The stern voice froze Aldric like a mouse spotting a cat, his hair standing on end. He turned stiffly to see his father, Gavric, standing in the doorway, his face a mask of grim disapproval. Lysandra dropped the pen she'd been using to help Aldric copy and shuffled to the corner, head bowed.
Gavric stepped into the room, his voice low and pointed. "Go on, then. What happens when you're the world's greatest warrior?"
Aldric caught the cold smirk on his father's lips, and a montage of childhood punishments flashed before his eyes. One wrong word, and he'd add another painful memory to the collection. Thinking fast, he plastered on a fawning grin. "When I'm number one, I'll come soaring back to Rivermark Kingdom in style, bringing glory to the Skyforge name! Everyone will know a tiger doesn't sire weaklings. All my success will be thanks to your brilliant guidance, Dad. Heroes from across the realm will line up to ask how you raised such an outstanding son! Then I'll have a ton of kids to grow the Skyforge legacy, and under your leadership, we'll be the greatest family in the world!"
Gavric's mouth twitched, his eyelids flickering with barely contained exasperation. His hand itched to deliver another swat. Beside him, Lysandra's face turned red from stifling laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort. Gavric shot her a glance. "Finished your magic homework yet?"
Lysandra bolted from the room without a backward glance, fleeing to find her mother. Aldric's heart sank—*traitor!*—but one look at Gavric's stone-cold expression left him fidgeting, forcing a smile uglier than a sob.
Gavric studied his thirteen-year-old son. Tall and lean, Aldric had a chiseled face, piercing eyes, and a mop of dark hair tied loosely back. Despite the cheeky grin, he cut a striking figure, brimming with potential. Gavric realized his boy was growing up, but his reckless spirit remained unchanged. Maybe, he thought, I've never really talked to him, man to man.
He sat at the desk, motioning for Aldric to stay standing—his bruised backside wouldn't allow sitting anyway. The room fell silent, the air heavy. After a long pause, Gavric spoke softly. "You know, no matter how much trouble you cause, your grandpa always says you're destined for greatness."
Aldric blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. He scratched his head and replied, "Grandpa's got a good eye!"
Gavric's forehead vein pulsed. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. "Of all you siblings, you've got the most potential. If you focused on your training, you could surpass everyone in the Skyforge family."
Aldric wasn't expecting this. He replied cautiously, "Dorian and Brant are pretty talented too, aren't they?"
Gavric fixed him with a look. "Dorian's gifted, no question. But as the eldest, his duty is to lead the Iron Riders. The Skyforge family has always served the kingdom, and that responsibility falls to him. He's spent years studying strategy and leadership, not just martial arts. His path is set—he'll likely match my strength, but no more. He knows his role and never asked to study at an academy. Plus, he's set to marry Prime Minister Nolan's daughter this year."
Aldric stayed quiet as Gavric continued. "Brant's obsessed with martial arts, but he's stubborn, inflexible. His talent has limits. Hard work's carried him far, but higher ranks will come slowly. If he gets into Arcane Spire Academy this year, it'll fulfill his dream, but our family lacks the martial techniques to push him further."
"And your sister," Gavric went on, "she's got talent, but she's as playful as you. The Skyforge family doesn't have the resources to nurture a high-tier Sorcerer. Your mother's only at Sorcerer rank, third stage, and that took half your grandpa's fortune in medical earnings to achieve. Lysandra might outshine her, but as a girl, she'll likely marry out one day."
Aldric absorbed his father's words in silence. Everything rang true, but why was Gavric telling him this? With Dorian and Brant to carry the family, what did they need from him?
As if reading his thoughts, Gavric's tone grew serious. "Rivermark Kingdom is just a small vassal state under the Ironforge Dominion. The Skyforge family is nothing more than a hereditary general's line. Wars rage around us, and back home, court officials accuse us of hoarding power. We're caught between external threats and internal schemes. I've been stuck at Champion rank, third stage, for years, with no breakthrough in sight. Your grandpa, at his peak, was an Infused Fighter, third stage, but a lifetime of war and injuries dropped him to Champion, first stage. We know our limits and what we can give to this family."
He leaned closer. "For the Skyforge name to endure, your generation has to fight for it. The world isn't as kind as you think. Survival of the fittest is the only truth."
Gavric stood, patted his son's shoulder, and left without another word. Aldric stood frozen, then slowly picked up his pen. For the first time, he copied the medical text carefully, deliberately. The usually restless thirteen-year-old was eerily still.
