torrin said, his tone final. ¡°Let¡¯s see if any of you are worth the effort.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s chest tightened slightly, but he felt a flicker of determination spark in his core. Whatever this man expected of them, he was ready to prove himself.


    The room was completely silent as Instructor Torrin Emberforge surveyed the rows of students before him. Thirty first-years sat at attention, their eyes glued to the man who had commanded their focus the moment he entered the room. Atlas sat in the back row, hands folded on the desk in front of him, his gaze fixed on the instructor.


    Torrin paced slowly at the front of the room, his boots making soft, deliberate sounds on the stone floor. ¡°You¡¯ve all taken your first steps,¡± he began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. ¡°Your cores have awakened, and now you¡¯re here, thinking that means something. It doesn¡¯t.¡±


    A few murmurs rippled through the room, but Torrin raised a hand, silencing them immediately. ¡°Let me explain. A mana core is nothing more than potential. What matters is what you do with it¡ªhow you refine it, how you grow it. And to grow it, you need to understand it.¡±


    He turned to the chalkboard behind him, picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the stages of core progression in neat, bold letters:


    ? Awakened


    ? Ascendant


    ? Transcendent


    ? Exalted


    ? Paragon


    ? Sovereign


    ¡°These are the six stages of core development,¡± Torrin explained, tapping the board with the chalk. ¡°Every one of you is at the first stage¡ªAwakened. This is where your journey begins. Your cores are fragile, unrefined. At this stage, your mana reserves are limited, and your control is laughable.¡±


    A boy sitting near the front raised his hand. Torrin nodded toward him. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°What happens when we get to the next stage?¡± the boy asked, his voice eager.


    Torrin smirked faintly, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°If you reach the next stage,¡± he corrected, ¡°you will become an Ascendant. At that point, your mana reserves will expand, your control will improve, and your affinity with the elements will deepen. Ascendants can wield more complex techniques and sustain their mana for longer periods.¡±


    He let the words sink in before continuing. ¡°But let me make this clear. Reaching Ascendant is not guaranteed. For every hundred people who awaken their cores, only ten make it to Ascendant. Fewer still progress beyond that.¡±


    The air in the room grew heavy as the weight of his words settled over the students. Torrin tapped the board again. ¡°Above Ascendant is Transcendent. This is where your core begins to affect the world around you. Transcendents can bend mana with such precision that they blur the line between reality and magic. But the gap between Ascendant and Transcendent is vast. Many never make it.¡±


    Another hand shot up, this time from a girl sitting near the back. Torrin nodded. ¡°Question?¡±


    ¡°What about the higher stages?¡± she asked hesitantly. ¡°Exalted, Paragon, and Sovereign?¡±


    Torrin¡¯s expression darkened slightly, his gaze sweeping over the class. ¡°The Exalted stage is where you develop your Trait¡ªa manifestation of your soul¡¯s essence. It is rare, even among the most dedicated. Paragons are legends, wielding power that shapes kingdoms, no one really knows the power they hold. As for Sovereigns¡­¡± He paused, his tone growing colder. ¡°They are myths. No one alive has seen a Sovereign, and no one in this room ever will.¡±


    The class fell silent again, a few students shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Atlas remained still, absorbing every word. He felt the weight of Torrin¡¯s gaze pass over him briefly before the instructor turned back to the board, erasing the stages and writing two new words:


    ? Nightblade


    ? Lightblade


    ¡°These are the two primary paths available to you,¡± Torrin said, turning to face the class again. ¡°Nightblades and Lightblades. Both serve the nation, but their roles are vastly different.¡±


    He pointed to the first word. ¡°Nightblades are warriors. They are the sword and shield of the nation, trained in combat and battlefield tactics. Their focus is on physical prowess and direct engagement. If you aim to be a Nightblade, prepare to endure grueling physical training and countless battles.¡±


    He shifted his focus to the second word. ¡°Lightblades, on the other hand, are the nations support. They are healers, strategists, and everyday workers. Their training emphasizes mana control and understanding the subtleties of battle. Lightblades are the reason Nightblades survive.¡±


    A hand went up from a boy sitting near Atlas. Torrin acknowledged him with a nod. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Can we choose which one we want to be?¡± the boy asked.


    Torrin¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°You don¡¯t choose,¡± he said simply. ¡°Your affinities and strengths will dictate your path. Someone with high physical ability and a talent for combat will naturally lean toward being a Nightblade. Someone with strong mana control and supportive talents will find their place as a Lightblade. The academy will assess you, guide you, and push you toward the role where you will be most effective.¡±


    Atlas glanced around the room, noticing a mix of reactions. Some students looked eager, others uncertain. He kept his face neutral, his mind racing as he processed everything. He didn¡¯t care which path he ended up on. All he knew was that he would give everything he had.


    Torrin¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Understand this. Both roles are crucial. A nation without Lightblades will crumble from within. A nation without Nightblades will fall to its enemies. You are not here to compete with each other. You are here to become the best version of yourselves¡ªfor the sake of the nation.¡±


    He paused, letting his words sink in before folding his arms across his chest. ¡°This year, I will be your primary instructor. You will train under me, learn from me, and, if necessary, be broken by me. I do not tolerate laziness or excuses. If you think you can coast through this, leave now.¡±


    No one moved. The room was deathly silent.


    Torrin¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring someone to speak. ¡°Good. Now let¡¯s begin.¡±

 Chapter 13 - First Lessons ll

    The class wrapped up as the bell rang, signaling the start of lunchtime. Students gathered their things, chattering among themselves as they filed out of the room. Atlas stayed in his seat, unsure if he should leave until Instructor Torrin¡¯s voice cut through the noise.


    ¡°Atlas, stay behind,¡± Torrin said, his tone calm but firm.


    Atlas hesitated but nodded, watching the other students file out. Once the last of them left and the heavy door clicked shut, Torrin leaned against his desk, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze locked onto Atlas.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had quite the morning,¡± Torrin began, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of warning. ¡°First day here, and you¡¯re already causing problems.¡±


    Atlas stiffened, guilt prickling at his chest. ¡°He started it,¡± he muttered, though he knew it wasn¡¯t much of an excuse.


    Torrin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ¡°Maybe he did. But you threw punches, too. That makes you just as responsible.¡±


    Atlas looked down at the desk, his fists clenching. He didn¡¯t have a defense for that.


    Torrin sighed, his tone softening slightly. ¡°I¡¯m not here to punish you, Atlas. I kept you back because there are things you need to understand. Things that might help you keep out of trouble.¡±


    Atlas looked up, confused. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Torrin studied him for a moment before asking bluntly, ¡°Do you know where you¡¯re from?¡±


    The question caught Atlas off guard. ¡°What? I¡­ I grew up in Midtown. At the orphanage.¡±


    ¡°And before that?¡± Torrin pressed, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Do you remember anything before the orphanage?¡±


    Atlas shook his head slowly. ¡°No. Not really. It¡¯s all¡­ blank.¡±


    Torrin nodded, as though he¡¯d expected that answer. ¡°There are no records of you being sent to the orphanage,¡± he said. ¡°No papers, no family name. Nothing.¡±


    Atlas frowned, unease creeping into his chest. ¡°What are you saying?¡±


    Torrin straightened slightly, his gaze steady. ¡°I¡¯m saying that people here assume you¡¯re Ramelion.¡±


    Atlas blinked, stunned. ¡°Ramelion? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a nation,¡± Torrin explained. ¡°One we were at war with until very recently. People like Aaron will see your auburn hair, golden eyes, and pale skin¡ªtraits common to Ramelions¡ªand make assumptions. To them, you¡¯re an outsider.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s stomach churned. He¡¯d heard of the Ramelions, but the idea that he might be one of them felt¡­ wrong. ¡°I¡¯ve never even been to Ramelia,¡± he said, his voice quiet.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Torrin said bluntly. ¡°People will judge you for what they think you are, not what you know yourself to be.¡±


    Atlas clenched his fists, frustration and confusion boiling inside him. ¡°So what am I supposed to do? Just let them treat me like dirt because of something I can¡¯t even remember?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Torrin said sharply, his voice firm. ¡°You grow stronger. You prove yourself. You show them that you¡¯re more than whatever assumptions they¡¯ve made. Strength doesn¡¯t come from power alone, Atlas. It comes from control. That¡¯s what you need to focus on.¡±


    Atlas swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening. He wanted to argue, to push back against the unfairness of it all, but deep down, he knew Torrin was right.


    ¡°And there¡¯s something else you need to understand,¡± Torrin added, his tone shifting slightly. ¡°When a core is newly awakened, it¡¯s normal to feel heightened emotions. Your body is still adapting to the flow of mana, and that can make you more prone to anger, frustration, or even fear.¡±


    Atlas tilted his head, frowning. ¡°You mean I¡¯ll keep losing my temper?¡±


    ¡°Only if you let it,¡± Torrin replied, his gray eyes narrowing. ¡°Your core is like a flame right now¡ªsmall, flickering, and easily affected by outside forces. It¡¯s your job to steady it, to integrate it into yourself fully. Until you do, you¡¯ll be more reactive. You need to recognize that and overcome it.¡±


    Atlas let the words sink in, his frustration fading slightly as understanding began to take its place. ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s not just me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Torrin said, his tone firm but not unkind. ¡°It¡¯s all of you. Every first-year here has to deal with the same thing. The difference is in how you handle it. Let it control you, and you¡¯ll fail. Control it, and you¡¯ll grow.¡±


    Atlas nodded slowly, the weight of Torrin¡¯s words settling over him. He could feel the truth in them, the way his core had hummed with energy during the fight, feeding off his anger. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.


    Torrin stepped away from the desk, his posture straightening. ¡°One more thing. If there¡¯s another fight outside of sparring, there will be consequences.¡±


    Atlas frowned. ¡°What kind of consequences? Would I get kicked out?¡±


    Torrin chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. ¡°No one gets kicked out of the academy, Atlas. If you have a core, you¡¯re valuable to the nation. You¡¯ll stay here, and you¡¯ll learn. But if you keep causing problems, there are¡­ other ways to deal with it.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°Like what?¡±


    Torrin¡¯s gaze darkened, his voice dropping slightly. ¡°Let¡¯s just say there¡¯s only one way to get kicked out of the academy and it¡¯s not by getting expelled.¡±


    The implication was clear, and it sent a shiver down Atlas¡¯s spine. He nodded quickly, his determination solidifying. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Torrin¡¯s tone softened slightly. ¡°Now go. Get some lunch and clear your head.¡±


    Atlas stood, his legs feeling slightly shaky beneath him. As he made his way to the door, Torrin called after him one last time.


    ¡°Remember, Atlas. Strength isn¡¯t just about power, it¡¯s about control. Don¡¯t forget that.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Atlas nodded without turning back, the words echoing in his mind as he stepped into the hallway.


    ***


    Atlas made his way back to the dining hall, the scent of food filling the air as soon as he stepped inside. His stomach growled in response, a sharp reminder of how little he¡¯d eaten that morning. He grabbed a tray, filled it with whatever was left from the day¡¯s options, and scanned the room.


    Most of the tables were already full, students packed together, chatting loudly over their meals. He didn¡¯t bother trying to find a spot among them. Instead, he chose a table near the far wall, away from the chaos. It was empty, quiet, exactly what he needed.


    Sitting down, he began to eat, letting the warm food ease some of the tension that had built up since the morning. His thoughts wandered back to the lesson. They¡¯d learned a lot, more than he¡¯d expected for a first class. The stages of core development, the responsibilities of Nightblades and Lightblades, what the rest of the year would look like¡ªit was overwhelming, but also exhilarating.


    This was what he¡¯d dreamed of, wasn¡¯t it? A chance to prove himself, to be more than just another forgotten kid from Midtown. But the reality of it all was starting to sink in, and with it, a knot of nervous anticipation twisted in his stomach.


    He glanced around the hall, noticing the way some of the other students were looking at him. Their stares weren¡¯t overt, but they lingered long enough to be noticeable. Atlas couldn¡¯t tell if it was because of the fight earlier or something else entirely, but he did his best to ignore it. At least Aaron and his crew were nowhere in sight. That, at least, was a small victory.


    As he finished his meal, he spotted a familiar figure weaving through the tables toward him. Rea. She looked hesitant, her usual confidence tempered by something quieter. Atlas tensed, unsure if he was ready to deal with her yet.


    She stopped beside his table, her hands clasped in front of her. ¡°Hey,¡± she said, her tone softer than usual. ¡°I figured I¡¯d find you here.¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t respond right away, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Rea shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting to the side before returning to him. ¡°We¡¯ve got combat training for the rest of the day,¡± she said. ¡°I thought I¡¯d take you to the yard.¡±


    Atlas leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. ¡°Why?¡±


    She blinked, caught off guard by the question. ¡°What do you mean, why? You¡¯re new. You don¡¯t know where it is and I was told to show you around today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I could find it,¡± he replied flatly.


    Rea sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°Look, I get that you¡¯re mad at me. I messed up this morning, okay? But I¡¯m trying to help you now. Can you let me do that?¡±


    Atlas stared at her for a moment longer before finally standing up. He didn¡¯t say anything, just grabbed his tray and made his way to the return station. When he came back, Rea was still standing there, waiting.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said, his tone neutral. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    She nodded, and together they left the dining hall. The walk to the training yard was quiet, the awkwardness between them lingering like a shadow. Rea glanced at him a few times, as if wanting to say something, but she kept her thoughts to herself.


    When they finally stepped outside, the crisp air hit Atlas¡¯s face, and he took a deep breath. Ahead, the training yard stretched out before them, a wide space filled with students already hard at work. The clang of wooden weapons and the shouts of instructors echoed through the air, blending into a chaotic symphony of activity.


    Rea stopped at the edge of the yard, turning to face him. ¡°This is it,¡± she said simply. ¡°Your first day of combat training. Good luck.¡±


    Atlas nodded, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.


    The training yard was massive, far larger than Atlas had imagined. It stretched out like an open field, enclosed by tall stone walls that separated it from the rest of the academy grounds. The ground itself was a mixture of packed dirt and stone, worn smooth in some places from years of use.


    Scattered throughout the yard were various sections, each clearly designated for different forms of training. To the left, a series of wooden dummies stood in neat rows, their surfaces marred with scars from countless practice strikes. Beyond that, there were sparring rings outlined with white chalk, where pairs of students were already locked in mock combat. Their wooden weapons clashed loudly, their instructors barking corrections from the sidelines.


    To the right, a long obstacle course stretched the length of the yard. Ropes hung from wooden beams, walls to climb loomed ahead, and a series of hurdles and trenches promised to test endurance and agility. A few older students were running the course, their movements fluid and practiced as they navigated each challenge.


    In the center of the yard stood a raised platform, a large, circular arena made of smooth stone. It was clearly the focal point of the space, with students and instructors alike occasionally gathering around it. Atlas guessed it was reserved for duels or demonstrations, a place where skill could be showcased for all to see.


    Weapons racks lined the walls, filled with an array of practice tools¡ªwooden swords, spears, axes, and even some blunted metal weapons for more advanced trainees. Beside them were barrels of padded armor for sparring. Everything was neatly organized, a stark contrast to the chaos of the students moving about.


    The sounds of the yard were almost overwhelming. The clatter of wooden weapons, the grunts and shouts of effort, the occasional whistle from an instructor¡ªit all blended into a relentless symphony of activity. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and dirt, a constant reminder of the hard work taking place.


    Atlas stood at the edge of the yard, taking it all in. This wasn¡¯t just a place for training; it was a battlefield in its own right, a crucible where students were forged into Blades. For a moment, his nerves threatened to get the better of him, but he quickly pushed them aside. This was what he had come here for. This was his chance to prove himself.


    Atlas walked across the training yard toward the rest of his class, who were gathered in a loose group near one of the sparring rings. Torren stood at the front, arms crossed and his sharp gaze sweeping over the students as they murmured among themselves.


    When Atlas joined the group, the chatter quieted almost immediately. Torren¡¯s presence had that effect. The man radiated authority, and no one wanted to be the one to test his patience.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± Torren barked, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. ¡°This is your first day of combat training, and let me make one thing clear: none of you are blades yet. Before anyone so much as picks up a weapon, you will build the foundation you need to wield it.¡±


    Atlas felt a mix of relief and dread. He wasn¡¯t in a rush to spar after the mess earlier, but the thought of what ¡°building the foundation¡± entailed made his muscles tense.


    Torren began pacing in front of them, his sharp eyes locking onto each student in turn. ¡°You¡¯ve awakened your cores, but that doesn¡¯t mean your bodies are ready for what¡¯s to come. A weak body cannot support a strong core. Combat is as much about endurance and discipline as it is about power.¡±


    He stopped and turned to face the class fully, his expression stern. ¡°Today, we focus on fitness. Strength. Stamina. Balance. Until you can prove your body is capable of handling the strain, there will be no weapons, no sparring. Do not complain. Do not make excuses. This is your first test.¡±


    A few students exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared speak. Atlas noticed Rea shifting uncomfortably beside him, her lips pressed into a thin line.


    ¡°And at the end of the day,¡± Torren continued, his tone dropping slightly but losing none of its weight, ¡°I will fight each of you. Individually.¡±


    The murmurs began immediately, a ripple of unease spreading through the group. Atlas¡¯s stomach twisted at the thought. Fighting Torren? After hours of training? It sounded impossible.


    Torren raised a hand, silencing the noise. ¡°This is not a sparring match. It is not about winning. I need to see what each of you is capable of, where your strengths and weaknesses lie. Consider it your introduction to the real world. And don¡¯t expect me to go easy on you.¡±


    Atlas clenched his fists, feeling a faint hum from his core. He could already feel the weight of Torren¡¯s words pressing down on him. This was going to be brutal.


    ¡°Now,¡± Torren snapped, ¡°line up by the obstacle course. Let¡¯s see if you can even make it through the basics without collapsing.¡±


    The group moved quickly, no one daring to lag behind. Atlas found himself at the back, his nerves still buzzing as he followed the others. He glanced at Rea, who looked pale but determined.


    Torren¡¯s voice cut through the tension one last time as they reached the course. ¡°Remember, you¡¯re here to learn, to grow stronger. By the end of today, I¡¯ll know exactly what each of you is worth. Don¡¯t disappoint me.¡±


    Atlas took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the obstacle course ahead. This was the start of everything. The moment we would look back on for the rest of his life and know. This is where it all begun.

 Chapter 14 - The Forge

    The line of students stretched down the yard as they waited for their turn on the obstacle course. Torren''s sharp gaze swept over them, arms crossed as he stood near the start. "One at a time," he barked. "No cutting corners. If I see anyone slacking, you''ll run the course twice."


    Atlas stood near the back of the line, watching intently as the first few students began. He had to admit, he felt a flicker of confidence. After all, his years in Midtown had honed his agility. Dodging through tight alleys, leaping over crates, and sprinting from angry shopkeepers or guards had given him quick feet and good reflexes.


    But as the students ahead of him tackled the course, his confidence wavered.


    The first obstacle was a wall¡ªa sheer wooden structure about eight feet high. The first student, a tall, broad-shouldered boy, scaled it effortlessly, pulling himself over in one smooth motion. Atlas noted how the boy''s arms bulged with muscle as he dropped down the other side without breaking stride. A few others followed, some taking more time to hoist themselves up but managing it nonetheless.


    Next was a stretch of hurdles¡ªwooden bars set at uneven intervals. The students darted through them, some weaving gracefully while others stumbled and fumbled. A girl with short black hair and a focused expression breezed through, her movements light and deliberate, like she''d done this a hundred times before.


    Then came the rope climb. Thick ropes hung from tall wooden beams, requiring the students to use their arms and legs to hoist themselves to the top before ringing a small bell and sliding back down. This was where the divide became glaringly apparent. The students from prominent families, with their polished postures and deliberate movements, scaled the ropes with relative ease. Others, like a wiry boy who barely managed to ring the bell, clearly struggled.


    Finally, there was the trench crawl¡ªa muddy pit with wooden beams set low overhead, forcing the students to crawl on their hands and knees to avoid hitting their heads. A blond-haired boy who''d sped through the first obstacles got bogged down here, his limbs tangling in the muck as the more experienced students yelled encouragement¡ªor mockery.


    Atlas watched it all carefully, his heart beginning to sink. Maybe he wasn''t as prepared as he thought. Running away in Midtown wasn''t the same as this. He didn''t have the strength to climb walls or the endurance to sprint through long courses. And seeing the others¡ªhow polished, how strong some of them were¡ªit brought a bitter pang of envy. He buried it quickly.


    "Work hard," he muttered under his breath, his hands curling into fists. "You''ll catch up."


    Finally, his turn came. Torren''s sharp voice broke his thoughts. "Let''s go, Atlas. Show me what you''ve got."


    Atlas stepped up to the line, shaking out his hands and taking a deep breath. He couldn''t afford to second-guess himself now.


    The whistle blew, and he sprinted toward the wall. His feet hit the ground hard as he leapt up, grabbing the top of the wooden structure. His fingers burned as he pulled himself up, legs scrabbling against the smooth surface. It wasn''t graceful, nothing like the first boy who''d scaled it with ease, but he managed to haul himself over, landing on the other side with a grunt. His legs wobbled slightly from the effort, but he pushed forward.


    Next were the hurdles. He approached them at a steady pace, trying to mimic the movements he''d seen from the black-haired girl earlier. His first few steps were smooth, his body weaving between the bars, but he misjudged the fourth hurdle, clipping it with his ankle. He stumbled but didn''t fall, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to focus. By the time he cleared the last hurdle, his breathing was heavier than he''d expected.


    Then came the ropes. Atlas froze for a fraction of a second, staring up at the bell at the top. The rope looked much taller now that he was standing in front of it. He grabbed it with both hands, the rough fibers biting into his palms as he started to climb. His arms trembled after just a few pulls, and he was forced to use his legs to brace himself. The rope swayed slightly under his weight, and his progress was slow.


    "Come on, Atlas!" Torren''s voice cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving.


    The shouts of his classmates¡ªsome cheering, some jeering¡ªpushed him onward. He gritted his teeth, his muscles screaming as he reached the top and slapped the bell. The sharp ding felt like a small victory, but the slide back down left his hands raw.


    The final stretch was the trench crawl. By now, his body was aching, and his breaths came in ragged bursts. The mud was cold and clung to his skin as he dropped to his hands and knees. He pushed forward, his shoulders brushing against the wooden beams above. It was slow, grueling work, the mud sucking at his limbs with every movement.


    Halfway through, his knee caught on a jagged rock, and he winced, biting back a curse. He forced himself to keep moving, his heart pounding as the end of the trench came into view. With one final push, he pulled himself out, his entire body covered in muck.


    Panting, Atlas straightened, wiping the mud from his face as he jogged toward the finish line. The other students watched silently, their expressions a mix of amusement and indifference. He could feel their stares, their unspoken judgments, but he kept his head high.


    When he crossed the finish line, he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He wasn''t the fastest. He wasn''t the strongest. But he''d finished. That was enough for now.


    Torren approached, his face unreadable as he looked Atlas up and down. "Middle of the pack," he said curtly. "Not bad. But you''ve got a long way to go."


    Atlas nodded, his chest still heaving. "Yes, sir," he managed to say.


    As he stepped aside to join the other students, he caught Seth''s eye. The boy gave him a small, encouraging nod. Atlas returned it, feeling a flicker of relief. Not everyone was against him.


    But as he glanced at the others, the wary looks and quiet whispers, all he could do was shake his head and carry on.


    The last of the students finally stumbled across the finish line, their faces red and covered in sweat and grime. Among them was Rea. Her usually confident posture was gone, replaced by a sagging exhaustion that seemed to weigh down her every step. Her tanned skin was streaked with mud, and her hair clung to her face in wet strands. She looked pale, like she might collapse at any moment.


    Atlas couldn''t help the small flicker of satisfaction that passed through him as he watched her struggle. Serves her right, he thought bitterly. After everything she''d done that morning, watching her suffer just a little felt like justice.


    Even as the thought crossed his mind, a small voice in the back of his head tried to reason with him. He knew it wasn''t entirely her fault. Sure, she hadn''t helped the situation with Aaron, but the boy had a problem with him from the very first moment they''d locked eyes. Aaron didn''t need much of an excuse to hate him.


    Atlas''s eyes shifted toward Aaron, who was standing with the rest of the group, barely winded and still managing to look composed despite the mud caked on his uniform. The boy''s chest puffed out slightly, his expression smug as his gaze flicked to Atlas. There was something in Aaron''s eyes¡ªa silent challenge, a look that seemed to say, I''m better than you, and I know it.


    Atlas clenched his fists, heat rising in his chest. He wasn''t the type to back down from a fight, but now wasn''t the time. He forced himself to look away, focusing instead on Torren, who was stepping forward and gesturing for the class to gather around.


    The students shuffled closer, their movements slow and heavy. They were all coated in mud, their uniforms soaked with sweat, their breathing ragged. Some were leaning on their knees for support, others standing with their arms crossed, trying to mask their exhaustion. Atlas joined the group, his legs aching and his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath.


    Torren''s sharp gaze swept over them, his expression as unreadable as ever. "That was just the warm-up," he announced, his voice cutting through the group like a blade.


    Groans rippled through the crowd, a few students exchanging weary glances. One boy in the back even muttered something under his breath, earning a withering glare from Torren that silenced him immediately.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "You think you''re done because you made it through one course?" Torren continued, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight. "This is nothing. Out there, when you''re on the battlefield, there are no breaks. No one''s going to stop and give you a pat on the back because you climbed a rope or ran through some mud. You will keep going until your body gives out, and then you''ll keep going some more. That''s how you survive."


    Atlas felt a shiver run down his spine. Torren wasn''t exaggerating; his words carried the weight of someone who had lived through it, who had been forged in the very fire he was throwing them into.


    "Line up," Torren barked, his tone sharp and unyielding. "You''re running laps. Ten to start."


    A collective groan rose from the group, but no one dared voice their complaints. They lined up at the edge of the yard, their bodies stiff and sluggish as they prepared to run. Atlas found himself near the middle, glancing down at the mud caked on his arms and legs. It was already uncomfortable, sticking to his skin in all the wrong places. Running in this condition was going to be hell.


    The whistle blew, and they started.


