Ashes stood at the edge of his room, his lean, muscular frame silhouetted against the dim morning light filtering through the heavy drapes. His dark hair, now longer and more unruly, fell around his shoulders, framing a face that had grown sharper and more defined over the years. His piercing blue eyes, still retaining their youthful curiosity, now held a depth of experience and understanding beyond his years. At four years old, he had the stature and presence of a young warrior, shaped by the rigorous training and relentless determination that defined his life.
The room around him was a stark contrast to the chaos of his early years. It was furnished with functional yet sturdy pieces, each meticulously maintained. A large wooden wardrobe stood against one wall, its doors slightly ajar to reveal neatly arranged clothing. A small table, covered in scrolls and books, occupied the corner, bearing witness to his relentless pursuit of knowledge. The walls were adorned with weapons of various sizes and shapes, each a reminder of his constant need to improve and adapt.
The door creaked open, and a young girl entered, her presence a bright contrast to the otherwise somber room. Elliza Pierce, now eight years old, was a striking figure with curly red hair that fell in cascading waves around her shoulders. Her wide, green eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and determination, traits that had endeared her to Ashes from the moment she had been gifted to him as a servant.
"Good morning, Ashes," she said, her voice carrying a slight accent that reminded him of the Russian accents trying to speak English from his previous life. Over time, he had learned that English wasn't spoken here; instead, the common tongue was called High Varin, the primary language among most human races in this world.
Elliza's presence always brought a bittersweet feeling to Ashes. He often thought that if she were alive in his previous world, she would be the perfect candidate to play the role of Ariel from "The Little Mermaid." Her vibrant red hair and lively spirit were a stark contrast to the harsh reality of her situation as a slave. Despite the grim nature of her position, Ashes made a conscious effort to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere around her, a small rebellion against the oppressive culture that surrounded them.
Elliza came from a culture that fascinated Ashes. The people of her homeland, known as the Varyags, hailed from the frozen northern reaches of Yuvyilease. The Varyags lived in close-knit communities, where honor and loyalty were paramount. They revered the ancient spirits of the land and sea, believing that their ancestors watched over them and guided their actions.
The Varyags were renowned for their resilience and stoic demeanor. They forged weapons and armor of unparalleled quality, their skills honed through generations of relentless training and dedication. Elliza often spoke of the grand feasts and ceremonies held in her homeland, where warriors would recount tales of their exploits and elders would pass down wisdom through stories and songs. Despite the hardships they faced, the Varyags maintained a fierce pride in their heritage and a deep sense of community.
As Elliza set about her morning tasks, Ashes couldn't help but admire her strength and resilience. Her accent, though thick and sometimes difficult to understand, was a constant reminder of the rich and diverse world beyond the confines of the Goliath settlement. High Varin, the language she spoke, was melodic and complex, a reflection of the cultural depth of the human races in this world.
"Thank you, Elliza," Ashes replied, switching to High Varin to practice. "How are you today?"
Elliza’s face remained neutral, her eyes betraying a hint of weariness. "I am well enough, thank you," she said, her words carrying a pragmatic tone. "Brought you breakfast. The cooks made your favorite today."
Ashes nodded, taking the tray from her hands. "Thank you. It smells good," he replied, keeping his tone measured. He appreciated these small moments of normalcy, a brief respite from the constant struggle to survive and prove himself.
Despite her outward composure, Ashes knew that Elliza was deeply unhappy with her lot in life. The reality of being a slave weighed heavily on her, and though she rarely spoke of it, the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had learned to mask her feelings, to hide the pain behind a veneer of duty and obedience, but Ashes could see through it.
"You seem tired," he said, observing her closely. "Has the work been difficult?"
Elliza shrugged, her expression resigned. "Is always difficult. But I manage. It is what it is."
Ashes nodded, understanding the harsh truth of her words. He admired her strength, her ability to endure despite the circumstances. It was a reminder of the resilience of the human spirit, a quality he hoped to embody in his own journey.
