“Hey Luke, we need to talk.”

Luke couldn’t believe what he had been thinking, but he was glad to have returned to school. Playing with Julia would be a relief, but the first words the girl uttered had made him stop dead.

“I told my aunt and uncle about you, and…”

“What? I can’t come and visit?”

“No. They said they don’t me to be friends with you, they say not having mana means you’re a troublemaker.”

Luke was astonished at the words, not because of how rude or mean they were, but how they reminded him of his first day at school.

“So I guess that means that we aren’t friends?”

“No way! I want to still be your friend!”

The boy scratched his head. “I guess we’ll just not tell them about it.”

----------------------------------------

“Pick any weapon on that wall, see what fits you. You don’t have to pick a sword, or a shield, you could go with a mace, or an axe, or-“

Luke’s mind has tuned out his brother’s rambling, knowing that regardless of his choice, he was going to get thrown to the floor like last time. A lot of the weapons looked to big for him, and several were out of his reach, even for him being four and a half feet. Picking up the nearest weapon, the boy awkwardly maneuvered it so the head was facing his brother.

“A spear, huh? Brian uses one of those.”

Luke winced at the mention of the name, but he figured there was no point to choosing another weapon. With a running start, Luke slashed the spear at his brother, who easily side stepped out of range. Attempting more slashes yielded the same result.

“Luke” Matthew had made his way to the younger sibling’s side, “you’re using too much energy trying to slash. Just focus on stabbing for now.”

Adding his own force, Matthew thrusted the weapon at the air with enough force to send Luke forward with a jump.

“Keep a good grip now” the older brother handed over the spear, returning to his spot in from of the spear’s point.

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This time, the brother thrust the spear forward, his older sibling walking back to avoid the flurry of stabs approaching him. After several seconds, the boy’s father cut the attack short by grabbing the head of the spear with his bare hand, letting the point dig into his palm. Startled, the boy stopped immediately.

“Do you see my palm?” The man let go of the spearhead, bringing his palm closer to the boy.

Looking at the skin, Luke couldn’t tell where he had stabbed his father.

“I want you to strike my palm with all of the force that you can muster.”

The boy knew how this song-and-dance went, so without hesitating he did as he was told, delivering a quick, powerful jab to the man’s palm.

“Again.”

Luke tensed the muscles in his arm, at least what he believed to be his muscles, delivering another solid blow to the man’s open hand.

“Again.”

The son took a step back before leaping forward with the strongest jab he could possibly make, combining his own force with momentum. As the spear landed, the boy released the weapon, tiring himself out.

“Luke,” the father walked over to the boy who was now sitting on the cold ground, “is this really all the force you can muster?”

Looking up, the boy could see his father’s palm, just as unblemished as it was initially. Luke’s head lowered, his gaze turning toward his weapon, and then his own arms.

“We will continue to practice, but this weakness is no good, it’s simply no good. If all of your strength can’t penetrate the skin of someone using as little mana as they physically can, there’s no hope for you.”

With those words, the man left his son to stew. Matthew quickly ran over to the boy to reassure him, but wasn’t prepared for what followed. Once he sure his father was out of sight and ear-shot, Luke threw the spear at the ground with a roar, the weapon bouncing once before inching away and eventually stopping.

“Luke” Matthew was shocked and worried for his brother, mostly in case their father would hear him.

“I hate him so much!”

“Luke!” Matthew raised his voice to grab his brother’s attention.

“Nothing I do is good enough!”

“LUKE!”

Matthew finally grabbed his younger brother by his shoulders, himself growing angry at the blinding rage his brother was releasing. Luke had immediately calmed down after being grabbed, in a second realizing why his brother had done so.

Both siblings remained silent for a minute, not talking, not whispering, not even breathing. Once the minute was over, Luke hastily returned the spear to its holster on the wall, silencing his footsteps to and from. As they left the building, there was no sign of their father.

“Luke” The older brother inhaled, “you need to be careful about your anger.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have thrown the spear.”

“Not just that. Father would not have been happy to see you explode like that. Be careful who you’re angry around and how you express your anger.”

“So I can’t be angry. Got it. Can’t cry or be sad either.”

“Luke, that’s not…”

Matthew tried to talk to his brother, but Luke picked up his pace. Before Matthew could follow, a realization had hit him.

“I’m sorry little brother. Maybe you’re right.”