Watercolors of red splashed over the blue sky. The sun was slowly going into slumber, falling down to share the canvas with the night. In the lively house, Galain was in the kitchen cooking a meal for dinner. Since there was no mother figure present, Galain brought it up to himself to take both parenting roles to the best of his abilities. Besides, the man liked cooking. Not as much as he did pounding someone with his sword, but enough to find cutting vegetables enjoyable. In a way, he was still using sharp objects but in a more peaceful manner with the outcome of making delicious meals.

Around his waist was a red apron, clashing with his buff body. Due to its small size, the apron covered half of his chest and stomach. The tight fit also accentuated his chest muscles. He was humming a war tune while cooking some chicken soup. The smell rose up in the air and King, who was studying at the table, couldn’t help but look up.

“Smells good.”

His mouth watered. After the fight, he was deathly hungry, his stomach on a prowess for food.

Galain nodded. “I learned the recipe from one of the mothers in the village. Apparently it’s the best, passed down from generations in her family. I was specially given the knowledge due to the fact that her son is in my classes.”

King raised an eyebrow. “You talk to the ladies of the village? Really? When did you become best friends with them?”

Although they were family, King wasn't knowledged in Galain’s life outside of home, his job, and training. He wasn’t interested either. After all, he was busy with his own schedule. Early in the morning, every day, except for the household chore day which happened every month on the saturday, he partook in their a five hour private training section. Galain would plan lessons to help King improve in areas and to give him knowledge for new skills. Sometimes, they would spend a week or a weekend together for special training occasions, but the usual routine was a few hours. Then afterwards, King would continue training in his own time till dinner while Galain went to grocery shop and teach his sword-fighting classes for the village kids. After dinner, King would continue sword-fighting or studying in his own time. Since he didn’t attend regular school, due to the fact that he  believed the education system was a waste of time, he self-taught himself everything.

“Listen bud. You don’t know since your too busy with work but after our sessions I always go down to the village to do my house duties. And when I go down, there are always plenty of mothers who look up to me. I’m a hero in their eyes. A man who not only protects the village and educates their children to become stronger, but also a provider who takes care of his own like a mother. I’m the complete package. You’re a lucky bastard.”

King chuckled. “Yeah yeah. I’m lucky. Whatever.”

“Ungrateful,” Galain said. “Don’t think about having any of this soup. You lost your right.”

King widened his eyes before running off his chair to go down on his knees. “No! Please! I want food. Don’t leave me in this hungry state.”

Galain rolled his eyes. “How desperate.” There was a pause. “Well, since you went on your knees, you could have some.”

With a giddy smile, King returned to his textbook. He didn’t need to go that far to gain his portion of the meal considering that Galain was joking but his body couldn’t help but move on its own.

“By the way,” Galain began. His mind trailed back to the fight that happened earlier in the day. A deep root-gutted feeling lingered in his chest. “What was that move earlier? How did you do it?”

“Not telling-”

“Chicken soup. Do you want it or not.”

King let out a nervous laugh. “I just thought about it one night and decided to test it out.”

“Be serious.”

There was a moment of silence. King sat quietly, trying to recount what went down when the idea first popped up in his head. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to describe the experience. “I’m serious. I was just thinking of ways to defeat you. I went back to my memories and looked back to our previous fights, trying to find out what went wrong. Since you usually don’t have any openings due to your experience I thought that I should create one. Although I hadn’t practiced the move before, everything was laid out in my head. I just needed the right timing.”

King knew his strengths and weaknesses. He had a general idea of what he was capable of. This was why his own execution ran smoother than it would with someone else. He was confident that he would be able to pull through.

Galain use the wooden spoon to stir the soup. Chunks of celery, carrots, chicken breast swirled along. Once the words registered in his brain, he stopped. Everything stayed still, only the bubbles rising up.

He let go of the spoon.

Turning around, a strange expression took over his face. No smiles, just pure disbelief. “So you’ve never physically practiced that move before?”

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King looked up. “Yup.”

A sigh escaped Galain’s lips. King was joking. He had to be. If it was by pure luck, Galain wouldn’t have questioned anything but the fact that King planned the move out and executed it perfectly without practice was a feat. A talent that only a few in the world possessed. His brain-body coordination did his current status no justice. He was made for fighting.

Although Galian was a sword user himself, it was a real pity that King was a non-gifted. If he only had a spirit weapon, he could’ve been much stronger.

No matter how much effort was placed in blacksmithing a normal weapon, a spirit weapon would win by a hundred times. It was made from pure energy and from the user’s soul. A spirit weapon had magic powers on top of being a physical entity.

