In the sprawling expanse of the Eldoria Realm, tucked away in a modest study within the general's manor of a small kingdom, a thirteen-year-old boy with striking blue hair hunched over a desk. His right hand scribbled furiously, copying a medical tome, while his left occasionally rubbed his sore, swollen backside. Every so often, a soft "ow, ow" escaped his lips, punctuating the quiet.
"Man, Dad doesn't hold back. Am I even his kid?" he muttered under his breath. "And Grandpa Cedric, come on! It was just one little explosion in his alchemy lab. Did he have to snitch to Dad and then storm off like that?"
The boy was Aldric Skyforge, the youngest son of General Gavric, commander of Rivermark Kingdom's forces. The Skyforge family had served as protectors of the realm for three generations. Aldric's grandfather, Thane, had fought alongside the royal house to carve out the kingdom's territory, laying the foundation for their family's legacy. Gavric, his father, had forged the Iron Riders, an elite force renowned as Rivermark's unbreakable shield. His mother, Elara, a wood-element sorcerer, was as gentle as she was capable, running the household with quiet grace. And then there was Grandpa Cedric, a celebrated physician and alchemist whose reputation echoed across the kingdom.
Yet Rivermark Kingdom was but a speck in the grand tapestry of the Eldoria Realm, one of thirteen vassal states under the Ironforge Dominion, its influence barely a whisper in the greater world. General Gavric and Elara had four children: three sons and a daughter.
The eldest, Dorian, was eighteen and a prodigy in every sense—skilled in both martial arts and strategy, already a Veteran-rank warrior, and capable of leading troops into battle. The second son, Brant, fifteen, lived and breathed combat. A Warrior at the third stage, he had his sights set on enrolling in the prestigious Augustus Academy later that year. Their youngest, Lysandra, was twelve and already blossoming into a beauty. She had awakened her mother's wood-element magic and reached the second stage of Apprentice rank, her potential boundless.
But then there was Aldric, the family's black sheep.
Aldric was gifted—freakishly so. His memory was photographic, his intellect razor-sharp. Yet he had no interest in books or blades. Instead, he spent his days climbing rooftops, chasing dogs, or stirring up chaos for the sheer thrill of it. The tutors hired to educate him? He drove three of them away and sent two others into fainting fits. Thanks to his uncanny memory, he'd skim a book the night before an exam and still ace it, much to everyone's frustration.
Fed up, Gavric had once tossed Aldric into the Iron Riders' training camp, hoping the disciplined environment would shape him up. It backfired spectacularly. The camp became a circus. Drums would sound for emergency musters in the dead of night, leaving officers and soldiers bewildered as they stood in formation for hours, only to realize they'd been pranked. Latrines would erupt with firecrackers, sending unfortunate soldiers leaping from their seats in a spray of filth. Saddle grease found its way onto warhorses, forcing cavalrymen to cling to their mounts for dear life or risk sliding off in a heap.
Everyone knew Aldric was behind the mischief, but the boy was maddeningly clever. He always had an airtight alibi, leaving officers empty-handed and fuming. Aldric orchestrated each "accident" with the precision of a mastermind, reveling in the chaos.
That is, until Logan, the Iron Riders' grizzled vice-commander, bit into a steamed bun during lunch and found a toad inside. The hardened warrior fell to his knees before the general's manor, sobbing like a child and begging Gavric to remove Aldric from the camp—or he'd kneel there indefinitely. With no other choice, the Skyforge family hauled their troublemaker back home, where he resumed terrorizing the manor.
Gavric's temper flared at Aldric's antics, his forehead veins pulsing with rage. Yet old Thane, the retired general, would only stroke his beard and chuckle, "That boy's destined for greatness." Elara, ever the doting mother, shielded Aldric fiercely. Whenever Gavric's hand landed a few swats, she'd scoop her son into her arms, glaring daggers that promised her husband a cold bed if he kept it up.
Despite his antics, Aldric shared a tight bond with his siblings. He never turned his pranks on Dorian, Brant, or Lysandra. When he landed in hot water, his brothers would drop to their knees, pleading with their father to spare him or offering to take his punishment. Lysandra would sprint to fetch their mother or grandfather, ensuring her wayward brother's rescue.
And so Aldric grew, defiant and carefree. Born into a martial family, he had no interest in the grueling path of a warrior. "Training's just suffering," he'd say. "And suffering's no fun." Yet his natural talent was undeniable. By observing his brothers' sparring sessions during his many hours of standing punishment, and through the sheer resilience built from surviving his father's beatings, Aldric had stumbled past the Novice rank and into the first stage of Warrior—purely by accident.
Today's thrashing, though, came from a new low. Aldric had snuck into Grandpa Cedric's alchemy lab and somehow triggered an explosion that obliterated the furnace and ruined a batch of precious elixirs. Caught red-handed as he tried to slip away, he faced Cedric's wrath. The old physician had always adored Aldric's potential—his grandson's perfect recall and quick wit made him a natural for medicine. Cedric's prized acupuncture technique, a family heirloom, took most students years to master. Aldric? He'd grasped the basics in three days and mastered it in a month. Cedric had been overjoyed, certain his legacy was secure.
Then he caught Aldric using those same acupuncture skills to paralyze the manor's black dog, cackling as the poor creature flopped about. The betrayal sent Cedric to bed for half a month. Just as he'd recovered and resolved to steer Aldric onto the right path, the alchemy lab disaster struck. Staring at the wreckage, Cedric felt his life draining away. He dragged Aldric to Gavric's feet, declared he was done, and left to wander the world in search of peace.
Gavric, learning the full story, didn't skimp on the punishment, determined to give Aldric a childhood he'd never forget. For once, Elara didn't intervene—she was furious he'd driven her father away. His siblings, too, stayed silent, heads bowed. Gavric beat Aldric until his arm tired, but the boy remained unbowed. Resigned, Gavric sighed and growled, "Get to the study and copy that medical book. No food until it's done." Then he stormed off, leaving Aldric to his task.
And so, the boy sat, rubbing his aching backside and scribbling at a breakneck pace. He didn't need to glance at the book—its contents were etched in his mind. His only goal was to finish the thick tome quickly; a growing boy couldn't afford to miss a meal. Though his mouth muttered complaints, his thoughts were elsewhere, fixed on a secret he'd never shared with anyone…