The room was as dull as it could be, with grey walls devoid of any adornment. A middle-aged man sat at a small bureau, buried under stacks of paperwork, his mind entangled in the labyrinthine world of military bureaucracy.
Leo, standing in the doorway, cleared his throat to break the silence. The man's gaze lifted from the sea of documents, his expression a blend of curiosity and impatience. "Who are you?" he asked with a touch of annoyance. "Are you here to find your family, or do you bring news?"
Meeting his gaze head-on, Leo introduced himself firmly, "No, sir. I've come to enlist for military training. My name is Leo... Leo Solas." The mention of Jonathan's last name tugged at his heartstrings, reminding him that he might never see his friend again. "I've come to follow in Jonathan's footsteps," he added, retrieving the emblem from his pocket as tangible proof.
The man considered his words for a moment, a hint of empathy in his eyes. "I see. May I know your age?" he asked with a softer tone. "I'll be twelve tomorrow, sir," Leo replied, fully aware that he was four years younger than the usual entry age for the military academy. "However, I wish to undergo personal training in the meantime. I'll cover all expenses, both financially and through future deployments."
The man pondered Leo's request, contemplating the implications. "I believe we can come to an arrangement based on your terms, though it won't be without its challenges," he finally said, expecting some disappointment from Leo. But Leo had already steeled himself for this outcome. Everything seemed to align with his expectations, except for one crucial detail.
"May I request one change, sir?" Leo inquired earnestly. "Could you allocate some time for magic training as well? I've recently awakened my first magic circle, and I believe it would be beneficial for the military if I could excel in both swordsmanship and magic."
The man's eyes widened in astonishment. "What! You're not yet twelve, and you've already had your first awakening? Can you show me your crest?" Leo complied, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the distinctive black circle etched onto his chest. Berkov, the officer of platoon seven, couldn't contain his amazement. He moved closer, awe in his expression.
"Remarkable! A magic circle at the age of fourteen is considered rare, but at twelve, it's very rare, even among elves. Is there anything else I should be aware of?" he inquired, still grappling with the extraordinary nature of Leo's abilities.
With a glint of determination in his eyes, the man leaned forward. "Leo, I'm impressed by your audacity and abilities. To be sure of your mettle, how about we put your combat skills to the test right now? Show me what you can do."
Leo's heart raced at the unexpected challenge, but he didn't hesitate. With a resolute nod, he stepped back from the man's desk, creating a bit of space between them. His eyes never left the man's as he reached behind his back and drew the wooden training sword he had been carrying at his side.
The man leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Very well, let's see what you're made of."
With that, Leo lunged forward, his wooden sword slashing through the air with remarkable speed for his age. The man deftly parried the attack, demonstrating his own prowess despite his administrative appearance. Their wooden swords clanged and clashed in a series of lightning-fast strikes and counters.
For a moment, the room transformed into a makeshift training ground. Leo's youthful energy and agility clashed with the man's experience and technique. Each movement was a dance of wood, as the two combatants tested their skills and wits.
The man was holding back, and Leo could tell. He knew that if he wanted to impress this seasoned military officer, he would need to give his all. With a burst of determination, he launched a rapid series of strikes, aiming for the man's guard, but the man parried every attack with precision.
As they continued to spar, Leo's heart pounded in his chest. The man's combat abilities were far beyond what he had expected. It was a struggle to keep up, but Leo was determined not to back down.
The fight raged on, both combatants pushing themselves to their limits. Leo's breathing grew heavier, and his arms ached from the effort. He could see the beads of sweat forming on the man's brow, a sign that he too was fully engaged in the battle.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man made a swift move, disarming Leo and sending his wooden sword clattering to the floor. Leo stood there, panting, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
The man leaned forward in his chair, a grin now spread across his face. "Impressive, Leo. You have talent and determination. I believe you have the potential to excel in our military training program."
Leo's exhaustion gave way to a sense of accomplishment. He had not only passed the unexpected test but had also gained the approval of a man who clearly held a position of authority within the military.
"Thank you, sir," Leo said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I promise I won't let you down."
The man nodded. "I look forward to seeing your progress. Welcome to the military, Leo Solas."
As they both shared a moment of satisfaction, Leo couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the challenging journey that lay ahead in his pursuit of military training and his newfound mentor's approval.
With the terms of their agreement favorably adjusted, Berkov summoned another soldier to guide Leo. He followed the soldier to the military's sleeping quarters, where he was surprised to find himself assigned a private hut—a rare privilege in the military. The compact room had everything he needed: a desk, storage space, and a bed.
The hut was modest but functional, constructed with sturdy, weathered wood walls that bore a few scuff marks. A narrow window provided a glimpse of the moonlit night, casting a soft, ethereal light across the room.