If King had only been a spirit weapon user, he could’ve been one of the best in the world with his perseverance, intellect, and physical strength. It was really unfortunate. Why was life so unfair? When he was younger, Galain had always cried to god because he wasn’t blessed. But after knowing King, the feelings rose up once again but this time, towards his son and a lot deeper than before.

Galain cleared his throat while turning off the fire. The soup was cooked, ready to be served. He put on his mittens and picked the pot to place it on the trivet on the table.

After taking off and placing his mittens on the kitchen counter, he turned to face King. “So what is your next steps? What do you plan on doing?”

King moved his textbook to the side to make way for the bowl and utensils. “What do you mean?”

Galain brought them over, placing the objects in front of King. “You’re not going to school. I don’t imagine you working for the Kingdom’s military or being an adventurer. What are you working so hard for?”

The question was finally dropped. Galain couldn’t contain his curiosity. What was King’s true intentions? The reason to why he worked so hard? Throughout his parenthood, not once had he never questioned why King’s goals to begin with. He just assumed that his son’s past had a large reasoning for it and decided to leave King alone. He didn’t want to rip open past scars. In fact, when the young boy said he didn’t want to attend the basic school in the village, Galain didn’t even complain. He let the boy do what he wanted. That was his definition of being a good parent. As long as King had a goal and Galain was helping him achieve it, that was all that mattered.

“Valentia Academy.” King poured the soup into his bowl. A smile permanently stamped on his lips. “I want to go there.”

Galain covered his mouth with his fist as he let out a series of coughs. Perhaps, he didn’t know his son as much as he thought he did. Valentia? He never expected for that name to escape his son’s mouth. To hear that King wanted to go to Valentia Academy. What was this new sensation riling up in his chest?

Valentia Academy was the top educational institute in the world. Not only did they have an extensive library, famous teachers, and brag-worthy alumni, but they also schooled the strongest individuals to exist. It was a school made for the gifteds.

For a normal person like King to enter its establishment was impossible. Especially since he wasn’t of high-status.

The requirement of entering the school was to be at least sixteen years of age and to complete two tests: physical and intellectual. Each test was comprised of different levels and hard subjects. The academy only accepted the top one hundred applicants out of thousands from all over the world.

There was some ultra rare instances where non-gifteds were admitted to the school, however, they were of high-status and perfected the intellectual portion of the exam. Although they didn’t bear a spirit weapon, since they had been tutored and trained at a young age on physicals and school work, they were able to pass the physical portion to a minimum. It was all based on luck. Due to their high intellect marks, their overall average outweighed some of the competition. After all, not all people possessing spirit weapons were smart. The lazy ones didn’t make it into the school and had to go to other gifted institutions.

Plus, they had connections to pass through the gates. Their parents of these exceptions were most likely gifted individuals who had attended the school.

But for King to announce that this was his goal? Although he still had two years left till admission, the likelihood of making it through the doors was slim. Too slim.

“Yummy!” King dug in and slurped his soup happily.

How can he be so calm after announcing that? Galain couldn’t believe his son. Sometimes, he questioned whether or not King was sane. Clearly, from this situation there was something wrong with his thinking. How can a normal person have this goal?

Yet, Galain couldn’t help but see some hope. King. He was extraordinary, proven from today’s results. Although his son did not attend regular school, he was smarter than the average child and studied on his own in his spare time. Was it for Valentia?

Although Galain’s common sense was telling him no, his heart was telling him yes. Maybe King could actually succeed.

“Does it taste that good?” He asked.

King nodded eagerly. “Yeah. This recipe is a masterpiece. You gotta teach me!”

Galain let out a small smile. For his skinny frame, the boy had quite the appetite. He took a sip of his own creation before dropping a bomb. “Eat up. You’re going to be suffering hell starting from tomorrow for the next two years.”

The white-haired boy choked on the liquid, dropping his spoon before looking up. “W-what do you mean?”

Galain glanced out the window. The sun was peeking from the hills, saying goodbye one last time before disappearing slowly under the green blankets. His eyes glistened against the light. “You said you want to attend Valentia Academy right? Then you have to pass its test. I want to help you reach that dream.”

He faced his son, a sinister smile creeping up. “From now on i’m making your training a lot harder. Be ready.”

“But- argh,” King said with a sigh. “Okay.”

More work? Didn’t he already do enough? Those were the thoughts whizzing through his head. A normal reaction for most teenagers. Yet, despite the saddened expression on his face, his eyes were telling a different story.

Determined. Eager. Passionate.

He was going to pour everything into these two years and he was going to get into Valentia. He was sure of it.