The clash of elements filled the quiet training hall.
Asrial's hands moved in controlled, deliberate motions—earth swirling into a stone blade in his right, fire crackling in his left, wind weaving around his feet, elevating his body slightly above the ground.
Sweat beaded down his forehead. His breathing was sharp and focused.
Even though he had absorbed the elemental dragon's power, he knew one truth:
Potential was meaningless without mastery.
Just because I can doesn't mean I should stop working for it.
He could feel it. His body was strong—his soul even stronger—but controlling three elements at once was still a grueling task. The fusion between them was delicate, unstable. The fire flickered too wildly, the stone crumbled under too much pressure, the wind occasionally slipped from his grasp.
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder.
I need to get stronger.
Then—
A sudden shift.
A blade—real, cold steel—sliced through the air, aiming directly for his shoulder.
Asrial twisted on instinct, summoning a stone blade to block it.
The clang echoed through the hall as sparks scattered between them.
"You're getting slow," a familiar voice teased.
Therisia stood before him, her stance firm, her golden hair tied loosely behind her. Her expression was both playful and irritated, her violet eyes shining.
"You didn't have to attack me to get my attention," Asrial said, lowering his stone blade.
"You've been in here for hours." She crossed her arms. "If I didn't intervene, you would've trained yourself into collapse again."
Without giving him a chance to argue, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the hall.
---
She led him straight to her room.
Asrial, too used to her spontaneous demands, simply followed.
When they entered, she sat in front of her vanity, thrusting a hairbrush toward him with an impatient look.
He took the brush without protest.
So it's that time again.
Brushing her hair had become a quiet tradition between them—a small, unspoken ritual that brought them peace. It was her way of pulling him away from his obsessive training. His way of grounding himself in the present.
He carefully began brushing, untangling the golden strands with practiced ease.
"You're getting better at this," she murmured.
"You say that every time," he replied, a faint smile touching his lips.
They chatted softly. About the academy they would soon attend. About the people they would meet.
About Yuu, the famed prodigy and knight of the Priest family.
"He's the only other person to become a knight at fifteen," Theresia said, looking at him through the mirror. "Just like you."
Asrial's eyes narrowed slightly.
"They say he's the sword of the Priestess Elenor."
"He is." She smirked. "But I doubt he can beat you."
Asrial didn't respond. His interest wasn't in competition, but in the quiet curiosity about the boy who shared a similar fate.
When he finished, her hair shone perfectly—far better than the first time he had done this years ago.
---
When they stepped out, Leonhard was already waiting for them near the estate gates, his arms crossed, his expression soft.
"You two sure like to take your time," he said, but his tone was light.
"The carriage is ready. It's waiting on you."
Asrial and Theresia exchanged a glance and answered in unison,
"We're ready."
Leonhard's serious demeanor cracked, and he pulled them into a tight hug.
"Listen carefully," he whispered. "The academy is no playground. It's a den of snakes, where factions battle behind polite smiles and noble crests."
His grip tightened as if he couldn't bring himself to let go.
"Survive. No matter what. You two have a future I won't allow to be taken."
After a long pause, he finally released them.
The carriage door closed behind them, and their journey to the Academy of the Six Pillars—the crucible that would shape their destinies—had begun.
---
Within the sprawling capital, the estate of the prestigious Priest family sat in quiet grandeur.
In one of its many towers, Elenor, the young priestess, sat by her window, watching the garden below.
There, her knight moved gracefully, his sword cleaving through the air with sharp, precise arcs.
Yuu.
His body shimmered unnaturally as fragments of him broke apart like shards of crystalline glass, only to swiftly reassemble with surgical precision.
His power—the ability to shatter his form into razor-sharp fragments—was said to be unmatched, and yet his expression remained calm, almost disinterested.
Elenor's golden eyes softened as she stroked the tiny golden kitsune resting in her lap.
"So… the wheel has finally begun to turn," she whispered to no one, her smile delicate but laced with something dangerous.
As the wind passed through the open window, the faintest glimmer of purple shimmered in her eyes.