<-Kael>
I barely registered the morning sunlight bleeding through my curtains before her voice cut through my dreams.
"Wake up, Kael."
I groaned, rolling over in bed. My whole body ached like I'd been trampled by a stampede of wild beasts. Muscles I didn't even know I had screamed in protest, tight and heavy from the restless night. That damn energy—ever since the Arcana Core merged with me, it hadn't let me rest properly.
I was just about to drift off again when her next words hit like a blade to the ribs.
"You only get one chance. If you delay, I won't help you anymore. Say goodbye to the Empire Academy."
That yanked me out of bed faster than any alarm. "I'm up! I'm up!" I called out, stumbling to my feet with my blanket still wrapped around one leg.
I splashed cold water over my face, letting it jolt me fully awake. She wasn't bluffing. My mother never threatened without meaning it. If I blew this, I knew she'd let me fall behind—and the Academy… it'd slip through my fingers before I even reached the gates.
After a quick bath and a change of clothes, I bolted down the stairs two steps at a time.
She was already waiting at the bottom, arms crossed like she'd been timing me. "Took you long enough."
I grumbled but didn't talk back. No point arguing when she'd just win anyway. She turned and led me through the narrow hallway at the back of the house. We stopped at a door I'd almost forgotten about—weathered wood, older than everything else in the house.
The basement.
She opened the door, and a thick wall of dust hit me square in the face. I coughed, eyes watering as we stepped into the dim room. It was bigger than I remembered—but a disaster zone. Broken furniture, cobwebs, discarded crates, and rusted tools lay scattered like it hadn't been touched in years.
"Your first task," she said, her voice maddeningly calm, "is to clean this place until it's spotless."
I stared at her. "…You dragged me down here to make me clean?"
She smirked. "Think of it as your first lesson. Discipline is a part of being an Arcane Knight."
Right. And I was supposed to believe this wasn't just an excuse to dump the housework on me. But I held my tongue. If this was the price of training, I'd pay it.
It was miserable.
The dust clung to my skin and stung my nose. My fingers were soon caked in grime, and I had to shift every heavy crate by hand since nothing down here worked anymore. Time crawled. Sweat soaked through my clothes, and I was pretty sure I smelled like moldy wood and regret by the end.
When I finally finished, I dragged myself upstairs, looking like I'd survived a war. "Mom?"
The house was silent.
"Seriously?"
She'd vanished. Of course. Probably gone to the kiosk. Huffing, I stomped out of the house and made my way through the streets, ignoring the curious glances from passersby. I probably looked like a walking dustball.
Sure enough, I found her at the market, casually chatting with a customer like she hadn't just sentenced me to cleaning purgatory.
"I finished the basement," I announced, crossing my arms.
She barely spared me a glance. "Good. Now help me with the shop."
I blinked. "Wait—what? You said if I cleaned it, you'd train me!"
She sighed and turned toward me, her expression unreadable. "Patience, Kael. I still have customers. If you want training, you'll have to wait a little longer."
I clenched my fists, swallowing back a sharp retort. No use throwing a tantrum now. So I helped—lifting crates, arranging fruits, handing over parcels. Time moved like syrup, and I kept stealing glances at the setting sun, wondering if this was just another test.
Finally, when the sky turned to molten gold, we closed the shop.
I didn't wait. The second we stepped into the house, I bolted for the basement. "Come on! You promised!"
Her laughter followed me down the stairs. "You're eager. That's good."
She joined me a moment later, walking with that same measured calm that always made me feel like a child in a world of giants. She stopped in front of the far wall and placed her palm against the surface. A soft glow pulsed from her hand, and the wall groaned, shifting inward like a hidden door.
I stared, breath caught in my throat.
A chamber lay beyond, dimly lit by soft blue crystals embedded in the walls. The air that flowed out wasn't just heavy—it was crushing.
I stepped forward, and it felt like I'd walked into a storm.
My knees buckled slightly, and my chest tightened like someone had wrapped chains around my ribs. "W-What is this?" I gasped.
She didn't answer right away. She just stepped beside me, eyes scanning the room.
"The walls are made of refined Arcana Crystals," she finally said. "They absorb energy. Concentrate it. This entire room is saturated with pure Acarna."
I could feel it—pressing against my skin, seeping into my bones. It wasn't violent, but it wasn't passive either. It was aware.
"This is where you'll train," she said simply.
I looked around, heart pounding. The energy inside me—the Arcana Core—it stirred. Reacting to the room like a beast sniffing the air for blood.
Something told me this was going to hurt.
A lot.
I took another step—and everything inside me broke.
The Arcana Core surged, wild and volatile, like a storm trying to rip free from my chest. My body locked up, and then came the pain. It tore through me like fire in my veins, and I collapsed to my knees with a scream.
It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out.