    The first few laps weren''t so bad. Atlas kept a steady pace, his legs moving automatically as he focused on the rhythm of his breathing. But as the laps wore on, the discomfort grew. The mud chafed against his skin, his muscles screamed in protest, and his lungs burned with every breath.


    Ahead of him, the stronger students¡ªthose who had clearly been trained from a young age¡ªpulled further ahead, their movements efficient and practiced. Aaron was among them, his stride long and powerful as he glanced back occasionally, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.


    He''s mocking me, Atlas thought bitterly, his frustration mounting. But he didn''t let it distract him.


    Behind him, a few of the less athletic students began to falter, their steps slowing as they struggled to keep up. Rea was among them, her face pale and her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. For a moment, Atlas felt another flicker of satisfaction, but it was quickly replaced by something else¡ªpity, maybe, or guilt. He shook it off and kept running.


    By the seventh lap, Atlas''s entire body felt like it was on fire. Every step was a struggle, every breath a battle. His mind screamed at him to stop, to drop to the ground and let his body rest, but he didn''t. He couldn''t.


    Instead, he forced himself to focus on something else. He remembered the night Ren was taken, the helplessness he''d felt as he watched his only friend get hurt. He remembered the overwhelming sense of failure, of knowing that he hadn''t been strong enough to protect him.


    Never again, he thought, his jaw tightening as he pushed through the pain.


    His legs burned, his chest ached, and his vision blurred slightly from the sweat dripping into his eyes, but he kept going. Each step was a reminder of why he was here, of what he had to prove.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Torren blew the whistle again, signaling the end of the laps. Atlas stumbled to a stop, his legs trembling beneath him as he bent over, hands on his knees. His breath came in heavy gasps, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse.


    "Not bad," Torren said, his voice carrying a hint of approval as he addressed the group. "Some of you managed to survive. Others¡­" He let the sentence hang, his gaze lingering on the students who had fallen behind.


    Atlas glanced around, noticing how many of his classmates were slumped on the ground, too exhausted to stand. Even Rea had dropped to her knees, her face buried in her hands as she tried to catch her breath. Aaron, of course, stood tall at the front of the group, his smug expression firmly in place.


    "Take five minutes to recover," Torren ordered. "Then we move on."


    Atlas straightened slowly, his muscles screaming in protest. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing down at his mud-covered arms. He felt like he''d been through hell.


    Torren had everyone line up once more after their grueling laps. The students stood in silence, their bodies covered in mud and their breathing uneven. Despite their exhaustion, no one dared complain under Torren''s sharp gaze.


    "Listen up," Torren said, his voice slicing through the air. "One by one, you''ll step forward and spar with me. This is not about winning¡ªit''s about finding your limits, testing your instincts, and seeing how much training you''ve had. Don''t hold back, and don''t waste my time."


    The students exchanged uneasy glances. Most of them still looked drained from the earlier exercises, their faces pale and covered in sweat. Torren scanned the line, his eyes narrowing as they settled on the first student.


    "Marcus Eldarion," he barked, pointing at the tall boy who had flown through the obstacle course earlier with an almost effortless grace.


    Marcus straightened, stepping forward with a calm confidence that betrayed his noble upbringing. His dark hair was neatly combed despite the mud clinging to the rest of him, and he moved with the air of someone who had been preparing for this moment his entire life.


    He entered the sparring ring and took a textbook stance, his movements sharp and precise. Torren stepped forward to meet him, his stance relaxed but purposeful.


    "Whenever you''re ready," Torren said, motioning for Marcus to begin.


    Marcus didn''t hesitate. He launched forward with a series of clean, calculated strikes, his technique clearly refined by years of training. But Torren didn''t counter immediately. Instead, he blocked and dodged with ease, letting Marcus press the attack while studying his movements.


    "Good form," Torren remarked, stepping back to avoid a strike. "But predictable. You''ve been taught to fight by the book. That''s not going to work here."


    Marcus frowned but adjusted his approach, trying to incorporate feints into his attacks. Torren dragged the match out, testing the boy''s endurance and forcing him to adapt. When Marcus finally began to slow, his punches losing their sharpness, Torren moved in. In one swift motion, he caught Marcus''s arm, twisted him off balance, and swept his legs out from under him.


    Marcus hit the ground with a grunt, his face flushed from effort and embarrassment. Torren offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet.


    "You''ve got potential," Torren said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But you''re too reliant on what you''ve been taught. Learn to think for yourself."


    Marcus nodded tightly, his confidence clearly shaken as he returned to the line.


    Torren''s sharp gaze swept over the students again before settling on another figure. "Livia Ironhart."


    The brunette haired girl stepped forward, her solid frame radiating strength. Livia was built like a brawler, her shoulders broad and her posture sturdy. She had been one of the few who powered through the obstacle course with brute force, her movements heavy but effective.


    When the match began, Livia charged at Torren with raw aggression, her strikes powerful but unrefined. Torren met her strength head-on, blocking her blows with minimal effort.


    "Strong," Torren said as he parried a particularly heavy punch. "But you''re wasting energy. Every strike should serve a purpose."


    Livia growled in frustration, throwing a wild kick that Torren easily dodged. He didn''t counter immediately, instead circling her and forcing her to keep attacking. The match stretched on as Livia''s stamina began to wane, her strikes becoming slower and less precise.


    Finally, Torren ended the match with a swift takedown, pinning Livia''s arm behind her back. She gritted her teeth but didn''t cry out, her pride refusing to let her show weakness.


    "Not bad," Torren said as he released her. "You''ve got strength, but you need control. Work on your precision."


    Livia nodded silently, her jaw tight as she returned to the line.


    The next student Torren called was Seth Valen. Atlas immediately recognized the boy with dark brown hair and an easygoing smile, the one who had encouraged him during breakfast. Seth entered the ring with a relaxed confidence, his stance loose but balanced.


    Torren raised an eyebrow. "You look comfortable. Let''s see if you''ve got the skills to back it up."


    Seth grinned, his tone light. "I''ll try not to disappoint, Sir."


    The match began, and Seth moved with surprising agility. His strikes were quick and well-aimed, and he had a knack for dodging Torren''s counters with just enough room to spare. It was clear Seth wasn''t the strongest in the class, but his adaptability made up for it.


    "Not bad," Torren said as he deflected a punch. "You''re quick on your feet. But you''re holding back. Don''t be afraid to commit."


    Seth nodded, his expression growing more serious as he pressed the attack. Torren allowed the match to stretch on, testing Seth''s endurance and forcing him to push past his limits. When the boy finally began to tire, Torren ended the fight with a quick sweep that sent Seth sprawling.


    "You''ve got potential," Torren said, helping Seth to his feet. "But you need to trust yourself more. Hesitation will get you killed."


    Seth flashed a lopsided grin as he returned to the line, clearly exhausted but not discouraged.


    The matches continued, each one revealing the students'' strengths and weaknesses. Torren''s approach changed with each opponent, pushing them just far enough to expose their flaws. Atlas watched closely, his nerves growing with each passing fight.


    When Torren finally called his name¡ª"Atlas"¡ªhis stomach twisted, but he stepped forward anyway.


    As he entered the ring, he noticed the way the other students'' eyes followed him. His auburn hair and golden eyes made him stand out in the group, a stark contrast to the darker features of most of the students. He tried to ignore the stares, focusing instead on Torren, who was watching him intently.


    "Relax," Torren said, his tone calm but firm. "This isn''t about winning. Just show me what you''ve got."


    Atlas nodded, taking a deep breath as he dropped into a stance that felt natural to him, low and balanced, his hands raised defensively.


    The fight began, and Atlas moved first, launching a quick jab. Torren dodged easily, his movements almost lazy. Atlas pressed forward, throwing a combination of punches and kicks, but each one was deflected or avoided with minimal effort.


    "Good instincts," Torren said as he parried another strike. "But you''re rushing. Slow down and think."


    Atlas adjusted his approach, trying to anticipate Torren''s movements. He managed to land a glancing blow on the instructor''s shoulder, a small victory that filled him with a fleeting sense of pride. But Torren quickly regained control, testing Atlas with feints and counters that forced him to adapt on the fly.


    The match dragged on longer than Atlas expected. Torren didn''t end it quickly, instead pushing Atlas to his limits. By the time the instructor finally swept his legs out from under him, Atlas was panting heavily, his body trembling from exertion.


    "Not bad," Torren said, offering a hand to pull him up. "You''ve got potential, but you''re raw. Work on your foundation, and you''ll go far."


    Atlas nodded, his chest tightening with a mix of frustration and determination. As he returned to the line, he could feel the weight of the other students'' stares. He ignored them, his mind focused on one thought: I''ll get stronger. I have to.


    Torren''s voice called out the next name, and the matches continued. Atlas watched, his body sore but his resolve unshaken.

 Chapter 15 - Untamed Mountains

    Atlas sat in his cabin, staring at the crackling fire as it cast flickering shadows across the stone walls. The warmth was a welcome relief from the icy wind howling outside. Snow fell thick and fast, blanketing the mountain city of Falcrest in a cold, unyielding embrace. He couldn''t help but be thankful that the training hall was indoors. The thought of enduring today''s grueling exercises out in the snow made him shudder.


    His body ached in ways he hadn''t thought possible. Every muscle screamed in protest as he shifted in his chair, the day''s training having pushed him far beyond his limits. He had just returned from a much-needed bath after dinner, his skin still tingling from the warm water. The communal baths weren''t something he had been looking forward to, but the heat had been worth the discomfort of being around so many people.


    Dinner had been another solitary affair. He had chosen a quiet corner, his tray of food balanced precariously on the edge of the table. No one had approached him, and he hadn''t gone out of his way to engage anyone either. After the events of the day¡ªAaron''s taunts, Rea''s awkward attempts to make amends, and Torren''s relentless assessments¡ªAtlas was more than content to eat in silence. He was learning quickly that fitting in here wasn''t going to be easy, not with how people looked at him.


    The bath, however, had been unavoidable. The first-year boys were all herded into the communal space after dinner, their chatter and laughter filling the air as they scrubbed away the day''s grime. Atlas had kept to himself as much as possible, choosing a corner where he could wash in peace. The sheer number of boys had surprised him¡ªthere were far more first-years than he''d expected. His class wasn''t the only one, and the realization made him groan inwardly. Out of all the students, how had he ended up in the same class as Aaron?


    Aaron had been there, of course, laughing loudly with a group of boys who seemed to hang on his every word. Atlas had done his best to ignore them, focusing instead on rinsing off the mud and sweat that clung to his skin. His auburn hair had darkened to a deep rust color, the water running down his back as he worked out the knots in his shoulders. He was hyper-aware of the way some of the other boys glanced at him, their curiosity¡ªor was it suspicion?¡ªunmistakable. He didn''t belong here, and they all seemed to know it.


    Now, back in his cabin, he let out a long sigh. The fire crackled softly, its warmth soothing his aching body. He stretched out on the small cot, pulling the thick blanket up to his chin. His ribs still ached faintly, a reminder of his fight with Aaron and the punishing laps Torren had made them run. Even the bath hadn''t fully eased the sting of his old wounds, though the heat had helped somewhat.


    The night slipped by slowly. The wind outside howled like a restless beast, but inside, the cabin was quiet and still. Atlas stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting as the firelight danced on the wooden beams. He thought of the obstacle course, the sparring matches, and the way Torren had tested each of them. The man was impossibly strong, his presence a constant reminder of how far Atlas still had to go.


    His mind wandered to Ren, his only friend from Midtown. The image of Ren lying bloodied on the ground flashed in his mind, and he clenched his fists beneath the blanket. He had felt so helpless that night, so weak. That memory had been his fuel today, the reason he had kept pushing even when his body had screamed at him to stop. He wouldn''t feel that helpless again. He couldn''t.


    Atlas''s eyes grew heavy, the warmth of the fire and the day''s exhaustion finally catching up to him. His body sank into the mattress, every ache and pain pulling him deeper into sleep. As his breathing slowed, the world outside faded away, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of the cabin''s wooden frame.


    For the first time in a long while, Atlas didn''t dream of cold streets or looming guards. Instead, his mind was filled with the sound of rushing wind and the feeling of freedom, fleeting and distant but somehow within reach.


    ***


    The next couple of months fell into a steady routine. Atlas would wake early, grab breakfast in the dining hall¡ªusually alone¡ªand then head to class. After that came the grueling hours of training, both physical and mental. He pushed himself harder than he ever had before, catching up to his classmates bit by bit, but it was never enough. There was a fire burning inside him, a relentless hunger for strength that he couldn''t fully explain. It consumed him, driving him to train even after class hours when most of the others had long since gone to rest.


    Torren had evaluated the entire class early on, and for those who didn''t already know a martial form, he had issued copies of the Falcrest Blade Manual¡ªa standard guide that taught the basics of hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship. It was practical and straightforward, but to Atlas, it might as well have been written in a foreign language. His inability to read held him back in a way he hadn''t anticipated, turning even the simplest of instructions into a monumental struggle.


    The manual, thankfully, included detailed diagrams of the forms, and that became his saving grace. He poured over the pictures, mimicking the stances and movements as best as he could, practicing late into the night when everyone else had gone to bed. At first, his attempts were clumsy and awkward, his limbs not quite following the flow shown in the drawings. But slowly, with time and repetition, his movements began to smooth out. He could feel himself improving, inch by inch.


    Still, his illiteracy didn''t go unnoticed. When the other students discovered he couldn''t read, it only deepened the divide between him and the rest of the class. The whispers and stares became more frequent, more pointed. Some of the students openly laughed at him, their mockery cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The fact that he struggled to understand even the basic instructions of the academy made him feel like an outsider all over again.


    But Atlas was learning¡ªslowly, painstakingly, but surely. He was taught to recognize the letters and their shapes, piecing together words like he was solving a puzzle. He''d never had the chance to learn in Midtown, where survival always came first, but here, the challenge of reading was just one more obstacle to overcome. And he was determined to conquer it.


    The Falcrest Blade Manual, as it turned out, was only a D-rank guide¡ªa beginner''s text. But for Atlas, it was more than enough. He''d never had anything like it before, never been taught in a structured way. Even the basic forms and techniques felt like a treasure, a glimpse into a world he''d never had access to.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Through the weeks, Atlas began to piece together more about the students around him. Most of them came from Uppertown, the wealthier and more powerful part of Falcrest. Their polished uniforms, refined manners, and sheer confidence were a stark contrast to the scrappy, streetwise survival that had defined Atlas''s life in Midtown. Many of them were members of larger clans, families known for their bloodline abilities and contributions to the nation. It made sense now, the way they carried themselves with an air of superiority.


    Atlas, of course, didn''t belong to a clan. He had no family name to boast of, no bloodline ability to call his own¡ªat least none that he knew of. And his differences were glaringly obvious to everyone. His auburn hair and golden eyes marked him as an outsider, assumed to be of Ramelion descent, and that alone set him apart from the darker features and noble backgrounds of most of his classmates. It wasn''t just Aaron who looked at him with disdain¡ªmany of the others seemed to view him as someone who didn''t belong.


    But Atlas didn''t care what they thought. Or at least, he told himself he didn''t. Their whispered remarks and smug glances fueled the fire inside him, driving him to push harder, train longer, and prove them wrong. He might not have their polished techniques or years of private tutoring, but he had something they didn''t: grit. He knew how to fight for what he wanted, how to claw his way forward no matter the odds.


    And so, day after day, he trained. He fell into the routine, letting the rhythm of it drown out the noise of the world around him. For the first time in his life, he had a direction, a purpose. It didn''t matter how far behind he started. He was determined to make it to the top, no matter how long it took or how hard it was.


    Because for Atlas, this wasn''t just about becoming a Blade. It was about survival. It was about proving to himself¡ªand everyone else¡ªthat he wasn''t just some orphan from Midtown, some forgotten nobody. He was more than that. And he would show them all.


    ***


    Atlas stepped out of his cabin, his boots crunching against the packed snow as the sharp, cold air bit at his face. His training gear hugged his form snugly, designed for both mobility and warmth in the harsh Falcrest winter. The outfit was a mix of practicality and subtle elegance, clearly inspired by the uniforms of the academy but adapted to the biting cold of the mountain city.


    His thick, dark tunic was made of a heavy, insulated material that retained warmth while allowing freedom of movement. A high collar wrapped around his neck, shielding him from the icy wind, while a sleeveless black vest with reinforced stitching added an extra layer of protection to his torso. Beneath the tunic, he wore a thin but durable undershirt made of a fabric that wicked away sweat, ensuring he stayed dry during long training sessions.


    His trousers were slightly loose but tapered at the ankles, tucked into sturdy boots that provided grip on the slippery ground. The fabric was tough but flexible, allowing for quick movements and high kicks without restriction. Around his waist was a simple belt, tied to secure the tunic and hold a few small pouches for training essentials.


    A thick, fingerless glove covered each hand, padded at the knuckles for sparring but leaving his fingers free for grip and dexterity. His forearms were wrapped in tightly bound cloth strips for added support and to shield against the cold.


    A dark scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck, its ends fluttering in the breeze as he moved. The scarf doubled as a mask he could pull up over his nose and mouth when the wind grew particularly fierce, leaving only his sharp golden eyes visible. His auburn hair, normally a wild mess, was tied back tightly to keep it from falling into his face during training.


    The outfit was simple, functional, and unassuming, blending perfectly with the snowy backdrop of Falcrest. But there was something about the way Atlas carried himself in it¡ªa quiet determination, a simmering fire beneath the layers¡ªthat made him stand out, even in the cold monotony of winter.


    Today was the day they would be heading up into the mountains for their first outdoor training session. Winter had finally passed, but the snow remained thick on the ground, crunching underfoot and glittering beneath the pale morning sun. The air carried a crisp sharpness, a reminder that the mountains wouldn''t be any kinder than the instructors back at the academy.


    Atlas tightened the strap on his sheath and slid his sword into place on his back. The blade was sleek and curved, resembling the katana-like weapons from old tales of warriors. Its hilt was wrapped in dark leather, practical yet sturdy, and the crossguard bore subtle etched patterns resembling intertwining leaves. It wasn''t anything fancy, but it felt right in his grip¡ªbalanced, reliable, ready for use.


    He stepped out of his cabin and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, the cold biting at his exposed skin. The snow-covered path stretched out before him, quiet and untouched. He adjusted his gear and started walking. Over the past few months, he''d come to enjoy these solitary treks. The stillness gave him a moment of peace before the chaos of training began.


    The academy courtyard was bustling with activity when he arrived. Students milled about in small groups, their voices muffled by the cold air. Atlas leaned against a wall, waiting quietly as the others gathered. Some were adjusting their gear; others were simply talking to pass the time. Torren hadn''t arrived yet, but his absence did little to ease the tension in the air.


    By the time the last of the students showed up, Torren appeared at the front of the courtyard. His boots crunched against the snow, and his sharp gaze swept over the class, silencing them without a word.


    "Listen up," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Today, we''re heading into the mountains. This won''t be like the controlled environment of the training yard. Out there, you''ll be facing the elements. The snow, the cold, the terrain¡ªthey don''t care how strong or skilled you think you are."


    The group fell silent, a mix of nerves and excitement in their expressions. Torren continued, "You''ll be tested in ways you haven''t been before. This isn''t just about your strength¡ªit''s about your endurance, your adaptability. Out there, everything can turn into an enemy if you''re not careful."


    With that, he turned sharply and began leading the group out of the academy grounds. The students followed, their boots crunching rhythmically in the snow as they moved through the gates and onto the trail leading into the mountains.


    The path was narrow and uneven, winding upward into the jagged peaks. The air grew colder with every step, the snow deeper and more treacherous. Towering pines lined the trail, their branches heavy with frost, and the distant sound of the wind whistling through the mountains filled the silence.


    Atlas adjusted his scarf, keeping pace with the group. The climb was steady but grueling, Torren''s pace unrelenting. The snow beneath their boots made every step heavier, and the icy air burned in their lungs. Atlas focused on his footing, his sword shifting slightly on his back with each step. He could feel the cold through his gear, but it wasn''t unbearable¡ªjust another challenge to overcome.


    The academy slowly disappeared behind them, swallowed by the rising peaks and dense forest. The further they climbed, the more isolated the group felt. The conversations that had started at the base of the trail dwindled into silence, each student focused on conserving energy and pushing forward.


    Torren led without faltering, his sharp eyes scanning the trail ahead. The mountains loomed larger with every step, their jagged ridges casting long shadows in the morning light. The cold bit deeper the higher they went, and the path grew steeper, forcing them to move slower.


    Atlas took a deep breath, his muscles starting to burn from the effort. The crisp air stung his lungs, but he kept moving, placing one foot in front of the other. Around him, the group trudged on in silence, their breaths visible in the cold air. The snow crunched underfoot, the only constant sound in the otherwise quiet landscape.


    This wasn''t like training in the yard. The mountains felt alive, untamed, and utterly indifferent to their presence. And Atlas couldn''t help but feel a flicker of anticipation for what lay ahead.

 Chapter 16 - Group Challenge

    Atlas heard hurried steps behind him, and when he turned, he saw Seth''s familiar grin. The boy''s easy demeanor was a welcome break from the somber atmosphere of the group.


    "What do you think Torren has planned for us this time?" Seth asked, his voice light but tinged with curiosity.


    Atlas shrugged. "Something that''ll make us regret waking up, probably."


    Seth laughed, falling into step beside him. "That''s fair."


    Seth was one of the few students who really talked to Atlas, and while Atlas wasn''t the type to show it, he appreciated it more than he cared to admit. Most of the others either ignored him or avoided him entirely, but Seth didn''t seem to care about the unspoken divide between Atlas and the rest of the class.


    As they followed Torren up the winding path, Seth motioned to the blade strapped to Atlas''s back. "I still can''t believe you spent all your points on that," he said, his tone half teasing.


    Atlas stiffened slightly, feeling the need to defend himself. "Not all my points¡­ just most."


    They both cracked small, knowing smiles, the kind that came from shared struggles and quiet understanding.


    The introduction of points had been one of the most significant changes in their training. At the end of each week, students were evaluated and awarded points based on their performance. The points could be used to buy equipment, extra food, or, most importantly, spells. It was a system designed to reward effort and encourage competition, and it quickly became a central part of their lives.


    For someone like Atlas, who had come to the academy with nothing, the points were a lifeline. Most of the Uppertown students, like Seth, already had access to spells through their families or clans. They didn''t need to rely on points the same way he did. But for Atlas, every point mattered. It was his only way to keep up, to bridge the gap between him and the others.


    "I still think you should''ve waited," Seth said, glancing at the sword again. "Could''ve saved up for something better."


    Atlas shook his head. "It''s not just a sword, Seth. It''s balance. Precision. Everything else can wait."


    Seth smirked. "Spoken like a true idiot."


    Atlas''s lips twitched into a faint grin, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. His sword had cost him dearly, but he didn''t regret it. He needed a weapon he could rely on, something that would become an extension of himself.


    "And the spell?" Seth asked, his curiosity genuine. "You managed to get it working yet?"


    Atlas sighed. "Not yet. It''s harder than I thought."


    The spell he''d bought, Wind Blade, was a D-rank spell designed to enhance his swordsmanship. When executed correctly, it would send a sharp blade of wind slicing through the air with a single swipe of his sword. It was simple in concept but difficult in practice, especially for someone like Atlas, whose core was still unrefined and struggled to read.


    Spells were expensive, and even the D-rank ones like Wind Blade cost more points than Atlas could easily spare. Higher-ranked spells were completely out of reach, both in terms of points and the strain they would put on his core. Torren had warned them all about overloading their cores, the consequences of which were severe and potentially irreversible. Atlas wasn''t willing to take that risk.


    "You''ll get it," Seth said, his tone reassuring. "Takes time, that''s all."


    Atlas nodded, appreciating the encouragement even if he didn''t say it out loud. The spell was frustrating, but he wasn''t giving up.


    The group continued their ascent, the sound of boots crunching in the snow filling the silence. The cold wind whipped through the narrow mountain pass, stinging Atlas''s face, he pulled the scarf up slightly.


    They continued their ascent until the sun hung high in the sky, its light glinting off the snow-covered peaks. The city of Falcrest was now just a faint memory, swallowed by the mountain''s jagged terrain and the endless white expanse that surrounded them. Atlas''s breath came in heavy bursts, his chest heaving as he leaned on his knees for support. Despite all the training he''d endured over the past three months, the steep, unrelenting climb had pushed him to his limits¡ªand, by the looks of it, most of his classmates as well.


    Torren, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected. Standing tall and steady, he showed no signs of exertion, his sharp eyes scanning the group with the same calm intensity he always carried. He didn''t even seem winded, speaking as though he hadn''t just led them on a half-day march uphill.


    "This is where you''ll start," Torren announced, gesturing to the flat patch of rocky terrain they had stopped on. "In groups of three, you''ll climb the rest of the mountain. At the summit, another Nightblade will be waiting with further instructions. This isn''t a race, but you are expected to work together and complete the task as efficiently as possible."


    Atlas straightened, his pulse still pounding in his ears, and adjusted the strap of his sword on his back. His eyes darted toward the others, many of whom were still catching their breath. The idea of climbing even higher wasn''t exactly appealing, but he wasn''t about to back down now.


    "When I call your name, form up with your group," Torren continued, pulling out a small piece of parchment. He began listing off names, his voice cutting through the still mountain air.


    "Rea, Seth, Aaron."


    Atlas felt a pang of jealousy as Seth said goodbye and joined Rea and Aaron. Seth was the only one who really talked to him, and now he wasn''t even going to have that small comfort. He shook the feeling off quickly. It wasn''t worth dwelling on. Instead, he focused on the next names, waiting for his own to be called. Eventually he was called out.


    "Atlas, Marcus, Kara."


    Atlas blinked, glancing toward the two as they stepped forward. He wasn''t mad about the pairing¡ªif anything, he felt a bit relieved. Marcus was easily the strongest in their class, his broad shoulders and composed demeanor exuding confidence and strength. Kara, on the other hand, was quiet but observant, always seeming to analyze things before acting. She wasn''t flashy, but she was smart, and that was just as valuable.


    Marcus gave Atlas a short nod, his expression neutral but not unfriendly. "Looks like we''re together."


    "Yeah," Atlas replied, adjusting the scarf around his neck to cover his burn marks. He turned to Kara, who was already checking the straps on her gear with practiced efficiency. She didn''t say anything, but she met his eyes briefly and gave him a curt nod.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Torren continued calling out names, his tone brisk and efficient. When the final group was formed, he stepped back and surveyed them all with a critical eye.