As they continued their morning routine, Ashes couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrasts in their lives. He was determined to make the most of his second chance, to rise above the challenges and forge his own path. He knew better than to offer false hope, but he silently vowed to find a way to bring some measure of freedom and happiness to those like Elliza, even if it was just by being a fair and kind master in an otherwise cruel world.
The day ahead was filled with training and responsibilities, but Ashes felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would continue to grow stronger, to learn and adapt, and to make a difference in this harsh and unforgiving world. And with Elliza by his side, even if only in the capacity of a servant, he felt a glimmer of hope, a promise of a better future for both of them.
The door to Ashes’ room creaked open, and in walked one of his siblings, their expression a mix of disdain and curiosity. It was Fenna, his fiery younger sister, known for her sharp tongue and even sharper wit. Despite being only three years old, she carried herself with a presence that belied her age, her fiery red hair and intense gaze reflecting her mother’s nature.
“I heard you aren’t going to get evaluated, Ashes,” Fenna sneered, leaning against the doorframe with a smug look on her face.
Ashes chose to ignore her, turning his attention to Elliza. “What plans do we have for today, Elliza?” he asked, his tone calm and measured. Over the years, he had taught Elliza to be an excellent secretary, and despite her status as a slave, she had grown to feel a sense of responsibility for him, almost like a big sister. Her small stature compared to his only highlighted her dedication to her role.
Elliza, standing with a poise that belied her young age, pulled out a small parchment. “Ve haff training vith Master Korak zis morning, followed by a council meeting in ze afternoon. You also haff time allocated for your studies in ze library,” she replied in her distinct accent, her eyes flicking briefly to Fenna before returning to Ashes.
Fenna, feeling ignored, stepped closer. “Did you hear me, Ashes? You’re too scared to be evaluated, aren’t you?” She taunted, her voice dripping with condescension.
Ashes remained focused on Elliza, continuing their conversation as if Fenna weren’t there. “Thank you, Elliza. Let’s make sure to prepare the documents for the council meeting. I want to review them before we attend.”
Frustrated by the lack of reaction, Fenna’s face twisted with anger. “You think you’re so special, don’t you?” she spat, her hand starting to glow as she began to manifest her skill. “I’ll show you!”
But before Fenna could fully activate her power, a fork whizzed past her, embedding itself into the wall with a sharp thud, breaking her concentration. She looked back in shock, eyes wide, only to see Elliza standing calmly with a fierce look in her eyes.
Unbeknownst to most, it wasn’t by mere chance that Elliza had become Ashes’ slave. He had chosen her after seeing her potential and the skills she possessed: Assassination (A), Anti-skill (SSS), and Swiftness (A+). Her abilities made her an invaluable asset, and Ashes had ensured she was trained and utilized to her fullest potential. Her precision and speed had saved him countless times, and he knew her talents would have been wasted had he not intervened.
Ashes finally looked up at Fenna, acting as though he had just noticed her presence in the room. His expression was calm, almost bored. “Did you need something, Fenna?” he asked, his voice neutral.
Humiliated and furious, Fenna glared at him. “Freak,” she muttered before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Elliza’s glare followed Fenna until she was out of sight. She then turned back to Ashes, her expression softening. “Vill you be needing anyzing else, Master Ashes?” she asked, her voice steady.
Ashes shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, thank you, Elliza. You handled that well.”
Elliza nodded, feeling a sense of pride. She knew that if Ashes hadn’t chosen her, her efforts and skills might have been squandered in a life of servitude with no purpose. With Ashes, she had found a sense of belonging and purpose, and she would protect him with everything she had.
Ashes sighed, glancing at the parchment in Elliza's hands. "I suppose I need to figure out what to do tonight," he said, almost to himself. "I really don't want to go to the Skyfall."
Elliza looked up at him, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Master Ashes, perhaps you should go. It might be a chance to make a point to your siblings," she suggested gently, her accent thickening with her sincerity. "Zey need to see zat you are not afraid to be evaluated, zat you can stand among zem."
