~January 1st, sundown~

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

At the stairs’ entrance, two heads are peeking. Their gazes fixed on the sandy square arena of the underground training floor.

Watching a kid practicing with his pair of kopesh.

Sam and Brenda, the peeking duo, watched nervously as their young master, Lord Jet Brandr, continued his training. Sweat poured from his body to the sandy arena like rain.

One after another, he executed the Brandr Family sword moves perfectly. Others might take years to master, but not him. He was a genius. Plus, Jet have been trained by his father, the Duke of Cherith, the Great Ottilia General Aelius Brandr, since he was nine. And now, four years later, his sword skills rival any adults in Ottilia.

It's such a shame though…

“Hey, nerd!” Brenda spoke first in a hushed tone. “You think the kid's gonna be alright?”

Sam sneered. “Pfft. Would you be?”

“I was sold to the Lars when I was a child.” She thought for a bit, remembering something. “And so are you! We turned out alright.”

“Heh, I wouldn't call us alright. But we were always poor. We never had anything of our own.” Sam turned his gaze back to Jet. “He's the Duke's son. The son of the General. He had everything. To be thrown out of the manor…on his birthday of all day…” Sam's words trailed off.

Brenda clicked her tongue. “Ceh. Stupid fucking unfair world.”

Nothing was said after that. Both turned their attention back to their young master. The young master that have been kind to them.

For once Sam agreed with Brenda.

Stupid fucking unfair world.

###

“Haaa…fuuu…haa…”

The birthday boy Jet Brandr can't even close his mouth. He was hungrily devouring air. His heart was like the drums of war, thumping like crazy, hard at work transferring air from the lungs to the rest of his body.

“Wa-one more…”

Be it sword style or kickboxing arts, Brandrs martial arts are divided into two. One before the core was formed, and one after.

For the rest of the army, and the general population in general, their cores will naturally form when they turn eighteen. So the army that practiced Brandr martial arts have plenty of time to master the first part first before the second part where they will infuse their power with the martial arts.

A Brandr demanded more within their bloodline. Every year, on the eve of the new year, every twelve year old Brandr shall receive the baptism of the Holy Light at Ossatanae Volcano. That ceremony, called the Ignition Ceremony, erupted enough energy for the young twelve year olds to awaken and formed their cores much earlier. Upon which will determine their placing in the Phoenix Military Complex.

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That is, unless you are Jet…

Jet did not form his core. That's disappointing, but he may still have a chance when he's eighteen. He could still serve in the army. It doesn't matter if he is just a lowly private. The Phoenix Military Complex had a rule. The leaders die first. The higher the rank, the sooner you're dead.

Unfortunately, when his aunt Nerine of the Healer unit checked on his condition, she discovered something even more horrifying.

Jet cannot form a core. Not now, nor in the future.

And thus, here he is. Banished to the Octagon Bungalow at the peak of Ember Hill. Trying his darndest to do the impossible. Learning the second part of the martial arts without an energy core.

An exercise in futility.

Right now, Jet is trying the first sword move of the Brandrs. The Blaze Slash. If you're a magic user, the slash can become a short to mid range attack, spewing flaming slash to the opponents. If you're an aura user, fire energy would coat the kopis, turning your blade into the sharpest weapon ever.

If you're Jet however, the move was just some lame sword drawing technique. No matter how many times you sheathed and unsheathed the kopis.

Jet's vision was blurry. His feet are wobbly. Even his toes lost any amount of strength to even slightly wiggle. Still, Jet assumed the position of the first move. His body bent forward. His left hand on the sheath, his right tightly gripping the blade. Jet compressed himself for maximum burst.

“HUUUP! First move. Blaze Slash!” Jet leaped forward. Unleashing the blade from its scabbard.

Of course, nothing happened. Doesn't even disturbed the sandy area in front of him. Although, since he overexerted himself, the landing was the worst in his thirteen years of living.

Feet already jelly, Jet lost control entirely. His bloodied hand can no longer hold the blade. The kopis flew upward, following the trajectory of the slash. Jet fell flat on his back. Moments later, the kopis followed. Fortunately, it missed Jet, and plunged on his right side. Inches away from scraping the cute babyface of his.