    "You have until sundown to reach the summit," he said. "There''s no clear path, so you''ll need to rely on your instincts and your group to make it. Stick together, watch your footing, and keep moving. Anyone who doesn''t make it by nightfall will have to answer to me." He then handed out maps too each group.


    The warning hung heavy in the air, and Atlas didn''t doubt for a second that Torren meant it. He exchanged a glance with Marcus, and then with Kara, who had a calm but focused expression.


    "Get moving," Torren barked. "And remember¡ªthis isn''t just about reaching the top. It''s about how you get there."


    With that, the groups began to disperse.


    "Guess we''d better get going," Marcus said, leading the way with a steady stride.


    Atlas nodded, falling into step behind him, with Kara taking up the rear.


    Marcus pulled out the map Torren had handed their group, unfolding the rough parchment to reveal the marked trail they were expected to follow. Each group had a different route, clearly designed to ensure they couldn''t rely on the others for assistance. It was typical Torren¡ªa test of independence as much as endurance.


    Marcus frowned, tracing the trail with his finger. "Looks like we''ve got a steep climb ahead," he muttered. "But there''s a flat patch about halfway up the trail. We can rest there before making the final push to the summit."


    Atlas nodded, his legs already burning from the earlier trek. "Good call."


    "We should take stock of what we have before we go any further," Kara chimed in, her tone calm and practical. "We''re only allowed to carry what we can fit on us, and we need to make sure we''re prepared for whatever comes next."


    Marcus raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, and Atlas shrugged. "Makes sense."


    They all crouched down, pulling their gear out for inspection. Each of them had packed the essentials: a water canteen, a fire starter, and the compact energy bars they''d been issued during their survival lessons. The bars were dense and packed with nutrients, designed to sustain someone for an entire day. Atlas was relieved to see the other two were competent enough to have brought the basics¡ªit could have been a disaster otherwise.


    Kara took the lead, carefully examining their supplies. "We''ve got enough water and food to make it through the day, assuming nothing goes wrong," she said, her sharp eyes flicking between the boys. "But we should ration our energy bars. If Torren says we''ll be at the summit by nightfall, it means we''ll likely be staying there for at least a day. He wouldn''t send us all the way up here just to turn around and come back."


    Atlas grimaced, silently cursing Torren under his breath. The man hadn''t given them any details about the purpose of this trip or how long they''d be in the mountains. They''d been forced to prepare blindly, relying on what little they''d learned in class. It was frustrating, but it was also exactly the kind of test Torren loved to throw at them.


    "She''s right," Marcus said, nodding at Kara''s reasoning. "We split the bars evenly now and save the rest for later. We''ll need the energy when the climb gets tougher."


    Atlas agreed with a grunt, tucking his gear back into his pockets. Kara handed each of them one bar to eat immediately, and they tucked the remaining ones away for later. The small ration didn''t feel like much, but it would have to do.


    Once everything was sorted, Marcus rolled up the map and secured it in his pack. "All right," he said, standing and dusting snow off his knees. "Let''s keep moving. We''ve got a lot of ground to cover."


    Kara nodded, her quiet confidence keeping her focused. "Stay sharp," she added as they started up the trail again. "We don''t know what else Torren has in store for us."


    Atlas adjusted the strap on his sword and fell into step behind Marcus, his mind already working through the possibilities.


    ***


    They didn''t have to walk far before they came across their first obstacle: a vertical cliff wall.


    The group stopped and tilted their heads back, staring up at the sheer face of the cliff. Water dripped from the edges above, glistening in the sunlight and making the surface look treacherous.


    Marcus sighed heavily, muttering under his breath before speaking up. "No one brought a rope, did they?"


    Atlas shook his head. "Didn''t even cross my mind," he admitted, feeling a little sheepish.


    Kara''s cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her boots, letting her black hair fall over her face. "No," she said softly.


    "Damn it." Marcus rubbed his temples before glancing back at the cliff. He seemed to be calculating something. "Do you think you two can climb it?"


    Atlas eyed the cliff again, noting the handholds scattered along the surface. They were uneven but present, though the constant dripping water made the rocks look slick. He could already feel the ache in his muscles protesting at the thought of attempting it.


    "Honestly¡­ I don''t think I''ll make it," Atlas admitted, his tone flat.


    "Me either," Kara said, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Marcus frowned, tapping his foot against the ground. "I might be able to, but even if I did, there''d be no way to get the two of you up after me." He sighed again, his frustration evident. "We''ll have to track back and find another route."


    Atlas nodded. It was the only logical option, and he was glad Marcus was taking charge. They turned back the way they came, following the trail carefully. The climb down from where they had stopped was almost as challenging as going up, but they managed it without slipping.


    The group trudged on for nearly an hour, scanning the surrounding terrain for another way forward. Just as Atlas''s legs were starting to burn and his patience was wearing thin, they stumbled upon a valley nestled between two rocky slopes.


    The valley was densely forested, towering trees stretching high into the sky, their branches laced with frost and snow. Shafts of sunlight broke through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in patches of golden light. The faint sound of a stream trickling through the trees mingled with the occasional rustle of branches, creating a tranquil atmosphere that felt almost surreal after the harshness of the climb.


    "Looks like a safe passage," Marcus said, gesturing toward the tree-filled valley.


    "Finally," Atlas muttered under his breath, relieved to see a way forward that didn''t involve dangling off a cliff.


    They descended into the valley carefully, the ground beneath them soft with layers of fallen leaves and snow. The air was cooler here, the dense forest insulating them from the worst of the mountain wind. As they moved deeper into the trees, the stream came into view, winding its way through the undergrowth with a soft, melodic sound.


    Marcus raised a hand. "Let''s stop for a moment. Catch our breath and refill our canteens."


    No one argued. Atlas dropped to one knee by the stream, scooping water into his canteen and taking a deep drink. The icy liquid was refreshing, sending a jolt of energy through his tired limbs. Kara knelt nearby, doing the same, her quiet demeanor unchanged.


    Marcus, ever vigilant, stood nearby, scanning their surroundings as he sipped from his own canteen. "We''ll keep moving in a few minutes," he said, his tone firm but not harsh. "The further behind we fall, the longer this is going to take."


    Atlas nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As much as he appreciated the break, he knew Marcus was right. They had already lost time doubling back, and Torren wasn''t the type to forgive lateness, no matter the excuse.


    He glanced up at the towering trees, their trunks thick with moss and frost. The forest felt alive, its quiet serenity masking an underlying sense of danger. This wasn''t just a simple training exercise¡ªTorren was testing them, pushing them to their limits in every way possible.


    "Guess we better get moving," Atlas said, capping his canteen and standing. The others followed suit, their breaths visible in the crisp mountain air as they prepared to press on through the forested valley.


    As Atlas stood up, he heard Kara''s soft voice cut through the stillness. "Um, guys¡­ look at this."


    Her tone made his stomach tighten. He followed her gaze to the forest floor, where a series of tracks marred the snow¡ªfresh, deep, and far too many to be comforting. The prints crisscrossed chaotically, disappearing into the thick trees around them.


    Atlas frowned, crouching to get a better look. They were larger than any animal he''d ever seen in Midtown. His stomach churned as unease settled over him.


    Marcus stepped closer, his expression hard as he inspected the tracks. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath.


    Atlas straightened, his heart beginning to race. Before he could ask, the sound reached them.


    A low, guttural growl rolled through the valley, bouncing off the trees. It wasn''t just one growl¡ªit was several, layered and echoing. The sound vibrated in his chest, sending a cold shiver down his spine.


    Kara froze, her eyes wide as she backed closer to Marcus. "What¡­ what was that?" she whispered.


    Atlas didn''t answer. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, his knuckles tightening as the growling grew louder, closer.

 Chapter 17 - Mountain 101

    Atlas pulled his sword from the sheath on his back, the cold metal a reassuring weight in his hand. The blade, sleek and curved, reflected the pale light of the snow, almost shimmering against the backdrop of the forest. He adjusted his stance, lowering his body slightly to keep his movements fluid, his golden eyes flicking between the dark shapes moving through the trees.


    Beside him, Kara stepped closer to Marcus, her twin daggers gleaming in her hands. She was quiet, but her posture was steady, her black hair framing a face set with determination. Small ripples of water formed at her back, and as Atlas glanced at her, the liquid coalesced into tentacle-like appendages, shifting and writhing as if alive. They didn''t seem strong, but they moved with surprising precision, adding an unsettling layer to her already unpredictable presence.


    Marcus stood tall, his broad shoulders squared and his fists raised in a practiced stance. His breath came out in even puffs of mist as he cracked his neck, his muscles taut and ready. A flicker of orange light ignited at his knuckles, flames licking up his hands as he clenched his fists. He exuded confidence, his sharp dark eyes scanning their surroundings.


    Then they appeared.


    Six wolves emerged from the shadows of the forest, their low growls reverberating through the trees. Their silver-gray coats blended with the snow, but their glowing yellow eyes and sharp, bared teeth left no question about their intent. They moved in a deliberate, predatory circle, their paws crunching softly on the snow as they tightened their formation.


    Atlas''s heart pounded in his chest. The wolves were massive, easily reaching up to his waist, their powerful limbs rippling with muscle. This wasn''t just a training exercise¡ªthis was survival. But despite the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind, he forced himself to focus.


    "This is nothing we can''t handle," Marcus said, his voice steady. "Stay together. Don''t let them isolate you."


    Atlas nodded, his pulse still hammering in his ears. This was why he trained, why he pushed himself past his limits every day. So that when it mattered¡ªwhen his life and the lives of others were on the line¡ªhe would be ready.


    The wolves didn''t wait. The largest of them lunged first, targeting Marcus. It moved like a blur, but Marcus stepped forward, meeting it with a flaming fist. His punch connected with the wolf''s side, sending it skidding across the snow with a pained yelp. The fire left scorch marks on its fur, and it scrambled to its feet, snarling with renewed fury.


    Atlas barely had time to process the movement before one of the wolves lunged at him, its jaws snapping toward his throat. He sidestepped instinctively, his sword coming up in a sharp arc. The blade cut into the wolf''s shoulder, digging deep, and it let out a pained howl. It staggered but didn''t retreat, its blood staining the pristine snow.


    Atlas pressed the attack, stepping forward with a percussive strike from the Falcrest Sword Art. He used his momentum to drive a kick into the wolf''s side, sending it tumbling to the ground. It tried to rise, its movements sluggish, but Atlas brought his sword down in a finishing blow, his blade cut into the wolves neck, blood sprayed out, making him think he must have hit an artery. The wolf collapsed, motionless.


    Before he could catch his breath, another wolf sprang at him from his blind spot. He turned just in time to block with his sword, but the force of the impact knocked the blade from his hands. It hit the soft snow several feet away, leaving him weaponless. The wolf''s claws raked across his arm, tearing through his bandaged sleeve and drawing blood. Atlas hissed in pain, stumbling back as the wolf circled him, its growl deep and menacing.


    He raised his fists, shifting into a defensive stance as the wolf charged again. He ducked beneath its snapping jaws and drove a punch into its side, but it barely seemed to notice. It turned on him with terrifying speed, its teeth grazing his leg as he leapt back, his movements growing more desperate. His body screamed in protest, and he knew he couldn''t keep this up for long. He stepped back and calmed his breathing. The wolf circled him and he dropped into a fighting stance, remembering all the gruiling hours in his room late at night practicing.


    The wolf snarled, its yellow eyes locked onto Atlas as it lunged forward again, its massive paws crunching the snow beneath it. Atlas sidestepped, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws, and retaliated with a swift punch to the side of its head. His fist connected with a dull thud, but the wolf barely flinched, shaking its head as if annoyed rather than hurt.


    Atlas cursed under his breath, his mind racing. His strikes weren''t landing with enough force. He didn''t have the raw power Marcus had shown earlier when he had taken down his wolf with a flaming fist. Falcrest sword art focused on precision and percussive movements, but against a creature like this, it felt like trying to chip away at a boulder with a stick.


    The wolf growled, shaking off the blow and circling him, its muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. Atlas adjusted his stance, keeping his weight low and his hands up. He needed to think, to find a way to turn the fight in his favor. But the wolf wasn''t giving him time.


    It charged again, its claws ripping into the frozen ground as it closed the distance in an instant. Atlas ducked, rolling to the side as the wolf''s jaws snapped shut where his neck had been moments before. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins. He needed to stay on the move, to use his speed and agility to outmaneuver the beast.


    As the wolf turned to face him again, Atlas stepped forward and aimed a powerful kick at its side. His boot connected with a satisfying thud, and the wolf staggered slightly, letting out a low growl. But the momentary stumble wasn''t enough. The wolf was relentless, and it recovered almost instantly, baring its teeth as it lunged once more.


    Atlas raised his arms instinctively, the wolf''s weight slamming into him like a battering ram. He stumbled backward, his boots skidding in the snow as he struggled to keep his balance. The wolf''s claws raked across his forearms, tearing through the thick fabric of his training gear and leaving shallow scratches. He gritted his teeth against the pain, shoving against the creature with all his strength.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    But the wolf was stronger. It forced him back step by step until his foot caught on a loose rock, and he fell hard onto his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs. The world tilted for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath, the wolf looming over him like a shadow of death.


    Its hot breath hit his face as it snarled, its teeth bared and dripping with saliva. Atlas tried to twist away, but the wolf''s massive paws pinned him down, its claws digging into his shoulders. He could feel the weight of the beast pressing against him, its growls vibrating in his chest.


    His mind raced, panic threatening to take over. He clawed at the snow, his hand fumbling for his sword, but it was out of reach, lying several feet away where it had been knocked from his grip earlier. Desperation clawed at him as the wolf''s jaws opened wide, its teeth gleaming in the fading light.


    For a moment, time seemed to slow. The growls of the wolf, the distant sounds of Kara and Marcus fighting their own battles, the sting of the icy wind on his face¡ªit all blurred into the background. All that mattered was the snarling beast above him and the cold, hard realization that he might not get out of this alive.


    The wolf lunged down, its teeth aiming for his throat, and Atlas raised his arm in a desperate attempt to block the attack, bracing himself for the worst.


    Marcus''s flaming fist collided with the wolf''s head, sending it sprawling to the ground. Marcus stepped forward, landing another devastating punch that left the wolf limp in the snow with its head caved in a funny angle.


    "You good?" Marcus asked, his eyes never leaving the wolf as he watched for any signs of movement.


    Atlas nodded, gripping his injured arm. "Yeah. Thanks."


    "Focus," Marcus said sharply, already turning back to face the remaining wolves.


    Atlas staggered back to his sword, gripping the hilt tightly as he assessed the battlefield. Kara was locked in combat with two wolves, her water tentacles lashing out with surprising agility. They acted as extensions of her arms, blocking bites and claw swipes while her daggers darted in and out. She moved with precision, her strikes calculated and efficient, but the tentacles lacked the strength to do significant damage. She used them to distract and control the wolves'' movements while her blades did the real work.


    With a well-timed feint, Kara drew one of the wolves too close. Her tentacle wrapped around its hind leg, pulling it off balance just long enough for her to drive a dagger into its throat. The wolf let out a final whimper before collapsing. The second wolf lunged at her, but she sidestepped gracefully, her tentacles wrapping around its neck and forcing it down. She finished it with a swift strike, her expression calm despite the blood staining the snow around her.


    Marcus, meanwhile, had no need for subtlety. His fists were a blur of fire and fury as he engaged the last wolve in front of him. Each punch landed with bone-crushing force, the flames scorching fur and flesh alike. The wolve lunged at him, only to be met with an uppercut that sent it flying. He walked forward and stomped on the whimpering wolves head.


    The fight ended as quickly as it began. The wolves lay scattered in the snow, their once-menacing forms now lifeless. The forest fell silent again, the only sound the labored breathing of the three students.


    Atlas wiped the blood from his sword, his arm throbbing from the shallow claw marks. He looked at Marcus and Kara, both of whom were battered but standing tall.


    "Everyone okay?" Marcus asked, his gaze sweeping over them.


    "Fine," Kara said, her voice steady despite her disheveled appearance.


    Atlas nodded, sheathing his sword. His heart was still racing, the adrenaline coursing through him making his limbs tremble. He''d survived, but it was clear how much further he had to go, he knew if he had to fight either of these two he wouldn¡¯t win.


    "Let''s keep moving," Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We''re not done yet."


    Kara quickly knelt beside Atlas, her movements precise as she pulled a small roll of bandages from one of the pouches on her belt. Her hands were steady, despite the faint tremor in her breathing from the fight. "Hold still," she muttered, unrolling the bandage and wrapping it tightly around the claw marks on his arm.


    Atlas winced but didn''t complain. The cuts weren''t deep, but they stung like fire, and the cold air didn''t help. He watched as Kara worked, her dark hair falling over her face. She didn''t say much, and he appreciated the quiet efficiency. "Thanks," he said softly when she tied the bandage off.


    "Don''t mention it," she replied, standing and tucking the remaining bandages back into her pouch. "Let''s not make this a habit."


    Marcus was already ahead, scanning the path that wound higher into the mountains. "We need to go," he called over his shoulder, his voice firm. "The sun''s already starting to dip."


    Atlas glanced at the horizon, where the golden light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows over the snow-covered landscape. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the ache in his legs and the dull throb in his arm. "Let''s go," he said, tightening his scarf pulling it up over his burn.


    The three of them pressed on. The forest thinned out as they climbed, the towering pines giving way to jagged rocks and icy slopes. The air grew colder, each breath burning in their lungs as they trudged upward.


    Kara took the lead this time, her sharp eyes scanning the uneven terrain for the best path forward. Marcus followed closely behind, his broad shoulders cutting through the biting wind. Atlas brought up the rear, his steps steady despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.


    The climb was grueling. The snow grew deeper, sucking at their boots and slowing their progress. Loose rocks threatened to give way beneath their feet, forcing them to move carefully. The icy wind howled around them, stinging their faces and making it hard to see. Every step was a struggle, but none of them complained. They simply pushed forward, one foot in front of the other.


    The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Shadows stretched across the mountain, and the temperature plummeted further. Atlas''s breath came in sharp, frosty bursts as he focused on the trail ahead, his mind blank except for the simple goal of reaching the top.


    "We''re close," Marcus said, his voice rough from the cold. He pointed to a rocky outcrop ahead, where the trail seemed to level out. "That has to be it."


    The words gave them a renewed sense of urgency. They quickened their pace, ignoring the burning in their muscles. The final stretch was the hardest, the slope so steep that they had to use their hands to pull themselves up in places.


    Finally, they reached the summit just as the sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The air was bitterly cold, and the wind whipped around them, but the view was breathtaking. The mountain stretched out beneath them, a sea of snow and jagged peaks fading into the distance.


    Standing near the edge of the summit was a figure clad in dark, weathered leathers. The Nightblade waiting for them didn''t move as they approached, their silhouette sharp against the fading light.


    "We made it," Kara said, her voice soft but filled with relief.


    "Barely," Marcus added, his breath fogging in the icy air.


    Atlas didn''t say anything. He just stood there, his chest heaving as he took in the scene. Despite the exhaustion, the pain, and the cold, a small flicker of pride burned in his chest. They had done it.


    The Nightblade finally turned to face them, their expression hidden by the shadows. "You''re almost to late," they said, their voice calm but firm. "But you''re here. That''s what matters."


    Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus and Kara. A smile tugged at his lips.

 Chapter 18 - How are we going to do this

    The Nightblade''s calm voice broke the silence as they gestured toward a cluster of small cabins nestled around the peak of the mountain. The structures were old and weathered, their wooden frames sagging slightly under the weight of the snow on their roofs. Despite their worn appearance, they still stood strong against the biting winds.


    "Get some rest," the Nightblade instructed, their tone clipped but not unkind. "Each group will share a cabin. You''ll need your strength for tomorrow."


    Atlas, Marcus, and Kara exchanged glances before heading toward the nearest cabin. The door creaked loudly as Marcus pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit interior. The room was cramped, with only a single fireplace, a low wooden table, and a few threadbare blankets scattered on rudimentary cots. The walls were lined with frost, and the air inside was no warmer than outside.


    Kara hesitated at the doorway, her hands tightening on the straps of her gear. Her unease was evident, but Marcus was quick to reassure her. "Don''t worry. We''ll keep things respectful," he said, his voice steady.


    Atlas nodded in agreement. "Yeah. We''re just here to survive this. No one''s crossing any lines."


    That seemed to ease her nerves, and she stepped inside, glancing around the space. Marcus closed the door behind them, shutting out the howling wind.


    The three worked together to get a fire going in the small hearth, feeding it scraps of wood they found stacked in a corner. The warmth quickly filled the room, melting some of the frost on the walls and taking the edge off the chill in their bones. They settled down near the fire.


    Kara rummaged through one of her pouches and pulled out a needle and thread. "Let me see your arm,"


    Atlas hesitated but extended his injured arm. The makeshift bandage she''d applied earlier was soaked with blood, the claw marks beneath red and angry. She worked silently, stitching the wound with practiced hands. Her movements were steady, but Atlas could see the faint lines of worry on her face as she focused on the task.


    "Thanks," he muttered when she finished, flexing his fingers to test the stitches.


    "Don''t push it too much," Kara said, tucking the thread away. "It''s not perfect, but it''ll hold. Sorry I don''t have a healing spell yet."


    Beats me, I don''t even have a spell yet


    The three of them sat around the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows on the walls. They fell into quiet conversation, their voices low as they shared their thoughts on what lay ahead.


    Marcus leaned back against the wall, his broad shoulders relaxed despite the tension in the air. "This whole thing feels like another one of Torren''s games," he said. "He''s testing more than just our endurance. He wants to see how we work as a team."


    Atlas nodded. "Makes sense. Out here, we don''t have the academy walls to fall back on. It''s just us."


    Kara, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke. "I think there''s more to it than that," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Torren doesn''t just want us to survive. He wants us to figure out why we''re here. I think this is our first real test in becoming blades."


    The two boys exchanged glances. Kara had a point¡ªTorren rarely did anything without a deeper purpose. But what that purpose was remained a mystery.


    As the fire crackled, the conversation turned to lighter topics. Marcus and Atlas did most of the talking, sharing small anecdotes from their training and speculating about what challenges might await them. Kara chimed in occasionally, her quiet remarks adding to the discussion. Despite her reserved nature, she seemed more at ease in the warm glow of the fire.


    For the first time since the climb had begun, the tension between them eased. Whatever unspoken judgments or reservations they might have had about each other were set aside in the face of their shared situation. Out here, trust was a necessity, and reliance on each other was unavoidable.


    The night wore on, and exhaustion began to creep over them. Marcus stretched out on one of the cots, his head resting on his folded arms. Kara took the other, wrapping herself in one of the thin blankets and turning toward the wall for a semblance of privacy. Atlas settled near the fire, pulling his scarf up and wrapping himself in his own blanket. The warmth of the flames and the soft crackle of the fire provided a small comfort as sleep began to claim him.


    For a moment, as he stared into the dancing flames, Atlas thought about how far he had come¡ªfrom the cold streets of Midtown to this frozen mountaintop, surrounded by people he barely knew but had to trust.


    Life sure does change¡­ I hope Granny Lucy is doing okay. And Ren.


    The room fell silent, save for the soft breathing of his companions and the faint howl of the wind outside. With his sword within reach and the fire still burning strong, Atlas allowed himself to close his eyes and drift into sleep.


    ***


    The early morning air was biting as the sun cast its first weak rays over the mountain peak. The cold was a reminder that their rest had been brief and that more trials lay ahead. Atlas stirred reluctantly, his muscles stiff and his arm aching from the fight the day before. He was the last to wake, and when he finally pushed himself upright, he saw Marcus already standing by the door, arms crossed.


    "Hurry up, The Nightblade''s about to go over our next task."


    Atlas groaned quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he swung his legs over the side of his cot. He didn''t have much to do to get ready¡ªjust strap his sword onto his back and run his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to straighten it. He caught his reflection in the small, frost-covered window and sighed. Good enough.


    Marcus, however, was already tidying himself up. He had pulled out a small mirror and was splashing water onto his face, scruffing up his short dark hair to give it some semblance of order. Despite the grueling climb and the fight from the previous day, he still managed to look composed, Atlas would be lying if he said he wasn''t slightly jelous of the boy. He had a strong figure with dark hair and brown eyes. He saw the way people would look at him in class and the way he was admired by many.


    Oh well, can''t do much about it.


    Kara, unsurprisingly, was already ready. She sat quietly near the door, her daggers tucked neatly by pouches at her hips. She must have risen extra early to prepare, as her gear was perfectly arranged, and her black hair had been tied back tightly. Her calm, composed demeanor made Atlas feel slightly disheveled, but he wasn''t about to dwell on it.


    Once they were all set, the three of them stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The mountain peak was alive with activity as other groups gathered, their breaths visible in the cold as they exchanged quiet words and adjusted their gear. The cabins, while scattered, created a loose circle around the summit, and the Nightblade stood at the center, their dark figure an imposing presence against the stark white snow.


    Atlas''s eyes scanned the crowd, noting the familiar faces of his classmates. Not everyone was there yet¡ªsome groups must have struggled more with the climb¡ªbut he did spot Seth and his team. Seth caught his eye and gave him a quick nod, his ever-present grin softening the sharpness of the morning.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Atlas nodded back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. Rea, standing beside Seth, noticed the exchange and offered him a small, warm smile of her own. Her blonde hair caught the early sunlight, and for a moment, she looked entirely at ease. Atlas struggled to pull his eyes away.


    Thankfully, Aaron was preoccupied, his back turned to Atlas as he spoke animatedly to another student. Atlas was grateful for the reprieve. The last thing he needed was Aaron''s sneering comments or attempts to assert his superiority in front of everyone.


    Atlas''s gaze lingered on Rea. He had mixed feelings about her. When they''d first met, he''d quite liked her¡ªshe was one of the first girls his age he''d ever spoken to, and her outgoing personality had been a refreshing change from the aloofness of the others. But that had changed after she''d deliberately made Aaron angry at his expense. It hadn''t been an outright betrayal, but it had left a sour taste in his mouth. He''d dealt with enough manipulation and schemes back in Midtown. He didn''t need it here, not from someone he''d thought might have been a friend.