Ashes appreciated her concern but felt a wave of frustration. Elliza, like everyone else, believed he struggled with manifesting skills because he was a lower level than his siblings. She had never seen him use his abilities, and it was easier to let her believe that narrative than to try and explain the truth. The thought of revealing his true nature—a human adult trapped in the body of a Goliath child—seemed ludicrous and impossible to convey.
He could imagine the conversation now. "Oh, by the way, Elliza, I'm actually an adult from another world, and I know more about taxes than I do about surviving in this one." The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.
Instead, he smiled at her. "I appreciate your concern, Elliza, but it’s complicated. Besides, it’s not just about the evaluation. There are... other things on my mind."
Elliza's eyes softened, and she nodded, her red curls bouncing with the motion. "I understand, Master Ashes. Just remember, you are strong. You do not need to prove anyzing to anyone, but if you vish to, you can."
Ashes felt a pang of guilt for keeping the truth from her, but he knew it was for the best. He had to navigate this world carefully, and revealing too much would only complicate things further. "Thank you, Elliza. Your support means a lot," he said sincerely.
Elliza smiled back, the warmth in her eyes evident. "Of course, Master Ashes. Ve vill figure it out, no matter what."
As he considered his options for the night, he couldn't help but think about the potential chaos of explaining his true identity. The thought of how badly that could go almost made him chuckle again. For now, it was easier to let them believe what they wanted and focus on the challenges ahead.
With a deep breath, Ashes stood up. "Alright, let's go over today's plans again. I need to be ready for whatever comes next," he said, pushing thoughts of the Skyfall and his complicated existence to the back of his mind, at least for now.
As Ashes and Elliza walked down the stone corridors of the Goliath stronghold, the cold, rough texture of the walls reflected the harsh reality of his existence. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows, illuminating the path ahead and highlighting the stark, utilitarian architecture of their home. Elliza walked beside him, her curly red hair bouncing with each step, her demeanor calm and composed despite her status as a servant.
Ashes glanced at her, appreciating her steady presence. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" he asked, trying to focus on the tasks ahead.
Elliza unfurled the parchment she held, her voice adopting a professional tone. "Ve have training in the morning, followed by a meeting vith your father. After lunch, zere are some lessons in strategy and tactics. In the evening, zere is a council meeting zat you are expected to attend."
Ashes nodded, trying to suppress the frustration that often bubbled beneath the surface. "Sounds like a full day," he said, forcing a smile.
As they walked, Ashes couldn't help but reflect on the stark differences between himself and the other Goliath children. Despite his adult mind, he often found himself feeling more immature in his reactions and emotions. The ease with which his siblings embraced the brutal aspects of their culture always unsettled him.
His thoughts drifted to a particularly painful memory, one that highlighted his struggle to fit in. The memory flashed vividly before his eyes, drawing him back to a time when he had failed to meet the expectations of his peers.
It was a year ago, during one of their combat training sessions. The open training grounds were filled with the sounds of clashing weapons and grunts of exertion. Ashes stood among his peers, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. His opponent was a young Goliath boy named Varg, who already had several kills to his name.
"Come on, Ashes, show us what you’ve got!" Varg taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Or are you just going to stand there and wet yourself?"
Ashes gripped his training weapon tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always struggled with the concept of killing, even in practice. The other children seemed to relish it, viewing it as a rite of passage, a mark of strength and dominance.
As the sparring match began, Ashes tried to focus, but his movements were hesitant, his strikes lacking conviction. Varg, sensing his reluctance, pressed the attack, his blows landing with brutal precision. Within moments, Ashes was on the ground, his weapon knocked from his grasp.
Laughter erupted from the watching children, their jeers cutting deep into Ashes' pride. "Pathetic!" Varg sneered, standing over him. "You’re not a Goliath, you're a coward!"
The instructor, a grizzled veteran named Thalor, stepped forward, his expression stern. "Enough," he barked, silencing the laughter. He helped Ashes to his feet, his grip firm but not unkind. "You must find your strength, Ashes. This world will not be kind to those who hesitate."