"Suppress it!" my mother barked. "Focus, Kael!"
I tried. I really did. But the energy was too much—too chaotic, too alive. I clenched my jaw, digging my nails into my palms as I fought to contain it, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with my bare hands.
And then—suddenly—I was yanked backward.
The moment my foot crossed back over the threshold, the pain vanished. Just like that.
I gasped, choking on air as I collapsed onto the cold stone floor outside the chamber, every inch of me soaked in sweat.
My mother stood over me, her face unreadable. "If you can't handle this," she said flatly, "forget about becoming a Knight."
Her words hit harder than the pain had. I clenched my fists, my breath ragged. I wouldn't give up. I couldn't.
"I'll get it right," I muttered, still panting.
"Tomorrow," she said, turning away, "you'll keep trying. Every day, until you can suppress that energy."
And that was how my personal hell began.
Each morning, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the basement, already dreading the chamber. The second I stepped inside, the Core would awaken, and the pain would return, like clockwork. At first, I couldn't last more than five seconds before I was on the floor, gasping or screaming.
But I kept going.
Day after day.
Week after week.
At first, the progress was microscopic—an extra second here, a longer breath there. But little by little, I adapted. I could stand longer. Breathe deeper. Endure.
By the third week, I could keep the Core suppressed for a few minutes before it slipped out of control. The pain hadn't disappeared, but it was no longer the firestorm it had been. More like… a simmering heat, waiting to boil over if I let my guard down.
Then, almost a month in, I stepped into the chamber—and nothing happened.
No pain.
No wild surge.
Just silence.
I froze, too stunned to move. I held my breath, waiting for the usual backlash, but it never came. The energy inside me remained still, completely under control. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. I'd done it.
She was watching from the entrance.
"Not bad," she said casually. "But let's test something."
I turned just in time to see her foot coming.
Wham.
She kicked me hard in the stomach, and the air exploded from my lungs. The Core flared violently, and I collapsed again, the pain rushing back like a vengeful beast.
But this time, I fought it.
Harder.
Faster.
And after a few moments of grinding pain and clumsy breathing, I pushed it down—contained it. Controlled it.
I looked up, wheezing, glaring. "You kicked me."
"That was the point," she said, not a hint of apology in her tone. "Suppressing energy while standing still is easy. But if you can't maintain control in a fight, it's useless."
I wanted to argue. I really did. But… she was right. Again.
She turned and headed for the stairs. "We're done for today."
I watched her ascend, her steps light but deliberate. She didn't look back. But just before she disappeared around the corner, I caught a glimpse—just a flicker—of something rare on her face.
Pride.
She didn't say it. Of course she didn't. She probably thought I'd get arrogant if she praised me. Maybe she was right. But still… that moment stuck with me.
She had expected me to fail.
And I hadn't.
I stayed behind, kneeling in the chamber, sweat dripping from my brow. The Core was quiet now, but I knew it was always watching, always waiting. Like a beast on a leash, tamed but not broken.
So I kept training.
Over and over, I repeated the suppression exercises. Breathe in. Contain. Hold. Breathe out. Again. And again. If I lost focus, even for a heartbeat, it tried to claw its way back out.
But I was faster now. Sharper. More in tune with it than I ever thought possible.
By the end of that week, I stood in the center of the chamber, eyes closed, calm. The energy within me was a whisper, nothing more. No flares. No surges. Just stillness.
I heard footsteps behind me.
"You've improved," she said simply, leaning against the doorframe.
My eyes opened. Praise? From her?
She crossed her arms, her gaze thoughtful. "With the Empire entrance exam around the corner, you'll make a fine knight."
I blinked. "Wait… around the corner? I thought it was in another month."
She shook her head. "It was moved up. The exam takes place in nine days."
Nine days.
The words hit like a punch to the gut. I had planned on having weeks—time to learn, to prepare, to maybe get a grip on elemental manipulation before facing whatever trials the Empire had cooked up.
Nine days wasn't time. It was a countdown to chaos.
A knot twisted in my stomach. Could I really do this?
But that doubt—it didn't last. It couldn't.
I straightened, eyes burning. "Then there's no time to waste. Teach me how to manipulate elements. Now."
Her expression didn't shift.
"No."
"What? Why not?!"
"You need rest," she said, turning away. "We start that part of your training tomorrow."
I almost argued—but something in her tone told me the conversation was over. That was it. Her word was final.
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. "Fine."
She didn't reply. Just walked upstairs, leaving me alone again.
The basement felt oddly quiet without her. I stood there for a long time, staring at the closed chamber door, my body still buzzing from the training. Every muscle ached, and my head throbbed, but beneath all the pain and exhaustion…
There was excitement.
For the first time in my life, becoming an Arcane Knight didn't feel like a dream.
It felt real.