    Pushing the thought aside, he refocused on the task at hand. The Nightblade''s sharp voice cut through the morning chatter, pulling everyone''s attention to the center of the clearing.


    "Listen up," he began, his tone steady but sharp. "I''m Striker Thane Merrick. I''ll be overseeing this next stage of your training. I''m not here to coddle you, nor am I here to throw you to the wolves. What happens from here on out is up to you and your group. The decisions you make will determine your success¡ªor failure."


    Atlas shifted uneasily, glancing at Marcus and Kara. The Nightblade''s words carried weight, and the air around him seemed to shimmer him hues of yellow to red. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for what came next.


    Thane''s sharp gaze scanned the group. "Your next task is simple," he continued, his voice cutting through the cold mountain air. "Each group has been assigned a marked location. At that location, you''ll find a cache of supplies. These supplies are what you''ll need to survive for the next month."


    A ripple of murmurs swept through the group at the mention of "a month." Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus, who raised an eyebrow but kept his expression otherwise neutral.


    Thane didn''t give them time to dwell. "Each group has its own route, and each route leads to a cache. But," he paused, letting the weight of his next words settle over them, "those caches aren''t unguarded. Each one is protected by a mana beast."


    The murmurs turned to whispers, then to outright exclamations of shock. Even Marcus stiffened slightly, though he quickly masked it.


    Atlas felt his stomach churn. A mana beast? They had been learning about the different types of beasts for a while now, mana beasts were creatures infused with mana, stronger, faster, and deadlier than ordinary animals.


    Thane let the shock hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "The nature of the beast guarding your cache varies depending on the location assigned to your group. Your task is to retrieve the supplies, no matter what. How you do that is entirely up to you. There are no rules, no instructions. Just one objective: bring back the cache."


    "You have one hour to prepare before you leave," Thane said, his voice unyielding. "Study your map, plan your approach, and decide as a group how you''ll handle the beast. Failure to retrieve the cache means you''ll go the month without supplies. And believe me when I say, surviving the wilds without those supplies will make facing the mana beast seem like the easy part."


    Atlas clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. They could do this.


    Thane''s gaze swept over the group one last time. "You''ll leave when I call your group. Use your time wisely." He began walking around and handing out the maps.


    When Marcus received theirs, he immediately unfurled it, his sharp eyes scanning the marked route. Kara and Atlas leaned in and they studied the map together. It showed a winding path leading into the forest below, where a clearing was marked with a red X. Beside the X was a single notation: "Direfang Lynx."


    Atlas swallowed hard. The Direfang Lynx was a name he recognized¡ªan apex predator known for its razor-sharp claws and mana-infused fangs. Fast, cunning, and fiercely territorial.


    Marcus exhaled slowly, his expression calm but serious. "Looks like we''ve got our work cut out for us."


    Kara nodded, her face pale but determined. "We need a plan," she said quietly. "We can''t just charge in blindly."


    Atlas nodded, though his mind was already racing. How were they supposed to retrieve the cache when something like that was guarding it?


    Marcus rolled up the map, tucking it into one of the many pockets on his gear. "We''ve got an hour," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Let''s use it."


    The three of them found a quiet spot to sit, huddled together as they began discussing their approach. Around them, other groups were doing the same, their low voices blending with the sound of the wind. Atlas glanced at Seth''s group, catching his friend''s eye. Seth gave him a small nod, which he returned. Rea smiled at him, but he quickly looked away, avoiding any unnecessary distractions.


    "This isn''t going to be easy," Marcus said, pulling Atlas''s attention back to their group. "But we''ll figure it out."


    The clock was ticking, and the weight of the task pressed heavily on Atlas''s shoulders. The next few hours would determine not just their success, but their survival.


    Atlas tightened the strap of his sword as he sat cross-legged on the ground with Marcus and Kara, the map spread out between them. His golden eyes scanned the marked location of their cache¡ªa clearing deep in the forest, where the words "Direfang Lynx" loomed ominously.


    He let out a breath, his brow furrowed. "So¡­ how are we supposed to kill it?" The question hung heavy in the air, his voice low but serious. They had all learned about mana beasts in their classes¡ªcreatures infused with mana, exponentially stronger and more dangerous than their mundane counterparts. Taking one down wasn''t just a matter of brute force; it required strategy, skill, and a healthy dose of luck.


    Marcus nodded, his expression calm but focused. "We''re not just going to charge at it. We''ll need to wear it down. Use the environment to our advantage. We''ll divide its attention, and then I''ll go for the kill while you two keep it distracted. My fire can likely burn through its thick fur if Kara can hold it down with her water arms and you, Atlas can keep it distracted with your blade."


    Atlas nodded along, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. It was simple, and maybe that was for the best. They didn''t have the luxury of complicated maneuvers, not with a beast like this.


    It wasn''t until Kara spoke, her soft voice cutting through the tension, that he realized how flawed their thinking was. "We don''t need to kill it," she said, her dark eyes glancing between them. Her tone was calm but firm, her quiet confidence unmistakable.


    Both boys turned to her, surprised. "What do you mean?" Atlas asked, feeling a little defensive. Killing it seemed like the obvious solution, didn''t it? That''s what the academy trained them for, after all.


    Kara shifted her weight, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. "Our objective isn''t to fight the lynx. It''s to retrieve the cache. Killing it would take too much time and energy¡ªnot to mention the risk. We don''t even know if we can take it down. But if we distract it, keep it away from the supplies long enough, we can grab what we need and leave before it even realizes what''s happening."


    Atlas blinked, feeling a pang of embarrassment at how obvious her reasoning sounded now that she''d said it out loud. Of course, the goal wasn''t to kill the lynx. Why hadn''t he thought of that? He glanced at Marcus, who was already nodding, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line.


    "She''s right," Marcus admitted, his tone grudging but respectful. "No point in picking a fight we don''t have to."


    Kara leaned forward, tracing a path on the map with her finger. "The clearing where the cache is located is surrounded by dense trees. If we approach quietly, we can stay out of its sight and set up a diversion. One of us can lure it away from the cache¡ªmake noise, throw something, whatever works¡ªwhile the other two grab the supplies. Once we''ve got what we need, we retreat. Quick and clean."


    Atlas hesitated, the plan settling in his mind. It made sense¡ªmore sense than his or Marcus''s initial idea. But part of him felt a little foolish for not having thought of it himself. "That¡­ actually sounds like it could work," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.


    Kara''s lips twitched into a faint smile, though she didn''t gloat. "We''ll need to move carefully," she added. "The lynx will be fast. If it notices us before we''ve got the supplies, we''ll have to improvise."


    Marcus folded the map and tucked it back into his pocket. "Fine. We''ll go with Kara''s plan. Atlas, you''ll be the one to lure the lynx away. You''re quick on your feet, probably the fastest here and we''ll need that if it decides to chase."


    Atlas nodded, his pulse quickening at the prospect. "Got it."


    "I''ll handle the cache," Kara continued. "I''ll be able to gather everything quickly."


    "That leaves me to cover you both," Marcus said, cracking his knuckles. "If the lynx catches on, I''ll keep it off your backs long enough for us to get out of there."


    The three of them exchanged a look, the weight of the task settling over them. It wasn''t a perfect plan, but it was a good one. And, more importantly, it gave them a chance¡ªa better chance than charging blindly at a mana beast that could rip them apart.


    "Let''s go," Marcus said, rising to his feet. "We''ve got a job to do."


    Atlas stood, adjusting the sword on his back. Kara followed, her daggers already tucked into the pouches at her sides. Together, they moved toward the forest, their steps quiet but purposeful.


    The Direfang Lynx and their supplies were waiting.

 Chapter 19 - I don鈥檛 like this plan

    Thane watched as the last group disappeared over the ridge, their forms fading into the sprawling valley below. The crisp morning air bit at his face, but he hardly noticed. His sharp eyes lingered on the horizon, scanning the treeline as if searching for some lingering doubt about the task ahead.


    A faint sound of crunching snow pulled his attention. Without turning, he spoke. ¡°You always did like sneaking up on people, Striker Torren.¡±


    From the shadows of the nearby tree line, Torren emerged, his imposing figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the snow-covered terrain. His cloak, dusted with frost, hung heavily over his broad shoulders, and his ever-serious expression gave him the air of a predator lying in wait.


    ¡°Thane,¡± Torren greeted with a curt nod, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of weariness.


    ¡°How many didn¡¯t make it to the top?¡± Thane asked, crossing his arms over his chest.


    Torren¡¯s jaw tightened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of frustration and resignation. ¡°One group. A bear got them. They were too loud, too careless.¡± He paused for a beat, then added, ¡°gruesome sight.¡±


    Thane let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a faint, sad smile. ¡°Pity,¡± he said quietly, his voice tinged with genuine regret. ¡°But that¡¯s what this is for, after all.¡±


    Torren nodded, his expression dark. ¡°We have a strong batch this year,¡± he admitted. ¡°Their clans and families have been pushing them harder than ever. Hungry for power, for prestige. Forcing their children to become stronger, faster, better¡­ at any cost.¡± His voice dropped, heavy with disdain. ¡°It makes me sick.¡±


    Thane glanced at him, his usually calm demeanor shifting ever so slightly. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what we¡¯re doing, isn¡¯t it? Turning them into tools. Just like we were.¡±


    Torren snorted, a sound that was equal parts bitter and resigned. ¡°Exactly. Makes me sick,¡± he repeated, his voice sharper this time.


    There was a moment of silence between them, the wind whistling softly through the trees. Thane shifted his weight, his boots crunching against the snow as he turned to fully face Torren.


    ¡°Speaking of clans and their hunger for power,¡± Thane began, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, ¡°The Dranenfelds clan have been making moves. They want to solidify their bloodline, and it seems they¡¯ve found a way to do it.¡±


    Torren¡¯s brow furrowed, his sharp features darkening. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Little Aaron has been betrothed to Rea Valerant,¡± Thane said simply. ¡°They¡¯re trying to create a new bloodline, merging their abilities. The Drakenfelds have been talking about it for years, and now they¡¯ve finally pulled the strings to make it happen. If they can merge the Valerants venom blood with their drakenform¡­. No one will be able to oppose them.¡±


    Torren let out a low growl, his disdain for the politics of the clans clear. ¡°Of course they have. Aaron¡¯s arrogance makes sense now¡ªhe¡¯s playing the part of the future heir to some perfect bloodline.¡± He scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°Rea doesn¡¯t strike me as the type to go along with something like that willingly.¡±


    Thane shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s young. She might not have a choice. The Valerants have been losing their standing, and this alliance could secure their future. A marriage like this isn¡¯t about the individuals involved¡ªit¡¯s about the power it brings to their clans.¡±


    Torren¡¯s expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. ¡°It disgusts me. Using children like pawns, breeding them like cattle for abilities they don¡¯t even understand yet.¡±


    Thane nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. ¡°That¡¯s the world we live in, Torren. And it¡¯s the world we¡¯re training them to survive in.¡±


    Torren exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it.¡±


    Thane glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°No. But it does mean you have to teach them to play the game better than anyone else.¡±


    Torren snorted again, shaking his head as he turned to leave. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope they don¡¯t end up like us.¡±


    Thane watched him go, his expression unreadable. The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint echoes of voices from the valley below. He straightened his posture, his sharp gaze narrowing as he turned back toward the summit.


    ¡°Like us,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the wind. ¡°Or worse.¡±


    ***


    Atlas crouched low, he studied the Direfang Lynx lounging ahead. The beast lay half-buried in the snow, its sleek silver coat blending seamlessly with the frosty landscape. Its sharp teeth glinted in the weak sunlight as it breathed steadily, its sides rising and falling in a deceptive rhythm of calm. Despite its relatively small size¡ªit barely reached the height of his knees¡ªthe air around it seemed to ripple faintly with mana. It seemed to glow a slight reddish black colour. The sheer presence of the beast made Atlas¡¯s stomach tighten.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    To his left, Kara and Marcus had already moved into position, flanking the creature from the side. Their dark forms were barely visible among the snow-covered trees, and he knew they were waiting for his signal to move. That thought did little to settle the growing sense of dread in his chest.


    He had decided, after much internal debate, that he hated this plan. Absolutely despised it. Why the hell did he have to be the bait?


    Atlas shifted his weight slightly, his boots crunching softly against the snow as he prepared himself. His golden eyes flicked back to the lynx, its ears twitching occasionally as it rested. He cursed his own skills¡ªnot for the first time. If he hadn¡¯t pushed himself so hard on the obstacle course, trying to prove a point, maybe Kara wouldn¡¯t have pegged him as the fastest in the group.


    ¡°Curse my luck,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible even to himself. ¡°And curse Kara for coming up with this plan.¡±


    The lynx¡¯s tail flicked lazily, its body stretched out as if it had nothing to fear. Atlas clenched his fists, steadying his breathing. He knew better than to underestimate it. A mana beast wasn¡¯t just strong¡ªit was intelligent, cunning. Even in its apparent relaxation, it was probably aware of every sound, every movement within its territory.


    Atlas tightened his grip on his sword. It didn¡¯t feel very reassuring, especially after he had dropped it in his previous fight. The Falcrest Sword Art was built for precision and percussive strikes, not outright brute force. But it was all he had. Well, that and his legs, which he was about to test in ways he never wanted to.


    Up ahead, the lynx¡¯s ears flicked again, its muscles tensing ever so slightly as its head lifted. The beast¡¯s glowing yellow eyes scanned the treeline, its body going unnervingly still.


    Atlas¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Shit,¡± he whispered, freezing in place. Had it noticed him? The plan was for him to create a distraction after Marcus and Kara were ready, not before.


    The lynx¡¯s gaze swept over his position but then moved on, settling back into its relaxed posture. Its tail flicked again, almost lazily, as if mocking him. Atlas let out a slow breath, his chest still tight.


    He didn¡¯t want to do this, but he didn¡¯t have a choice. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword, his body coiled and ready to spring. He counted down in his head.


    Three¡­ two¡­ one.


    Atlas raised his sword, tilting it just enough for the sun to catch the polished blade and reflect a sharp glint of light directly into the lynx¡¯s eyes.


    The beast stirred, its pointed ears twitching as it lifted its head from the snow. It stood slowly, its sleek body uncoiling like a spring as it scanned the tree line. Atlas crouched low, his heart pounding as the lynx¡¯s piercing yellow eyes swept the forest.


    Come on, you bastard,


    He twisted the blade slightly, making the reflected light dance between the lynx¡¯s eyes. The beast growled low, the sound vibrating through the still air, its tail flicking in irritation. It began to prowl forward, its muscles rippling under its thick fur.


    Atlas felt his pulse quicken. His mana coursed through his body, sharpening his senses, but the heightened awareness only made the lynx seem more menacing. Its claws glinted like polished steel, and its fangs, visible even with its mouth closed, looked long enough to tear through his wiry frame with ease.


    He adjusted the angle of his sword again, this time directing the light down onto the snow. The lynx hesitated, its gaze following the flicker of light as it danced along the frosty ground. For a fleeting moment, Atlas thought it might work. The lynx¡¯s head tilted, its ears perked forward, and it leapt toward the shifting light like a playful cat. He kept moving the light and the lynx chased it through the snow, clearly enjoying itself. Atlas wanted to aswell, he began to relax as he watched in silence.


    But then it froze and so did he.


    The lynx¡¯s fur bristled, its tail going rigid as its nose lifted to the air. A deep inhale followed, the sound sharp and deliberate. Atlas¡¯s stomach dropped.


    He looked past the lynx, and there, creeping along the snow-covered path, was Kara. She had almost reached the base of the tree where the cache was stashed in the branches. Her movements were careful, deliberate, but now she was frozen in place, her wide eyes locked on the lynx.


    Damn it all, Atlas thought, his heart hammering in his chest.


    The lynx turned its head slowly. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and the air seemed to thicken with tension.


    ¡°Over here, you fur ball fuck!¡± Atlas shouted, standing up from his crouch.


    Time for plan B.


    The lynx¡¯s ears snapped forward, and its head whipped around to face him. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate, its gaze narrowing as though weighing its options. Then, to Atlas¡¯s horror, it bared its teeth in what looked unsettlingly like a grin. Without warning, it lunged.


    Atlas didn¡¯t wait to see more. He turned and ran, weaving between the trees as fast as his legs would carry him. He bit back the urge to scream, knowing he¡¯d never live it down if this plan actually worked. The sound of the lynx¡¯s paws crunching in the snow grew louder behind him, each thud a reminder of how close it was.


    Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, stupid plan.


    The icy wind stung his face as he pushed himself harder, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He could feel the lynx gaining on him, its speed relentless. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn and fight, but he knew that wasn¡¯t the plan. If he stopped now, he wouldn¡¯t last long enough to give Kara and Marcus the time they needed.


    He burst through a cluster of trees, the branches scraping at his arms and face. Up ahead, the forest thinned, and he saw the rocky edge of the cliff they¡¯d scouted earlier. His boots slipped slightly on the icy ground as he sprinted toward it.


    The growls behind him grew louder, closer, until he could almost feel the heat of the lynx¡¯s breath on his back.


    He skidded to a halt at the cliff¡¯s edge, the snow and loose rocks tumbling over the side and disappearing into the abyss below. Atlas turned slowly, his chest heaving as he faced the beast.


    The lynx emerged from the tree line, its sleek form cutting through the snow like a predator stalking its prey. Its glowing eyes locked onto him, and it let out a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down his spine. Atlas¡¯s grip tightened on his sword.


    It¡¯s now or never.

 Chapter 20 - First spell

    Atlas steadied his breathing, feeling the mana coursing through his veins like molten fire. His hand trembled slightly as he gripped the hilt of his sword, his golden eyes fixed on the lynx before him. The beast¡¯s sleek, silver coat shimmered faintly, the reddish-black glow of its mana rippling around it like an aura of danger. It moved with a predator¡¯s grace, its claws digging into the snow as it advanced slowly, deliberately, knowing full well it had him cornered.


    Atlas¡¯s heart raced as he tried to focus. He could feel his mana responding, pulsing through him, but he couldn¡¯t make it obey. His earlier attempts to cast Wind Blade had fizzled, the spell stubbornly refusing to take shape no matter how hard he tried to form the correct pattern in his mind for the last few weeks.


    Still he tried now.


    ¡°Wind Blade,¡± he muttered, his voice low but urgent as he swung his sword, trying to force the spell to ignite.


    Nothing.


    The lynx tilted its head to the side, its sharp, intelligent eyes narrowing as if mocking him.


    ¡°Yeah, fuck you too,¡± Atlas muttered, frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°It was worth a try.¡±


    He gritted his teeth, glancing briefly behind him. The jagged cliff edge loomed dangerously close, the icy wind whipping up from the abyss below. There was no way down¡ªonly death waiting in the endless expanse of sharp rocks and white snow far beneath him. His back was literally against the wall.


    The lynx crouched low, its glowing yellow eyes locked onto him. It growled, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver crawling up his spine. Slowly, it began to circle him, its tail flicking lazily, as if savoring the moment.


    Atlas tightened his grip on his sword, his knuckles whitening. He could feel his mana swirling within him, restless and uncooperative, like a wild animal refusing to be tamed. ¡°What am I missing?¡± he muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting as he tried to force the mana into the spell form again.


    The lynx stopped circling, its gaze sharpening as its muscles coiled. Atlas saw the moment it decided to strike.


    It lunged.


    Atlas¡¯s body reacted instinctively. He raised his sword just in time, the blade catching the lynx¡¯s claws in a spray of sparks. The force of the impact jarred his arms, but he twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the full brunt of the beast¡¯s momentum. It landed gracefully, pivoting with unnerving speed to face him again, its claws leaving deep gashes in the snow.


    Atlas stepped back, his boots skidding slightly as he dropped into a lower stance. The lynx growled again, its eyes gleaming with a predatory light. It circled him once more, its movements slow and deliberate, forcing him to edge closer and closer to the cliff. His stomach tightened as he felt the icy void behind him.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, glancing quickly to the side. He couldn¡¯t see Kara or Marcus from his position, but he knew they were out there, moving toward the cache. He just needed to buy them a little more time.


    The lynx crouched low, its body rippling with mana as it prepared to pounce again. Atlas¡¯s pulse thundered in his ears, his muscles coiling as he braced himself.


    The beast lunged.


    This time, it didn¡¯t leap fully into the air, instead keeping low and swiping at him with its claws. Atlas parried the first strike with his sword, sparks flying as metal met mana-infused bone. The force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his heels scraping against the edge of the cliff. He staggered, barely keeping his balance, and the lynx pressed forward, its claws striking again and again with relentless speed.


    Atlas grunted, sweat beading on his brow despite the cold. The beast wasn¡¯t giving him an inch of breathing room. With each strike, it forced him closer to the edge, the sharp rocks below waiting like silent witnesses to his impending fall.


    Then, just as the lynx paused, its ears twitched. It seemed to notice something¡ªmovement in the trees beyond. Marcus. Atlas¡¯s heart surged with hope, but the lynx¡¯s reaction quickly smothered it.


    Finally.


    The mana around the lynx darkened, turning an ominous shade of black that seemed to sizzle in the air. Its claws began to glow with a fiery light, the snow beneath it hissing and melting as it raked the air in a terrifying display of power.


    Atlas dove to the side as a fiery slash tore through the air where he had been standing. The heat singed his face, and he rolled to his feet, his sword raised just in time to meet the beast¡¯s next strike. Sparks exploded again as their clash sent shockwaves through his arms. He was losing ground fast.


    The lynx leapt into the air, its body twisting mid-flight as it lunged at him. Atlas tried to raise his sword, but the beast was too fast. He braced himself for the impact.


    A fiery fist slammed into the lynx¡¯s side, sending it hurtling through the air and over the edge of the cliff.


    Atlas stared in shock as Marcus stepped into view, his fist still glowing with residual flames. He looked at Atlas with a big smile. ¡°Looks like I saved you again.¡±


    Time seemed to slow as the lynx twisted mid-air, its glowing eyes narrowing as it turned its head to lock onto Marcus.


    The beast tumbled toward the edge of the cliff. But as it reached the edge, its claws lashed out, snagging Marcus¡¯s leg.


    Marcus screamed, the sound tearing through the air as he was yanked off his feet. His body slid toward the edge, his fingers scrambling for purchase in the snow. The lynx hung precariously, its claws digging into Marcus¡¯s leg as it tried to pull itself back up.


    Atlas didn¡¯t think. He lunged forward, grabbing Marcus¡¯s outstretched hand just as the boy¡¯s body slid fully over the edge. The weight of Marcus and the lynx nearly pulled him off balance, but he dug his sword into the snow, his muscles straining as he held on with everything he had.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let go!¡± Marcus pleaded, his voice thick with pain and fear. Blood dripped from his leg where the lynx¡¯s claws had pierced his flesh and down onto the face of the lynx.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you!¡± Atlas grunted, his voice strained as he fought to keep his grip. He slipped slightly in the snow, and he could feel the pull of gravity threatening to drag them both over the edge.


    The lynx let out a furious growl, its claws digging deeper into Marcus¡¯s leg as it tried to climb back up. Marcus cried out in agony, his free hand clawing at the snow in desperation.


    Atlas¡¯s mind raced. He couldn¡¯t hold on much longer. His muscles burned, his fingers numb from the cold and the strain. ¡°Kara!¡± he shouted, his voice hoarse. ¡°I need you!¡±


    Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he clung to Marcus¡¯s hand, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of panic and determination. He couldn¡¯t let go. He wouldn¡¯t let go. Not now. Not after everything.


    Atlas¡¯s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as he clung to Marcus¡¯s hand, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. His golden eyes flicked to his sword, he was holding on for all he could, its hilt catching the faint glint of sunlight. The lynx dangled by a single claw, its fierce yellow eyes glaring up at him, its growls vibrating through the icy air.


    He didn¡¯t have time to think. He didn¡¯t have the luxury to hesitate.


    With a growl of determination, Atlas pulled the sword from the ground. The movement sent him sliding slightly closer to the edge, his shoulder jamming painfully into a jagged rock that kept him from tumbling over entirely.


    Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He could feel his mana surging through him, desperate and wild, like a caged animal clawing to be let loose. It fueled his strength, but it also burned, leaving his arms trembling under the strain.


    He raised the sword, angling it toward the lynx, but the beast was just out of reach. Its claws scraped against the icy edge of the cliff as it tried to pull itself up, dragging Marcus closer to the abyss with each passing second.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Atlas hissed through gritted teeth. He tightened his grip on Marcus, his knuckles white as he glanced down at the beast. The lynx¡¯s powerful muscles rippled as it clung to life, its glowing claws digging into the rock with terrifying precision.


    Atlas tried to force his mana into the sword, willing it to respond. He muttered the words under his breath, his voice shaky but filled with raw desperation. ¡°Wind Slash.¡±


    Nothing.


    His heart sank, but he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t stop. ¡°Wind Slash!¡± he barked again, his voice louder this time, but still, the spell refused to take shape. His mana twisted and coiled within him, stubborn and unyielding, as if mocking his efforts.


    He glanced back at Marcus, whose pale face was slick with sweat. Blood seeped from the gashes in his leg. His green eyes met Atlas¡¯s, wide with fear but also filled with unspoken trust.


    ¡°Atlas,¡± Marcus gasped, his voice barely audible, ¡°don¡¯t let go.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Atlas growled, his resolve hardening. He looked back at the lynx, its growls growing more frantic as it struggled to maintain its grip. If he let go they would both fall down.


    But no. He couldn¡¯t. Marcus had saved him¡ªtwice now. Letting go wasn¡¯t an option.


    Atlas gritted his teeth, his mana surging violently within him. He focused on the pattern for the spell, his mind forcing it to take shape even as his body threatened to give out. ¡°Wind Slash,¡± he muttered again, his voice cracking.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Please,¡± he whispered, his voice trembling with frustration and desperation. ¡°Please just work.¡±


    He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his fingers numb from the cold. ¡°Wind Slash,¡± he said again, louder this time, his voice echoing against the cliffside.


    He felt it¡ªa faint ripple of air, barely noticeable but there. It wasn¡¯t enough. He needed more. He needed everything.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Atlas roared, his golden eyes blazing as he poured every ounce of his mana into the pattern. The air around him seemed to hum, vibrating with raw energy. His vision blurred at the edges, his body teetering on the brink of collapse. But he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°WIND SLASH!¡± he screamed, his voice breaking with the force of his desperation.