Ashes looked around, the scornful faces of his peers burning into his memory. He knew they saw him as weak, an outsider who didn't belong. The experience left a bitter taste in his mouth, a constant reminder of the gap between him and the others.
Returning to the present, Ashes shook off the memory, his jaw clenched in determination. He had learned to navigate the challenges of his life, but the internal struggle remained. The world he lived in demanded a level of ruthlessness that clashed with his innate sense of morality.
"Are you alright, Master Ashes?" Elliza's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... thinking about the past."
She gave him a sympathetic look, her understanding eyes offering a measure of comfort. "Remember, you are stronger zan you think. And you do not have to be like zem to be powerful."
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Ashes appreciated her words, but the weight of his experiences still hung heavily on his shoulders. As they continued down the hall, he resolved to find a way to bridge the gap between his own values and the harsh realities of his world. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was determined to carve out a place for himself, one that honored both his past and his future.
As Ashes and Elliza continued down the corridor, the sounds of the training grounds grew louder. The clang of weapons and the shouts of exertion filled the air, creating a familiar but intimidating cacophony. The training grounds were a vast open space, filled with Goliath children of various ages, all engaged in intense combat practice.
Ashes spotted Varg immediately. The older boy stood at the center of the grounds, his imposing figure commanding attention. Now twelve years old, Varg had grown even more formidable, his muscles rippling under his rough tunic. His face was a mask of determination and arrogance, a look that Ashes had come to loathe.
Elliza gave Ashes a reassuring pat on the back. "You can do zis, Master Ashes. Remember, strength comes from vithin."
Ashes nodded, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He made his way to the training area, trying to ignore the whispers and glances from the other children. Varg noticed him approaching and smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Look who decided to join us," Varg called out, his voice dripping with condescension. "Ready for another lesson in humility, Ashes?"
Ashes clenched his fists, the memory of their last encounter still fresh in his mind. He could feel the eyes of his peers on him, waiting to see how he would respond. Determined not to let fear control him, he stepped forward, meeting Varg's gaze with as much confidence as he could muster.
"Let's get this over with," Ashes replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
The instructor, Thalor, stepped forward to oversee the match. He looked between the two boys, his expression unreadable. "Begin," he commanded, stepping back to give them space.
Varg wasted no time, launching himself at Ashes with a series of powerful strikes. Ashes parried and dodged as best he could, but Varg's strength and speed were overwhelming. Each blow sent shockwaves through his arms, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet.
"Is this all you've got?" Varg taunted, his attacks relentless. "You're still the same weakling you were before."
Ashes gritted his teeth, refusing to give up. He tried to remember the techniques he had practiced, the strategies he had devised, but it was hard to focus with Varg's onslaught bearing down on him. He needed to find an opening, a way to turn the tide.
Just as he was about to be overwhelmed, a fork whizzed past Varg's head, startling him and breaking his concentration. It was Elliza, her expression calm and focused as she stood on the sidelines, her hand poised for another throw.
"Stay focused, Ashes," she called out, her voice firm and supportive. "You can do zis."
The interruption gave Ashes the moment he needed. He took a deep breath, centering himself, and then launched a counterattack. He moved with a newfound agility, his strikes more precise and controlled. Varg, caught off guard by the sudden shift, struggled to regain his footing.
"Where did this come from?" Varg muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.
Ashes pressed his advantage, using his smaller size and quickness to outmaneuver Varg. The other children watched in awe as the balance of power shifted, their murmurs of surprise and admiration growing louder.
"You're not as strong as you think, Varg," Ashes said, his confidence growing with each successful strike. "Maybe it's time you learned a lesson."
Varg, realizing he was losing, lashed out with a desperate flurry of attacks. But Ashes was ready. He sidestepped the wild blows and landed a decisive hit, sending Varg sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps, their respect for Ashes palpable.
Thalor stepped forward, ending the match. "Enough," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Well done, Ashes. You've shown great improvement."
Ashes lowered his weapon, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and relief. He glanced at Elliza, who gave him a proud nod, her eyes shining with pride.
Varg picked himself up, glaring at Ashes with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "This isn't over," he muttered, but there was no denying the shift in the balance of power.
