The clash of steel echoed through the Ardentis training grounds, each strike resonating with unrelenting force. Lucius, his arms aching from the repeated drills, stood his ground against Commander Darius, the man personally entrusted with training the knights of House Ardentis.
Darius's sword came down with crushing weight, forcing Lucius to brace himself, his muscles straining against the impact. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his feet refused to move back.
The watching knights murmured amongst themselves.
"The boy is holding up well..."
"Still, he's nowhere near Cassius or Julius at that age."
"A failed noble, yet he dares to wield a sword? Hah."
Lucius ignored them. Doubt had no place in his mind.
And then—
A cold, suffocating pressure swept over the training grounds.
A heavy silence fell. The knights stiffened. Some instinctively straightened their backs as if standing before a superior officer.
Darius, who had never once faltered in battle, immediately stepped aside.
Lucius, still catching his breath, felt the weight of an imposing presence behind him. The kind that could command entire battlefields with a single word.
He turned.
And there stood Marshal Reynard Ardentis.
His uncle.
A man spoken of in legends. The one who had personally trained only two warriors before him—Cassius and Julius.
The one who had refused countless others.
The one who had never wasted words.
For the first time, Reynard's piercing gaze settled on Lucius. Cold. Unreadable. Judging.
And then, he spoke.
"From this day forward, you will train under me."
It was not a suggestion. It was not a test.
It was a decree.
The entire training ground stood in stunned silence.
Eyes widened. Mouths hung open. Shock rippled through the knights like an earthquake.
"The Marshal... chose him?!"
"Impossible! He has only ever trained two—Cassius and Julius!"
"Even Duke Magnus agreed?"
Lucius remained still.
He could feel the weight of their gazes. The disbelief. The doubt.
But he did not question it.
He did not ask, "Why me?"
He did not hesitate.
His hands tightened around the sword hilt. His exhaustion, his aching limbs—none of it mattered.
Only one thing did.
The chance to grow.
To wield his blade with purpose.
To step forward.
Reynard studied him for a moment longer, his gaze betraying nothing. But in the depths of his cold, steel-like eyes, there was something else.
Lucius met his gaze head-on.
No words were needed.
And so, with the same chilling authority, the Marshal turned and walked away.
"Your training begins at dawn."
Lucius exhaled slowly.
The storm had begun.