    Something clicked. The pattern snapped into place, and his mana surged forward like a tidal wave, ravenous and unrelenting. The sword in his hand thrummed with energy, the air around it shimmering as the spell finally ignited.


    He swung the blade with all his strength, feeling the drain of his mana as a crescent-shaped arc of wind erupted from the sword. The force of it was immediate, slicing through the air faster than Atlas could track. The spell¡¯s power reverberated through him, leaving his body trembling and hollow.


    For a brief, heart-stopping moment, he felt Marcus¡¯s weight lessen, and his stomach dropped. He thought he had lost him. He thought he had failed.


    But then he saw it. The lynx fell, its claws scrabbling at the air as it plummeted into the snowy abyss below. Its roar echoed against the cliffside, a sorrowful, haunting sound that faded into silence as it disappeared from view.


    Atlas released the sword, letting it clatter to the ground as he lunged forward with his free hand. His fingers latched onto Marcus¡¯s wrist, gripping him tightly as he pulled with every ounce of strength he had left.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Atlas grunted, his voice raw with exertion. His boots scraped against the icy ground, his shoulders screaming in protest as he hauled Marcus upward, inch by agonizing inch.


    Marcus¡¯s weight was dead, his body slack from pain and exhaustion. Blood dripped from his leg, leaving dark stains in the snow, but his eyes were still open, still watching Atlas with a mixture of fear and hope.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± Atlas growled, his muscles burning as he gave one final pull.


    With a guttural cry, Atlas yanked Marcus over the edge, collapsing onto his back in the snow as Marcus rolled to safety beside him. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the gray sky, his chest heaving as his body screamed in protest.


    Marcus groaned, his voice weak but alive. ¡°You¡­ you did it.¡±


    Atlas turned his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the exhaustion weighing him down. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I told you I wouldn¡¯t let go.¡±


    The wind howled around them, carrying with it the distant echoes of the lynx¡¯s final roar. Atlas closed his eyes, his body aching but his heart steady. For now, they were safe.


    ***


    Torren crouched silently on a thick tree branch, his sharp eyes fixed on the two boys sprawled near the cliff¡¯s edge. The faint wind tugged at his cloak, carrying with it the faint scent of blood and sweat. Below him, Atlas and Marcus lay motionless, as they recovered from their first proper near-death encounter. Neither of them seemed aware of their surroundings, too consumed by exhaustion to notice anything else.


    Torren¡¯s lips curved into a faint smirk.


    How interesting


    He had been watching them for a while now, shadowing their progress through the trees. He had seen the fight, the desperate gamble, and the sheer willpower it had taken to pull off that Wind Slash. Atlas had barely managed it, but he had. That determination, reckless and raw, had caught Torren¡¯s attention.


    His gaze lingered on Atlas for a moment longer. There was something different about that boy¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t quite place yet.


    Is that what it means to be Remalion


    He was unpolished, yes, but full of potential.


    Marcus, too, had impressed him. The boy¡¯s instincts and physical strength were exceptional, and his courage in leaping into the fray to save his companion showed a kind of loyalty Torren rarely saw among students. Together, they made an intriguing pair.


    Still, their carelessness now was inexcusable. Lying exposed by the edge of a cliff, oblivious to the dangers around them¡­ it would have been the perfect moment for a predator to strike again. But Torren couldn¡¯t fault them. They were young, inexperienced, and drained from their ordeal. Even so, he made a mental note to remind them later that survival required vigilance, even in moments of respite.


    With a final glance at the two boys, Torren¡¯s smirk faded into something more neutral. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can keep this up,¡± he murmured.


    And with that, he stepped backward into the shadows of the canopy. His figure melted into the darkness, his presence vanishing as if he had never been there at all.

 Chapter 21 - The making of Blades

    Atlas slumped back against the jagged rocks, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The sharp chill of the cliffside bit into his skin, but the ache in his muscles and the throbbing in his arms drowned out everything else. Beside him, Marcus sat propped against a boulder, his face pale and twisted in pain. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandages Atlas had wrapped around his leg, the deep gashes from the lynx''s claws still fresh and angry.


    "Hold still," Atlas muttered, leaning forward to tighten the bandage. His hands were steady despite his exhaustion, but the frigid air made his fingers feel stiff and clumsy. "This''ll hold for now. I''m not exactly great at stitching yet, but it should stop the bleeding until we get back to Kara."


    Marcus winced as Atlas pulled the fabric taut, but he managed a weak smile. "Well, at least you''re good for something," he tried to teased, his voice strained but light.


    Atlas chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. I save your life, and this is the thanks I get. Next time, maybe I''ll just let you fall."


    Marcus laughed despite himself, the sound rough but genuine. "You''d never let me fall. You''re too much of a bleeding heart."


    "True," Atlas admitted with a grin, sitting back on his heels. "But don''t get used to it. This whole ''saving your ass'' thing is a one-time deal."


    They both laughed then, the tension of the fight and near-death experience easing just slightly. It wasn''t much, but it was enough to remind them that they were still alive. Still breathing.


    Atlas pushed himself to his feet, offering Marcus a hand. "Come on. We need to find Kara and get out of here before something else decides we look like lunch."


    Marcus groaned but took his hand, leaning heavily on him as they started back into the forest. Their steps were slow, their bodies worn down by the fight and the climb before it. The shadows of the trees stretched long across the snowy ground, the faint light of the fading day filtering through the canopy above.


    Atlas kept his eyes sharp, his hand holding onto his sword. He couldn''t shake the feeling that they were still being watched, though whether by another predator or just the lingering specter of the lynx they had faced, he couldn''t tell.


    They hadn''t gone far when a sharp, high-pitched sound cut through the quiet. A scream.


    Atlas froze, his head snapping toward the direction of the sound. His heart skipped a beat as he exchanged a wide-eyed look with Marcus.


    "That was Kara," Marcus said, his voice tight with alarm.


    Without another word, they both took off, adrenaline surging through their battered bodies as they pushed through the underbrush. Branches scratched at their arms and faces, the snow crunching loudly beneath their boots. Atlas''s mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each more horrific than the last. What if it was another lynx? Or worse?


    They broke into a clearing, and Atlas skidded to a halt, his breath coming in short bursts. His eyes darted around, scanning for the source of the scream, expecting to see Kara in danger.


    What he saw instead made him blink in confusion.


    Kara stood in the middle of the clearing, unharmed and holding the cache of supplies strapped securely to her back. She was crouched low, her black hair falling over her face as she cradled something small and gray in her arms. Her lips were curved into a soft smile, and her usually serious eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like delight.


    "Kara?" Marcus called out, his voice laced with confusion and caution as he limped into the clearing beside Atlas. "What¡­ what is that?"


    Kara looked up at them, her smile widening slightly. "It''s a baby lynx," she said simply, her voice soft and almost tender.


    Atlas blinked again, certain he had misheard. "A what?"


    She stood slowly, turning to face them fully. In her arms was a small lynx, its sleek silver fur glinting faintly in the light. Its eyes were closed, and its chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. It looked impossibly peaceful, entirely at odds with the massive beast they had just fought.


    "It must''ve been nearby when we¡­ when you killed its parent," Kara said, her voice faltering slightly at the end. She looked down at the cub, her fingers gently stroking the soft fur on its head. "I found it crying in the snow. It must''ve been scared."


    Atlas and Marcus stared at her, dumbfounded. Of all the things they had expected to find, this was not it.


    "Kara," Marcus started, his tone cautious, "you do realize that''s a mana beast, right? A dangerous mana beast."


    Kara shrugged, her grip on the cub tightening slightly as though to protect it. "Not right now, it''s not. It''s just a baby."


    Atlas ran a hand through his hair, his golden eyes wide as he tried to process the scene in front of him. "You screamed," he said finally, his voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "We thought you were being attacked!"


    "I didn''t scream," Kara replied, frowning slightly. "I¡­ I might have gasped. It startled me when I found it. But I wasn''t in danger."


    Atlas let out a long, slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable. I almost gave myself a heart attack rushing over here, and you''re just¡­ cuddling a baby lynx?"


    Kara didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she looked back down at the cub, her expression softening once more. "It''s just a baby," she repeated quietly. "It didn''t ask for this."


    Marcus groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "What are you planning to do with it, Kara? You can''t just¡­ keep it."


    "I wasn''t planning to," she said defensively. "I just¡­ I didn''t want to leave it out here alone. It wouldn''t survive on its own."


    Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus, his lips twitching into a faint, incredulous smile despite himself. "You''re something else, Kara," he said, shaking his head.


    Kara ignored him, her focus entirely on the cub. She adjusted the supplies on her back and started walking toward them. "Come on. We need to keep moving before it gets dark."


    Atlas sighed, falling into step beside her as they made their way back through the forest. The cub didn''t stir, its small body nestled comfortably in Kara''s arms.


    As they walked, Atlas couldn''t help but glance at her every so often, his mind still grappling with what had just happened. He didn''t understand Kara, not fully, but in that moment, he couldn''t help but admire her.


    Only she could find a baby mana beast and decide to protect it.


    The climb back up the mountain was grueling. Atlas''s legs burned with every step, his muscles screaming in protest after the exhausting encounter with the lynx and the near-disastrous cliffside rescue. Marcus, his leg now stitched up by Kara, hobbled along with gritted teeth, his usual swagger subdued by pain. Kara, ever composed, carried the baby lynx in one arm while adjusting the cache of supplies strapped securely to her back with the other.


    They hadn''t stopped to dig through the supplies. Every second counted in a race like this, and they all agreed silently that reaching the summit before the others was the priority. The thought of being one of the last groups to arrive¡ªinjured, battered, and with only a fraction of their energy left¡ªwasn''t something any of them wanted to risk.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The sun climbed higher in the sky as they trudged upward, its light doing little to offset the biting cold of the mountain. By the time they neared the peak, the midday sun cast sharp shadows across the snow, and all three of them were running on fumes. Atlas felt his breath rasping in his chest, his scarf damp with sweat and frost as the mountain''s summit finally came into view.


    They staggered into the clearing, the cabins ahead a welcome sight. Atlas glanced around, his heart sinking slightly when he saw Seth''s group standing off to the side, already unpacked and chatting among themselves. Seth caught Atlas''s eye and gave him a grin, lifting his hand in a casual wave.


    "Second place," Marcus muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion as he dropped his pack unceremoniously onto the snow. "Could''ve been worse."


    "Could''ve been first," Atlas replied, collapsing onto the ground beside him. He shot a half-hearted glare at Seth, who merely shrugged in amusement before turning back to his group.


    Kara knelt a short distance away, lowering the cache to the ground and carefully adjusting the baby lynx in her lap. The creature stirred slightly but didn''t wake, its small body curling into the warmth of her arms.


    The Nightblade stepped forward from one of the cabins, his voice cutting through the murmur of the gathered students. "Those of you who''ve arrived, return to your cabins and await further instructions. Go through your supplies, get some rest, and prepare for what''s to come. You''ve earned it."


    Atlas didn''t need to be told twice. He hauled himself to his feet, groaning as his tired muscles protested the movement. "Come on," he said to Marcus and Kara, jerking his head toward their assigned cabin. "Let''s see what we''ve got."


    The three of them shuffled inside, the warmth of the small fire in the hearth immediately easing some of the tension in their bodies. Marcus slumped against the wall, his injured leg stretched out in front of him, while Kara settled cross-legged on the floor, the lynx still cradled in her lap. Atlas dropped down beside her, reaching for the cache.


    The bundle was tightly secured with thick rope, the knot stiff from the cold. Atlas worked at it for a moment before finally managing to loosen it, the contents spilling out onto the wooden floor between them. They each stared at the pile in silence for a moment, taking stock.


    There were more ration bars than Atlas had expected, along with several small pouches of dried fruit and nuts. A few sealed water skins were included, their surfaces frosted over from the cold. There was also a compact cooking set, a bundle of fire-starting materials, and a handful of basic medical supplies¡ªbandages, a small vial of antiseptic, and even a needle and thread for stitching wounds, also some ointments that Kara said speed up healing effects.


    "Not bad," Marcus said, his voice breaking the silence as he reached for one of the ration bars. He unwrapped it and took a bite, grimacing slightly at the taste but chewing it down regardless.


    "Better than I thought," Kara agreed, her voice soft as she examined one of the water skins. She set it aside and began organizing the supplies into neat piles, her movements methodical. The lynx stirred in her lap again, letting out a small, sleepy sound that made her smile.


    Atlas grabbed one of the ration bars for himself, peeling back the wrapper and taking a bite. The taste was bland and dry, but it was food, and after everything they''d been through, he wasn''t about to complain.


    "Still can''t believe you picked up that thing," Marcus said, nodding toward the lynx as he leaned back against the wall. "You realize it''s probably going to grow up and try to eat us one day, right?"


    Kara gave him a pointed look, her expression calm but firm. "It''s just a baby," she said simply. "It didn''t choose to be born into this."


    Atlas snorted, shaking his head. "Well, as long as it doesn''t claw my face off in the middle of the night, I guess I can live with it."


    Kara''s lips twitched into a faint smile. "I''ll make sure it doesn''t."


    They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the three of them sorting through the supplies and making quiet observations about what they had and what they might need in the days to come. Despite the exhaustion and the lingering tension from their earlier ordeal, there was a sense of accomplishment in the air¡ªa shared understanding that they had survived, that they had made it through the first challenge together.


    As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow outside, Atlas leaned back against the wall, his golden eyes flicking to Kara and the lynx in her lap. The small creature stretched slightly, letting out a tiny yawn before curling back into a ball.


    "Think we should name it?" he asked, his tone light but curious.


    Kara looked down at the lynx, her expression softening. "Maybe," she said after a moment. "But not yet. Let''s see if it decides to stick around first."


    Atlas grinned, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Fair enough."


    The sharp knock at the cabin door echoed through the small space, interrupting the quiet hum of conversation. Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus, who raised an eyebrow but didn''t move. Kara, still sitting cross-legged with the baby lynx asleep in her lap, gave a small shrug.


    "I''ll get it," Atlas muttered, pushing himself to his feet. His body still ached from the climb and the fight, but he ignored the stiffness as he made his way to the door. Pulling it open, he was met by Rea, her blonde hair catching the light of the fading sun behind her. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression composed but firm.


    "We''re all being called to the peak," she said simply, her voice carrying the clipped efficiency of someone delivering a message. "The Nightblade wants everyone there now."


    Atlas nodded awkwardly, his gaze flicking to the side as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Got it. Thanks."


    Rea hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if she wanted to say more. But instead, she turned and walked away, her boots crunching softly against the snow as she disappeared down the path. Atlas watched her go for a moment before shutting the door.


    "Well, you heard her," he said, turning back to Marcus and Kara. "We''re being summoned."


    Kara sighed, carefully shifting the lynx from her lap onto a makeshift bed of folded blankets in the corner. The small creature stirred but didn''t wake, its tiny body curling into a tighter ball. "We should leave it here," she said softly, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "It''ll be safer."


    Marcus grunted as he pushed himself up, favoring his injured leg. "Hope it doesn''t tear up the cabin while we''re gone," he muttered, grabbing his coat and throwing it over his shoulders.


    Atlas chuckled lightly, pulling on his own gear as they stepped out into the cold. The air was sharp, biting at their faces as they trudged up the path toward the peak. The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting long shadows across the snow-covered mountain. Other groups were making their way up as well, their figures dark silhouettes against the golden light.


    By the time they reached the top, the entire cohort had gathered, their breath visible in the frigid air as they huddled together for warmth. Atlas scanned the crowd, spotting familiar faces¡ªSeth, standing with his usual grin, Rea beside him looking composed as always, and Aaron further back, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.


    At the center of the gathering stood Striker Thane, his dark cloak billowing slightly in the wind. His sharp features were illuminated by the last rays of sunlight, and his piercing gaze swept over the assembled students with an air of quiet authority.


    "Sit," he commanded, his voice cutting through the murmur of voices. The students obeyed, lowering themselves onto the cold ground in a loose semicircle around him. Atlas settled between Marcus and Kara, his golden eyes fixed on the Nightblade.


    Thane didn''t speak immediately. Instead, he turned toward the edge of the peak, his back to the students as he gestured out toward the horizon. The view was breathtaking¡ªsprawling mountain ranges stretching endlessly into the distance, their snow-capped peaks glowing in the golden light. Beyond them, the land flattened into vast plains, the faint outline of forests and rivers visible even from this height.


    "All of this," Thane began, his voice low but steady, "is Draegar. Your nation. Your land." He turned back to face them, his expression unreadable. "This is what you are being forged to protect. To fight for. To die for, if necessary."


    The weight of his words settled heavily over the group. Atlas felt a shiver run down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He glanced at Marcus, who was staring intently at Thane, his jaw tight. Kara''s expression was harder to read, but her dark eyes were fixed on the horizon, a faint furrow in her brow.


    "Look at it," Thane continued, his voice growing stronger. "Take it in. This is your home. Your people live down there, in those valleys and plains. They depend on us¡ªon you¡ªto keep them safe. To ensure that their lives can be lived in peace."


    He paused, letting the silence stretch as the students stared out at the sprawling expanse of Draegar. The land seemed endless, a reminder of the responsibility they were being trained to shoulder.


    "This is not a game," Thane said, his tone sharp as he turned his gaze back to them. "Every lesson, every trial, every hardship you endure here is meant to shape you into what this nation needs. You are not here for yourselves. You are here for Draegar. Remember that."


    Atlas swallowed hard, the weight of Thane''s words pressing down on him like a physical force. He looked out at the horizon, the vastness of the land both beautiful and intimidating. For a moment, he wondered if he was truly ready for this¡ªif any of them were.


    "You will remain here," Thane said finally, his voice softer now. "Sit. Look. Think. Understand why you are here, why you were chosen, and what it means to bear this responsibility. On what it means to be a Blade."


    With that, he stepped back, his gaze lingering on the group for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, disappearing down the path without another word.


    The students sat in silence, the weight of Thane''s message hanging heavily in the cold mountain air. Atlas pulled his scarf higher over his face and covering his burn mark, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon as he tried to process everything.


    The planes stretched out below.


    I wonder what it''s like down there. In the world and out of these mountains

 Chapter 22 - Rest day

    The rest of the night passed in a haze of exhaustion and quiet contemplation. They''d managed to eat small bites of the ration bars, washing them down with sips from the water skins. The healing cream Kara had found among their supplies had proven to be a blessing¡ªits cool, soothing touch easing the aches in their muscles and speeding the healing of their wounds. Marcus, in particular, seemed to be in much better condition after applying it to his leg. The grimace of pain that had been plastered on his face all day was finally gone, replaced by his usual smirk.


    After a while, Kara and Marcus had decided to catch up with some of the other groups. Marcus had offered to bring Atlas along, a gesture that surprised him. He could see the sincerity in the boy''s eyes, a sign that they were starting to build some semblance of camaraderie after the events of the last few days.


    But Atlas had politely declined. He wasn''t ready for that yet. Marcus and Kara might be warming up to him, but the rest of the class? They still avoided him like he carried some kind of plague.


    He didn''t mind. At least, that''s what he told himself. The truth was, the solitude gave him a chance to rest. So he stayed behind, laying on his cot with the lynx curled up on his chest.


    The small creature was warm and surprisingly light, its soft fur tickling his chin every so often as it shifted in its sleep. It had a habit of letting out tiny purring sounds, a faint vibration that oddly helped him relax.


    "You know I most likely killed your mother, right?" Atlas asked softly, his voice low to avoid disturbing the peaceful cabin.


    The lynx stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, turning its head to look up at him with those wide, curious yellow eyes. There was no judgment there, no anger¡ªjust a kind of innocent curiosity that made his chest tighten.


    "I''m sorry¡­" he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Atlas didn''t know why he''d said it. The lynx couldn''t understand him. But something about the act of apologizing felt¡­ right, even if it didn''t ease the weight pressing down on his chest.


    The last few days had been a whirlwind of survival, adrenaline, and chaos. Now that he finally had a moment to breathe, the reality of it all was catching up to him. He had killed now¡ªnot just once, but multiple times. Even if it had been mana beasts, it still didn''t sit well with him. Every swing of his sword, every moment of violence¡ªit all lingered in his mind like a stubborn shadow.


    He glanced down at the baby lynx again, its small chest rising and falling steadily as it dozed on him. Its presence didn''t make him feel better. If anything, it made the weight of what he''d done feel heavier.


    "Great," he muttered under his breath. "I''m babysitting the child of the thing I killed. That''s just¡ªperfect."


    The lynx let out a soft chirping sound, almost like it was responding to him. Atlas raised an eyebrow at it, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile despite himself.


    He let out a long breath, willing himself to push those thoughts away. Dwelling on it wasn''t going to help, and he needed to focus on something else. Something productive. His thoughts drifted to the spell he had finally managed to cast during the fight¡ªthe Wind Slash. The memory brought a small spark of pride to his chest, lifting the heaviness just slightly.


    He had done it. After weeks of trying, of practicing and failing over and over again, he had finally used it. It hadn''t been perfect¡ªfar from it¡ªbut it had worked. And for the first time in days, he felt a genuine smile pull at his lips.


    Atlas had thought his higher wind affinity would make it easy, that he''d pick up the spell quickly and effortlessly. But apparently, he wasn''t a natural genius like the other kids from the clans. They seemed to pick up new techniques and spells as easily as breathing, their progress smooth and steady. Meanwhile, Atlas had struggled every step of the way, stumbling through trial and error with nothing but sheer determination to keep him going.


    But he had done it. And that mattered.


    "You know," he said softly, glancing down at the lynx again, "I''m not as useless as everyone thinks. I figured it out. Eventually."


    The lynx let out another soft chirp, its eyes closing as it burrowed further into his chest. Atlas chuckled lightly, the sound soft and tired.


    "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured, his eyelids growing heavier as the warmth of the fire and the rhythmic sound of the lynx''s breathing lulled him into a state of calm.


    For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax, to let the weight of the last few days slip away, even if only for a little while. The world outside could wait. For now, it was just him, the fire, and the tiny lynx dozing peacefully on his chest. And that was enough.


    ***


    The next day passed in a strange rhythm, a balance of rest and quiet training. No life-threatening missions, no prowling mana beasts, just a routine meant to let them recover without letting their muscles go soft. For Atlas, it was a welcome reprieve, though the dull ache in his body from the fight and the climb lingered like a reminder of how far he still had to go.


    By midday, the sun''s warmth managed to pierce the biting cold, creating an illusion of comfort that was quickly undone by the wind. Most groups spent the time practicing in pairs or talking amongst themselves, a few even laughing¡ªtrying to pretend, perhaps, that they weren''t living on the edge of a knife. Atlas spent his morning focused on Wind Slash again, sitting cross-legged in the snow and trying to grasp the fleeting pattern of the spell. His success yesterday had been born of desperation, and though he could still feel the echo of it, recreating it was proving harder than he''d hoped.


    Kara spent the day honing her dagger techniques, her movements sharp and deliberate, while Marcus tested his limits, after his injury as he sparred with another student. The baby lynx was a near-constant shadow at Kara''s side, watching her with an almost uncanny intelligence, its silver fur gleaming in the faint sunlight.


    As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the call came. Striker Thane''s voice echoed through the air, sharp and uncompromising. "Everyone to the peak. Now."


    Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus, who grimaced but got to his feet, brushing snow from his legs. Kara didn''t say anything, just tucked the lynx into their cabin, giving it one last pat before following the others.


    The climb to the peak felt slower this time, the cold air slicing through their thin jackets and biting at their faces. By the time they reached the top, the sun was dipping lower, its golden rays painting the snow-covered mountains in hues of amber and crimson. The vast expanse of Draegar stretched out below them.


    The students gathered in silence, forming a loose semicircle at the edge of the peak. The Nightblade stood at the center, his dark cloak billowing slightly in the wind. But unlike yesterday, he didn''t speak. He didn''t offer any words of guidance or instruction. Instead, he simply pointed to the horizon, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group as if daring anyone to ask for clarification.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Atlas sat down heavily, his body still aching from the trials of the previous days. Marcus dropped beside him with a grunt, while Kara settled cross-legged on his other side. Around them, the other students sat too, their breath visible in the frigid air, their expressions ranging from curiosity to quiet frustration.


    The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. Atlas shifted slightly, adjusting his scarf and tucking his hands into his sleeves to keep them warm. He glanced at Marcus, who raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Kara''s gaze was fixed on the horizon, her face unreadable.


    The view was breathtaking. The mountains rolled endlessly into the distance, their jagged peaks glowing in the fading sunlight. Beyond them, the plains stretched out like a sea of gold, the faint outlines of rivers and forests threading through the vast expanse. It was the kind of beauty that demanded attention, that refused to be ignored.


    Atlas felt small sitting there, dwarfed by the sheer scale of it all. The land seemed endless, each mountain and valley a reminder of how much lay beyond their tiny camp on this isolated peak. And somewhere out there, people were living their lives, completely unaware of the students sitting here, being shaped into the blades meant to protect them.


    He tried to distract himself by counting the ridges in the mountains, tracing the path of the rivers with his eyes, but his thoughts kept circling back to the weight of it all. They were just kids, really. How were they supposed to be enough to protect something this vast, this infinite?


    "I don''t get it," Marcus muttered beside him, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost hesitant. "Why make us sit here? What''s the point?"


    Kara didn''t look away from the horizon. "To make us think," she said simply. "About what we''re doing here. About what we''re fighting for."


    Marcus snorted softly, his breath visible in the cold. "Yeah, well, I''m thinking, and all I''m coming up with is that this land is too damn big."


    Atlas glanced at him, then back at the view. "Maybe that''s the point," he said quietly. "To make us realize how much bigger this is than us. And how much we have to grow to even stand a chance."


    Marcus was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as he stared out at the plains. "That''s a pretty grim way of looking at it."


    "It is," Kara said, her voice calm but firm. "If we can''t handle sitting here and looking at it, how are we supposed to handle protecting it?"


    Atlas leaned back slightly, letting the cold seep into his spine as he tilted his head to look up at the sky. The stars were beginning to appear, faint pinpricks of light against the deepening blue. "It''s a lot," he admitted. "But maybe that''s the point too. To make us understand what we''re fighting for."


    Kara nodded, her gaze unwavering. "And what''s that?"


