Outside the temple, with no one in sight, Aldric, who had been concealing his smile until now, swiftly scooped up Ethan in his arms, lifting him into the air. "You've made me proud, my boy! " he exclaimed, the words infused with fatherly pride as he held his son aloft.

With the awakening concluded and Ethan now in possession of his awakened magic, they headed toward a nearby hotel to sate their hunger. Amid the meal, Aldric's thoughts shifted briefly to the report he had submitted to headquarters detailing the village's ordeal in the wake of the monster raid. This very report had led to a summons for him at headquarters.

Now that one of the primary reasons for visiting the capital was settled, he had his duties to follow, Taking a bite from the bread he held, Aldric's gaze turned to Ethan. "We must make our way to headquarters," he spoke.

Ethan met his father's gaze cutlery poised in his hand, and just before taking a bite, he inquired, "Why, Dad?"

Aldric responded, "I had submitted the report to headquarters before leaving the village, and now I have received a summons".

"Ah, well then, we can proceed after finishing our meal," Ethan nodded in understanding.

The awakened magic had ignited Ethan's curiosity, leaving him eager to delve into the realms of wielding magic. He also desired weapon training, a subject his father had previously refrained from teaching him, wishing to avoid imparting incorrect knowledge. Aldric believed that learning from experts at the academy would be a more informed path.

So, for now, Ethan patiently awaited his enrollment in the academy, envisioning himself learning under the tutelage of skilled mentors.

---✧---✧---

The meal ended, and they stepped from the hotel's warmth into the city's brisk air. Aldric turned to Ethan, a serious look in his eyes. "Let's go," he said, his voice firm.

Ethan fell in step beside him, curiosity tugging at his thoughts. They walked through the city's bustling streets, Aldric's steps purposeful and steady. "There are many paths in life," Aldric began, his voice carrying a weight of experience. "Not everyone can go to the Mage Academy. It's for the truly gifted."

Ethan nodded, remembering the academy's reputation. His curiosity had always simmered about his father's choice to be a warrior instead of a mage. Aldric glanced at him, reading his thoughts. "Magic isn't just a few spells," he explained, his gaze distant. "It's intricate, demanding. Being able to cast a spell or two doesn't make you a mage."

Ethan absorbed his father's words, the city's sounds fading into the background. Aldric's next words were softer, tinged with a touch of regret. "I didn't have the aptitude to be a mage. My magic skills were limited. So I became a battlemage in the army, a low-ranking one."

Ethan's eyes flicked with surprise as their eyes met. "But for you, I want more. Be it mage or battlemage, become strong. Follow your path, and know we're here to support you." Aldric's voice held hope as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of unspoken dreams. "Study hard and become strong".

In the midst of their talks, they approached the headquarters, a monolithic structure of imposing stone rising into the sky. Surrounding it, protective walls enclosed the area, adding an extra layer of security to the heart of operations. As they drew closer, Aldric's footsteps faltered briefly, intercepted by a Keeper stationed at the security checkpoint.

The Keeper's uniform bore dark hues, contrasted by intricate golden embroidery that traced the majestic wings of a Griffin—the emblem of the kingdom. A badge adorned the Keeper's chest, proudly displaying the rank.

"Show me your identification and badge," the Keeper demanded, his voice stern and unwavering.

Aldric clad in civilian clothes produced his battlemage license—a worn bronze plaque adorned with the emblem of the Griffin and his name etched beneath it.

The Keeper's eyes sharp and vigilant, locked onto Aldric's badge. As he examined the license, a subtle nod conveyed both acknowledgment and respect for Aldric's position, a silent salute to his rank.

With a courteous gesture, the Keeper motioned them forward. "You may proceed inside."

As they stepped into the premises, Ethan's attention was swiftly diverted by the ongoing training at the rear. His gaze fixed on the trainees who were fully engrossed in target practice, each launching their efforts at a wooden pole that stood in line.

"They're training for battlemage roles," Aldric remarked, his voice carrying a mixture of observation and knowledge as he gestured towards the direction of the trainees.

Among the trainee soldiers, many wielded swords and other weaponry complementing their practice with displays of magical prowess. The path of a battlemage required not only swordsmanship but also mastery of magic control—a delicate balance that demanded rigorous training. To attain the coveted title of battlemage, one needed to exhibit a level of mastery that was arduous to achieve.

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Aldric's eyes, seasoned by experience took in the scene before them. The notion of becoming a battlemage held profound significance for him. Where innate talent had been lacking, he had invested relentless effort, a testament to his dedication. Thus he was only at the first level of battlemage called Skirmisher Battlemage, which required mastery of basic spells.

"How fascinating," Ethan remarked, his eyes wide with intrigue as they made their way toward the towering building. The structure rose tall and imposing, a hive of activity with a constant stream of people coming and going.

As they approached nearer and nearer Ethan swallowed hard, a nervousness coursing through him. He was not sure why, but he started panicking. He glanced up at the immense edifice, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Stepping inside, the headquarters buzzed with energy; officials bustled about, engaged in their duties.

