Chapter 3 - Forging

The grand chamber of the Valdene Estate Mansion was alive with the crackle of the roaring fireplace, its warmth complementing the mansion's rustic charm and grandeur.

Perched atop his father’s broad shoulders, four-year-old Darius Valdene entered the grand chamber. The height lent him an unexpected sense of security, his cheeks tinged with a shy blush. His gaze, though reflecting youthful innocence, hinted at a depth of wisdom and maturity uncharacteristic for his age.

Jarek Valdene, known to the world as the Blue Wolf, lowered Darius to the ground. Battle scars marked his imposing figure. Kneeling, he gripped Darius's shoulder with a proud smile. His voice filled the grand chamber, "Amara," he called to his wife, "our son has learned to read."

Amara Valdene, with her long silver hair and emerald eyes, stood as a figure of tranquil power. Specializing in water magic, her presence rippled through the room like a serene yet potent cascade. Turning to Darius and Jarek, her expression blended a mother’s adoration with a mage’s intrigue. "At just the age of four?"

Darius nodded, a serious gleam in his eyes. 'Learning the written language of Gaia was almost too easy,' a wistful sigh escaping him. 'Sometimes, I wish I could share all I know with you both...the path of cultivation has always been a lonely one.'

His parents exchanged a knowing glance, then questioned his fierce independence in learning to read. Darius met their eyes with unwavering determination. "I want to be strong, like you," he stated, his soft voice laden with an old soul's resolve. "It only counts if I do it myself."

Pride bloomed on his parents faces, their smiles broadening at his words. Jarek chuckled, his eyes shining, "that's the spirit of a true knight." He recognized in Darius the steel resolve of a future warrior. Beside him, Amara perceived the stirrings of a mage, a seeker of arcane secrets.

Amara's face lit up with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she stepped forward. "Let me tell you about the mages, Darius," she declared, cutting off Jarek before he could speak.

Jarek groaned softly, his disappointment audible. "I wanted to go first," he murmured, but swiftly composed himself to listen.

Amara pressed on, her voice vibrant as she recounted the storied past of the Mage Towers and the origins of the Arcane Ascendancy System. "These towers are a symbol of our magical prowess, erected during the Age of Twilight. They have housed Gaia's most adept mages," she explained, her eyes alive with enthusiasm.

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Darius's questions, driven by a mind teeming with precocious insight, bore into the depths of arcane intricacies. "What initiates the transformation into a mage? And once initiated, how does one refine and channel mana to wield such power?"

Amara's smile widened in response to Darius's astute questions. "Well, Darius," she began, her voice carrying a mix of pride and patience, "it begins with mastering the control of magical energy, progressing through spell casting, and evolving your mana into a potent force known as an aura. There's much to learn, and in time, you will grasp all these aspects."

Her explanation offered a glimpse into the mage's ascent through escalating stages of power, culminating in the pinnacle of their craft. "The summit of magehood is the Archmagus," she elaborated, her tone reverent. "Their aura is unparalleled, and the spells they wield are beyond ordinary comprehension. Throughout history, only eleven have achieved such grandeur."

Darius wrestled with his frustrations, 'she spins these stories of magic and grand adventure as though I'm just a child unaware of the world,' he thought, feeling the constraints of his guise as a four-year-old.

Amara's descriptions of a Tier 9 mage filled Darius with anticipation, yet the long path to such power lay heavily on his mind. 'Patience, I must bide my time,' he mused inwardly, the taste bitter as he remembered the heights from which he had once fallen.

Kneeling to match Darius's height, Jarek's eyes sparkled with the thrill of storytelling. "I've got a tale for you, Darius, about knights and their valor," he began, his voice rich with enthusiasm.

"Long ago, amidst a fierce war, there existed knights—courageous yet ordinary. That changed when mages bestowed upon them magical gifts. Transformed, they became Manaforged Knights, endowed with strength, speed, and might far beyond the ordinary."

Jarek's voice deepened, a solemn note threading through his words. "Yet, that power came at a dire cost—they betrayed their old kings. After the war, they sought redemption, forming the Penitent Knights Union to right their past wrongs."

His tone brightened, swept up by his tale, "In their quest for redemption, they founded Avalon—a mighty fortress dedicated to honing their skills, striving to become paragons of knighthood."

"Darius, these knights are extraordinary. Their armor is forged from their magical aura, evolving as they grow stronger. It starts with gauntlets and gradually encompasses them in a full suit of radiant armor."

Darius stifled his urge to scream, presenting a facade of youthful curiosity. He continued to engage, asking only the most innocent questions, painfully maintaining the guise of a four-year-old's wonder.

However, his parents' next words caught him by surprise. "Darius, my love, how would you like to explore the Library?"

Excitement flickered in Darius's eyes at the mention of the library, "can we go now?!" With his heart was pumping wildly at the thought, 'finally, no more bed time stories.'

His wild imagination was suddenly interrupted when his mother, with an uncanny ability to derail his deepest brooding, placed a tender kiss on his forehead. "You can explore the library tomorrow, my little wolf. Now, it's time for bed," she chimed, as though dismissing an ancient cultivator was the most natural thing in the world.

Before he could protest, Darius was swept up, cradled in his father's muscular arms, leaving the grand chamber's impressive spectacle behind.

'This is bullshit.' The swift transition from the churning sea of thoughts to his warm, cozy bed was almost comically abrupt.

As he was tucked into bed, his parents leaned in to give him a goodnight kiss. Surprisingly, a wave of affection washed over Darius.

As the room dimmed and his parents left, he lay there under his soft covers, pondering the odd mix of frustration, anticipation, and now a strange, newfound warmth in his heart. "Why did I like that?"

The question lingered as he fell asleep, his dreams already filled with visions of the ancient texts he'd encounter the next day. He couldn't help but smile as he slowly drifted off.

'Tomorrow is gonna be interesting.'

And with that thought, the room faded into slumber, the soft, peaceful breathing of a child echoing the rhythm of his extraordinary journey ahead.