The night sky stretched endlessly above me as I rode, the stars glimmering like shards of distant hope. I never had the luxury of admiring them back in Ignis—the slums were always too fogged, too choked with smoke and misery to see anything clearly.
But out here?
The world felt… infinite.
Wind brushed against my face as the horse carried me along the dirt path. I have to admit I had no clue how to ride a horse at first. It took me hours just to stop bouncing around like a ragdoll. Even after that, I was far from good—mediocre at best. Every bump in the road reminded me how unprepared I was, but little by little, I improved.
I tugged lightly on the reins, and the horse huffed in annoyance.
"Sorry," I whispered.
It was borrowed, after all—given to me by Count Arenbelle to return to Lionhearth's cavalry. The horse deserved better than my shaky balance and awkward posture.
By midnight, my legs ached and my lower back screamed for mercy. I stopped at a clearing, set up camp, made a small fire, and collapsed into sleep.
Morning came early.
I woke up stiff and exhausted—but alive. Being alive meant I could train.
So I did.
Stance work, footwork, slashes, thrusts, guard transitions—everything Zenite had taught me, everything I'd honed in secret in the forest, everything born of desperation and instinct. Sweat dripped down my body as the sun rose. I practiced for hours before mounting the horse again and forcing myself to get used to the rhythm of riding.
The second day blurred into the third.
During that time, I realized something:
The world outside of Ignis was breathtaking.
Rolling hills coated in green, shimmering rivers cutting through stone, forests alive with birds and the rustle of leaves—everything felt alive in a way I'd never seen before.
Even the monsters along the road—goblins, dire wolves—felt almost routine now. Their snarls no longer rattled me. Their movements were as clear as day, their movements quite predictable now, almost slow.
I could read them.
Predict them.
Counter them.
Part of me wondered if I was getting too used to killing.
Another part of me whispered that I didn't have the luxury of fear.
By the fourth day, the quiet road finally changed.
Up ahead, I spotted a group of travelers—roughly twenty of them, all young, close to my age. They weren't merchants or caravans. Too many weapons. Too much tension in their postures.
Examinees.
Future knights.
I approached slowly, and the moment they noticed me, conversation died. Some scanned me head to toe, judging. Others whispered. A few nodded politely.
Competition.
Rivalry.
Wariness.
All in their faces.
One boy broke the silence—He was fifteen—older than me by a year—and friendly enough. Like me, he wanted to become a knight apprentice. Everyone here had their own reasons, their own dreams. I didn't judge. I tried to listen. To understand.
"Hey—name's Juno," he said, riding up beside me. "You heading to Lionhearth too?"
"Yeah," I replied.
He grinned. "Good. You look strong. Hope you're not too strong though—don't want you taking my spot."
I smirked, "No promises."
Juno laughed, but others didn't find it so funny. Some watched me coldly, eyes filled with challenge. Others turned away, whispering about strategies or mentors or weapons.
It reminded me of the orphanage—small cliques forming within minutes.
I counted them.
Twenty.
Twenty try for the exam.
Barely a handful pass each year.
No monsters came close to the road now—it was too well maintained. Too close to Lionhearth. Too safe for that. Which meant I still had no idea how skilled the others were.
No measure of strength.
No comparison point.
Only instinct and observation.
Juno rode beside me for a while, talking about his dreams, his village, how he wanted to become a knight to bring honor to his family. I listened quietly.
Then he asked, "What about you? Why do you want to be a knight?"
I looked forward at the road.
"…To become stronger," I said finally.
He blinked, taken aback, then nodded slowly.
A few hours passed like this—riding, talking, thinking.
Then I saw it.
No, I felt it first—a presence in the distance, something vast and unwavering, like the heartbeat of a giant.
Then the horizon opened.
And there it was.
Lionhearth.
For a moment, my breath caught.
Massive stone walls stretched across the land like mountains forged by human hands. Towers soared so high they pierced the clouds. Brilliant banners rippled in the wind—the green backdrop, the golden lion roaring at its center.
And that was only the outer wall.
Even from here, I could see the inner district rising behind it, layered in rings like a bastion of power and discipline.
Zenonva was large.
But Lionhearth?
Lionhearth was colossal.
A monument to humanity's strength.
The heart of knights and legends.
The place Zenite once spoke of with admiration.
My fingers tightened around the reins.
Sir Zenite… I'm here.
Juno let out a low whistle beside me. "Damn. Every time I see it… it's overwhelming."
The other examinees fell silent as reality set in.
This was the kingdom where countless knights were forged.
And soon, I would face my first true test within its walls.
My heart raced—not from fear, but anticipation.
I was ready.
Ready for the exam.
Ready to grow.
Ready to carve my place in this world.
Ready to take my first step toward becoming someone who could protect… and never lose again.
The horse carried me forward, hooves striking the paved stone road.
The gates of Lionhearth loomed.
The capital of knights.
The birthplace of legends.
A place where warriors were forged.
I stopped, breath caught in my throat.
I'd made it.
I was finally here.