    The silence returned, but it felt different this time¡ªless heavy, more contemplative. The students sat together, their breath mingling in the cold air as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into twilight. The plains below faded into shadow, their vastness still palpable even in the growing darkness.


    Atlas closed his eyes for a moment, the chill biting at his cheeks and the tip of his nose. He thought of Midtown, of Granny Lucy and Ren, of the bustling streets and the quiet moments of warmth that had kept him going. He thought of the people living out there, in the valleys and forests and towns, and wondered how they felt, what it was like to grow up in a normal town away from the cold and poverty. Or was it just the same.


    When he opened his eyes, the stars had come out in full force, their light scattering across the sky like shards of glass. The vastness of it all¡ªthe sky, the land, the silence¡ªpressed down on him, but it didn''t feel suffocating. It felt¡­ grounding.


    For the first time, he thought he understood why the Nightblade had brought them here. Not to lecture them, not to fill their heads with words, but to let the land speak for itself. To let them feel its weight and its beauty and decide for themselves what it meant.


    And as he sat there, the cold seeping into his bones and the stars watching silently above, Atlas felt a flicker of something deep inside him. Not hope, exactly, but something close. A quiet resolve. A determination to keep going, no matter how small or unprepared he felt.


    "I''m fighting for freedom, I want the strength to stand on my own¡­ no matter what anyone thinks."


    Marcus nodded. "That must be nice. I don''t have a choice, I fight for my family. My clan."


    Kara looked pensive. "Everyone has a choice."


    Maybe¡­ but it didn''t feel like I had much of a choice about anything when I grew up in the orphanage.


    ***


    The class murmured softly among themselves, the tension of the past few days ebbing slightly as they rested. Atlas''s gaze drifted across the other students, noting the different dynamics. Aaron and Rea were locked in what looked like a heated argument, Rea''s expression sharp while Aaron gestured animatedly. Seth stood a little to the side, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile, clearly trying to mediate but not quite succeeding.


    Atlas couldn''t help but feel a flicker of curiosity. Despite their squabbles, the three of them seemed comfortable with one another, a kind of camaraderie that came from years of shared experiences. He glanced at Marcus and Kara, wondering if his own group would ever reach that level of familiarity. Maybe.


    As his eyes scanned the gathered students, a strange unease settled in his chest. The group was smaller. He frowned, counting the faces he recognized. There were gaps¡ªmissing people.


    He nudged Marcus, keeping his voice low. "Hey¡­ where''s the rest of the class? Some groups are gone."


    Marcus glanced around, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the absence. After a moment, he shrugged, leaning back on his hands. "Probably failed somewhere. If they couldn''t handle the tasks, they''re probably sent back to the academy."


    Atlas nodded slowly. That made sense. They''d been told from the beginning that not everyone would make it through the training. Still, the idea of failing¡ªnot just the task, but the whole program¡ªleft a bitter taste in his mouth. What would happen to those students now?


    Before he could dwell on it, a boy approached them. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell into his eyes and an easy grin that gave him an air of confidence. Atlas recognized him instantly¡ªRian, one of the more reserved students in their class. Despite his quieter nature, Rian was skilled, often sparring with Marcus during training sessions. He wasn''t as strong as Marcus, but his speed and precision had earned him respect.


    "Mind if I join you?" Rian asked, his voice friendly as he gestured to the spot beside Marcus.


    "Sure," Marcus said, sitting up straighter and gesturing for him to sit. "What''s up?"


    Rian dropped down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. "Not much. Just figured I''d say hi since we''ve got some downtime. Good spar earlier, by the way," he added, glancing at Marcus. "You almost had me a couple of times."


    Marcus smirked, leaning back on his hands. "Almost? Come on, I wiped the floor with you."


    Rian laughed, shaking his head. "Sure you did. Let me have my pride, alright?"


    Atlas couldn''t help but chuckle at their exchange. It was strange seeing Marcus so at ease. The boy was usually so focused and intense, but around Rian, he seemed¡­ relaxed.


    The three of them talked for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Rian asked Atlas about his experience with Wind Slash, sharing a story about his own struggles with mastering a spell.


    Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of boots crunching on snow. Striker Thane had returned, his dark cloak billowing in the cold wind as he strode into the clearing. The students fell silent, their attention snapping to him as he stopped in the center of the group.


    "You''ve had your rest," Thane began, his voice sharp and commanding. "But rest is a luxury you won''t always have. Starting tomorrow, you''ll be back in the field."


    A faint murmur rippled through the students, but Thane''s piercing gaze silenced it immediately.


    "This will not be a race," he continued. "Your mission is to each reach a disclosed destination. There, you will meet with a Lightblade who will have your next orders."


    Atlas perked up at the mention of a Lightblade. He remembered the last time he''d encountered one, the healer who had tended to his injuries after his core awakened. The memory was hazy, overshadowed by the chaos, but he hadn''t forgotten the warmth of the mana, the way it had soothed his pain and mended his wounds. It would be good to see one again. There bright mana was always nice to see. Especially after witnessing the Lynx''s darker colour.


    "You have three days to get there," Thane said, his voice cutting through Atlas''s thoughts. "No more, no less. How you make the journey is up to you and your group. Work together, plan carefully, and keep your wits about you. The wilds are unforgiving, and so am I."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Dismissed."


    The students began to disperse, their conversations picking up again as they headed toward their cabins. Atlas lingered for a moment, his mind already racing with possibilities. There was no race, no pressure to outpace the others, but that didn''t make it any less daunting. The wilds were unpredictable, and three days was a long time to survive without guidance.


    "You ready for this?" Marcus asked, clapping a hand on Atlas''s shoulder as they made their way back to their cabin.


    Atlas nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "As ready as I''ll ever be."

 Chapter 23 - A walk in the sun

    Atlas trailed behind Kara as they made their way along the snowy trail. The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on them with an intensity that was uncommon in the mountains. It was hot¡ªstifling even¡ªand for once, the biting wind that normally accompanied their days was absent. The heat wrapped around them like a heavy blanket, making every step feel sluggish and exhausting.


    Atlas had removed his scarf and outer jacket hours ago, letting them hang loosely over his shoulder. His shirt clung to his back from sweat, and he used his sleeve to wipe at his forehead. Glancing ahead, he saw Marcus walking just a few paces in front, stripped down to a chainmail undershirt that glinted faintly in the sunlight. The boy had tied his pouch securely to his waist, with another strapped to his arm, ready for quick access.


    He was leading them to their location. A small town resting lower in the mountains. Atlas hadn¡¯t heard of it before, and he had never been so low in the mountains. So he was rather excited.


    Marcus must have noticed him looking because he suddenly glanced back. His eyes caught on Atlas¡¯s neck, and his brow furrowed slightly.


    ¡°What happened there?¡± Marcus asked, pointing to his own neck as if to emphasize the question.


    Atlas immediately knew what he was referring to. He reached up instinctively, brushing his fingers against the burn mark that stretched across his neck and up onto his jawline. The scar was impossible to miss¡ªits mottled, red-and-white surface stood out starkly against his pale skin, even now, three months after it had been inflicted. No amount of healing cream or Lightblade magic had been able to erase it.


    He hated it.


    He hated the way it drew attention, hated the memories it dredged up whenever he caught a glimpse of himself in reflective surfaces. But most of all, he hated what it represented: the mistakes he¡¯d made, the people he had let down.


    The reminder hit him like a punch to the gut. Ren was fine now. He¡¯d been told that the boy had not only recovered but had also awakened his core. But the guilt hadn¡¯t gone away. It clung to him, heavy and persistent, like the scar itself.


    ¡°Sorry if that was insensitive,¡± Marcus added quickly, his tone genuinely apologetic. Kara had shot him a sharp glare, and Marcus raised his hands slightly in surrender.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Atlas said, forcing a smile. ¡°It¡¯s just a burn mark I got before I awakened my core. Apparently, a Transcendent¡¯s flames are rather¡­ potent.¡±


    Both Marcus and Kara froze in their tracks, spinning around to face him. Their wide eyes were full of disbelief, and Marcus¡¯s jaw actually dropped.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kara asked slowly, her voice carrying an edge of suspicion.


    Atlas shrugged, trying to play it off casually. ¡°Nothing much. I just got caught up in some trouble.¡±


    Marcus wasn¡¯t buying it. ¡°And a Transcendent burned you for it?¡± he asked, his fists clenching tightly.


    ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± Atlas said quickly, shaking his head. ¡°I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Got caught between a fight I had no business being a part of.¡±


    ¡°Is that right¡­¡± Kara muttered, her dark eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.


    ¡°How long ago?¡± she asked after a moment of silence.


    ¡°Just before I arrived at the academy,¡± Atlas replied, his tone deliberately neutral.


    Kara kept walking, but Atlas could tell her mind was racing. She glanced back at him, the lynx nestled in her arms as if she were holding onto an anchor. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t have happened to be in Uppertown, would it?¡± she asked suddenly, her voice sharp. ¡°Where the rogue Nightblade attacked a manor and killed the entire family?¡±


    Atlas hesitated, his expression giving him away. ¡°Maybe¡­¡±


    Kara stopped in her tracks, turning fully to face him. ¡°So, you do belong to a clan then!¡± she accused, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and triumph. ¡°I thought you were from Midtown. And a Ramelion, at that!¡±


    Marcus¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Wait, what? You¡¯re not Ramelion?¡±


    Atlas groaned inwardly. ¡°No, I am from Midtown,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I was just¡­ in the wrong place, like I said.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Kara pressed, her tone insistent.


    Atlas looked away, his cheeks flushing slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to say.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Marcus asked, his tone taking on a teasing edge.


    ¡°No reason,¡± Atlas muttered, picking up his pace to try and escape the conversation. ¡°Anyway, isn¡¯t it crazy how hot it is today? Feels like we¡¯re going to melt out here.¡±


    ¡°Atlas, my friend,¡± Marcus said, matching his stride with a sly grin. ¡°Spit it out.¡±


    Atlas paused, glancing back at him. Marcus¡¯s grin widened as he leaned in slightly, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. He knew exactly how to hit where it hurt, and Atlas could see it coming a mile away.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°We are friends, right?¡± Marcus said, his tone almost sing-song.


    Atlas groaned aloud, glaring at him. ¡°Bastard.¡±


    Kara let out a small laugh at the exchange, her hand covering her mouth as her shoulders shook. Marcus wasn¡¯t so subtle¡ªhe laughed outright, clutching his sides as he doubled over in mock amusement.


    Atlas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°You want to know why I was there? I was¡­ stealing a jacket.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Marcus asked, his laughter cutting off abruptly.


    Atlas grumbled under his breath, barely audible. ¡°I was stealing a jacket, okay?¡±


    Kara froze for a second before bursting out into laughter. It was a rare sight¡ªher cheeks flushed red, and her usually stoic demeanor gave way to genuine mirth. She tried to cover her mouth, but the sound escaped anyway, light and musical.


    Marcus didn¡¯t even try to hold back. He laughed so hard he had to brace himself against a tree, wheezing as he clutched his stomach. ¡°A jacket? You¡ªoh, gods, you¡¯re serious!¡±


    ¡°Stuff you guys,¡± Atlas grumbled, though he couldn¡¯t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. The whole situation was absurd, and he couldn¡¯t help but laugh along with them. ¡°It was a really nice jacket, okay?¡±


    Marcus wiped tears from his eyes, finally straightening up. ¡°Oh, man. You¡¯re something else, Atlas.¡±


    Kara¡¯s laughter softened into a warm smile, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. ¡°At least you¡¯re honest,¡± she said, her tone light.


    Atlas rolled his eyes, but his grin lingered. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I¡¯ll get you back for this later.¡±


    The three of them continued walking, the tension from earlier completely dissolved. The heat of the day didn¡¯t seem so unbearable anymore.


    ***


    The day dragged on uneventfully. The snow beneath their boots thinned as they descended, revealing patches of dirt and jagged rock that made it easier to find their footing. The biting cold that had accompanied them in the higher altitudes seemed to ease.


    They stopped occasionally¡ªjust long enough to rest aching legs or chew on whatever rations they had left. The taste was as bland as ever, but no one complained. The monotony of their journey was oddly welcome, a reprieve from the chaos that had marked their earlier days.


    By the second day, the wind returned with a vengeance, howling through the crags and valleys like an angry spirit. The sky grew darker as clouds gathered above, heavy and threatening. The first drops of rain were a drizzle at first, but soon it fell in earnest, soaking through their cloaks and making the rocky trail slick.


    Atlas pulled his hood tighter, though it did little to shield him. The rain was relentless, dripping into his eyes and trailing down the back of his neck. Kara clutched the lynx close to her chest, shielding the small creature as best she could with her cloak, while Marcus trudged ahead, seemingly unbothered by the weather. Atlas envied that about him¡ªhow Marcus could push forward without complaint, his steps confident and sure even in the worst conditions.


    By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in a dim, gray haze, they finally spotted the town nestled in the valley below. Relief washed over Atlas, though he didn¡¯t dare show it. His muscles burned, his clothes clung to his skin, and he was certain he¡¯d never been more miserable.


    The town wasn¡¯t much to look at. Just a cluster of stone buildings with thatched roofs, their chimneys puffing weak trails of smoke into the damp evening air. A few crooked trees dotted the edges, their bare branches swaying in the wind. It reminded Atlas of Falcrest in its simplicity, though it lacked the imposing walls and the ever-present watchfulness of the mountain city.


    They entered the town silently, their boots squelching against the cobbled path. The rain had washed away the last traces of snow, leaving the air damp and heavy. Atlas found himself glancing around, marveling at the absence of white. It felt strange¡ªunnatural, almost. He hadn¡¯t seen bare earth in what felt like forever.


    Marcus took the lead as they walked, his broad frame cutting a path through the narrow streets. The few townsfolk they passed offered only brief, curious glances before hurrying on their way, heads bowed against the rain. Atlas couldn¡¯t blame them. If he didn¡¯t have to be out here, he wouldn¡¯t be either.


    Finally, they arrived at the local tavern, a squat, sturdy building with a sign swinging above the door. The paint had long since faded, leaving only the faint outline of a frothing mug visible. Warm light spilled from the windows, and the muffled sound of conversation and clinking dishes reached their ears as they pushed through the door.


    The heat inside was immediate and glorious. Atlas let out an involuntary sigh as the warmth wrapped around him, chasing away the chill that had seeped into his bones. The tavern was small and crowded, the air thick with the smell of damp wool, roasted meat, and cheap ale. Marcus approached the barkeep, exchanging a few words before tossing a coin onto the counter. Moments later, the barkeep nodded and handed him a key.


    Their room was upstairs, small but serviceable, with a single bed and a worn sofa that looked like it had seen better days. A door off to the side led to a private bath, which was a luxury Atlas hadn¡¯t expected.


    Marcus immediately claimed the bed, throwing his pack onto it with a satisfied grin. ¡°I earned this,¡± he declared, stretching out with exaggerated ease.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Atlas muttered, rolling his eyes as he dropped onto the sofa. ¡°As long as I get the bath first.¡±


    ¡°You smell like you need it,¡± Marcus shot back with a smirk.


    Atlas ignored him, already pulling off his boots as he headed toward the bath. The small room was warm and filled with steam, a tub of hot water waiting for him like a gift from the gods. He sank into it with a groan, the heat seeping into his sore muscles and melting away the tension in his body. For the first time in days, he felt like a person again.


    The sound of the rain outside was muted here, the steady patter against the roof almost soothing. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax completely. No snow, no wind, no mana beasts lurking in the shadows. Just the warmth of the water and the faint hum of voices drifting in from the other room.


    When he finally emerged, clean and feeling like a new person, Marcus and Kara were already sharing a meal at the small table by the window. The lynx sat curled up on Kara¡¯s lap, its silver fur glinting in the firelight.


    ¡°Your turn,¡± Atlas said, nodding toward Kara.


    She gave him a small smile and stood, placing the lynx on the sofa before disappearing into the bath. Marcus glanced up at Atlas, his expression smug. ¡°Feel human again?¡±


    Atlas plopped onto the sofa, letting his head fall back with a groan. ¡°Barely. But yeah.¡±


    Marcus chuckled, sliding a bowl of stew across the table toward him. ¡°Here. Eat. You look like you¡¯re about to pass out.¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t argue. He picked up the bowl, the rich aroma making his stomach growl. As he ate, the events of the past few days began to blur in his mind, their sharp edges softened by the warmth of the room and the fullness in his belly. For now, he let himself forget the mountain, the rain, the endless walking.


    Marcus spoke up. ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll find the Lightblade. Tonight, let¡¯s just rest. The instructions were to be here by the third day, so there¡¯s no rush.¡±


    Atlas didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He stretched out on the worn sofa, pulling a blanket over himself as the warmth of the room and the gentle crackle of the fire wrapped around him. The lynx curled up at his feet, its small body rising and falling with steady breaths. With his eyes growing heavy, he allowed himself to sink into the comfort of the moment, letting the promise of rest carry him into sleep.

 Chapter 24 - Familiar face

    Atlas woke to a ball of fluff sprawled across his face, making it difficult to breathe.


    He reached up and pulled the lynx off. ¡°What the hell? Are you trying to get revenge for your mother or what?¡±


    The lynx tilted its head and gave him a funny look, as if mocking him. It didn¡¯t seem interested in replying¡ªnot that it could.


    Atlas snorted. ¡°Cute.¡±


    The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up.


    Both of his teammates were already up and dressed, standing stiffly beside someone Atlas hadn¡¯t expected to see. It was the Lightblade who had healed him months ago.


    ¡°Atlas, it¡¯s good to see you again,¡± Ambro greeted with a small smile.


    Atlas nodded groggily, wiping sleep from his eyes and pushing his messy hair back. While dropping the small lynx onto his lap. It glared at him before running over to Kara.


    ¡°Greetings, Curate Ambro.¡±


    ¡°I see you¡¯ve learned the correct terms, finally,¡± Ambro said with a light laugh.


    Atlas scratched his head, feeling a bit sheepish. It was amazing what a little bit of schooling could do. Before attending the academy, he hadn¡¯t known much of anything, let alone the ranks of Blades. But now, after a few months, he could rattle off the basics.


    For Nightblades, the lowest rank was Aspirant¡ªwhat you became after graduating from the academy. Then there were Strikers, who could lead teams and take missions on their own. Finally, there were the Reavers, the highest rank. Reavers were legends, known for surviving countless missions and proving themselves time and again. Every kid wanted to be one. Atlas was no exception.


    Lightblades followed the same structure. They also started as Aspirants, then moved up to Curates like Ambro, who had the training and experience to work in the field without supervision. The highest rank for Lightblades was Keeper, someone who had mastered healing, warding, and strategy. Keepers were often advisors to the great clans and key leaders in war councils.


    Atlas realized he¡¯d been staring and shook himself out of his thoughts. ¡°Right¡­ sorry about that. When we met, I was a little out of sorts. Kind of thought I was being locked up for good, ya know.¡±


    Ambro¡¯s smile faded slightly, his expression growing more serious. ¡°Yes, I do know.¡± His tone softened. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you in much better health.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, what are you doing here, Ambro?¡± Atlas asked.


    Ambro straightened, his expression turning more serious. ¡°From today onward, it appears I¡¯ll be your group¡¯s teacher for the next month.¡±


    That made Atlas grin. ¡°Awesome!¡±


    Ambro chuckled lightly. ¡°I¡¯ve already informed Kara and Marcus here,¡± he said, gesturing to the two standing beside him. ¡°We¡¯re short on time, which is why I¡¯ve had to come and collect you all myself. It¡¯s time to get up¡ªwe¡¯re heading out.¡±


    Atlas nodded, glancing between Kara and Marcus. He realized he was still lying in bed, half-dressed, while they were fully ready. His face heated with embarrassment.


    ¡°Right away,¡± he said quickly, jumping up and dashing toward the washroom where his clothes from the previous night were hanging.


    ¡°Atlas!¡± Kara shrieked, her voice high-pitched with indignation. ¡°You can¡¯t do that in front of a lady!¡±


    Atlas heard Marcus burst into laughter as he shut the door behind him.


    Oops. I¡¯m not used to having girls around.


    He didn¡¯t dwell on it. He grabbed his clothes and quickly got dressed, muttering under his breath about the morning starting too fast. After slipping on his boots, he splashed water on his face from the basin, the cold shocking him awake.


    He caught sight of himself in the mirror. His golden eyes stared back, sharp and reflective, while his damp auburn hair clung to his forehead. His gaze dropped to the scar that stretched from his neck up to his jaw.


    He sighed heavily, turning away, he headed back out to the others, while lifting his scarf up.


    Ambro was still waiting by the door, his patient expression unchanged. Kara stood stiffly near Marcus, her arms crossed, while Marcus looked like he was still stifling laughter.


    ¡°Good. Time to go,¡± Ambro said without preamble, turning on his heel and heading out the door.


    Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus, who just shrugged and followed after the Lightblade. Kara didn¡¯t meet Atlas¡¯s gaze as she trailed behind Marcus, her back unusually stiff.


    Alright then. Guess that was all the rest I¡¯d get,


    ***


    Ambro must have really been in a rush because he didn¡¯t let them stop, not even for a quick bite to eat.


    Atlas sighed as his stomach growled agreeably. He reached into the pouch strapped around his waist and pulled out an energy bar, tearing it open with practiced ease.


    Still tastes like cardboard, he thought, chewing reluctantly. Better than some of the stuff in Midtown though¡­ I guess.


    Jogging to catch up, he fell into step beside Ambro, who was walking briskly through the small town. The early morning buzz was in full swing¡ªthe streets were alive with activity, shopkeepers setting up stalls, and the air carrying the faint scent of freshly baked bread. The sun peeked through the clouds, the rain from the previous night leaving everything fresh and damp.


    ¡°What¡¯s the rush? Where are we going?¡± Atlas asked, his voice cutting through the bustle.


    Ambro didn¡¯t slow his pace but answered, ¡°We¡¯re heading lower down the mountain. There¡¯s a cluster of mana beasts in that area. We need to gather a few cores.¡±


    Atlas nodded thoughtfully, a flicker of excitement bubbling in his chest. Heading further down the mountain felt like progress. It felt like he was finally stepping into the ¡®real world,¡¯ leaving the cold confines of Falcrest behind. His mind wandered back to the open plains he¡¯d glimpsed from the mountain peak earlier that week.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Wouldn¡¯t it be awesome to explore it all?


    ¡°How do we get mana cores?¡± he asked, snapping back to the moment.


    Ambro gave him a pointed look. ¡°You should already know this. It¡¯s one of the first things they teach in class when discussing mana beasts.¡±


    Atlas wracked his brain, trying to recall the lesson. His memory was foggy, though, and he found himself drawing a blank. He glanced at Kara and saw her eyes widen with realization.


    ¡°Oh, damn it,¡± she muttered under her breath.


    ¡°What?¡± Marcus asked, clearly confused.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t get the core from the lynx,¡± Kara said, her tone laced with frustration.


    It clicked for Atlas. He remembered that day in class now¡ªthe one where Aaron had spent the entire lesson shooting him dirty looks and whispering to his friends.


    In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw Torren standing at the front of the classroom, his broad frame radiating authority. ¡°Every awakened beast,¡± Torren had explained, his deep voice carrying through the room, ¡°has a core. These cores can be found in different locations depending on the type of mana beast.¡±


    Atlas felt a chill as he recalled Torren¡¯s mana suddenly flaring, oppressive and dark, silencing the class instantly. It had felt like a predator sizing up its prey.


    ¡°Aaron,¡± Torren had said, his voice calm but sharp, ¡°if I have to tell you to quiet down once more¡­¡± He sighed heavily, his mana receding. ¡°Just listen. Please.¡±


    Aaron had slouched into his chair, muttering a quiet, ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Torren had continued, ¡°As I was saying, awakened beasts have mana cores. These cores fuel much of our world¡ªfrom the mana lamps we use every day to cultivation chambers. They are, without a doubt, one of the most valuable resources we possess. Without them, our society would collapse.¡±


    Snapping back to the present, Atlas groaned. ¡°Oh, damn. Marcus, why¡¯d you have to punch the lynx over the cliff? I could¡¯ve sold that for another spell.¡±


    Marcus shot him a flat look, his expression equal parts disbelief and irritation. ¡°Sure thing, buddy. Next time, I¡¯ll just let it maul your face off instead.¡±


    Atlas held up his hands. ¡°Fair.¡±


    Ambro chuckled, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. ¡°Indeed. But don¡¯t worry¡ªyou¡¯ll have plenty of chances to make up for it. We¡¯ll be collecting quite a few more today.¡±


    Marcus frowned, clearly not comforted. ¡°Wait¡­ you mean we need to fight more beasts like that lynx?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ambro replied matter-of-factly. ¡°But don¡¯t worry too much. You have a healer with you now. And by the end of this month, all of you should know the basic Mend spell.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s stomach flipped at that. On one hand, learning a spell¡ªespecially a healing spell¡ªwas massive. For Marcus or Kara, it might not seem like a big deal, but for him, it was everything.


    But on the other hand, his mind drifted back to the fight with the lynx, and a knot of unease tightened in his chest. He could still feel the sharp edge of fear from that moment, the close call that could¡¯ve easily killed him if Marcus hadn¡¯t intervened. He knew the lynx was only playing with him. Just like the woman with the daggers.


    Atlas sighed inwardly, forcing the doubts down.


    Ah, screw it. You already know you¡¯re going to do it anyway, Atlas. Stop being a wuss.


    He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and followed the group as they left the town behind.


    ***


    Atlas and the others followed Ambro as he led them further down the mountain. His pace was relentless, forcing them to jog at times to keep up. The rocky trail began to soften, patches of snow thinning until they disappeared entirely. Trees started to emerge¡ªtall, ancient trunks with branches that wove together to form a canopy overhead. The forest grew denser with each step, its air thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves.


    Atlas found himself slowing, his eyes darting around as he took in his surroundings. He had never been in a forest before. It felt alive in a way the mountains didn¡¯t, every rustling branch and distant chirp pulling at his senses.


    The group finally came to a stop in a small clearing where sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting golden patches onto the forest floor. Ambro turned to face them, his gaze sweeping over the group.


    ¡°We¡¯re far enough now,¡± he said, ¡°Before we continue, I want you all to learn something crucial. It¡¯s a skill every Blade¡ªLight or Night¡ªshould have: sensing mana.¡±


    Atlas tilted his head, curious, while Marcus and Kara exchanged a glance.


