The atmosphere, tense for a moment, lightened after the revelations. Calm returned to the room, as if the world itself were holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next. Séraphine took Lucas's hand and looked at him tenderly. Her tone was soft, but her gaze was unusually intense.
"My darling... it's time to establish some rules.
If we want to live peacefully and allow you to grow up in peace, we must be very careful.'
She paused, gently caressing her son's cheek.
'First, you must never talk about your gifts. To anyone. And you must absolutely prevent anyone from seeing your statistics or your affinity. Even an accidental glance could compromise everything. '
Lucas nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his mother's, aware of the gravity of her words.
'Next... your element, space, must remain a complete secret. Only use lightning and shadows.'
She sighed, her features briefly marked by fatigue.
'Your appearance too... it's too unusual. Your father and I will find a way to conceal some of your characteristics."
Lucas lowered his eyes for a moment, absorbing the flood of information, before raising his chin with determination. He wasn't afraid. Not as long as his parents were by his side.
Eric then approached, placing a firm but warm hand on his son's shoulder.
'For today, get some rest. It's been a trying day, and your awakening has probably drained you.'
He straightened up, looking serious.
'But tomorrow, at dawn, we'll start your training. And believe me, it won't be a walk in the park. Prepare to suffer a little... but to grow a lot.'
'
His gaze became more piercing.
'No cheating, no excuses. You don't give up. Understood?'
Lucas looked him straight in the eye. A new light shone in his eyes: a flame that was still flickering, but very real.
'Understood, Father. I'm ready." "
In a dark room, shrouded in shadows, an oppressive silence reigned. The air seemed frozen, as if even time refused to move in this place. Only a cold breath slid along the walls, caressing the ancient stones with an eerie whisper.
Suddenly, a figure burst out of the darkness, as if torn from the night itself.
It made no sound, but its mere presence crushed the atmosphere with its power.
Nicholson looked up. His red eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the figure standing before him.
'Yes... Father,' he whispered solemnly.
The man standing before him was tall and straight as a blade. His face was pale, almost cadaverous, frozen in a stoic expression. Only his blood-red eyes glowed with an unhealthy light. A cruel smile played on his thin lips, almost imperceptible but deeply disturbing—the kind of smile that precedes a death sentence.
'How long?' he asked in a calm voice, but sharp as the blade of a dagger.
Nicholson lowered his eyes slightly, frowning.
'Eight years.'
The father nodded slowly, as if each word confirmed his calculations.
'So the child is seven years old. That's today. He must wake up.'
Nicholson hesitated.
'Yes... but... I'm no match for her. And she's not alone. Her husband is there too.'
The man's smile widened slightly. He took a slow, sinister step forward.
'It doesn't matter. If the child has the talents... then we will take it.'
His gaze darkened further.
'But if it proves useless, if it fails to awaken... then that light does not deserve to shine. It must be extinguished. Permanently.'
Nicholson felt a chill run down his spine. There was no emotion in that voice, only cold determination. His father was talking about killing a child as if he were a piece of trash to be disposed of.
And that wasn't all.
"And if necessary... the child will die too.
I don't care about blood ties or old loyalties. Anyone who stands in our way will be eliminated.'
Nicholson looked up, a shadow of doubt in his eyes.
'Then... can I take a squad with me? If things go wrong... I can intervene.'
But his father raised a hand sharply.
'No." '
His tone was final.
'If you go with an army, you'll attract the attention of those I don't want to stir. Some eyes still need to sleep. We're not done with the chessboard yet.'
He turned and disappeared back into the darkness. Only his voice echoed one last time:
'Watch. Be patient. And be ready... to retrieve her. Leave her in her cocoon for now, just for now..."
Nicholson remained alone, his heart heavy, torn between his loyalty and his conscience.
The sun was high in the sky, flooding the courtyard with golden light. The shadows were short, the heat still mild — it was the perfect moment.
There, in the centre of the training area, stood Lucas. Dressed in a simple but well-fitting training outfit consisting of reinforced dark trousers and a sleeveless top that revealed his still frail arms, he stared intently at the horizon. A light breeze ruffled his white hair, accentuating the contrast with the emerging hardness in his gaze.
Today marked the beginning of his transformation. His first day of training.
His heart was pounding, but not with fear. No. With anticipation.
'Oh, my darling... look how cute he is!' exclaimed Séraphine, her hands clasped under her chin, her eyes shining with tenderness.
She looked at her son with pride, unable to hide her emotion.
Next to her, Eric stood with his arms crossed, staring at her with a bored expression. He looked as if he were observing... a colour. A touch of unnecessary lightness. Then he looked away and fixed his gaze on his son. And then his face changed.
Firmness. Demanding. Severity.
'Lucas, today your training begins. And I won't go easy on you. Not at all. Do you hear me?' he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
His gaze became harder.
'I'll take care of the physical training. We'll do different strength and endurance exercises to prepare your body to accept the seed.'
'
Lucas nodded slowly.
'Yes, Father.'
