Eric approached, his gaze fixed on Lucas.
Looking closer, he saw a shadow of worry in his eyes. Lucas said nothing, but Eric knew how to read these things. He had learned to see beyond words, to understand in a glance what lips do not say.
He's worried about me... he thought, a mixture of pride and tenderness tightening his heart.
-"I'm here now," he said softly.
He placed a hand on his shoulder. The simple touch, intended to reassure him, conveyed something else.
A discreet pulsation. A calm, fluid flow... mana.
There was nothing extraordinary about it, but its stability surprised him. At this age, it wasn't normal.
He's already in contact with mana... thought Eric, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
He slowly looked up at Séraphine. Their eyes met, heavy with meaning.
-"Son... that took you a whole day, didn't it? A whole day to manage to get in touch with mana," he said with a half-smile.
-"No, you're wrong,"replied Séraphine, shaking her head gently.
Eric raised an eyebrow.
-"What? Half a day, then?"
-"No,"she replied calmly.
-"Then what? Tell me!"
Before she could answer, Lucas, who had been watching the scene with barely contained amusement, blurted out:
-"Thirty seconds."
Eric froze. His eyes widened, his face contorting into an almost comical expression.
-"Thirty... seconds?! That's impossible!"
Thoughts raced through his head. What kind of monster...
But in an instant, he put back on his proud and imperturbable father's mask.
-"Well done, son. You're doing very well. Keep it up."
Then, resuming his usual tone:
"But you've practised enough for today. Go and rest."
Lucas nodded and went upstairs.
As soon as her son disappeared upstairs, Séraphine crossed her arms and fixed her gaze on Eric.
-"You don't have to pretend anymore. You're shocked too, aren't you?'
Eric finally released the pressure he had been holding back.
-"Shocked?! It's worse than that! How is that possible? Tell me it's a lie... thirty seconds, that's inhuman!"
Seraphine sighed.
-"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it. But yes... our son really did take thirty seconds to connect with the mana."
In the living room, the warm light from the lamps mingled with the flickering glow of the fire in the fireplace. The flames cast moving shadows on the walls, almost as if they were alive. Eric stood by the window, staring into the darkness outside as if trying to read the future.
He turned to Séraphine, his arms crossed, a look of pride and concern in his eyes.
-"This might make things... a little more interesting," he said slowly. With abilities like that... it'll take time, but I'll spend tomorrow completely reworking his training programme.
He took a few steps across the room, his voice filled with determination.
-"We can't afford to waste such talent. A genius like that... I'll push him as far as he can go. I'll do everything I can to help him reach the highest heights."
But almost immediately, his face closed. His eyebrows furrowed and his tone became more serious.
-"The problem is... things are already more complicated than I imagined."
Seraphine watched him closely.
-« It's because of that energy... isn't it? The energy of chaos. »
-"Most likely," replied Eric. "But where does it come from?"
Seraphine shook her head.
-"I have no idea. It was supposed to be a routine mission... some trolls to eliminate, nothing more. But this artefact... of chaos... it managed to penetrate our continent. And that, under the watchful eye of the five great families and the five Patriarchs..."
Eric clenched his jaw.
"No one saw it coming... And my instincts tell me that the Paxson domain isn't the only one affected."
Seraphine, her eyes wide, moved closer.
-"But how is that possible? The demons should be busy fighting the elves in the north! Don't tell me... they're on the verge of defeating them and have already begun infiltrating our lands..."
-"That's exactly what worries me," Eric replied, his voice lower. "And how could they have crossed our borders without anyone noticing? We may be less powerful than the elves or the demons... but we're not blind."
He paused, his eyes hardening.
-"Unless... there are traitors among us."
A heavy silence fell. The crackling of the wood in the hearth suddenly seemed too loud, almost oppressive.
Eric continued, even more tense:
-"That energy... the Paxson clan must have already felt it. They'll come to investigate. And time is no longer on our side."
He turned to Seraphine, his hands clenching slightly.
-"We need to increase the intensity of Lucas's training. With the time we have left... we must make him even stronger."
His gaze was lost for a moment in the flames.
-"He's learning fast. Too fast. So we're going to teach him everything... everything we know. And as quickly as possible. Because once the Pax set foot here... it won't be us who decides his future."
-"Eric... we mustn't be too hard on him," said Séraphine in a soft but firm voice.
Her eyes shone with a mixture of concern and maternal love.
-"He's just a child... he's my baby. How can you talk about increasing the intensity of his training? Sure, he's a genius... but he's still my child."
Eric cut her off, his deep voice echoing through the room.
-"Exactly, Séraphine... he's our child. But his gift... and his identity... change everything. He wasn't born with the luxury of choice. He was born with responsibilities he can never escape."
He took a step towards her, his gaze hardening.
-"In the world we live in, strength decides everything. The weak have no happiness, no respect... no freedom."
Seraphine's hands clenched her dress. Eric continued, more calmly but still unyielding:
-"If you want our son to be free, then he must become strong. Stronger than anyone else. You, better than anyone, know that this is the truth."
He paused, his face darkened by the gravity of his words.
-"Believe me... I too am sad that he has to live such a childhood. But we have no choice. What is coming... will not wait for him to be ready."
He placed a hand on Séraphine's shoulder, a brief gesture of tenderness amid his determination.
-"I'm sorry, Séraphine... but I have no choice."
Séraphine's voice trembled as she looked up at Eric's face.
Her lips parted, but no words came, only the contained emotion that made her eyes shine.
-"Thank you... dear Séraphine,"Eric whispered in a low voice, tinged with gratitude and firmness. Then, more seriously:
-"You'd better keep quiet for a little while longer."