A small desk, cluttered with parchments and a quill, stood against one wall, offering evidence of the previous occupant's work. A storage compartment beneath the desk provided ample space for personal belongings and equipment.
In one corner of the room lay a simple yet serviceable bed, its mattress covered in a faded, coarse fabric. A thin blanket was neatly folded at the foot of the bed, ready to offer solace during the night's chill.
As evening descended, Leo settled into his new accommodations, taking solace in the solitude of the private hut. Before retiring for the night, he decided to immerse himself in the book Jonathan had left behind. Its first chapter introduced various magical arts, and he eagerly perused the sections on magic.
"In magic, we harness an energy known as mana," the book explained. "To wield this force, one must possess a mana circle engraved on their chest. At the first circle, you gain the ability to heat your hands at will and perform other minor feats. Advancing to the second circle is attainable with diligence. To achieve this, concentrate on the mana surrounding you and draw it toward your heart. Then, endeavor to channel it through your veins, akin to circulating blood. Devote an hour daily to this practice—no longer, as it could lead to injury. Within a month, most will attain the second circle, while a gifted elf might achieve it in a week."
With newfound knowledge, Leo embarked on the meditative practice as the book had prescribed, dedicating an hour to the exercise. That night, as he drifted into a fitful slumber, vivid dreams haunted his restless mind. He found himself standing in a dense forest, the trees towering above him like ancient sentinels. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating a soothing symphony of whispers. In the dream, he could hear Jonathan's voice, his words of wisdom echoing through the woods.
"Strength, Leo, is not just about the body, but the spirit," Jonathan said, his image materializing before him. He held a wooden sword, the very one he had used to train Leo. "The true power of a swordsman lies not in the weapon but in the heart."
As Leo tried to reach out to him, Jonathan began to fade, his form dissolving like mist in the morning sun. The dream left him with a lingering sense of longing, a yearning for the mentor he had lost.
"Rise and shine, cadet," a raspy female voice called out, accompanied by a knock on Leo's hut's door. He hastily got dressed and stepped outside to find an elderly lady waiting for him.
"So, you're Leo," she said with a faint grin, sizing him up. "I'm Mava, a seventh-circle mage and one of the vice headmasters at Kyta High School, the top-notch magic school around. I heard we've got a promising talent among the humans, and that's you. Mind if I come in? We've got magic lessons to do."
Leo welcomed Mava into his modest hut, and she settled into the old chair. Leaning forward, she asked, "So, what's your take on magic, kid?" Her words hung in the air for a moment before Leo gathered his thoughts to respond.
"I've got the basics down, I think," he started. Determination sparked in his eyes. "Magic's all about using mana, right? We draw in this energy and then mold it into various forms." Mava nodded, her expression approving.
"I can see you've been doing some meditation," she observed. "In my lessons, you'll learn how to use mana efficiently. Brace yourself for some rigorous training that might make you regret your talent." Her last words sent a shiver down Leo's spine, but instead of fear, determination welled up within him.
The kind-looking lady instructed Leo to use all the mana in his body to heat up some water, then had him do it again when he had replenished just about one-tenth of his mana. This grueling practice continued for a long three hours, and Leo was feeling thoroughly drained by the end of it. Still, he didn't give in.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
When it was finally over, Mava gave him a sympathetic look and said, "That's enough for today, kid. Pushing any further could lead to injury. I'll call in your swordsmanship teacher now." As she made her exit, Leo clenched his fists, resolved to face the challenges ahead head-on.
Alone in his humble hut, he could hear Mava's voice just outside. Her words drifted through the thin walls, pondering aloud, "Why would someone of her capacity volunteer to train a twelve-year-old boy?" Her contemplation intrigued him; even a seventh-circle mage seemed intrigued by the idea of becoming his mentor.
For hours, no one had come to guide Leo on his new path, so he decided to delve deeper into his studies on sword aura. The ancient tome before him held secrets he was eager to uncover.
"Sword aura, also known as weapon aura," the book began, "is the art of gathering neva into your chosen weapon, most commonly a sword. It is a journey that spans five distinct stages, each divided further into novice, intermediate, and expert levels."
As he immersed himself in the pages of knowledge, he found himself entranced by the intricacies of each stage. The first, the awakened stage, marked the beginning of his journey, where his body and neva streams began to develop. Though the changes might be subtle, they were the foundation of what was to come. The second, known as the enlightened stage, arrived when one could perceive or sense neva, a unique experience for each practitioner. Within this stage were three sub-levels that honed this perception to crystalline clarity. The mortal stage followed, where he could channel neva into his chosen weapon, a milestone he eagerly anticipated. The fourth and fifth stages, mysterious and enticing, promised the crafting of his very own sword style.