    Ambro continued, ¡°Sensing mana is the ability to extend your awareness beyond yourself, to feel the flow of energy in the environment around you. It¡¯s especially useful for locating mana beasts before they locate you.¡± His gaze sharpened. ¡°Some people have a natural talent for it. We call them sensors, and they¡¯re often used as scouts in the field.¡±


    Ambro gestured for them to sit, and they dropped to the forest floor in a loose circle. ¡°Close your eyes,¡± he instructed. ¡°Focus on your breathing first. Let the noise of the forest fade into the background.¡±


    Atlas closed his eyes, trying to ignore the damp ground beneath him. The sounds of the forest felt overwhelming at first¡ªthe chirping of birds, the rustling leaves, even the faint hum of insects. But as he focused on his breathing, slowly and steadily, the noise seemed to dim, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.


    ¡°Mana exists in all things,¡± Ambro¡¯s voice came softly. ¡°The trees, the air, the ground¡ªeven the beasts we hunt. You must quiet your mind and extend your senses outward. Feel for the subtle hum of energy in the world around you.¡±


    Atlas frowned, trying to do as instructed. He imagined reaching out, as though his awareness was a ripple in still water. But all he got was¡­ nothing. Just the same forest sounds and the faint discomfort of sitting on damp leaves.


    After an hour of trying and failing, Atlas was growing frustrated. He cracked one eye open and glanced at Marcus, who was clearly annoyed, his jaw tight as he muttered under his breath. Kara, on the other hand, had her arms crossed, her expression betraying both impatience and determination.


    Ambro, however, was patient. He walked among them, offering guidance and corrections. ¡°Don¡¯t force it,¡± he told Marcus, his tone calm. ¡°The more you push, the harder it becomes.¡±


    Another hour passed, and Atlas felt like giving up. His legs were stiff, his back ached, and his mind was blank. But just as he was about to let out a groan of frustration, something shifted.


    It was faint¡ªbarely a whisper in the back of his mind¡ªbut it was there. A presence, distant and steady, like a flicker of light in the darkness. He stilled, focusing on it, and suddenly the world seemed to open up.


    He could feel it¡ªa concentration of mana, pulsing faintly in the distance. It wasn¡¯t close, but it wasn¡¯t far either. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw the outline of a lake, the rippling water reflecting the light of an unseen sky. And there, at the water¡¯s edge, was something alive. He couldn¡¯t tell what kind of beast it was, but its mana felt vibrant, strong, and wild.


    His eyes snapped open, and his breath hitched. The forest seemed sharper now, every detail more vivid, as though the mana he¡¯d felt had left an imprint on the world around him.


    ¡°I¡­ I think I found something,¡± he said, his voice tinged with awe.


    Ambro turned to him, intrigued. ¡°Describe it.¡±


    Atlas hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a mana presence, near a lake. I can¡¯t see it, but I know it¡¯s there. It feels¡­ strong.¡±


    Ambro¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°Impressive. You¡¯ve managed to sense something on your first attempt.¡±


    Kara and Marcus looked at him, surprised. Marcus raised an eyebrow. ¡°Seriously? You got it already?¡±


    ¡°I guess,¡± Atlas said, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°It just¡­ clicked.¡±


    Ambro stepped closer, his gaze appraising. ¡°You may have a talent for this, Atlas. Sensors are rare, but their value cannot be overstated. If you develop this skill further, it could make you an excellent scout, this is a good path and something you should take into consideration and try to improve.¡±


    Atlas blinked, taken aback. He hadn¡¯t expected that. ¡°A sensor?¡± He thought about it for a moment, a small flicker of pride creeping in despite himself. ¡°That sounds¡­ kind of cool.¡±


    ¡°Kind of cool?¡± Marcus muttered, rolling his eyes. ¡°Yeah, sure. Rub it in, why don¡¯t you.¡±


    Kara huffed, her arms still crossed. ¡°Some of us are still trying, you know.¡±


    Ambro chuckled softly. ¡°Don¡¯t be discouraged. Sensing mana is a skill, one that requires practice and patience. It will come to you in time.¡±


    Atlas, however, couldn¡¯t stop thinking about what he¡¯d felt. The mana beast at the lake wasn¡¯t just an abstract presence¡ªit was real, tangible, like he could reach out and touch it. He glanced at Ambro. ¡°So, do we go after it now?¡±


    Ambro nodded, a glint of approval in his eyes. ¡°Yes. You can also lead the way.¡±


    Atlas grinned, standing a little taller. The fear of what lay ahead lingered at the edges of his mind, but for now, excitement overpowered it. He nodded for the others to follow and began leading the group.


    Marcus gave him the finger, which made him smile more.

 Chapter 25 - Lessons every Blade must learn

    Atlas led the group carefully through the thick underbrush, his senses tuned to the faint pulse of mana ahead. It wasn''t hard to follow¡ªit was like a soft beacon calling to him¡ªbut the forest around them was a different story. Every rustling branch and snapping twig sent a jolt of nervous energy through him.


    Behind him, he could hear Marcus stumbling over roots and Kara muttering under her breath as she tried to keep up. Ambro, walking with practiced ease at the rear, let out a quiet sigh. "You''re all louder than a herd of stampeding elk," he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.


    Atlas glanced over his shoulder and whispered, "Sorry! I''ll, uh, try to be quieter."


    "Do more than try," Ambro replied, his tone patient but firm. "Out here, sound carries. If there''s anything dangerous nearby, you don''t want to announce your presence."


    Atlas nodded and focused on his footing, stepping carefully to avoid the dry leaves and brittle branches scattered across the forest floor. Still, the forest unnerved him. He wasn''t used to being surrounded on all sides by trees, their towering forms blocking his view of the horizon. It felt like the shadows between the trunks were watching him, and every distant sound made his heart skip a beat.


    He was used to the mountains, where you could see for miles unless the snow was falling too heavily. This was different. The forest felt alive, its presence was surounding him.


    "Keep moving," Ambro whispered from behind, his voice a low, commanding hum. "We''re close."


    Atlas steeled himself, pushing aside his nerves. The mana presence ahead was growing stronger, more distinct. He led them around a gnarled tree and through a patch of tall ferns, the sunlight filtering down in golden streaks. Finally, they reached the edge of a clearing.


    He raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. Marcus stumbled to a halt, nearly bumping into Kara, who glared at him. Ambro stepped forward, his movements so smooth and quiet that Atlas wondered how someone could walk so naturally without making a sound.


    "There," Ambro said softly, pointing toward the center of the clearing.


    Atlas followed his finger and froze. Near the edge of a shimmering lake stood a creature that made his stomach drop.


    It was a frog¡ªat least, it looked like a frog¡ªbut it was massive, easily as tall as Atlas himself. Its slimy, mottled skin gleamed in the sunlight, shades of green and brown blending into the forest behind it. Its eyes, large and bulbous, glowed faintly with dark mana like the lynx, and its wide mouth opened slightly, revealing rows of sharp teeth.


    The beast crouched low on powerful hind legs, its body tense as it drank from the lake, unaware of their presence. Each slow, deliberate movement sent ripples through the water, and Atlas could feel the raw power radiating off it.


    "That''s a mana beast?" Marcus whispered, his voice a mix of awe and dread.


    Ambro nodded. "It''s called a Goliath Frog. Low-tier, but its size and strength make it dangerous for those unprepared. Don''t underestimate it."


    Atlas swallowed hard. The frog''s sheer size made his earlier excitement fade into a gnawing apprehension. "And we''re supposed to fight that?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the beast.


    Ambro glanced at him, his expression calm. "Yes. But not without a plan. This isn''t about charging in blindly. It''s about learning to approach mana beasts strategically."


    Kara crouched beside Marcus, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her dagger. "It doesn''t look that fast. Maybe we can surround it?"


    Ambro shook his head. "Don''t assume. Goliath Frogs are deceptively quick, especially when threatened. Their hind legs are incredibly powerful¡ªthey can leap several meters in an instant. And if it catches you with its tongue¡­" He trailed off, letting the warning hang in the air.


    Atlas''s nerves were on edge now. He clenched his fists, feeling the faint pulse of his mana core as if it were responding to the tension. "So, what''s the plan?"


    Ambro studied the beast for a moment, then turned to them. "Marcus, you''ll take point. Draw its attention but don''t engage directly. Kara, you''ll flank it from the left. Atlas¡­" He paused, his gaze steady. "Stay back at first. Use your senses to track its movements and warn the others if it tries to escape or attack."


    Atlas blinked. "Wait, I''m not fighting?"


    "You''ll fight when the time is right," Ambro said. "For now, wait for your moment."


    Marcus smirked, clearly enjoying the idea of taking the lead. "Guess I get to show off, huh?"


    "Don''t get cocky," Ambro warned. "Even low-tier mana beasts can be deadly if you''re careless."


    Kara rolled her eyes but nodded. "Got it. Flank and strike when there''s an opening."


    Atlas took a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn''t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed to be hanging back, but he trusted Ambro''s judgment. Glancing at the massive frog again, he couldn''t help but wonder if this was going to be another close call.


    At least it''s not a lynx, he thought wryly, though the thought did little to ease his nerves.


    Kara reached into the pouch strapped to her side. Atlas expected her to pull out her daggers, but instead, her hand emerged holding the baby lynx.


    "Oh, right. Forgot about that," Atlas muttered under his breath, eyeing the small creature.


    The lynx let out a soft chirp, its silver fur glinting faintly in the dappled light of the forest. Kara cradled it gently, her expression soft and hesitant as she stepped toward Ambro.


    She lowered her gaze as Ambro let out a quiet sigh. "Can you please look after him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Ambro looked at her, then at the lynx, his expression unreadable. "You¡­ want me to babysit?" he asked slowly.


    Kara nodded, still avoiding his gaze, while holding the lynx out toward him. Atlas noticed her knuckles were white, like she was struggling with the decision. Marcus, meanwhile, was already gearing up for the fight, his fists igniting in brilliant orange flames. His grin stretched ear to ear, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. Atlas, on the other hand, was fixated on the lynx.


    "Where the hell was it hiding?" Atlas muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    Ambro pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as if praying for patience. "You lot are going to be the death of me," he said finally, his voice heavy with exasperation.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What did I do?" Atlas asked, looking genuinely baffled.


    Ambro ignored him and reached out, taking the lynx from Kara''s hands. The small creature immediately squirmed, climbing up his arm with surprising agility. It perched briefly on his shoulder, sniffing at his ear, before scrambling onto his head and settling there like a smug, furry crown.


    Atlas blinked, his mouth twitching into a grin. "Is it just me, or does that thing look like it''s smiling?"


    The lynx tilted its head, its yellow eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. It was a look that sent a chill down Atlas''s spine, reminding him far too much of its mother. He shivered involuntarily.


    Ambro, for his part, didn''t seem fazed. He sighed again, the weight of resignation clear in his posture. "Fine," he said, his tone resigned. "I''ll look after it. But if you don''t come back alive, I''m keeping it."


    Kara''s lips quirked in a faint smile, and Marcus snorted, flames licking up his forearms as he smashed his fists together, sending a small burst of heat into the air. "Don''t worry, Ambro," Marcus said confidently. "We''ll be back. This''ll be quick."


    Ambro raised an eyebrow but didn''t reply. Instead, he stepped aside, giving them a clear view of the clearing and the massive frog waiting by the lake''s edge. "Go on, then. We don''t have all day."


    The three of them nodded in unison. Kara stepped forward first, and Atlas couldn''t help but marvel as shimmering tendrils of water sprouted from her back, twisting and writhing like living serpents. The translucent blue of the water glowed faintly, catching the light as it swayed in rhythm with her movements.


    "Show-off," Marcus muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. His own flames flared brighter, trailing up to his forearms as he grinned. "Let''s see how far that fancy water gets you when I''m turning this thing into a roast."


    "Try not to set the whole forest on fire while you''re at it," Kara shot back, her voice dry.


    Atlas drew his sword, the steel gleaming in the sunlight as he stepped up beside them. His grip was firm, his muscles tense with anticipation. He glanced at Marcus and Kara and gave a small nod.


    "Ready?" he asked.


    Marcus smirked. "Born ready."


    Kara''s gaze was sharp and focused as she flicked one of her water tentacles forward, the tip snapping like a whip. "Let''s do this."


    Atlas took a deep breath, the familiar weight of his sword in his hand. His nerves buzzed with a mix of excitement and apprehension, but he pushed the fear aside. They had a job to do.


    With one final glance at Ambro, who stood watching them with a faint, almost amused smile, Atlas stepped forward, leading his team into the clearing.


    Atlas stopped just inside the clearing, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword as he watched Marcus and Kara move forward. "Good luck," he whispered, though he wasn''t sure if they heard him.


    They both nodded silently. Kara withdrew her daggers, their steel glinting in the dappled light as her water tendrils coiled protectively around her.


    The frog croaked loudly, its massive, glowing eyes swiveling between the three of them. Then, without warning, its tongue snapped out, cracking through the air faster than Atlas could track. He flinched, his heart lurching as the wet snap echoed across the clearing.


    Gulping, Atlas glanced back at Ambro, who stood leaning casually against a tree. The Lightblade gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up, as if this were all a routine training exercise.


    Bloody hell¡­ Atlas thought, swallowing hard.


    Marcus''s voice broke through the tension, calm but firm. "I''ll take it head-on. Watch out for its tongue. Kara, flank it while I keep it distracted."


    Kara nodded, the watery tendrils extending from her back shifting like restless snakes. "Got it," she said, her voice steady despite the tension.


    Atlas, still standing back, couldn''t help but ask, "How long can you keep those going?"


    "I can maintain them passively for as long as I need," Kara explained, her gaze locked on the frog. "But if they break, I''ll have to reform them. That drains my mana fast."


    Marcus and Atlas both nodded. They probably should have gone over this earlier, but there hadn''t exactly been time to bond as a team. Before they could say more, the frog moved.


    It leapt from the lake''s edge with terrifying speed, its powerful legs propelling it high into the air. It landed much closer to them, the ground trembling slightly under its weight. Atlas''s stomach twisted as he took an instinctive step back.


    Shit, it just leapt higher than me.


    "Let''s do this!" Marcus shouted, his fists igniting with bright orange flames as he charged toward the beast.


    Kara let out a sigh and followed, her daggers glinting as she called back over her shoulder, "Attack when you see an opening, Atlas!"


    And just like that, the fight began.


    Marcus was the first to reach the frog. Its tongue shot out again, a blur of motion, but Marcus sidestepped with surprising agility. The tongue narrowly missed him, slamming into the dirt instead, and he used the opening to deliver a flaming punch to the side of the frog''s head. The impact sent the beast sliding back a meter, its slick skin hissing where the flames had licked it.


    The frog croaked angrily, its legs tensing. It leapt again, this time higher and faster, disappearing momentarily into the foliage above. Kara reacted immediately, her daggers slashing upward as her water tendrils lashed through the air in a wide arc, searching for the beast''s trajectory.


    The beast landed behind Marcus, its massive tongue shooting out like a whip. Marcus tried to jump back, but the tongue struck his chest, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard near the lake, letting out a groan as the flames on his hands flickered and dimmed. Shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet, his movements slower than before.


    While Marcus was recovering, the frog turned its attention to Kara. She was distracted, her gaze still fixed on Marcus to make sure he was okay.


    "Kara, look out!" Atlas shouted.


    Kara''s head snapped up just as the frog lunged at her, its front legs outstretched, ready to grab her. Atlas''s heart raced. She wasn''t ready.


    Without thinking, Atlas surged forward, feeling mana flood his muscles. He tackled Kara to the ground just in time, the frog''s claws swiping harmlessly above them both. The momentum carried them down hard, but there was no time to hesitate. Atlas scrambled to his feet, his sword already raised.


    The frog''s tongue lashed out again, aiming for him this time. He managed to deflect it with his blade, but the tongue coiled around it, pulling with surprising strength.


    "Not this time!" Atlas growled. Letting go with one hand, he reached to his side and drew the small dagger Kara had given him after he''d confessed how he''d struggled with the wolves when he''d dropped his sword. In one quick motion, he slashed the frog''s tongue.


    The frog let out a guttural croak, its glowing eyes bulging as it released his blade and jumped back, ichor dripping from the severed end of its tongue.


    Atlas quickly sheathed the dagger and gripped his sword with both hands. The frog croaked menacingly, its body tensing. He felt the shift in the air, the subtle ripple of mana as the frog prepared to leap.


    "Don''t forget about me!" Marcus''s voice rang out. Atlas barely had time to glance over before Marcus''s flaming fist connected squarely with the frog''s head.


    This time, Marcus''s flames engulfed his arms all the way to his elbows, the heat so intense Atlas could feel it even from a distance. The impact sent the frog hurtling through the air, crashing into a tree at the forest''s edge with a loud thud.


    Kara scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt off her cloak. She gave Atlas a quick nod, and despite the adrenaline coursing through him, he managed a faint, nervous smile in return.


    The frog staggered back up, its massive cheeks expanding. It tilted its head back and spat a stream of green liquid straight at Marcus. He instinctively raised his fiery arms to block, but as the liquid hit, Marcus screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground. The flames on his arms flickered weakly before fading entirely.


    Kara''s eyes widened in alarm. Without hesitation, she surged forward, her water tentacles snapping out as she closed the distance. The frog''s tongue lashed toward her, but her tendrils intercepted it, wrapping tightly around the slimy appendage. She ducked low, using the pull of her tentacles to propel herself forward even faster.


    Sliding under the frog, she raised her daggers, slashing at its vulnerable underside. The blades cut deep, but the frog leapt away mid-attack, avoiding a fatal blow. It retaliated instantly, its tongue shooting out again. Kara''s tentacles tried to shield her, but the force of the tongue''s impact shattered them, sending her crashing to the ground.


    The frog loomed over her, its cheeks puffing up as it prepared to unleash another stream of the acidic liquid. Kara lay prone, dazed from the fall, her daggers lying just out of reach.


    Atlas''s gaze darted to Marcus, who was writhing on the ground, clutching his burnt arms and cursing through gritted teeth. Kara wouldn''t survive if that attack hit her. There was no time to reach them.


    He tightened his grip on his sword, his mind racing.


    Wind Blade


    With a sharp exhale, he swung his blade, forcing his mana to surge through the weapon. The sword vibrated in his hands as condensed air gathered along the edge. The arc of wind shot forward, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.


    The frog reared back, ready to unleash its attack, but Atlas''s Wind Blade struck it across the face. The beast''s head twisted violently to the side, a deep gash appearing along its jaw. The green liquid sprayed harmlessly into the dirt beside Kara, hissing as it scorched the grass.

 Chapter 26 - Team work make dream work

    Kara scrambled to her feet, snatching up her daggers. Atlas half-expected her to falter after yet another close call, but her expression remained impassive¡ªa cold, emotionless mask. She gripped her weapons tighter and lunged forward, driving one dagger into the open wound Atlas had inflicted.


    The frog let out a guttural croak, flicking its head violently as it leapt backward. Kara disengaged smoothly, retreating to stand beside Atlas.


    He glanced at her, giving a small nod as he raised his blade defensively. She responded by activating her spell again, the watery tentacles forming once more on her back.


    If it weren¡¯t for the beads of sweat trailing down her face and the slight twitch in her brow, Atlas might have thought she was still full of mana. But it was clear the fight was wearing her down.


    Taking a deep breath, Atlas decided to take a gamble. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it busy. You go help Marcus. We¡¯re going to need all three of us to win this.¡±


    Kara frowned slightly, and for a moment, he couldn¡¯t tell if she was annoyed at being told what to do or simply hesitant to leave the fight. But after a second, she gave a curt nod and turned, sprinting toward Marcus, who was still sprawled on the ground.


    The frog¡¯s glowing, mana-fueled eyes locked onto Atlas, radiating a murderous intent. He returned the glare, tightening his grip on his sword.


    Let¡¯s do this.


    The frog croaked loudly before spitting a jet of its corrosive liquid at him. Atlas twisted to the side, the acid missing him by inches.


    He darted forward, blade held low in one hand. The frog¡¯s tongue lashed out again, but he sidestepped, refusing to let it wrap around his sword as it had earlier. Closing the gap, he slashed at its front leg. The blade bit deep, and the frog recoiled with a screech, leaping to the side. It landed awkwardly, its balance faltering for a brief moment.


    Atlas allowed himself a small, grim smile. If he could slow it down, this fight might finally turn in their favor.


    But the frog wasn¡¯t done yet. It leapt again, this time shooting a glob of liquid mid-air. Atlas dodged quickly, only to see another glob following close behind. He twisted and ducked, narrowly avoiding the corrosive spray as it splattered onto the forest floor. The acrid smell of burning grass and dirt filled his nose.


    The frog landed and continued its relentless assault, spitting one projectile after another. Atlas retreated, zigzagging to avoid the barrage.


    With every leap, the frog closed the distance alarmingly fast. He didn¡¯t need to look back to feel the oppressive aura of its dark mana; it was right behind him, closing in.


    Atlas darted into the tree line, weaving between the trunks for cover. He ducked behind a sturdy tree just as another glob of acid crashed into it, the bark popping and sizzling under the corrosive assault.


    Shit. This is harder than I thought,


    He thought, his breaths coming quick and shallow. The frog¡¯s heavy croaks echoed through the forest.


    Atlas¡¯s instincts screamed at him, and he leapt to the side. The frog¡¯s tongue shot past him, latching onto a nearby tree. He watched, stunned, as the tree groaned and splintered under the tension, the bark cracking loudly as the tongue tightened.


    How strong is this thing?


    Scrambling to his feet, Atlas quickly drew his dagger. Without hesitation, he stabbed it into the frog¡¯s tongue, pinning it to the tree trunk. The creature let out a deep croak, jerking back to free itself, but the movement only worsened the wound. Seizing the moment, Atlas raised his sword and swung with all the strength he could muster.


    The blade sliced through the tongue, severing it completely. The frog recoiled, its cry reverberating through the forest as the severed piece dropped to the ground. Its glowing eyes narrowed, its body tensing with renewed aggression.


    The creature spat a stream of liquid mixed with blood at him and leapt forward in the same motion. Atlas dodged the spray, but the frog¡¯s powerful jump brought it crashing into him. Its limbs wrapped around him, pinning him to the forest floor with incredible weight.


    Pain flared in his chest as he struggled against the pressure. The frog¡¯s glowing eyes loomed closer, and its cheeks began to swell. Atlas recognized the danger immediately¡ªit was preparing another attack. He twisted and thrashed, but the creature¡¯s grip was too strong. He could feel his ribs cracking in protest to the pressure and couldn¡¯t help but scream out in pain.


    His scream cut off as he couldn¡¯t bring any oxygen into his body. He trashed under the wight of the frog while pain enveloped him.


    The frog opened its mouth, blood flowed down onto him like a waterfall, he could see the severed tongue snaking in its mouth. If this had happened in any other situation he would have gagged and thrown up but as it was¡­ well he wasn¡¯t to worried he was more focused on not dying. The green liquid pooled within, mixing with its blood. Atlas braced himself, his mind racing as he searched for a way out.


    Shit


    He trashed more while the frog seemed to savour his struggle. His body was protesting with every micro movement and his breathing was coming in rasps. But no matter what he did he couldn¡¯t move. He looked up one more time at the pooling mix of blood and toxic spit.


    Here it comes¡­


    He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain to arrive.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The attack never came.


    He opened one eye slowly, peaking up to see what was happening.


    Water tentacles wrapped around the frog¡¯s head, jerking it upward. The liquid missed his face by mere inches and sizzled into the ground above his head. Atlas looked infront of him to see Kara standing firm, her face tense with concentration as she controlled the spell pushing its head up and into the air.


    Her water tenticals were dispelling one by one as the held its weight. Her hand shot forward and her dagger stabbed into the frogs stomach. She repeated the action another two times while her spell held the frog.


    Blood pooled onto the forest floor and the frog tensed its legs to jump away, Marcus charged in from behind, flames coursing along his arms. With a loud yell, he grabbed onto the creature¡¯s hind legs, holding it firmly in place.


    The frog tried to jump but he held firm.


    ¡°Now!¡± Marcus shouted.


    Atlas scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword. He focused his mana, channeling it into the blade.


    Wind Blade


    The air vibrated as a crescent of energy shot from his blade, slashing into the frog¡¯s exposed stomach, where Kara had already stabbed. The beast shuddered, but it remained standing.


    Atlas felt his mana surging to obey his commands, his aching body momentarily forgotten as mana pumped through him, listening to his every call.


    Wind Blade


    Again he slashed and his mana obeyed, the arc of air was larger this time and hit into the same spot, widening the wound and causing more blood to flow free.


    The frog tried to jump again but Marcus was on it. His fiery hands gripped into its legs and atlas could smell its flesh beginning to burn.


    Wind Blade


    Again he sent another arc, his mana was starting to deplete and he felt his body growing weak once more. He didn¡¯t care.


    Wind Blade


    He sent one final condensed arc into the frogs stomach, it ripped through so deep, the frogs guts fell onto the forest floor.


    Finally, the frog followed it and collapsed to the ground, its body still. Atlas stood there, breathing hard, his sword lowered. He glanced at Marcus and Kara, Kara was by its side still stabbing into its side with abandonment. Marcus was unleashing a combination that left blistering flesh in its wake, wherever he hit.


    Atlas dropped to his knees, he thought it must be dead by now and his body had stopped listening to his commands as he tried to suck in gasping for oxygen.


    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± Ambro¡¯s calm voice broke the silence. ¡°You did well.¡±


    Atlas nodded, his vision began to blur. The last thing he saw was Kara looking up while covered in blood and guts and running towards him while shouting.


    ***


    Atlas woke to the sun on his face, his mind fuzzy and his body feeling like it had been trampled. The pungent smell of blood and guts still hung in the air.


    He squinted against the rays piercing through the canopy, raising a hand to shield his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re up,¡± Ambro stated simply.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Atlas asked, his voice scratchy. He turned his head to see Ambro sitting with Kara and Marcus nearby. The corpse of the frog lay only a few feet away, its lifeless form a grotesque testament to their struggle.