He smiled slightly.
-"Don't worry, my dear. You'll get through this."
Seraphine lowered her eyes, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Without another word, she let herself fall back onto the bed and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her.
Eric remained motionless for a few moments, still staring at her, before closing his eyes as well.
At dawn, he sprang out of bed, his body perfectly rested, his mind clear. The crisp morning air filled his lungs as he stepped outside. His face remained impassive, but his eyes burned with intense fire.
Today... they're going to see what I call real training.
A slow, confident smile spread across his lips as he looked out at the still empty training ground.
'Tomorrow...' he murmured to himself, almost like a promise, 'we'll see how you cope with my training.'
Lying in the darkness of his room, Lucas stared at the ceiling. His eyes were open, but he couldn't see the room.
No.
What he saw was rain on a windscreen.
And two figures in front.
In that other life, his name was Elijah.
And he was eight years old.
His mother had her hands on the steering wheel, and the scent of jasmine wafted through the car. His father was singing along badly to an old song on the radio. Elijah sat with his arms crossed, his face closed. He wanted that ice cream. Not another one. The one from the little blue shop at the end of town.
-"Elijah, let's go home, it's getting late..."his mother sighed.
-"No! I want that one!"
He shouted, insisted, cried. His father finally gave in, with that tired smile that meant I understand, but you're being unreasonable.
He didn't know...
He didn't know it was the last time he would see that smile.
When they finally arrived, he slammed the door and ran into the rain. The sweet smell of ice cream filled his hands. And then... a noise.
Not a noise.
A crash.
The kind of sound that splits you in two.
He turned around. And he saw it.
The twisted metal. The blood on the tarmac mixing with the rainwater. His mother's hands, motionless on the steering wheel. His father's empty gaze.
Since that day, Elijah had carried that certainty like a knife in his stomach: it was me. If I hadn't insisted... they would still be here.
The rest had been a long fall.
The fortune left by his parents had attracted vultures. The faces of his 'relatives' leaned over him, not to hug him, but to search the pockets of his future.
He had been shunted from house to house. The smiles were forced, the voices soft only on the surface.
Then there was his grandmother.
She coughed a lot, but she always made him hot tea. She put a blanket over his shoulders when he slept on the sofa. She never said he made her sad... but her eyes betrayed her.
And he... he never really smiled at her.
He didn't have the strength anymore.
The day she died, something inside him broke for good. He thought to himself: if I had tried... just a little... But it was too late. You always understand afterwards.
Evans had arrived much later. A man who owed him nothing, but who had reached out to him. He was his mother's brother, estranged from her for years. And yet he had said:
-"Come. I'm not asking you for anything, but I won't leave you alone."
With Evans, he had learned to breathe a little. To eat a hot meal while talking about something other than money. To hear the laughter of someone who expected nothing in return.
Until illness struck.
One word from the doctor, three syllables: cancer.
And Elijah understood. He was going to lose again.
He wanted to scream, to hit something, to disappear. But he smiled. Because Evans was looking at him. Because he didn't want him to see his tears.
One evening, his uncle had said to him:
-"My only regret... is that I abandoned your mother when she needed me. But seeing you today... is like erasing that regret a little. Elijah... live. Live a good life."
And the next day... Evans was gone.
That day, the world had emptied. No more warmth, no more light. Just a silence that hurt his ears.
He had carried on. Like a robot. The insults of others no longer hurt. The blows left no marks. But that wasn't true. Everything was locked away.
Everything was there.
Until that night.
Leaving his job at the convenience store, he saw a classmate being pinned against a wall by a stranger.
She had never helped him. Never spoken to him. But Evans' words came back to him: Live without regret.
He turned around. Grabbed the attacker's arm. Fought.
And then... the pain.
Once. Twice. Three times. Ten times.
The knife went in and out like it was a piece of cloth.
His legs gave way.
The cold began to creep into his hands.
The sky was spinning.
And in the chaos, Elijah could think of only one thing: I'm sorry, Evans.
Then everything went black.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Lucas let his thoughts drift. Memories of his former life came back, bitter and burning, like a taste you can never wash away.
In this world, he had had a chance that the other one had never given him: loving parents. Not perfect, but present, protective, real.
In his other life, he had learned the pain of loss, the loneliness that gnaws at the soul. He had also learned not to shut himself off, not to reject a helping hand. To accept others... and to give, even when you're afraid of losing.
But this world had a different, unforgiving rule.
Here, power decides everything.
And Lucas knew it.
His wish was not that of the heroes in the novels he had read in his other life. They dreamed of glory, wealth, extraordinary adventures.
He... no.
He didn't want a throne or to be a legend. He just wanted a quiet, peaceful life with his family. To stay with his parents... until the end.
It might have seemed selfish. It might have seemed childish. But for him, it was everything.
And he knew one thing: without power, you can't keep what you love. Without power, you are never free.
His parents had never told him, but he could feel it. Like you can feel a storm coming before it breaks.
He had learned to read people in their eyes, their gestures, their silences. In this world, danger wasn't just outside. It lurked everywhere, even where you least expected it.
So he made his decision.
He would become strong.
Strong enough that his parents would never have to worry about him again.
Strong enough that no one could take them away from him.
Strong enough that his name alone would be a warning.
His hands clenched, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white.
In this life, I will live quietly, peacefully... with those I love.
But in the same breath, a cold gleam flashed across his eyes:
And anyone who dares to stand in the way of that goal... will be destroyed.
It wasn't hatred. Not really.
It was certainty.
Because deep down, Lucas knew that in this world, not everyone deserves to be saved.