Ashes knew that this victory was just one step on a long and challenging journey. But for now, it was enough. He had proven to himself and to the others that he was not to be underestimated. And with Elliza by his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next.
Ashes headed towards the training grounds, his mind already buzzing with anticipation. The familiar sounds of clashing weapons and grunts of exertion filled the air, a constant reminder of the brutal world he inhabited. The training grounds were a large, open space, surrounded by crude wooden barriers that served as makeshift walls. The ground was hard-packed dirt, worn smooth by countless hours of combat practice.
As he approached, he could see Varg and his usual group of goons gathered near the center. Varg, now twelve years old, was a formidable figure. His towering height and broad shoulders made him an imposing presence, even among the Goliaths. His goons, a mix of boys and girls who followed him out of fear or admiration, snickered as they spotted Ashes.
“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” Varg sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “The little runt who thinks he’s so smart.”
Ashes rolled his eyes, refusing to let their taunts get to him. “At least I use my brain,” he retorted, his tone sharp. “Something you might want to try sometime.”
Varg’s goons snickered, but the insult seemed to go over their heads. Varg, however, narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see how clever you are when I beat you into the ground.”
“Why don’t you try?” Ashes shot back, his confidence growing. “But we both know that won’t prove anything about your intelligence.”
Varg’s face twisted in anger, but before he could respond, one of his goons chimed in. “If you lose, Ashes, that must mean your family is pretty pathetic.”
The words hung in the air, a heavy insult in Goliath society. Making fun of someone’s bloodline was a serious offense, and the crowd of young Goliaths around them reacted immediately. Some looked embarrassed, others angry on Ashes’ behalf. Elliza, standing nearby, bit her lip so hard it bled, her frustration evident.
Ashes, however, seemed unfazed by the comment. He glanced at Elliza, seeing the anger and hurt in her eyes. Realizing how much the insult affected her, he made a decision. He couldn’t keep losing and let others believe his family was weak. He needed to prove himself, not just for his sake, but for hers.
He stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Varg’s. “Fine,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s settle this. I challenge you to a practice bout. If I lose, I’ll be your slave. But if I win, you have to swear on your hearthstone that you’ll be my supporter, no matter what.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. Challenges involving a hearthstone were serious business, and everyone knew it. Varg’s eyes widened slightly, but then he smirked, clearly confident in his ability to win.
“You’ve got a deal,” Varg replied, his tone triumphant. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”
Ashes nodded, his determination solidifying. He glanced at Elliza again, seeing the hope and worry in her eyes. He knew he had to win, not just for himself, but to give her the confidence that he could protect her and uphold their honor. He was done throwing fights to appear weak. It was time to show his true strength.
As the fight began, Varg immediately activated his skill, an enhancement that visibly boosted his already impressive strength and speed. His muscles bulged, and his veins pulsed with power. It was a skill he had learned during his last raid, and he was eager to show it off.
Varg lunged forward, his massive hands reaching for Ashes in an attempt to grapple him. His style was brutal and direct, reminiscent of a brawler like Zangief, but with the ferocity of a young Goliath. The ground shook with each of his steps, his movements powerful but predictable.
Ashes, on the other hand, was a picture of calm agility. He moved with an almost liquid fluidity, dodging and weaving through Varg’s attacks effortlessly. Each time Varg tried to grab him, Ashes slipped through his fingers like smoke. His agility was not just a product of his training but also a testament to his high-ranked skills.
“Is that all you got, Varg?” Ashes taunted, a playful smirk on his face. “I thought you said you learned something new. This looks pretty old to me.”
Varg growled in frustration, his face red with effort and embarrassment. “Stand still and fight me, you coward!”
Ashes chuckled, ducking under another wild swing. “Oh, come on. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it’s not my fault you’re slow. Maybe you should ask Bjarik for some agility lessons.”
The crowd watched in awe and amusement as Ashes continued to evade Varg’s attacks with ease. Even Bjarik, standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but be impressed by Ashes’ performance.