After absorbing the knowledge from the book, he embarked on his daily mana training, honing his control over this mysterious energy. The hours stretched on in solitude until a knock at the door shattered the monotony.
As he opened the door, a young woman with long, flowing blond hair entered silently. Her presence intrigued him, and she gestured for him to join her on the bed. He complied, his curiosity piqued.
"Are you the Leo I'm seeking?" she inquired, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty.
"I don't think you would know me," he replied honestly. "I am but a commoner who was cast aside by my own family."
Her scrutinizing gaze never left him, searching for something beyond mere appearances. "Your appearance tells me that it's you," she stated with conviction. "I have a little sister, my only living relative. Six months ago, she was kidnapped by human traffickers. But it was a young man, accompanied by local guards, who stormed the facility where they held my sister."
As she recounted the tale, her words painted a vivid picture. Leo couldn't help but relive that fateful day. The young man she spoke of was him, and it was a memory etched deep into his soul.
The battle with the slave traders had unfolded in a grim and narrow alleyway, desperation and savagery hanging thick in the air. The traffickers, driven by greed and cruelty, had descended upon their innocent victims, treating them as nothing more than commodities. In shackles and terror, the innocent had no voice to cry for help.
But he had stood against them, his sword drawn and his resolve unwavering. The clashing of steel against steel had resounded through the alley, a symphony of combat where every move was precise, every parry calculated. It was a dance of life and death, and he was determined to ensure the innocent would see the light of another day.
Amid the chaos, a singular act of heroism had taken place. A trafficker, fueled by malice, had lunged at a defenseless victim, ready to strike a fatal blow. In that moment, Leo
had interposed himself between the blade and the innocent, sacrificing his own safety to protect another.
Though the trafficker's blow had found its mark, striking deep, the victims had been saved from further harm. The traffickers, driven back by his valor, had fled the scene in defeat. And while he had carried the weight of his wound, it was a price he was willing to pay for the life he had saved.
But the story that had unfolded afterward was unknown to him, a narrative that had unfolded in the shadows. Now, the young woman before him was unraveling the rest of the tale, the story of the life he had inadvertently altered.
"My little sister," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion, "returned home that day, but she was forever changed by what she had experienced. Her physical wounds healed, but the scars on her heart ran deep. Yet it was the memory of the young man who had shielded her from harm, the boy who had taken her from the brink of death and offered her a second chance at life, that had become a beacon of hope."
The revelation left Leo speechless. He had known the day's events had affected those he had saved, but he had never imagined the profound impact his actions had had. He had not been a mere passerby, but a catalyst for change in their lives. The young girl before him was living proof of that truth.
"I am Grace," she introduced herself. "My sister speaks of you often. She says that you are the reason she is alive today, the reason her life took a different path. You saved her, and in doing so, you changed our lives forever."
Leo sat there, absorbing her words, his heart heavy with the weight of the consequences of his actions. Grace continued, "My sister has never been the same since her ordeal, but I believe that with time, she will heal. She looks up to you, Leo, and she aspires to be as strong and courageous as the young man who rescued her."
Their conversation stirred a mix of emotions in Leo. He had joined the military to train as a swordsman, but he had never anticipated that his actions as a mere guard would have such a profound impact on the lives of those he had saved. It was a poignant reminder that even small acts of heroism could ripple through the lives of others.
As Grace shared more about her sister's journey to recovery and her dreams of joining the military academy, Leo listened intently. He realized that he had become a symbol of hope for the girl and her family, a reminder that the world contained both darkness and light and that even in the bleakest moments, a hero could emerge.
"Your actions that day were not in vain, Leo," Grace said, her eyes filled with gratitude. "You not only saved my sister but inspired her to pursue a path of strength and resilience. You are a hero to us, and your presence is a blessing."
Her heartfelt words left Leo with a sense of purpose and a renewed commitment to his training. He would strive to become the best swordsman he could be, not just for his own aspirations but for the hope and inspiration he represented to others. In that moment, he understood that being a hero was not about grand gestures, but about the impact one could have on the lives of those they touched.
As they stepped outside, a soldier approached them, bearing two wooden swords. Grace glanced at Leo and said, “Show me your current skill level.” With the wooden sword in hand, he began demonstrating the moves he had observed and memorized from Jonathan’s countless practice sessions. Leo executed each maneuver with precision, trying to replicate his impeccable swordsmanship.
