Chapter 4 –
Before any training, Kalven exclaimed enthusiastically:
—Before fighting, it's good to eat, you know?
—Uh… yeah, but I already ate —said Sylryk, wiping the sweat off after a short walk.
—Don't worry! My food is exquisite. Even if you're full, you'll want more.
—I'll pass —he replied, rolling his eyes.
Kalven, as if he hadn't heard him, started cooking. He whistled cheerfully, moving between the ingredients as if it were his true battlefield. Sylryk, meanwhile, stepped out to the front of the house. He needed air.
The sky was so blue it looked like a painting. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, but to him, the atmosphere felt suffocating.
—My head still kills me… —he murmured, placing a hand on his temple—. For such a peaceful place… this air weighs on me.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
—At the very least, I should ask that guy for some water—
—Hey, kid! The food's ready and it looks amazing! —shouted Kalven from inside.
Sylryk turned and saw a table full of dishes, as if hours had passed. He blinked.
—That was… way too fast.
—Come on, let's eat!
—…I'm not hungry.
Kalven didn't give up. He walked over with a spoonful of food and a stupid grin on his face.
—Come on, look… here comes the food train!
Sylryk shut his mouth tight, frowning.
—Stop treating me like a kid… and back off with that.
But Kalven stayed right there, spoon raised, making ridiculous train noises. Sylryk stared at him with a deadpan expression… but after an awkward silence, he lowered his head.
—…Just this once.
He tasted the food.
Then again.
And again.
Finally, he muttered with a slightly red face:
—…Okay. It's good.
Kalven smiled, satisfied, serving himself more.
—By the way… those two you saw earlier went somewhere else.
—The ones from the show? Why?
—Missions, like I told you. It's how most people survive around here.
—So I won't see them very often?
—Most likely not. Those two are almost always out. In their free time, they do shows like the one you saw in the plaza… but they live on the road, taking on jobs.
Sylryk nodded silently as he kept eating. The place seemed peaceful, but everyone living there carried something within them. Something not visible at first glance.
—Well, I'm done —said Kalven, suddenly standing up with absurd energy—. Time for training!
---
They both headed to an open area, surrounded by stones and tall trees. The dry ground crunched under their feet.
Kalven stood in front of him, heels digging into the dirt. He struck his chest firmly.
—The shop you destroyed… I want you to do the same, but here.
—What? You want me to shoot you in the chest?
—Exactly. Don't worry about me. Just tell me if you can't do it.
He stood still, hand open on his chest as if inviting him.
Sylryk hesitated.
—This is stupid… —he muttered. But the guy didn't move.
He took a deep breath. His palm lit up with a blue flame—intense, unstable. The magic pulsed.
And then, without thinking too much, he fired.
BOOM!
Kalven barely moved. One step back. Nothing more.
Sylryk lowered his arm. Parts of his clothes were singed from the recoil, but he hadn't moved an inch.
"In a way… this is amazing. I never thought I could do something like this," he thought to himself.
—This guy… is completely fine —he whispered.
Kalven burst out laughing, exhaling a small puff of smoke.
—Amazing! I thought you'd go flying with that attack, but you're standing firm like a rock.
—Yeah, sure… but why the hell did you puff smoke from your mouth?
—Your magic. I absorbed it. Pretty intense, honestly. Good amount… and good control for someone just starting out.
Sylryk stared silently.
—So… I'm not completely hopeless at this.
Kalven crossed his arms.
—But you lack precision. At this distance it's not obvious, but if you miss by just a few inches in a real fight… well, you know what happens.
Sylryk clenched his fists.
—Don't worry about that.
He had accepted the challenge without complaint.
And without realizing it, had just taken his first step.