Varg, growing increasingly desperate, attempted a powerful spinning lariat, his arms whirling like windmills. But Ashes was ready, effortlessly ducking beneath the attack and stepping to the side.
“Nice try, Varg. Maybe next time you’ll hit something other than air,” Ashes quipped, his voice light and mocking.
Varg’s frustration reached a boiling point. “Stop dodging and fight me, you freak!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the arena.
Ashes finally paused, standing just out of Varg’s reach. “Freak, huh? That’s the best you can come up with? I guess creativity isn’t your strong suit either.”
Varg roared, charging at Ashes with renewed fury. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t land a single blow. Ashes’ agility and quick reflexes were too much for him to handle.
“You know, Varg, this is getting kind of boring,” Ashes said, his tone still mocking. “Maybe you should try thinking before you act. It might help.”
Varg, panting and visibly exhausted, glared at Ashes. “I’ll get you, Ashes. Just wait.”
Ashes shrugged, his smile never faltering. “Sure, Varg. I’ll be right here, waiting. Just try not to trip over your own feet.”
The fight continued, but it was clear to everyone watching that this was an uphill battle for Varg. Ashes’ true stats, bolstered by his high-ranked skills, made him an almost insurmountable opponent. And while he hadn’t counterattacked yet, it was only a matter of time before he showed just how powerful he truly was.
The intensity of the fight heightened as Varg, growing desperate, activated his racial skills. His skin hardened, his muscles swelled even further, and a dark aura seemed to envelop him. With newfound vigor, he lunged at Ashes, this time moving with a speed and power that caught even Ashes off guard. In a swift, unexpected move, Varg managed to grab Ashes, his massive hands clamping down like a vice.
“Got you now,” Varg growled, his breath hot and heavy. “It’s over, Ashes. I won’t let you give up. I’ll break you before they can stop it.”
Ashes sighed, almost pitying Varg’s persistence. “You know, Varg,” he began, his voice calm and collected despite the situation, “there’s an old lesson about muscle and brain. It goes like this:
‘The beast with all muscle and no brain
Will always fall, despite the pain.
For strength alone cannot sustain
The battles fought in life’s great game.’
As he recited this parable, Ashes started pulling back each one of Varg’s fingers with precise, methodical force. Varg’s grip weakened with each finger bent back, and he screamed in pain, unable to maintain his hold. Ashes continued to speak, his tone almost teacher-like, imparting wisdom to his struggling opponent.
“Muscle without thought is a hammer without aim. It may strike hard, but it rarely hits the mark,” Ashes concluded, finally prying Varg’s fingers off him completely.
Varg’s face contorted in agony, and with a final cry of defeat, he shouted, “I yield! I yield!”
Ashes let go and stepped back, allowing Varg to slump to the ground, clutching his injured hand. The crowd erupted in shock and disbelief, a massive upset unfolding before their eyes. Ashes, the youngest and supposedly weakest, had triumphed over one of the strongest in their midst.
Amidst the murmurs and gasps, Ashes scanned the crowd. He saw Elliza, her face beaming with excitement and pride, cheering louder than anyone else. But his eyes then fell on his mother, Adara, standing at the edge of the crowd. Her expression was not one of pride or joy. Instead, her eyes blazed with anger and disappointment, directed squarely at Ashes.
The victory, it seemed, was not as sweet as Ashes had hoped. The approval he sought from his mother was still out of reach, overshadowed by her fierce, unyielding expectations. The weight of his actions and their consequences began to settle on his young shoulders as he stood there, victorious yet conflicted.
Ashes remained standing in the arena, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through his veins. The crowd’s shocked whispers filled the air, but his focus was on his mother. Adara’s eyes were locked onto him, and he could see the anger burning within them.
His mother’s reaction cut deeper than any insult or taunt from Varg or his goons. She approached him, her steps firm and measured. The crowd parted, allowing her to reach him without obstruction. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation.
“You think this is a victory?” Adara’s voice was cold and sharp, cutting through the silence. “You think using your strength like this proves something?”
