Kael woke before dawn, the air still cold from the night. Training began early at House Ardent, and a second son had no room to slack. The courtyard lamps were still burning, orange light wavering over sand pits and weapon racks. The first clang of steel rang before the sun even showed its face.
Sir Calden, the household armsmaster, waited with a wooden practice blade across his shoulders. He was a tall man with scars that looked like they'd been drawn by angry ink. His eyes flicked to Kael.
"You're late," he said.
Kael wasn't. Calden just liked reminding him that every noble boy was replaceable.
Kael stepped onto the sand. He bowed slightly. "Morning, Sir."
"Draw."
Kael pulled a wooden longsword from the rack. His body moved with the training of his thirteen years, but today, something hooked deeper. His limbs felt lighter. Not stronger — surer. The Frost Codex had no personality, but last night it had reacted to his practice. When he swung alone at his room's shadows, it quietly logged something:
[Strength +1][Swordsmanship: Minor Progress][Mana Circulation: Trace Activation]
He had barely slept. Too much cold energy moving under the ribs.
Sir Calden charged first — he always did. A simple diagonal cut, meant to crush a lesser trainee into the sand. Kael stepped back, blade up, the move almost reflexive. Too easy. Calden's brows twitched.
Again.Again.Again.
Each strike felt like it passed through a map Kael had already seen. Not precognition — just clarity. Like someone had cleaned the fog off his instincts.
When Calden finally hit his blade hard enough to sting Kael's bones, the instructor stepped back.
"You're sharper today," Calden said. "Who taught you?"
Kael kept his face calm. "Practice."
"Hm." Calden didn't believe him, but he didn't push. "Again."
They drilled until Kael's shoulders burned. When he moved too fast, frost prickled at his fingertips — invisible to most eyes, but Kael felt it. Mana stirred whenever his heartbeat rose. Dangerous.
He forced it down. Forced his breathing normal.
He needed control, not accidents.
Midway through training, his older brother Marcus walked in — heir to the house, sword polished, posture perfect, the kind of boy who thought he'd already inherited the world.
He watched Kael block a strike and fold around for a counter.
"Not bad," Marcus said. "Trying to keep up?"
Kael didn't answer. Marcus always wanted a reaction. Kael knew better.
When training ended, Calden tossed Kael a wet cloth. "Wash. Then report to the steward. Wizard's orders."
Kael stiffened. "Already?"
"A week early," Calden said. "Be grateful. Or be quiet."
Kael nodded, wiped himself down, and headed toward the steward's hall.
The Ardent estate was alive. Servants traded rumors. Some said the wizard left a tracking sigil on Kael's palm. Others whispered that children with strange affinities disappeared into towers and never came back.
Kael ignored the noise. He had one goal: stay unnoticed until he grew strong enough to choose.
The steward — a thin man with tired eyes — looked up when Kael entered.
"You are to begin supervised drills with the Crown's knight-correspondent," he said. "Additionally, the wizard left a list."
He slid a parchment forward. Kael read the top line:
'Watch the boy's temperature at dawn and dusk.'
Kael's jaw tightened.
"The wizard expects reports," the steward added. "Daily."
It was worse than Kael thought. He was being investigated.
Monitored.Measured.
A wrong move could drag him straight to the Crown's tower — or worse, to the Academy without preparation.
Kael folded the parchment. "Understood."
"Good. Your departure may come sooner than planned…"
Kael paused. "Departure?"
"For the sea," the steward said. "The ship to the Academy arrives within the month."
Kael felt something cold inside — not fear, not the Codex. Just clarity.
One month.Maybe less.
He needed strength. He needed the Codex. He needed to hide everything.
That evening, after dinner, Kael went to the unused stables and closed the door. He formed a fist and focused.
The Frost Codex stirred — not alive, but responsive, like a device waiting for command.
Cold seeped into his hand.
A small notification flickered:
[ICE MANIPULATION: Lv. 1 → Lv. 1.3][MANA PURITY: 0.2% → 0.3%]
Kael opened his palm.
A thin shard of ice formed above his skin. Real ice. Clear, sharp, deadly. He held it for three seconds before it melted.
Not dramatic. Not flashy. But real.
He exhaled slowly.
"Good," he whispered.
He needed more.
The Codex's sealed list floated at the edge of his vision:
[SEAL 1 — MATERIAL REQUIRED: DRAGON-ICE SHARD][SEAL 2 — MATERIAL REQUIRED: MIDNIGHT SALTSTONE][SEAL 3 — MATERIAL REQUIRED: MAREWATER PEARL]…[SEAL 12 — ???]
Impossible things. Things found by knights, smugglers, adventurers — never noble children.
Kael closed his fist around nothing and let the night wind slip in through the stable boards.
In one month, he'd be on a ship.In one month, he'd be in the Academy — a place whispered about with dread.
He needed to grow faster.
He would. The Codex didn't care if it was day or night. It simply responded.
Kael set his stance again.
He trained until his hands went numb.