“ARGHHHH! GODDAMMIT!”

Jet was aggressively annoyed. And the reflection of his face on the blade did not help. Mockingly, he sneered to the kopis.

“You missed!” He said. “Should've gone for the head.”

His eyes started to turn glacial. Watery. Either from the frustration, the sweat, or the sand, or perhaps all three. Either way, it doesn't matter. Because it was now too much for a newly turned thirteen year old. As the tears ran down from the corner of his eyes, Jet began to wail.

“It's not fair. It's not fair, GODDAMMIT!”

“I worked hard for this. And it's my birthday. It's supposed to be a great day. But…”

“All that training, all the good things I did…is it all for nothing?”

After that, Jet stopped talking. Only crying and sobbing. And it's probably a good thing for him. He had been bottling it in since last night. It's good that he finally let it all out.

Plus, everything just happened so fast for him to process. Last night was the Ignition Ceremony. Where the Holy Fire denied him of his inheritance. And then, his parents told him to move out. It was for a good reason, he knew. And yet, it was a cruel fate for a child. On his birthday as well.

Suddenly, Jet felt like there's a shadow shading him from the crystal lights illuminating the underground arena. He opened his eyes, and saw the familiar smile of his butler.

“...Sam...”

Sam's smile was unwavering. He removed the sword, and threw it to the side. “Yes, Young Master?”

Jet smiled back, bitterly. He sat up. “I'm sorry you had to see that, Sam. Guess I'm just a brat after all.”

Sam kneeled, produced a handkerchief, and wiped the dirt and tears off of Jet's face. “You're not a brat, Young Master. Just a kid. A kid laugh when he's happy. And cry when he's sad. Honestly, I'm glad to see you behaving like a kid your age.”

“Hahaha. But I'm not a normal kid, am I? I'm a Brandr. Or…at least I was. Being stronger is all that I know. Now…what do I do now?”

Sam helped Jet up. “Do you remember what Lord Aelius and Lady Loina said to you?”

“Urmmm…yeah? They apologized for treating me like a soldier. And they told me that they will support whatever decision and path that I take in the future.”

“There, you see. That's your answer.”

“Huh?”

Sam tousled Jet's maroon hair. “The keyword there, Young Master, is the future. Now, you may not be able to be a soldier. Doesn't mean you got to stop training. It also doesn't mean that you're just good for your strength. Train, study, see the world. Then choose whatever path is right for you.”

Jet stopped to ponder. “... Won't it take a long time?”

“Of course it will. Choosing a path of destiny is never easy. Most people don't even have that luxury. Think about it. The child of a farmer could train to be strong, or study hard to pass an officer's exam, but he couldn't. He has to help at the farm, or they'll starve.”

Jet's eyes began to open wide with realization. Satisfied, Sam continued. “You, Young Master, were blessed with time and the support of your parents. The two strongest people in Ottilia. Now, the only thing you need are experiences. So go and try them all, the good ones of course. And then, maybe if you're lucky, you would stumble upon a path that is just right for you.

Jet was enlightened. “Hehe, I'm glad to have you Sam. You and Brenda.”

That sentence made Sam burst out laughing. “Hahahaha! And I'm glad you didn't kill Brenda and me. And chose to bind us to you instead.”

“Ceh, I wanted to free you last year. You don't want to.”

Sam smiled as he looked at Jet. “You have spared our lives. You have treated us like decent humans, instead of the slaves we are. What more can we want? We can only repay your kind deeds with our lives.”

Both of them said nothing for a while.

“Ehem, now come on Young Master. I think Brenda had finished baking.”

“Huh? Baking? What is baking?”

Sam chuckled. “Why, a cake of course. What else would she be making?” Sam frowned as he thought of something. “That barbarian better not be making some weird beef cake or something.”

“Hahahaha, as long as it taste good.”

“Hmph, fine…”

That night, three people enjoyed a small birthday party. Unrelated by blood, nor country, but by bond, the three were more like siblings than any family.By the end of it, as they all went to sleep, even Jet had partially forgotten his grief.

Jet was happy.

He was at peace.

Though…for how long? Who could say.