'And this is only the beginning. Physical training alone is not enough. Once your mana seed has formed, your mother and I will teach you the basics of mana mastery. You will learn different techniques. And we'll see which one suits you best. But it all starts here, now." '
With a quick gesture, Eric turned towards the field. He gave the signal.
'Go. Start by running around the field a hundred times.'
'A hundred...?' Lucas looked at him, his eyes wide.
'It's endurance, not a whim. Run." "
Without waiting, Eric began to jog as an example, then stopped.
The field was vast, a huge circle belonging to the guild run by Eric himself. Lucas swallowed hard. It was a lot. Too much. But he had no choice.
He started running. Slowly at first. Then he picked up speed.
He ran. Again and again. The minutes passed. The laps followed one after another.
By the twentieth lap, he was out of breath, his lungs burning. Every step was a struggle. His body was screaming to stop. But his mind refused to give in.
His gaze fell briefly on his mother, sitting in the distance. She gave him an encouraging wave.
Then on his father, impassive. Like a mountain. Unshakeable.
He closed his eyes, and something rose up inside him.
Memories.
His former life.
Powerless. Strengthless. Hopeless.
He had lost his parents. Then his grandmother. Then his uncle.
Each time, he was powerless. A spectator of his own misfortune.
But here, in this new life, he refused to suffer.
He didn't want to lose anymore. He didn't want to be weak anymore.
He opened his eyes again, his gaze burning.
"This life... is a second chance. My gift is an opportunity. But I'm not counting on it. I've never believed in miracles. I believe in effort.
In sweat. In pain. In perseverance."
He started running again. Again. Again. Again.
Two hours passed.
When he finished his hundredth lap, his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground, shaking and gasping for breath. Every muscle in his body was screaming.
Eric approached slowly.
'Good. You've got five minutes. Then we'll move on to push-ups.'
Lucas, sprawled on the ground, looked up in disbelief.
'Already?'
'You heard me.'
Lucas gritted his teeth, then, in a shaky but determined gesture, he planted his palms on the ground and began to get up.
'Understood...' he whispered, his voice hoarse.
He got into position. Arms bent. Eyes straight ahead.
And he began his first push-ups.
While Lucas struggled on the field, in the shade of a raised balcony, the members of the Eastern War Empires Guild watched the scene in amazement.
It was the first time they had seen the Guild Master's son with their own eyes.
Three groups of soldiers, instructors and agents formed at a distance, whispering to each other while glancing at the young boy.
'Don't you think the boss is being a bit hard on his son?' said Max, a bald giant with his arms crossed.
'A hundred laps of this field is huge for his age...'
'Could you have done it?' replied another.
Max shrugged.
'At his age? He's not even fifty.'
'
'That kid's determined. Let him do what he has to do,' replied a veteran with a steely gaze.
A little further away, a woman with mesmerising eyes tilted her head, her eyes half-closed, watching Lucas with a mocking smile.
'He's really cute, don't you think? Even better looking than the boss. "
Her black hair framed a voluptuous face, and her violet eyes seemed to glow with a strange light as she studied the boy with ambiguous interest.
Meanwhile, Lucas had struggled to his feet after his hundred laps. Still short of breath, his muscles aching, he got into position.
Push-ups.
He had never done this seriously before. And every movement elicited an internal groan. His arms were shaking. His shoulders were burning. Sweat was pouring down his forehead.
'Come on... one... two...'
By the twentieth, his body begged for mercy. But Lucas, his teeth clenched, pushed on.
And suddenly... he felt it.
Something was changing.
He was exhausted, but his arms were shaking less. His muscles were still burning, but the pain seemed... bearable. No. Absorbed.
It was as if...
his body was adapting.
He continued.
Twenty-two. Twenty-five. Thirty.
'That's weird...' he thought.
'It's as if I'm recovering... by moving.'
He couldn't explain it.
But this strange phenomenon was not an illusion: the more he pushed himself, the more efficient his body became. More resilient.
In the shadows, Eric watched silently. His arms were still crossed, his gaze sharp.
Then he approached his son just as he collapsed, panting but proud. He grabbed him by the shoulder, placed a hand on his back, then on his arms and legs. He felt his muscles. He closed his eyes for a moment.
And his expression changed.
'Hmph... this isn't normal,' he murmured, frowning.
Lucas looked at him, out of breath.
' he muttered, frowning.
Lucas looked at him, out of breath.
'Is there a problem, Father?'
Eric straightened up, his gaze shifting away for a second.
'No. We'll talk about it later,' he said curtly.
'Keep going with the squats. "
Lucas obeyed.
And there it was again...
At first, it was hard. His legs buckled, his thighs trembled.
But after about ten reps, the feeling returned.
It was as if his body recognised the movement and responded to it.
Rapid adaptation.
Reduced fatigue.
Increased muscle endurance.
Eric stood with his arms crossed, saying nothing. But inside, his mind was racing.
'A passive ability? Or... extraordinary physical adaptation? Is it related to his physique this mysterious physique.'
He remained silent.
But one thing was clear.
Lucas was not normal.
And the training had only just begun.