When Taylor returned home, the weight of the world pressed heavily on his shoulders. He found Sarah in the living room, her hands busy knitting. "He's stable for now," he told her, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice. "But we need to get a healer to check him out."
At the mention of Vaden's condition, a flicker of relief crossed Sarah's face. "That's good," she replied, rising from her seat. "Let's get him settled." She guided Taylor to Vaden's room, where their son lay resting, the remnants of exhaustion etched on his features. Sarah helped him get comfortable, ensuring he had everything he needed to recover.
The next day, they took Vaden to see an elderly healer who lived nearby. The woman was known for her extensive knowledge of mana and healing, and as she entered their home, her presence felt calming. After instructing Vaden to relax, she focused her attention on him, observing quietly for several minutes.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried a weight of solemnity. "His condition is stable, but his mana channels are still abnormal," she said, glancing at Taylor and Sarah. "I must warn you… his life expectancy will not surpass the age of 30."
The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, the gravity settling in heavy silence. Taylor's heart sank, a mix of despair and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He looked at Sarah, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "There's still hope," he murmured, trying to reassure both her and himself despite the crushing weight of their reality.
Meanwhile, Vaden, lost in his thoughts, felt a deep sadness wash over him as he recalled the burdens his parents had to bear. The weight of their sacrifices pressed down like a physical weight on his chest. But amidst the sorrow, a flicker of determination ignited within him. He vowed silently, *No matter what, I will survive. I refuse to let their efforts go to waste.*
The man with the scar on his nose stood tall and imposing, his muscular frame making him seem almost larger than life. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp, streaked with gray, and his eyes were sharp and piercing, scanning the crowd with an intensity that could silence even the most rowdy of youths. He wore a suit of practical armor, dark and weathered, suggesting years of combat experience. A heavy belt laden with various weapons cinched his waist, and a pair of swords hung at his hips, ready for action.
"Listen closely!" he barked, his voice booming across the training grounds, echoing off the surrounding hills. "You are here to be trained as Shadow Knights! Weakness will not be tolerated! We currently have about 750 of you here, and we will separate the weak from the strong. Be warned: those who do not rise to the challenge will not make it out of this arena alive. Your final test is to face a low-ranked magic beast. As I call your names, step forward!"
The training grounds were expansive, lined with various obstacles designed for combat training. Dummies stood in rows, splashed with marks from previous battles, and the ground was packed hard from many feet trampling its surface. In one corner, younger trainees practiced their swordsmanship, their blades clashing rhythmically, while others formed small groups, honing their spellcasting abilities. There was an air of intensity and anticipation, the atmosphere electric with the energy of eager young warriors preparing to prove themselves.
When the man glanced at his clipboard and called out "Lincoln!" Vaden's heart raced. He recognized the name, but more importantly, he recognized the face—it was Sirius, a teenage blonde boy with cerulean eyes that sparkled with intensity. Relief washed over Vaden to see the boy alive and standing strong. He felt a surge of gladness at his survival, a momentary respite from the chaos around them. Still, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind—would Sirius remember their brief encounter in the cave? For now, Vaden pushed that thought aside, focusing on the challenges ahead.
As the tension in the training grounds peaked, Sirius stepped forward to face the low-ranked magical beast—a ferocious creature resembling a wolf, its glistening scales and glowing red eyes radiating menace.
When the signal to begin was given, Sirius gripped his sword tightly, feeling the unfamiliar weight in his hands. He had never wielded a sword before, and it showed as he hesitated for a moment before charging in. The blade was a standard sword, unremarkable in appearance, but it felt heavy for someone still learning to harness any kind of martial skill.
The beast lunged at him with a snarl, its powerful jaws snapping dangerously close. Sirius barely sidestepped in time, relying on sheer adrenaline to fuel his movements. As he swung the sword in retaliation, he found it difficult to control; the weight and momentum caused him to stumble, and he struggled to maintain his balance.
The creature swiftly retaliated, raking its claws across his arm. Pain shot through him as he felt warm blood seep from the wound, but he pressed forward, determined to prove himself. His inexperience showed with each swing; he was not just fighting the beast but also grappling with the unfamiliarity of the weapon.
Despite his struggles, Sirius summoned his strength, accepting that brute force was his only option. He struck out again and again, each blow less precise than he wanted but fueled by his resolve. The beast howled and staggered as he managed to land a glancing hit on its flank, but the creature's resilience was evident, and it was clear that it would take more than just raw strength to defeat it.
While the injuries stung, he was fortified by the infused demon blood that ran through his veins, allowing him to heal even as he fought. Each time he felt the pain intensify, he focused on that regenerative magic, feeling the wounds begin to knit together as he continued his assault.
With renewed determination, Sirius steadied himself, listening to the rhythm of the battle, and began to find his footing. He understood now that he had to adapt quickly, combining his instinct with the weapon's weight to finally land a decisive blow. Summoning all his energy, he reeled back for one final swing, knowing he had to overcome both the creature and his own inexperience in that pivotal moment.
With the creature snarling before him, Sirius took a deep breath, feeling the pain from his wounds but also the warmth of his blood surging through him and healing. He recognized that he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer. The low-ranked magical beast charged again, its claws swiping through the air with ferocity.
This time, Sirius anticipated the attack. He sidestepped, his movements gaining a newfound confidence, and swung his sword with all his might. The blade connected with the beast's side, not quite cutting deep but enough to draw another howl of pain. The momentum of the swing nearly threw him off balance, but he quickly regained his footing, ready to press the advantage.
The beast, now visibly angered and wounded, circled him, eyes locked on Sirius. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he prepared for the next assault. The energy within him pulsed, a reminder of his potential, and he was determined not to let this opportunity slip away.
As the creature lunged again, he ducked low and rolled to the side, coming up in a crouch. With a fierce determination, he waited for just the right moment, tracking the beast's movements. When it became momentarily distracted by his sudden movement, he saw his chance. He sprang up and charged forward, the sword raised high.
"Now!" he shouted, his voice steadying his nerves. He brought the sword down with all his force. The blade connected with a satisfying thud, cleaving through the creature's defenses. The beast let out a final, anguished howl before collapsing to the ground, defeated.
The spectators erupted into cheers, their voices a distant echo as Sirius stood over the fallen beast, panting from exhaustion. He barely noticed the pain in his arm; the thrill of victory surged through him stronger than any injury. Despite his struggles, he had faced the beast head-on and emerged victorious.
As he caught his breath, Sirius felt a mix of bewilderment and triumph. The experience had been overwhelming, but he had done it. He had fought back against the odds, proving to himself and everyone around him that he could rise to the challenge, even as a beginner. The journey ahead would only get tougher, but in that moment of victory, he knew he had taken a significant step toward becoming a Shadow Knight.