Ashes lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “He insulted our family, our blood. I couldn’t let that go,” he replied, trying to use it as an excuse to deflect her ire.
Adara’s expression hardened. “Don’t lie to me, Ashes. I know you too well. This wasn’t about defending our honor. This was about revenge, pure and simple.”
Her words stung, and Ashes clenched his fists, the excuse he had hoped would placate her falling apart under her scrutiny. “I wanted to show them that I am not weak,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Adara’s eyes softened slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “Strength is not just about physical power, Ashes. It is about how you use it. You chose to humiliate Varg, to break his spirit and make him yield. That is not strength; that is cruelty.”
The reality of her words hit him harder than any blow. He had wanted to prove himself, but in doing so, he had crossed a line he hadn’t fully understood.
“You could have knocked him out, preserved his honor, and still proven your strength. Instead, you chose the path of humiliation,” she continued, her disappointment cutting deep.
Ashes looked up, meeting her fierce gaze. “I wanted to show them that I won’t be pushed around anymore.”
“There are ways to defend honor without dishonoring yourself,” Adara retorted. “You think you proved something today, but all I see is the curse I feared. You used your strength to tear down, not to build up. That is not the path I want for you.”
As she walked away, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Ashes alone in the arena. The thrill of victory was gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of guilt and regret. He had wanted to prove himself, but in doing so, he had only driven a wedge further between himself and the person whose approval he sought the most.
Ashes glanced over at Elliza, who stood nearby, her expression a mix of concern and support. She stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You did what you thought was right,” she said softly.
He nodded, though his heart felt heavy. “Maybe. But I still have a lot to learn about what right really means.”
As the crowd continued to disperse, the referee, a seasoned warrior with numerous battles under his belt, approached Adara. He had watched the fight closely, his eyes filled with a mix of amazement and concern. “Adara,” he began, trying to defuse the tension, “over the years, I’ve never seen anyone fight like your son. Now I understand why you don’t let him train with the others. His skill is extraordinary.”
Adara’s gaze shifted to the referee, her expression softening slightly. “He is strong, but strength without wisdom is dangerous.”
The referee nodded in agreement. “True, but keeping him isolated isn’t helping him learn that wisdom. Let him train with the other children. It will help with morale and teach him how to temper his strength with understanding.”
Adara considered his words for a moment before turning to Ashes. “If you want to make points instead of being better, then you should be in the same stock as all the other kids your age,” she said, her tone firm. “Perhaps this will teach you what you need to learn.”
Ashes felt a surge of panic. His adult mind had always appreciated the solitude of his personal training space, where he could set his own pace and focus. The idea of being thrown into a group setting, treated like a four-year-old among other children, was unbearable. “Mother, please,” he protested, “I learn better on my own. You know that.”
Adara’s expression remained stern. “You need to learn more than just skills, Ashes. You need to learn how to use them responsibly, how to interact with others, and how to control your temper. Training with the others will teach you these lessons.”
Ashes clenched his fists, the frustration evident in his eyes. “But I’m not like them,” he insisted. “I’m different.”
“Exactly,” Adara replied. “And it’s time you learn how to manage that difference among your peers. This is not a punishment, Ashes; it’s an opportunity.”
The referee nodded in agreement, placing a reassuring hand on Ashes’ shoulder. “You’ll see, Ashes. Training with the others will be good for you. You’ll learn things you can’t learn alone.”
Elliza, standing nearby, watched the exchange with a mixture of concern and hope. She knew how much Ashes valued his solitary training, but she also understood the importance of the lessons he needed to learn.
Adara’s decision was final, and Ashes knew better than to argue further. With a heavy heart, he nodded. “Yes, Mother,” he said, his voice resigned.
Adara’s gaze softened slightly. “I know you can do this, Ashes. Prove to me that you can be strong in more ways than one.”
As they left the arena, Ashes felt the weight of his new reality settling in. Training with the other children was not going to be easy, but he resolved to face the challenge head-on. He knew he had much to learn, and perhaps this was the path he needed to take to truly understand the balance between strength and wisdom.