Thirty minutes passed, and Grace signaled for Leo to halt. Her thoughtful expression revealed her analysis. “Your technique is solid, but there’s a problem,” she remarked. “You’ve clearly emulated someone else’s style, but you haven’t truly made it your own. To unlock your full potential in swordsmanship, we’ll need to start by pushing your body to its limits.”
She gestured toward an old, sturdy oak tree nearby. “Now, practice those same moves on that tree.” Leo complied, approaching the formidable tree and executing the movements again. To his surprise, not a single scratch marred the tree’s bark. Grace pointed out the issue. “Do you see the problem? Because you’ve copied the style, you haven’t truly grasped its essence. Before we delve deeper into swordsmanship, we need to train your body extensively.”
Her next instruction was clear. “Run ten laps around the camp, and once you’ve finished, you can swing the sword until the sun sets.” Leo set off on my laps, the first five relatively manageable. But as he pushed through to the sixth lap, fatigue began to gnaw at his muscles. Soreness spread like wildfire, and self-doubt crept into his mind.
During the last two laps, his thoughts were consumed by doubts and haunting memories. During a momentary break from running, Leo found himself gazing at the pendant around his neck. It was a simple golden amulet, a memento of a happier time. In his mind’s eye, he revisited the day Jonathan had given it to him. Jonathan had ruffled Leo's hair and smiled, telling him it was a symbol of the family Leo used to belong to. Jonathan knew Leo's father from way before Leo was born, Leo himself never had known any of his parents.
Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched the pendant, his fingers tracing its contours. It was a reminder of what he had lost and what he hoped to regain. The weight of his past pressed heavily on his shoulders, but it also fueled his energy and helped him excel in his training.
Despite it all, he refused to yield. He kept running, each step a testament to his pride. When he completed the task, evening had descended upon the camp.
Grace acknowledged his efforts. “Well done. You showed remarkable persistence.” She allowed him to quench his thirst and satiate his hunger with the bread he had acquired earlier. Once he returned, a surprising sight awaited him. Instead of the familiar wooden sword, there lay a dark stone sword. Grace handed it to him, and as he grasped the hilt, it slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with an audible thud.
The sword felt impossibly heavy, as though it had been hewn from a mountain’s core. Dust rose from the ground where it landed. Leo gazed up at Grace, who tried to conceal a faint smile. The remainder of the evening was spent in relentless attempts to execute Jonathan’s legacy with the heavy sword, but his efforts proved futile.
As the final orange hues of daylight vanished from the sky, Grace declared, “That’s enough for today. Prepare yourself, for this will be your daily routine until you can master the art of wielding that sword.”
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the military camp. Leo’s daily training had left him famished, and he made his way to the camp’s communal dinner area, a makeshift arrangement of wooden tables and benches. He found an empty bench and sat down, a plate of food in front of him.
As he began to eat, he observed the chatter and camaraderie of the soldiers around him. They were a diverse group, each with their own unique story of how they came to serve in the military. Leo couldn’t help but be curious about their backgrounds and motivations.
A soldier named Private Elena, sitting nearby, noticed Leo and offered a friendly smile. “Hey there, new recruit. I haven’t seen you around much. Name’s Elena,” she said, striking up a conversation.
Leo returned her smile, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’m Leo,” he replied. “I’m fairly new here, still trying to find my way around.”
Elena nodded, her blue eyes bright with curiosity. “It can be tough at first, but you’ll get the hang of it. What made you decide to join the military?”
Leo took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s a long story, but I guess you could say I was looking for a fresh start, a chance to leave my past behind.”
Elena’s interest was piqued. “Fresh start, huh? I can understand that. We all have our reasons for being here. For me, it was about proving that women can be just as capable as men in the military.”
Leo admired her determination. “That’s impressive. It must have been challenging.”
Elena chuckled. “You have no idea. But challenges make us stronger, right?”
Their conversation continued as they shared stories of their early days in the camp. Leo learned about Elena’s upbringing and the support she had received from her family, even if they hadn’t initially approved of her choice. He, in turn, shared some of his experiences growing up as an orphan.
As they chatted, other soldiers at nearby tables joined in, sharing snippets of their own backgrounds and reasons for joining. Corporal Marcus, a quiet but attentive man, revealed that he had joined to find redemption for his past mistakes. Another soldier, Sergeant Rourke, spoke of his journey from a life as a street urchin to becoming a respected member of the military.
The dinner table buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the clinking of utensils. Leo was struck by the sense of camaraderie and belonging he felt among these fellow soldiers. It was a far cry from the loneliness he had experienced on the streets.
Amidst the tales and laughter, Leo couldn’t help but feel grateful for this newfound connection. In the midst of a world filled with challenges and uncertainties, he had found a place where he belonged.