Eric.

It wasn’t a name that drew a lot of attention until you heard my family name. How could such a child be an Elric?—those thoughts bled out onto their face whenever they spoke to me.

And it was all because of them.

Just because my mother was the last mistress, I was the most illegitimate so they picked on me. All of them.

“A-are you sure we should do this?”

“What. You scared that father will find out? It’s only a little blood.”

At some point, they stopped gagging me. I knew to be quiet, but I couldn’t repress my fists from striking out.

Three against one. You can guess how that turned out.

They continued gagging me every time. Sometimes smearing my mouth with dirt, saying it was lipstick. It masked my dirty mouth, they said.

And I never once cried for help.

I wasn’t supposed to.

I was supposed to be the strongest.

I had the greatest magic potential. Father said so.

Mother fell sick and died shortly after I was born so I never met her. Father didn’t mind it. I didn’t think it mattered either. But it would have been nice to know what she looked like. There weren’t any pictures of her in that place.

He always said I looked like her. Did she have bruises like me too? How ugly.

But it wasn’t all bad. The servants all treated me nicely. Most of them at least.

They all had the same thoughts though. Even if they didn’t say it, I could hear the voice resonating in between all of them. I can’t believe he’s the duke’s son! Or: Gosh! What is this child doing always coming back with bruises?

I’ve met many doctors. They all said it was the result of a fall. Or that I scraped my knee somewhere.

My father turned a blind eye. He didn’t say anything, but something in his eyes was telling of his disappointment. Why?

Wasn’t I supposed to become a great magician? Why are you ignoring me now? You said it yourself!

Over time, I’ve gotten used to it. My body was numb all the time. I sometimes couldn’t feel the food going down my throat. But it was a lot better than swallowing a tooth or having blood mixed in with the soup.

It stung sometimes. I got used to that too.

Like the changing seasons, skin had its own cycles. It was something the books didn’t tell you.

First a light red. Then a scattered but darker red similar to spilled wine. If it got really bad, it would go completely dark. Maybe a little purple. Then a dark yellow that eventually ripened to a yellow patch.

Bruises used to take weeks to heal. Now even the bad ones took less than a couple days to go on their own.

They also broke my hand that one time.

It didn’t heal for the longest time. Around a whole year and a half, it was limp.

It wasn’t anything serious. It was only the wrist.

So I forced myself to learn to do things with my left hand. Write, dance, music; I did everything with an unfamiliar tool.

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I was lagging behind in my studies. All my tutors said that. My brothers and sister laughed as though they didn’t know who caused my troubles.

At least I was glad they didn’t do the same to both hands.

As I started catching up, they broke my hand over and over just as it was about to heal. That didn’t do anything so they “played” with me on some days from dawn to dusk to distract my efforts.

I wanted to prove myself to be better than them. I was better than them. I knew it. I wanted to show my father he was right.

‘I am a genius.’

He was right about that. I wanted him to know that.

When we finally got magic tutors, I was the first to learn how to control my mana. I was the first to learn how to cast a spell. And I was the first at magic theory.

But they cursed me.

One of them hired a sketchy person to curse me.

I found it hard to think straight. It was hard to remember things when I wanted to. My head hurts whenever I think too hard. And my injuries started to last longer as though they had suffered irreparable damage. My tutors even announced me unfit to be taught; spreading rumors to other tutors. But I knew the real reason was because of my eldest brother.

No longer able to cast adequate magic, father turned his eye away from me again. They got better. Every one of them became better than me.

My eldest brother entered a youth competition and won first place in magic.

‘I could have done it too.’

He then went on to become one of the selected heroes a few years ago.

‘That’s easy for me.’

My eldest sister made a name for herself as a swordsman and was accepted into the prestigious Warring States Academy from a foreign kingdom.

‘I can do the same if I wanted.’

And my second brother. He was enrolled in Grimphon University and is known throughout as the captain of the alchemist party.

‘I’m here now.’

That’s right. I had arrived.

With nothing else to do as no tutors wanted to teach me, and all my siblings embarked on their own paths, all else I had was time.

They may have taken my talent through underhanded methods, but I had time.

Just like how I learned to write with my left hand, I will become better than them as I learn more and more.

Since my magic was no longer up to par, I chose to dedicate all of my time to training as warriors and soldiers did.

It started from when the sky was blue down till the moon was at its zenith.

I was better than all of them and I would prove it.

So I needed to teach my body everything I could.

When I saw a fly, I wouldn’t stop until I could catch it midair with one hand alone.

When eating, I ate faster than a starved raptor so I could have more time to teach myself. I had to get better. And I was going to get better.

My body learned how to take beatings ages ago. It didn’t matter if I kept pushing myself to my limits, because that’s when I can best learn.

My body won’t break. I’ve lost the ability to.

The soreness didn’t keep me in bed. It served as a reminder that I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop until I prove I was there. Right there at the top with my name carved below my statue. The name, Eric, belonged there on the family wall.

When they got someone to curse me, what they didn’t know is that the body does not think. The body acts. Even if my mind is clogged which causes the formation of crude magic, I still had my body. Even when it broke, it never truly broke. I could always rely on it. Because this was my path to becoming the best.

Which was why when I saw that magic, I knew it had to be him. Daniel. I recognized it instantly. He could push me to my limits harder than I could push myself to the limits.

With my magic talent crippled, I admit I was at first envious of that lightning. I thought I hated him. But I shortly came to realize he wasn’t my sibling. He was just a strong person.

It was also the first time that I didn’t think, ‘I could have done that.’

The more I thought about it, the conclusion became clearer.

It no longer mattered if I didn’t have my magic.

‘So what if I will no longer peak in my magic career? All I have to do is surpass my limits! That’s how I’ll become the best!’

This is why I must get him to fight me. If I challenged a professor or an upperclassman like my second brother straight off the bat, only defeat would lay waiting for me. I couldn’t learn from that kind of defeat.

Daniel was good at magic. I was good with my body. It only made sense.

If I learned how to avoid his fast magic, then couldn’t I avoid every magic in the world?

Even if my brothers cast magic to cripple me further, I’ll just avoid it! And then I’ll show them the talent they failed to destroy!

Which was why it had to be him. I had to learn it from him. His level of control over his lightning wouldn’t break my body. In fact, I've never seen anyone as skilled as him in controlling magic. Not even the wizards at those festivals.

I had confidence that the lightning couldn’t break my body.

It would break my limits.