"Hey! You bastard! Come back here, you thief!"
The town was abuzz with activity in the early afternoon. Merchants shouting at the top of their lungs, children running between the stalls, neighbours grumbling about something...
Here in Frenius, chaos is part of everyday life.
And we were all more or less used to this volcanic hubbub. The 'hotheads', as we call them, are almost part of the scenery.
Edacar - Hey, Wigsu! You little brat, how much longer are you going to sleep?!
This guy knocking on my door, cracking the hinges?
That's my father, Edacar.
A true rock... and a living legend of the Fire Clan.
He's the type who's always shouting, always ordering, always getting annoyed, but I know what he's hiding behind his deep voice and stern look.
He's a strong man, in the noblest sense of the word.
Even the head of the clan has recognised him and made him one of the elite fighters.
A rare honour... and a heavy one to bear.
I finally get up, my mind still foggy, my eyelids heavy. I drag my feet to the door.
Me - Why do you always have to get up so early?...
Edacar - You little bastard... At last you're getting up. Let's get on with our training. Do you want to be like me one day? Or even surpass me? Then get out of that bed and get moving. Talent doesn't exist without hard work.
That's his philosophy.
And he believes in it like a rock.
From an early age, he has lived for effort, discipline... and victory.
Me - *sigh* I'm fine. I'll be out as soon as I've changed.
I close the door, sighing once more.
My clothes are neatly folded on the corner of my bed. I put them on mechanically, as I do every morning.
As I pass the mirror, I take a few seconds to comb out my white hair, which is starting to grow in earnest. It may look strange, but here, the clan members all have white, red or flaming red hair. And I personally like the way it looks.
Outside, just outside my house, a man is waiting.
An old man with long, flame-red hair and a well-groomed moustache to match his keen eyes.
He's Haltom, a former elite fighter. Living legend. Guardian of the volcanic heart, the sacred core at the centre of Frenius... And my personal trainer.
Few can boast of having survived the guarding of the burning core, where the lava sings and death dances at every step. And yet he... he resisted.
Even the head of the clan bowed to his exploits.
So yes, I should consider myself lucky that he agreed to train me.
Haltom - Are you ready, my boy?
I nod firmly in agreement.
Without another word, we set off for the large training ground to the south of the city.
A large plateau of black rock, marked by years of clashes and magical explosions. There, a few young members of the fire clan were already training, their cries echoing between the mountains, mingled with the roar of the volcano that never sleeps.
One of the youngsters already on the pitch had approached me.
He was staring at me in silence, arms folded, with the kind of look that seeks to dominate even before a word is said.
An annoyed sigh escaped his lips.
Elijen - So he even trains novices? It's pathetic. It's a far cry from the great Haltom of old.
His words were sharp, but his tone was one of mock weariness.
This guy was obviously trying to provoke me.
I glanced quickly at Haltom. He hadn't moved or flinched.
He just crossed his arms, observing the scene with an almost calculated neutrality.
He wanted to see how I would react.
To test my mind, my ability to keep calm.
He had once said to me: "A volcano that explodes at the first breath is just a pile of useless ash.
I took a slow breath.
Me - Who knows? I might surprise you
Elijen - Ha~! At least you're a comedian. Let's see if you're as funny when you're on the ground.
His voice carried loud enough for the other young people to turn their heads.
Some were already sniggering into their beards. Others seemed to hesitate between amusement and embarrassment.
I could have ignored it; perhaps I should have.
Me - It's not necessary, you know. We can just do our training on our own.
Elijen - No. I'd rather know straight away whether you're a joke or a threat. Besides...
- He turned to the others, a sly smile on his lips. -
Might as well show them what "Haltom's protégé" is worth, eh?
His red eyes glowed like embers, and his bowl-cut white hair floated lightly in the warm breeze of the field.
He wouldn't let go, and in fact everyone was watching us now.
Silence had settled in, the air seemed suspended between the tension and the ambient heat.
I knew that this duel, improvised or not, would mark my first good impression here, or perhaps my first mistake.
Haltom : Good, good, good... I can see that you're as hot as fire.
- He crossed his arms, a slight amused smile on his lips. -
We'll start with a little warm-up: we'll head for pitch 4.
My heart stopped for a moment.
Field 4? It was one of the worst.
Steep slopes, unstable lava platforms, pillars to climb and traps simulated to recreate real combat conditions. Hell for novices.
But he was right. That's what these grounds were there for. To train us. To make us more than just members of the fire clan: fighters capable of surviving on the front line.
And what about me?
Well... courses weren't really my strong point.
Elijen - Go ahead, 'protégé'. Get started!
I cast a sidelong glance at Haltom, but he said nothing. He was still watching, waiting for me to make a decision on my own.
Me - Well... When you have to go...
I set off at a slow pace, my muscles still stiff and my stomach in knots.
But as I took my first steps towards the start of the course, a figure walked past me. Silent. Sharp.
It was another boy who hadn't said a word to us since the start of training, not even a glance. Almost invisible until then.
In a matter of seconds, he was on the course.
And what we saw was almost unreal.
No hesitation, not a misstep, he cleared the obstacles with surgical precision, linking jumps, slides, leaps and dodges without slowing down.
And before we knew what was happening, he was already at the other end of the field.
A perfect, disconcerting performance.
Elijen - And who's that?
The boy stopped, without even looking at us. He turned slightly, his eyes cold, his features closed.
??? - Ryarr.
Then he added, with icy calm:
Ryarr - On the other hand, you don't have to give me your name. I don't hold back the weak.
Elijen's cheeky smile had disappeared and a vein had appeared on the corner of his forehead.
That's when I realised something:
in this clan, there were prodigies, or walls. And Ryarr had just put up his.