As dawn broke, Aldric finished the book and collapsed onto the desk, asleep. Outside, Gavric watched his son's furrowed brow in slumber, wondering if last night's talk had been the right move. With a sigh, he turned away.
Then chaos erupted. Frantic footsteps and servants' cries echoed through the manor: "Help! The young master's in trouble!"
The shouts jolted Aldric awake, a cold dread gripping him. Ignoring his aching body, he sprinted to the manor's entrance. A crowd had gathered, their voices a tangle of fury and grief—Gavric's roars, Brant's curses, Elara's sobs, and the servants' panicked yells.
Aldric slowed, his heart pounding, praying it wasn't what he feared. At the gate, he saw Brant kneeling, eyes bloodshot, cradling a broken figure. It was Dorian, battered beyond recognition, his legs soaked in blood, his breathing faint, barely conscious. He'd been dumped at the manor's gate like refuse.
Aldric's mind went blank, disbelief rooting him to the spot. Snapping out of it, he raced back to the manor, grabbed a set of silver needles, and knelt beside Dorian. Using Cedric's acupuncture techniques, he worked to stop the bleeding and stabilize his brother. But as he probed, he discovered fractured bones and, worse, both of Dorian's kneecaps had been gouged out. Rage surged through him, and he let out a primal scream that echoed into the sky.
Laughter, sharp and mocking, cut through the air. A richly dressed young man stepped from the shadows of the street, flanked by five warriors. "What's with the wailing? Dead already? I told them to leave him alive. Pathetic—did he break that easily?" He chuckled.
Aldric moved like a shadow, a silver needle gleaming in his hand as he lunged for the man's eyes, determined to wipe the smirk off his face. Before he reached him, one of the warriors stepped forward and kicked Aldric back several yards. Pain didn't register. Spitting blood, Aldric scrambled up and charged again. The same warrior sneered and swung a fist, but a figure blocked his path, meeting the blow with a punch of his own.
The warrior staggered back, chuckling. "Is that all the great Iron Riders' general has?"
Gavric held Aldric back, his voice icy. "You did this to my son? Why? Do you think the Skyforge family is so easily trampled?"
The young man sneered, his bravado masking unease. "You don't scare me, Gavric. I'm Dylan, heir of the Nightshade Clan. Even your king bows to me. A glorified gatekeeper like you is nothing."
Gavric's anger flared, but he recognized the name. The Nightshade Clan was a martial powerhouse in Rivermark, its patriarch and grand elder both Infused Fighters, third stage—untouchable by royal authority.
Gavric's voice was steel. "The Skyforge family has no quarrel with your clan. Why target my eldest son?"
Dylan's face twisted. "I wanted his fiancée, Ophelia, the prime minister's daughter. But that stubborn wench refused me, even shaved her head to spite me. No one defies me. So I made an example of your son. Let's see if she still wants to marry a cripple now." He laughed.
Before he could finish, a blade whistled through the air, aimed at his face. A warrior yanked Dylan back just in time. Thane stood in the center of the courtyard, his saber drawn, hair and beard bristling with rage. "You dare push the Skyforge family this far? Do you think this old man's blade is dull?"
Dylan, pale with fear, shouted, "Old fool, touch me and see what happens! I know your strength's faded. I've got two Champion-rank warriors here. You and your son can't stop us. Lay a hand on me, and I'll slaughter your entire family. What, you think you can call the Iron Riders to take me down? Try it, and see if your king lets you keep your head!"
Thane trembled with fury, humiliated like never before. But for the sake of his family, he lowered his blade.
Brant, still cradling Dorian, fixed Dylan with a blood-red stare. "I'll remember this. I swear I'll come for you and every last one of your men who hurt my brother."
Dylan faltered under Brant's gaze but quickly regained his swagger. "I know all about you, Brant. You're not worth my time. Planning to take the Arcane Spire Academy exam? Good luck. I'll have my people watching the roads—you'll never make it to the test. In Rivermark city, my clan's bound by the royal no-kill pact. But outside these walls? Crushing you will be like stepping on an ant."
Brant's fists clenched, knuckles cracking, his dream of martial glory under threat. But Aldric, listening to Dylan's taunts, grew eerily calm. He memorized every face before him, knowing he was powerless now. But he vowed to make them pay a hundredfold for Dorian's suffering. Blood for blood.
In that moment, the reckless troublemaker seemed to grow up.
Dylan spat on the ground, shot the crowd a disdainful glance, and strutted off. Behind him, a boy's eyes burned into his back, tracking him until he vanished down the street.