    Ambro regarded him with a thoughtful expression. ¡°The frog punctured your lungs. It¡¯s rather surprising you managed to keep fighting and even channel mana in that condition. Good job.¡±


    Atlas blinked, caught off guard. He didn¡¯t know how to respond to that. Instead, he cleared his throat, his fingers brushing against the sore spot on his ribs as though to confirm the damage.


    Ambro stood, brushing dirt off his pants. ¡°I¡¯ve healed the worst of your injuries, but now it¡¯s time to focus on why we¡¯re here.¡±


    Atlas pushed himself upright, his limbs protesting. He followed Ambro¡¯s gaze to the frog¡¯s corpse, noticing for the first time the faint green mist still rising from its wounds. Kara and Marcus exchanged glances before standing as well.


    Ambro gestured for them to approach the body. ¡°As you¡¯re all aware, we¡¯re here to retrieve cores. The fastest way to obtain them is by taking them from awakened beasts.¡±


    He turned to face them, his piercing eyes scanning each of their faces. Atlas swallowed hard, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his fatigue.


    ¡°Every beast that has awakened to mana will possess a core,¡± Ambro continued. ¡°Just as every human does.¡±


    That caught Atlas off guard. He tilted his head, processing the information. It made sense in a way, but he¡¯d never thought of it like that before.


    Ambro pulled a small knife from his belt, kneeling beside the frog. ¡°This Goliath Frog was freshly awakened. Its core developed a poison affinity, which is common for its species.¡± He worked the blade carefully, carving into the creature¡¯s head. Moments later, he extracted a small core, no larger than a pebble, swirling with green mist.


    Atlas leaned in slightly, fascinated. The core shimmered faintly in the sunlight, its glow almost hypnotic. Ambro dropped it into a pouch at his side with practiced ease.


    ¡°You all passed the first test,¡± Ambro said, standing and brushing his hands on his pants. ¡°If only barely.¡±


    Marcus frowned. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®barely?¡¯ We killed the thing, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    Ambro gave him a pointed look, tucking a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear. His gaze shifted to his bloodied hand, and he sighed, wiping it on his trousers. ¡°Let me explain.¡±


    He turned to Marcus first. ¡°You were supposed to keep the frog occupied while Kara found angles to attack. With your background, I expected you to excel at this. Instead, you rushed in blindly, ignoring strategy, and paid the price each time.¡±


    Atlas couldn¡¯t help the snort that escaped him as Marcus¡¯s shoulders slumped, his face a mix of embarrassment and frustration.


    Ambro¡¯s attention snapped to Atlas, and the boy straightened instinctively. ¡°And you, Atlas,¡± Ambro said, pointing at him.


    Atlas¡¯s stomach tightened under the scrutiny. ¡°Your role was to focus on the mana in the air and react accordingly. Instead, you charged in the moment you saw an opportunity. If you¡¯d stayed back and focused, you would¡¯ve recognized the frog¡¯s corrosive spit sooner. You let your instincts drive you, which is admirable in some ways, but it clouded your judgment. There were smarter decisions to be made. The whole purpose of having you hold back was to test your mana sensitivity after your impressive display. Instead you seemed to forget about it completely. If you had kept your senses open you would have known that other beasts were coming and you could have warned the others. That¡¯s a lesson you all need to remember immediately.¡±


    Atlas nodded reluctantly. He couldn¡¯t deny the truth in Ambro¡¯s words, but it stung. He hated the idea of being relegated to a supporting role. It didn¡¯t feel like him. He almost voiced his frustration but bit his tongue at the last second.


    Wait what does he mean other beasts??


    Finally, Ambro turned to Kara, who was staring at her feet, her shoulders tense. ¡°You, on the other hand, did well. You chose your moments wisely and capitalized on them. My only advice is to work on staying composed. Freezing up, even for a second, nearly cost you¡ªand your team¡ªdearly.¡±


    Kara nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on the ground. Atlas glanced at her and then at Marcus, who looked more annoyed than anything.


    Ambro sighed and folded his arms. ¡°Take these lessons to heart. This wasn¡¯t just about defeating a beast. It was about learning how to function as a team and use your strengths effectively. Keep that in mind moving forward.¡±


    Atlas exhaled, glancing at the fallen frog one last time. He could feel the weight of Ambro¡¯s words sinking in, the realization that they had a long way to go if they were going to survive this training.


    ¡°You all also need to listen more. I will not be constantly repeating myself and this is the last warning you will get. Other beasts are about to arrive.¡±


    Atlas¡¯s eyes bulged and he looked up, right as he heard the crunching of leaves and the footsteps of something massive rushing towards them.


    Shit

 Chapter 27 - Beneath the canopy

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Ambro said before he stood and ran up a tree. He looked down at them with a smile.


    ¡°You best make a plan.¡±


    Are you kidding me.


    Atlas looked up in annoyance. He squinted his eyes at him, willing his message to get across¡­ Stuff you.


    It seemed to work because Ambro winked at him and jumped away, branch to branch, before leaving Atlas¡¯s sight.


    The beast was getting closer, and Atlas could feel its mana rolling off it. Its footsteps seemed to shake the leafy ground, each one vibrating through his bones like a warning drumbeat.


    Marcus was the first to react. ¡°How much mana do you guys have?¡± he questioned urgently, his eyes darting between the treetops and his teammates.


    Atlas closed his eyes briefly, focusing on his core and the raging mana that seemed to constantly flow through his body. He felt it swirling, untapped, ready to be called upon.


    ¡°I¡¯m still good. I don¡¯t know how much I¡¯ve used, but I can do at least five spells,¡± Atlas replied, opening his eyes and gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.


    It was true¡ªhe didn¡¯t know exactly how much mana he had left. Torren hadn¡¯t taught them much about managing their mana reserves yet, claiming it was something they had to learn through experience. Apparently, everyone¡¯s mana behaved differently, and there was no universal method to gauge it accurately. While Atlas hated the trial-by-fire approach, the clan kids had clearly benefited from tutors who had already taught them these nuances, which left him to figure it out on his own.


    Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprised by his answer, but didn¡¯t comment. He nodded curtly before looking at Kara, whose eyes narrowed at Atlas suspiciously.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost out,¡± Kara admitted, her voice tight. ¡°The frog broke down my spells too many times. I can maybe cast twice more¡ªthree if I stretch it.¡±


    Marcus grimaced at her response while Atlas thought to himself,


    Maybe I really do have a lot of mana?


    ¡°I¡¯ve got about half left,¡± Marcus said, adjusting his stance. ¡°I¡¯ve got one big spell that¡¯ll drain me completely, but if we get the beast into a good position, I can end it.¡±


    Kara¡¯s frown deepened, her sharp eyes glaring at him. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use that last time?¡± she asked, her tone clipped.


    Marcus shrugged, offering her a lopsided grin. ¡°Cards up sleeves and all that,¡± he said casually.


    Kara didn¡¯t look impressed, but Atlas understood. Keeping an ace up your sleeve could be the difference between victory and survival. Still, the fact that Marcus hadn¡¯t used it earlier clearly bothered her. Atlas envied Marcus¡¯s confidence. He didn¡¯t have any trump cards yet, but he silently vowed that one day he would.


    Before they could strategize further, the forest erupted with a deafening crash. Branches splintered and leaves scattered as a massive shape barreled through the trees, its approach shaking the ground beneath their feet.


    It was a boar¡ªif boars were the size of wagons. The beast was colossal, its dark fur bristling like iron spikes and its hide marred with scars and patches of matted hair. Its broad snout held two massive, jagged horns that curved forward like wicked scythes, glinting ominously in the dappled sunlight. Each heavy step cracked roots and flattened bushes, leaving the forest floor a mess of crushed foliage.


    Its glowing red eyes scanned the group with feral malice, and the oppressive weight of its mana washed over him in a suffocating wave. It pawed at the ground, its hooves tearing up the earth as it prepared to charge, steam snorting from its nostrils.


    Atlas felt his grip tighten on his sword. His instincts screamed at him to move, to run¡ªbut there was no escaping this fight.


    Atlas¡¯s senses caught the distinct, acrid scent of the beast¡¯s mana, a sinister and dark aura laced through every pulse. Each wave of its presence seemed to ripple through the forest, filling the air with an oppressive energy. Yet, as he focused on the beast¡¯s mana signature, he realized this boar, despite its size, was far weaker than the frog they had battled earlier.


    That fleeting sense of relief didn¡¯t last however.


    The massive boar barreled through the underbrush, snapping branches and tearing up the forest floor with every heavy footfall. Its sheer momentum sent tremors through the ground, leaving no doubt that it could crush him with a single misstep. Any chance of a breather vanished as the three of them braced for the oncoming threat.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Atlas adjusted his stance, his mana flaring from his core and coursing through his body like wildfire. The now-familiar sensation of raw power flowing through him was both thrilling and terrifying, and despite the danger, a small part of him craved more.


    His gaze flicked to Marcus and Kara. Both were already prepared. Marcus¡¯s fists were blazing with fiery energy, and Kara¡¯s water tentacles writhed and coiled around her, ready to strike. They stood resolute, their expressions grim yet focused.


    Marcus caught his eye and gave him a firm nod. ¡°I¡¯ll keep its attention, You and Kara find openings. We¡¯ve just been given good advice¡ªlet¡¯s prove we can take it.¡±


    Atlas tightened his grip on his sword, its weight was reassuring as the boar closed the distance with frightening speed. He focused on the surging mana within him, keeping it under control despite its constant struggle to burst free.


    Marcus didn¡¯t wait. With a shout, he darted forward, flames roaring to life as he prepared to meet the charging beast head-on. Kara moved to the side, her tentacles poised to strike as she began circling the clearing.


    Atlas stayed back for a heartbeat longer, his eyes tracking the boar¡¯s movement and analyzing its patterns. It might not have been as strong as the frog, but its sheer speed and size made it no less dangerous.


    The boar broke through the trees with a thundering crash, its massive tusks gleaming as it barreled at them. It was a monster of raw muscle and mana, its thick, bristled hide shimmering faintly as though reinforced by its power.


    Atlas tightened his grip on his sword, the familiar vibration of mana flowing through the blade steadying him. His instincts screamed at him to move, but he held his ground, watching as Marcus charged forward to meet the beast head-on.


    Marcus ducked under the first swipe of the boar¡¯s tusks and delivered a solid flaming punch to its shoulder. The beast reeled, its bulk skidding slightly on the forest floor. But it recovered too quickly, twisting its head and snapping its tusks toward Marcus. Atlas surged forward, slashing at the boar¡¯s side, his blade cutting a shallow line along its hide.


    The boar roared and whipped its head toward Atlas, forcing him to backpedal. It charged, tusks lowered, aiming to skewer him. Atlas sidestepped at the last second, his sword flashing in a defensive arc that deflected the edge of one tusk. The impact jarred his arm, sending a painful vibration up to his shoulder, but he kept his footing.


    Kara darted in from the side, her water tentacles lashing out and wrapping around one of the boar¡¯s hind legs. She pulled with all her might, yanking the beast off balance just enough for Marcus to land another fiery blow to its flank.


    The boar bellowed, stomping its hooves. The ground erupted as roots shot out, twisting and snaking toward them. Atlas leaped back, slashing at the roots with precise strikes. One root snared his ankle, and he barely managed to slice it away before the boar lunged toward him.


    Its tusk caught him just as he dodged, grazing his arm. Pain flared as a deep gash opened across his bicep, blood staining his sleeve. He stumbled but recovered quickly, ignoring the sting and the warmth of blood trickling down his arm. He knew he couldn¡¯t afford to stop.


    ¡°Atlas, behind you!¡± Kara shouted.


    He spun just in time to block a crushing swipe from the boar¡¯s tusks. His sword vibrated with the impact, the force nearly knocking him off his feet. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back and slashed at its head, forcing the beast to retreat a step.


    Kara dashed in, her daggers flashing as she scored another cut along its flank. The boar twisted, its tusk catching her shoulder and sending her sprawling to the ground. Her water tentacles flickered and dissolved as she gasped for air.


    ¡°Kara!¡± Atlas called, his heart pounding. He charged the boar, slamming his blade into its side to draw its attention away from her. The beast roared, its mana surging violently. Atlas felt it like a wave of heat, a warning instinct roaring in his mind.


    ¡°Watch the ground!¡± he yelled, just as the boar stomped its hoof.


    More roots burst from the earth, writhing and coiling toward him. Atlas slashed at them, his movements sharp and deliberate, but the boar took advantage of his distraction. It lunged, its tusks aiming for his chest. He threw himself to the side, landing hard on his injured arm. Pain shot through him, but he rolled to his feet and slashed a quick Wind Blade at the beast¡¯s face. The arc of air struck its snout, making it flinch and giving him a moment to reposition.


    Marcus came barreling in, his fists blazing. He tackled the boar¡¯s side, grappling with its immense strength. The beast thrashed, its tusks narrowly missing his head as he ducked and delivered a fiery uppercut to its jaw. The flames erupted on impact, scorching its bristles.


    Kara had recovered and rejoined the fray, but her mana was clearly drained. She lunged with her daggers, targeting the boar¡¯s legs to limit its movement. Her strikes were precise but lacked the force they had earlier. One dagger found its mark, sinking deep into the joint of its hind leg. The boar bellowed, its leg buckling slightly, but it retaliated with a swing of its massive head. Kara barely ducked under the tusks, her breath coming in ragged gasps.


    Atlas saw his opening. Blood dripping from his arm, he surged forward, his sword cutting through the air in a wide arc. The blade bit into the beast¡¯s shoulder, drawing another roar of pain. It turned on him, its glowing eyes filled with rage. He braced himself as it charged, but Marcus intercepted it, slamming his flaming fists into its side and forcing it to veer off course.


    ¡°Get ready!¡± Marcus yelled, falling back as the flames on his arms grew brighter, the heat radiating in waves.


    The boar turned and pawed the ground, its mana flaring wildly as it prepared another charge. Marcus planted his feet, gathering all his remaining mana into his hands. The flames coalesced into a fiery orb, the air around it shimmering with heat.


    ¡°Now!¡± Marcus roared, hurling a fireball with all his strength. The orb streaked through the air like a comet and struck the boar square in the chest.


    The explosion rocked the clearing, the heat washing over them in a wave. The boar let out one final, earsplitting roar before collapsing to the ground, smoke rising from its charred hide.


    Atlas dropped to one knee, his sword digging into the dirt as he used it to steady himself. His arm throbbed, the gash bleeding steadily, but relief flooded him as the beast lay still. Kara leaned against a tree, her daggers hanging limply at her sides, while Marcus stood over the boar¡¯s corpse, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.


    ¡°We did it,¡± Atlas said, his voice barely above a whisper. His vision swam slightly, and he could feel the strain in every muscle, but they had survived. Not one but two mana beasts.

 Chapter 28 - Time to learn a new spell

    Ambro stepped out of the tree line, a tight smile on his face. But Atlas noticed the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw it was subtle but there. As the Lightblade approached, the acrid smell of scorched meat seemed to hit him all at once. He crinkled his nose and shook his head slightly, muttering, ¡°That¡¯s unpleasant.¡±


    Atlas silently agreed, his own stomach churning from the smell. He adjusted his grip on his injured arm, blood still dripping steadily from the gash along his bicep. Ambro¡¯s eyes flicked to the wound, and though his face remained neutral, something in his expression shifted¡ªjust for a moment. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the tight smile slipped. But before Atlas could dwell on it, the Lightblade¡¯s calm demeanor returned.


    ¡°You did better this time,¡± Ambro said as his gaze swept over the group. ¡°Still sloppy, but better.¡± He crouched by the boar¡¯s massive corpse, examining its charred and bloody hide with a practiced eye. ¡°You worked as a team, although this beast was a lot weaker than the frog. Good job¡±


    Atlas lowered himself onto the grass with a grunt, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Marcus plopped down next to him, letting out a loud breath, while Kara perched herself on a fallen log, silent and composed as always. Her daggers rested on her lap, her posture stiff and her eyes distant.


    Ambro straightened and dusted off his hands before pulling a small scroll from one of the pouches at his waist. The parchment was rolled tightly and tied with a simple piece of twine, but Atlas recognized it immediately. It looked just like the scroll he had bought for Wind Blade back at the academy.


    ¡°This,¡± Ambro began, holding the scroll up for them to see, ¡°is the basic Mend spell.¡± He turned it over in his hands, ¡°Healing spells are different from  affinity spells. It requires pure mana¡ªraw energy drawn directly from your core without your affinity shaping it.¡±


    Atlas frowned slightly, shifting where he sat. ¡°Pure mana?¡± he asked, glancing between Marcus and Kara. They both sat still, listening intently, though Kara¡¯s expression tightened just slightly, as if the explanation was too basic for her liking. Marcus, on the other hand, looked intrigued, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward to examine the scroll.


    Ambro nodded, his gaze moving to Atlas. ¡°Most of what you¡¯ve learned so far has revolved around shaping mana to match your affinity¡ªWind, Fire, Water, Earth. That¡¯s the easy part. Healing, however, requires restraint. You can¡¯t shape pure mana into anything. You have to guide it delicately, thread by thread, into a very specific pattern. It¡¯s precise work, you need excellent mana control compared to affinity spells where you can force the spell to take shape a lot easier.


    He knelt down and spread the scroll open on the ground, revealing a series of intricate mana patterns sketched in dark ink. The design was unlike anything Atlas had seen before. Where Wind Blade¡¯s pattern had been sharp and jagged, the Mend spell¡¯s lines flowed like ripples in water, curving in graceful loops and spirals. The complexity made his head spin.


    Ambro gestured to the pattern, his fingers hovering just above the parchment. ¡°Each stroke here represents a pathway you¡¯ll have to guide your mana through. Healing requires a calm mind and careful control. If you rush or let your mana get tangled, the spell will fail and your mana will dissipated into the environment.¡±


    Atlas swallowed hard, his arm throbbing as if in response. He glanced at Kara and Marcus again. Kara¡¯s lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes fixed on the scroll with intense focus. Marcus, meanwhile, scratched the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, ¡°I should¡¯ve known that.¡±


    Ambro¡¯s gaze lingered on each of them in turn, his expression softening just slightly when it landed on Atlas¡¯s bleeding arm. For a moment, he looked like he might say something more, but instead, he simply nodded and sat back on his heels.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started,¡± he said quietly,


    Atlas shifted closer to the scroll, his heart pounding as he stared down at the swirling pattern.


    ¡°Everyone take a good look at the pattern and then close your eyes and picture it.¡±


    Atlas listened and closed his eyes, letting out a steady breath as he focused inward. Slowly, the familiar image of his mana core appeared in his mind¡¯s eye¡ªa swirling sphere of dark, unrefined energy. Like all freshly awakened cores, it was black, but there was a strange turbulence to it, it was untamed and churning beneath the surface. He felt the mana within, a roaring river surging through his veins, wild and relentless.


    More than enough to try,


    His eyes flicked open, locking onto the scroll Ambro had laid out. The intricate pattern etched into it glowed faintly, a roadmap for channeling the spell. He traced the lines with his finger, committing every curve and angle to memory before shutting his eyes again.


    Drawing the pattern inside his body was easier said than done. He reached for his mana, willing it to obey, but it resisted. It was slippery, unyielding, and when he tried to shape it into the delicate weave required for Mend, it bucked against his control. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he clenched his fists, his breath coming faster. The pattern wavered, fracturing under the strain, and the mana surged wildly, refusing to be tamed.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Ambro¡¯s voice came softly beside him, a steadying presence. ¡°You¡¯re trying to force it too much. Think of it as guiding a stream, not building a dam.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Atlas nodded faintly, trying to focus on the advice, but his mana was anything but a smoove stream¡ªit was a raging river. Each attempt to draw the pattern felt like battling the current, and no matter how hard he tried, the lines slipped away, incomplete and jagged. His arm throbbed, the wound bleeding steadily onto the forest floor, the pain a harsh reminder of his failure. He could feel the blood dripping down off his pinky and onto the leaves.


    Soon it was the only thing he could focus on so he opened his eyes with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. The forest spun slightly, and his hands trembled from the effort.


    Ambro knelt beside him, there was a faint crease in his brow. His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at the blood soaking through Atlas¡¯s sleeve. Without a word, he reached out, placing a hand over the wound.


    ¡°Watch carefully,¡± he said, his voice calm but firm. ¡°Feel the flow.¡±


    Atlas blinked, confused, but then he felt it¡ªa subtle pulse in the air, a ripple of energy as Ambro¡¯s mana began to move. It was smooth, precise, unlike the chaotic torrent that roared within him. The pattern for Mend formed effortlessly, a perfect weave of energy that Atlas could almost see. He stared, mesmerized, as the golden light of the spell wrapped around his arm, stitching the torn flesh back together.


    The pain ebbed away, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation as his skin knitted itself whole. Atlas tried to follow the flow of mana, to memorize the shape of the pattern, but it slipped through his grasp like water through his fingers.


    ¡°There,¡± Ambro said, his hand withdrawing. ¡°That should hold for now.¡±


    Atlas flexed his arm experimentally, the skin tender but intact. He glanced up at Ambro, unsure of what to say. The man¡¯s gaze lingered on him for a moment, his eyes softening slightly before he stood and turned back to the others.


    He clenched his fist, feeling the faint thrum of his mana beneath the surface, a reminder of the power he still couldn¡¯t command.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.


    But as he looked down at the faint stain of blood on the ground where he¡¯d been sitting, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind.


    ***


    Ambro crouched beside the boar¡¯s massive carcass, his knife glinting faintly in the light filtering through the trees. With practiced precision, he cut into its skull, carefully extracting the core. It was smaller than Atlas expected for such a large beast, but the swirling brown energy within it had a faint shimmer of green, like flecks of emerald suspended in amber.


    ¡°Earth affinity,¡± Ambro muttered, holding it up for a moment before tucking it into a small pouch at his side. ¡°A decent core. Not rare, but useful.¡±


    He stood and dusted his hands off before glancing at the group. ¡°Alright, we¡¯re moving. No sense lingering here.¡±


    Atlas pushed himself to his feet, his arm still sore despite Ambro¡¯s earlier healing. He watched as the man approached him, holding out the scroll for Mend.


    ¡°Take this,¡± Ambro said, his tone softer now. ¡°You¡¯ll need to memorize the pattern in your spare time.¡±


    Atlas nodded, tucking the scroll into his pouch. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, though his voice was subdued. He hated how difficult it was for him to learn spells. The memory of struggling with Wind Blade gnawed at him. It had taken him a full month to master, and even then, it wasn¡¯t particularly strong. He didn¡¯t want to admit it, but the effort it took left him frustrated¡ªfrustrated with himself.


    The group set off deeper into the forest, the thick canopy overhead casting dappled shadows on the ground. Atlas stayed near the back, his senses tuned to the mana around him. The faint hum of ambient energy rippled through the trees, and every now and then, he caught the faint flicker of something alive¡ªa bird high in the branches or a small animal scurrying through the underbrush. He focused on those signals, letting them reassure him that there were no larger threats nearby. Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Ambro was doing the same, and likely far better.


    They walked for hours, the forest growing denser as they went. The air was warmer now, the biting chill of the mountains replaced by the crisp scent of spring. New buds were beginning to sprout on the trees, and the ground was soft with fallen leaves.


    When Ambro finally called for a halt, they set up a small camp beneath the shelter of a wide tree. The fire they built was modest, barely enough to stave off the night¡¯s chill. As Blades, Ambro had explained, they were expected to train their bodies to survive in any environment, which meant learning to sleep on the ground, under the open sky, with only the bare minimum of comforts.


    Atlas couldn¡¯t complain too much, though. At least they weren¡¯t in the snow anymore.


    He sat apart from the others, staring into the flickering flames. The quiet buzz of conversation between Kara and Marcus barely registered as his thoughts churned. What was wrong with him? Was he just slow? Weak? The questions swirled, each one sinking him further into a restless silence.


    ¡°Atlas.¡±


    He blinked and looked up to see Ambro standing over him, a faint crease in the man¡¯s brow. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of concern in it.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Ambro asked, crouching down beside him.


    Atlas hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Not really,¡± he admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Everyone else makes this look easy, but I struggle with everything. Spells, control¡­ It took me a month to learn Wind Blade, and it¡¯s not even that strong.¡±


    Ambro tilted his head slightly, studying him. ¡°You¡¯re being too hard on yourself,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve only just awakened your core, and you¡¯re already doing well. Everyone progresses differently.¡±


    Atlas shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°That¡¯s not it,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ my mana won¡¯t listen to me. It¡¯s wild, and I can¡¯t shape it the way I¡¯m supposed to. I could picture the spell after a couple days of practice but my mana just doesn¡¯t want to listen.¡±


    Ambro was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then he placed a hand on Atlas¡¯s shoulder. ¡°May I?¡± he asked.


    Atlas frowned. ¡°May you what?¡±


    ¡°Send my mana into you,¡± Ambro clarified. ¡°It¡¯ll let me see how your mana behaves. If there¡¯s something unusual, I¡¯ll know.¡±


    Atlas hesitated but eventually nodded. ¡°Alright.¡±


    Ambro closed his eyes, his expression growing focused. Atlas felt a strange warmth spread from the man¡¯s hand, followed by a faint pulse as Ambro¡¯s mana entered him. It was subtle at first, like a second presence weaving through his own, but then it reached his core. Atlas felt his mana flare up in defiance, it began to build and no matter what he tried it wouldn¡¯t calm down. He could feel it wanted to lash out at the invading mana.


    Ambro¡¯s eyes snapped open, wide with shock. His face paled, and he yanked his hand away as though burned. For a moment, he simply stared at Atlas, his mouth slightly open, as if trying to form words but finding none.


    ¡°Ambro?¡± Atlas asked, his voice wary. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    But Ambro didn¡¯t answer. He turned his gaze away, his expression clouded with something Atlas couldn¡¯t quite place¡ªsomething that looked disturbingly close to fear.

 Update

    Just an update for anyone interested in this story.


    At the start of the year, me and my partner had a baby, while this is amazing, it caused my writing to be put on hold.


    Over the period of non writing I¡¯ve thought a lot about the story and actually planned it out better, this caused me to want to re write, so that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯ve done.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    I¡¯ll be posting two chapters a day until I¡¯ve caught back up to the original 28 chapters. While I haven¡¯t changed to story drastically I¡¯d still recommend giving it a read. But if not chapter 29 will be up on the 10th.


    The link to the new updated story is below.