Silas
It is truly surreal to watch. I never thought I would witness it a second time in this life of mine.
A crash tore through the air. One of the soldiers came flying toward me, and I stepped aside just enough for him to tumble across the dirt with a pained groan.
My eyes shifted back to the training field.
And there he stood.
The young lord.
Only eight years old, barely months past his birthday… already strong enough to stand alone against grown men.
Three soldiers tightened their formation around him, wooden spears leveled and breaths steadying. They knew what they were up against. Even so, they braced themselves with a courage I respected.
Young lord moved first.
A soft shimmer bloomed around his feet. The ground dipped under the focused pressure of raw mana. Then he surged forward, a blur that left the air parting in his wake.
One soldier reacted on instinct and thrust his spear toward the rushing figure. Young lord slipped sideways, palm catching the shaft. He yanked it with sharp precision, dragging the man off balance. In the same motion he glided past him, tapping the soldier's ribs with a mana-coated fist. The force folded the man, sending him down to one knee with a choked breath.
Another soldier swept in from behind, swinging low.
Young lord arched into a backflip, weightless for an instant. Mana gathered in his palm, tightened, condensed. He flung the sphere at the man's face. The tiny explosion burst against the soldier's guard, stunning him long enough for the upside-down kick that followed. The man crashed onto his back as the young lord landed lightly on his feet.
The third soldier hesitated. His grip tightened. Mana rippled toward his spear.
Is that… a Spear Arcana?
His form blurred. In a heartbeat he stood before the boy, spear dancing forward in a storm of thrusts, seven in rapid succession. Each strike chased the young lord's silhouette, yet the young lord slipped through every strike with calm precision. During the motion, he drew his practice wand. Words fell quietly from his lips. Mana points glimmered into life around him and shot forward with a whistling crack.
The wooden spear shattered into splinters, scattering fragments across the dirt. The remaining projectiles struck the soldier's shoulders, forcing him to collapse to his knees with a heavy exhale.
And just like that it was over.
Silence rolled across the training field, broken only by the groans of men trying to catch their breath. The scene stirred something deep within me. It felt familiar, almost painfully so. Lady Valka had once stood where the young lord stood now, an untamed storm in human form who terrorized every poor soul tasked with training her. I still carry the memories in my bones from those days. Compared to her… he is mercy itself.
"Silas, I am leaving." The young lord spoke simply as he accepted his coat from one of the soldiers. His eye was calm, carrying a maturity far beyond eight years. Then, with a light step, he vanished from the field.
He mentioned earlier he would visit Lady Elara at the stables after this.
I remained standing where I was, watching the empty space he had left behind. Strength blooms in him so quickly it borders on unreal. Day after day he grows sharper, faster, brighter, as if the world itself is unwilling to slow him.
Maybe… maybe I am witnessing it again. The rise of something extraordinary. The birth of a legend that will carry the Fors name across the world once more.
And this time, I pray I live long enough to see how far he goes.