The door sealed shut behind him with a low thrum of magic. Carved with ancient runes and lined with hardened steel, the private training chamber beneath the western wing of the castle was meant for one purpose alone: cultivation.
Kaelus stood in the quiet, the stone walls heavy with silence. His breath misted faintly from the lingering cold of dawn, but the fire in his chest burned hotter than ever.
Today was his fifteenth birthday. A day when, in most warring kingdoms, young nobles were gifted ceremonial swords and sent off to begin their service on the field. But not him.
Not yet.
"You're early," came a calm voice from across the room.
Instructor Theron emerged from the shadows near the wall, his arms folded across a thick wool tunic. Tall and grizzled, with streaks of silver in his close-cropped beard, Theron bore the sharp eyes of a man who had seen too much war to be impressed easily.
"I couldn't sleep," Kaelus replied, rolling his shoulders. "I need to break through."
Theron raised a brow. "So you've come to shatter the heavens on your birthday, eh?"
"I'm serious."
"I know you are. That's the problem." The older man stepped closer, crossing the stone floor with measured steps. "Kaelus… you're fifteen. You've done well—no one disputes that. Most boys your age haven't even begun to refine qi, and here you are at the very peak of one-star."
He paused, folding his arms again.
"But you want two-stars. Today. Do you even understand how rare that is?"
Kaelus nodded. "Yes."
"Then you should also understand why it's dangerous. Bodies your age aren't meant to handle that much qi. Even prodigies need more time. You'd be the youngest recorded two-star in any of the twelve warring kingdoms."
Kaelus looked him dead in the eyes. "That's exactly why I need it."
Theron frowned, waiting.
"My father said no. After the war council, I asked him to let me command a force to deal with the rebels near Duskwatch. He refused." His fists clenched. "Said I wasn't ready. Said I was still a child."
Theron exhaled through his nose. "He's not entirely wrong."
"I'm not trying to prove him wrong. I'm trying to prove I can help." Kaelus took a step forward, his voice steady. "Let me try, Theron. If I fail, then I'll accept it. But if I succeed…"
"You'll demand your place," Theron finished, rubbing his jaw. "Fine. Let's begin. But I'm warning you—I don't expect a breakthrough. I expect pain. Don't chase what your body won't give."
Kaelus nodded once, then dropped into a low stance. The chamber around them came alive with hums of energy as Theron activated the suppressive array carved into the floor—a training weight. Just standing in it made the air feel like stone.
The session began. Hours passed, filled with grueling movement—stance drills, strikes, breathing exercises, and forced stillness under growing spiritual pressure.
Theron pushed him harder than ever before.
And Kaelus took it all in.
He adjusted his posture without being told. He refined his breathing rhythm faster than Theron could correct it. Every lecture on internal qi flow was absorbed with terrifying speed.
"You're not just learning this," Theron muttered halfway through. "You understand it."
Kaelus said nothing. He was already sitting in the center of the array now, legs crossed, breath slow. The room vibrated faintly as qi flowed into him like a tide. His core burned. The pressure grew.
Then the door cracked open.
Kaelen stood just beyond the threshold. The Lord of Velanor, conqueror of five warring kingdoms, watched silently from the shadows. His broad frame cast a long shadow across the floor, and though he said nothing, his presence filled the chamber like a second weight.
Theron noticed but didn't speak. Only nodded slightly. "He's watching. But don't let that distract you."
Kaelus didn't open his eyes. "It won't."
The room dimmed. The air thickened. His body began to tremble.
And then—it happened.
Like the snap of a bowstring, a tremor surged through his core. Qi flared outward in a flash of blue light, the lines of the array flaring to life. The chamber's walls shuddered, and a high ringing filled the air.
Kaelus exhaled sharply, eyes opening. They were sharper now—brighter. His aura no longer danced around him like a flame.
It pulsed. Steady. Controlled.
Theron stared. "…You actually did it."
Kaelus stood slowly, wiping sweat from his brow. He was tired—more tired than he'd ever been—but standing taller than before.
"I told you I was ready."
Theron nodded once, still stunned. "You've done what I said was nearly impossible. Just… be careful what you ask for."
Kaelus's gaze turned toward the door, where his father had stood just moments before. He wasn't there now.
"I'm not asking," Kaelus murmured. "Not anymore."