The sun rose over the outskirts of the Hage Village, but it didn't bring the warmth of summer. Instead, it cast long, cold shadows over a small, secluded training ground hidden behind a grove of ancient oaks.
Leo, a boy of fifteen with messy dark hair and eyes that seemed perpetually tired, stood in the center of a dirt circle. He breathed in rhythm with the swaying trees. Before him sat a massive, jagged boulder.
"Focus, Leo," a gravelly voice barked.
His grandfather, Soren, sat on a nearby stump, his old, scarred hands resting on a cane made of ironwood. To anyone else, he looked like a weary peasant. To the few who remembered the Great War, he was a ghost—the former Vice-Magic King who had vanished from history.
"I am focusing," Leo grunted.
He extended his palm. Slowly, a small, thin green vine sprouted from the dry earth beneath the boulder. It looked pathetic—a weed trying to move a mountain. But as Leo closed his eyes, the vine didn't just grow; it began to vibrate. It coiled around the rock with the precision of a master weaver, finding every microscopic crack in the stone.
With a sharp snap of Leo's fingers, the tiny vine expanded with explosive force, shattering the boulder into a dozen pieces.
"Good control," Soren said, his eyes narrowing. "But your heart is racing. Why?"
Leo wiped sweat from his brow. "The Magic Knight exams are in three days. The nobles... they say plant magic is only good for farming. That I'm just a 'shrub' in a forest of titans."
"Let them talk," Soren warned, his voice turning stern. "Power isn't about the size of the flame or the height of the wave. It's about the soul behind it. And remember, Leo—never lose control. Especially when you're angry. Anger is a spark; your magic is the tinder."
The Encounter
Later that afternoon, Leo headed into the village to gather supplies. The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the sound of mocking laughter near the village well.
A group of traveling minor nobles, dressed in silks that looked out of place in the mud, were cornering a young girl. The leader, a boy barely older than Leo named Baron Kael, flicked his wrist, sending small stings of spark-magic at the girl's feet, making her jump.
"Dance, commoner," Kael sneered. "Or perhaps you'd like me to burn that ragged doll of yours?"
Leo's grip tightened on his basket. He remembered his grandfather's words, but the heat rising in his chest was getting harder to ignore.
"That's enough," Leo said, stepping into the light.
Kael turned, a smirk crossing his face. "And who are you? Another dirt-shoveler? I smell... fertilizer. Ah, you must be that 'Plant Boy' I heard about."
"Leave her alone and get back to your carriage," Leo said, his voice unnervingly calm.
Kael laughed, summoning a ball of crackling electricity. "Make me."
He fired a bolt of lightning at Leo's chest. In a blur of movement, Leo didn't dodge. He simply flicked his wrist. A single leaf, reinforced with concentrated mana, shot from his sleeve and intercepted the bolt, grounding the electricity harmlessly into the earth.
The onlookers gasped. Kael's face turned bright red. "You... you dare—"
"I didn't come here to fight a noble," Leo said, turning his back to pick up the little girl's doll. "But I won't let you hurt someone who can't fight back."
The Warning Signs
As Leo walked away, his hand began to tremble. It wasn't fear. Deep in his palm, a sensation he had never felt before—a searing, oily heat—pulsed for a split second. He looked down and saw a faint, dark smudge on his skin, like soot that wouldn't wash off.
Back at the hut, Soren was waiting. He saw the look in Leo's eyes and the way the grass withered slightly where Leo stepped.
"It's getting closer, isn't it?" Soren whispered to himself as Leo went inside.
Soren looked up at the moon, his expression grim. "The seal is thinning. I've hidden him for fifteen years, but the world is about to find out what kind of monster I've been raising."
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