The sudden weight of the atmosphere bore down on Ethan. An unfamiliar unease knotted his stomach making it difficult to swallow. His eyes darted around the room landing on the stern faces of army officials. Their presence triggered something deep within him, a fear that clawed at the edges of his consciousness.

In an instant memories surged—flashes of past life, past world. The stench of gunpowder, the searing pain of a bullet striking his chest, the sound of sirens, the last moment. This trauma, despite the years that had passed still had its grip on him. He instinctively clutched at his chest trying to grasp for the air, his whole body forming a sweat, as if seeking to shield himself from the ghosts of the past. His breath quickened with each inhale a struggle.

Aldric saw Ethan kneeling down on the floor, and gasping for air, as his voice cut through the turmoil filled with concern. "What happened, Ethan?" he asked, his worry palpable. This was a side of his son he had never seen before, a vulnerability that clashed with the image of the talented and smart young man he knew.

Ethan's mind harkened back to a time when a similar panic had gripped him—during the fierce encounter with the Orcs. That memory came rushing back now, a haunting echo of vulnerability. The officials before him seemed to exude a gravitas akin to that of an FBI officer, intensifying his unease. It was as if the present moment was interwoven with the threads of his past trauma.

His father, busy during the raid in the frontlines had been unaware of Ethan's inner turmoil during that tumultuous time.

Ethan's body was now a canvas of intense horror and panic, his skin slick with sweat as an overwhelming fear enveloped him. His father's words echoed within his mind, a dissonant echo that refused to take shape. The grandeur of the building seemed to conspire against him its architecture morphing into hostile gazes that bore down upon him, constricting his breath.

His hands moved of their own accord, clamping tightly over his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the echo of anxiety that threatened to engulf him.

Aldric's instincts kicked in as he rushed toward a nearby table where a bowl of water was kept. Swiftly, he retrieved it and held it out to Ethan. Despite the tremors that wracked his frame, Ethan managed to take a sip of the water. It spilled from his lips as he continued to gasp for air, the calming effect not yet taking hold.

Then, in a sudden surge, Ethan was on his feet propelled by an impulse he couldn't decipher. His steps carried him outside, away from the building's imposing presence. The small garden, nestled a distance from the headquarters, greeted him with open space and a chorus of training sounds from nearby trainees.

Sinking onto the grass, his body still trembled, soaked in perspiration, a living testament to the trauma that held him captive. The memory of the bullet tearing into his chest lingered its ghostly touch a relentless reminder of a past he couldn't escape. Crossing his legs he bent his knees, his forehead finding solace against his knotted limbs. His gaze dropped to the ground, a mixture of confusion and vulnerability etched across his features.

The sound of approaching footsteps registered in his senses still, his gaze remained fixed, his head nestled in the shelter of his knees, maintaining the posture of a fetal position. A shadow cast by someone's presence lengthened enveloping him, yet he didn't shift his focus or glance in that direction.

Soft, deliberate sounds reached his ears, and the sensation of a presence settling beside him was palpable, followed by the warmth of arms encircling his form. Aldric's voice, a slow and calming murmur, reached out to him. "Ethan, what happened?"

Ethan did not answer as his stance was still the same and in silence, his lips sealed and his body was trembling. The grip of fear and turmoil still held sway over him, leaving him unable to find words to articulate his emotions.

Aldric's next move was instinctive. He inched closer, his arms enfolding Ethan's form in a protective embrace, a silent gesture of support. His voice, tender and unwavering issued another invitation. "You can tell your father, Ethan. Don't be scared."

The plea hung in the air, charged with a father's concern and a desire to understand. Ethan's hidden troubles remained a puzzle, waiting on the edge of being uncovered.

Ethan stayed quiet for a few minutes and Aldric understood the tough spot his son was in. Aldric stayed still, offering a comforting embrace from behind as Ethan remained in his fetal pose. He kept his calm, waiting for Ethan to resurface from the depths of his unease.

Ethan grappled with his thoughts unsure of how to convey his inner turmoil. Could he really share his past? What if he did? The uncertainty weighed heavily on him, and all he could manage at the moment were labored breaths. Gradually, the initial panic began to subside but the prospect of revealing his reasons still loomed.

In a tentative movement, Ethan raised a hand to his nose as he wiped his snot, his voice emerging from his position. "Dad," he called softly.

Aldric responded immediately, his voice gentle and open. "Yes, I'm here, listening."

Ethan fell silent once more his words caught in the grip of his emotions. But, as before a comforting embrace provided him a solace easing the fear that held him. He found his voice once again, a fragile thread of sound. "Dad, would you believe me if I said there's another world where magic doesn't exist, only technology?"

Aldric remained silent this time his expression puzzled as he struggled to grasp Ethan's words. But he continued to listen to his son, then, Ethan cautiously found his voice once more, his words coming out with effort. "Dad, would you believe me that I was from a place called Earth, and I died before ending up here?".