Aldric harbored a secret he'd never shared with a soul. At ten years old, he had awakened a magical gift—a rare one at that: lightning magic. The moment it sparked to life, he could sense the silver threads of magical energy dancing in the air around him. He vividly recalled the bedtime stories his mother, Elara, told him about her own awakening as a wood-element sorcerer. He knew he had the potential to become a Sorcerer himself.
So why keep it hidden? Simple. If his family caught wind of his talent, they'd pile on the pressure to study, train, and "live up to his potential." And that would mean the end of his carefree days of mischief. No way was he trading fun for endless lessons. So Aldric buried the truth about his lightning affinity, never practicing a single spell.
That changed when his sister Lysandra awakened her own wood-element magic. While Elara taught her the basics, Aldric lurked nearby, quietly absorbing how to meditate and channel magical energy. Under the cover of his blankets, he tried it for the first time. He felt vibrant purple-blue lightning elements surge into his body, buzzing with an affinity that felt like an extension of himself. What he didn't notice were faint gray wisps of magic slipping in alongside the lightning, vanishing without a trace. To a magic novice like Aldric, they went completely undetected. And so, he kept his secret locked tight, even as he grew.
It wasn't surprising that his family never suspected. In the Eldoria Realm, martial talent was rare. Breaking past the Novice rank to reach Warrior was a feat few achieved, requiring both innate ability and, often, a family's guidance. Resources were another hurdle—martial training demanded wealth most common folk couldn't afford. The martial path was divided into nine ranks: Novice, Warrior, Veteran, Champion, Infused Fighter, Surge Vanguard, Apex Ravager, Legend, and Dominion Slayer. Each rank had three stages, and advancing grew harder with every step. At the Infused Fighter rank, a warrior's vitality could take on elemental traits, boosting their strength, though it paled in comparison to a Sorcerer's spells.
Sorcerers were even rarer, outnumbering martial warriors twenty to one. The common magical elements were earth, water, wood, fire, and wind. Rarer still were ice, lightning, light, darkness, and spatial magic. Sorcerers progressed through their own nine ranks: Apprentice, Adept, Sorcerer, Archmage, Surge Binder, Weave Master, High Weaver, Enlightened, and Arcane Ascendant. Like martial ranks, each had three stages, but advancing as a Sorcerer was even tougher and far costlier.
Today's beating traced back to a passage Aldric had read in one of Cedric's medical texts: "Sorcerers can infuse their magic into elixirs during alchemy, enhancing their quality." Curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped into Cedric's alchemy lab while it was empty. A soothing elixir was simmering in the furnace, meant to calm Cedric's nerves after Aldric's latest antics. But Aldric, untrained in magic, had no idea how to channel his lightning element.
Undeterred, his sharp mind devised a plan. He might not know spellcraft, but he understood the body's meridians from Cedric's acupuncture lessons. Focusing inward, he sensed the lightning elements within him and guided them through his meridians. At first, they obeyed, zipping along like obedient sparks. But soon, they swelled like a snowball rolling downhill, growing wilder and harder to control. Sweat beaded on Aldric's forehead as he realized he'd bitten off more than he could chew.
The lightning surged faster, turning volatile. Knowing he couldn't hold it back, he gritted his teeth, focused his will, and forced the energy out through the acupuncture point in his palm. A grape-sized orb of silver light emerged, flickering erratically as it drifted lazily toward Cedric's furnace. Aldric stared, equal parts puzzled and uneasy. Something about the orb felt… dangerous.
He bolted to the doorway, peeking back cautiously. The moment the orb grazed the furnace, a thunderous boom shook the room. Cedric's prized third-tier furnace, forged from rare earthcore iron, cracked like brittle glass. The lab was a disaster—elixirs obliterated, equipment in ruins. Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Aldric made a break for it. Rule one of mischief: never get caught at the scene.
He nearly escaped the building when he slammed into Cedric, who'd rushed back at the sound of the explosion. One look at Aldric's shifty eyes, and Cedric knew the culprit. Dragging him back to the wrecked lab, Cedric's face twitched with rage at the sight of his shattered furnace. That furnace was his treasure, strong enough to withstand a full strike from Gavric himself. Yet here it was, cracked to pieces.
Barely containing his fury, Cedric growled, "You little menace, how did you wreck my furnace? Spill it."
Aldric knew better than to confess. "Wasn't me!" he insisted, neck stiff with defiance. "I was just passing by when I heard the blast. Scared me half to death, so I ran—then I bumped into you."
Cedric wasn't buying it. With Aldric's track record, an explosion would've drawn him toward the chaos, not away. After several rounds of questioning, Aldric stuck to his story, even blaming Cedric's own alchemy for the mishap. The old physician's vision blurred with anger. In the end, he hauled Aldric to Gavric, tossed him at his father's feet, and left to wander the world, muttering about finding a new furnace.
Back in the study, Aldric scribbled away at his punishment. The door creaked open, and a small head with a messy bun poked in. "Aldric!" Lysandra's sweet voice rang out.
He looked up, tossed his pen aside, and slumped onto the desk. Holding out his hand, he grinned. "Finally! I'm starving—hand it over."
Lysandra giggled, pulling a hefty chunk of braised beef from her pocket and passing it to him. She picked up his discarded pen and began copying the medical text in his place. The siblings had this routine down pat. Whenever Aldric was banned from meals as punishment, Lysandra smuggled him food and helped with his copying.
Aldric tore into the beef, then mumbled through a mouthful, "So, how's Dad? Still fuming?"
Lysandra's bright face soured. "You really ticked him off this time. Mom's mad too. Usually, she'd have me bring you food and salve for your bruises. This time? Just the food. Dorian and Brant are keeping Dad busy out front, but I've gotta go soon."
At the mention of salve, Aldric winced, his battered backside throbbing. "Dad's so unfair," he grumbled. "Four kids, and I'm the only one he's always walloping. Am I even his son? Hmph. Just wait—thirty years from now, I'll be the world's greatest warrior, and then I'll—"
"Then you'll what?" A stern voice cut him off from the doorway.