The grand training ground was a spectacle of opulence, a realm where only the elite could flaunt their prowess. Towering marble pillars surrounded the vast expanse, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings of ancient battles and powerful beings—the Archons of legend. Zaryth stood at the edge of the field, heart pounding in his chest as he gazed at the other children from prominent families, their laughter echoing through the air.
"Look at him," one boy jeered, pointing at Zaryth. "He can't even defeat a training dummy!"
Zaryth swallowed hard, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He had always felt like an outsider, and today was no different. As the other children effortlessly dismantled their dummies with displays of magic and combat skill, Zaryth approached his own, a simple figure made of straw and wood. He clenched his fists, willing his weak mana core to respond, but nothing happened. The whispers of the archons danced around him, their voices ethereal and haunting.
"Awaken your true power, Zaryth."
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the echoes that seemed to resonate within him. Their words were taunting, mocking his failure, but he didn't understand why he could hear them. Instead of the ancient beings encouraging him, he felt like a pitiful failure—just as he had always been labeled by those around him.
With a heavy heart, Zaryth lunged at the dummy, channeling all his concentration into the attack. His fist collided with the wooden figure, but it barely budged. The force of his strike was weak, leaving him staggering back as if he had punched a brick wall. Laughter erupted from the surrounding students, a chorus of jeers that pierced through his already fragile confidence.
"Mavuika, look! He can't even defeat one!" A girl giggled, pointing at him. "What a joke!"
Zaryth's gaze flickered over to Mavuika, the Archon of Natlan Flames, who stood observing the spectacle with an expression of bemusement. Her hair flickered like fire, vibrant and alive. She had come from a prestigious family known for their connection to flames, destined to become a powerful figure in the kingdom. Zaryth felt a pang of envy mixed with admiration; she was everything he was not.
The whispering voices of the archons grew louder, filling his mind with fragments of a forgotten past. "You are more than what they see, Zaryth. You are destined for greatness."
He clenched his jaw, frustrated by the lack of clarity. "Greatness?" he muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of hopelessness press down on him. He couldn't even lift a finger against a simple dummy.
As the training session continued, Mavuika's gaze lingered on him. He caught her eye for a brief moment, and something shifted in her expression—was it pity? He quickly looked away, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes.
"Is he even trying?" another voice chimed in, filled with disdain. Zaryth felt their scrutiny like a thousand needles piercing his skin.
When the training session concluded, the other children dispersed, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Zaryth stood frozen, feeling small and insignificant. The archons' voices faded, replaced by the laughter that haunted him.
"Mavuika, wait!" he called out, rushing to catch up with her as she turned to leave with a group of her friends.
She paused, her eyes bright but guarded. "You should work harder, Zaryth. You have to prove yourself if you want to stand alongside us."
Zaryth's heart sank further. "I know," he replied softly, unable to meet her gaze.
As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more within him—a potential he couldn't grasp, a connection to a past life he was oblivious to.
Maybe one day, he would discover who he truly was. But for now, all he felt was the weight of expectations, the shadows of the past looming over him, and the burden of being the good-for-nothing child of the Zaryth family.
After the training session, Zaryth trudged home, his shoulders heavy with shame. He entered the family estate, a grand structure that exuded wealth and power. The opulence felt suffocating as he walked through the polished marble hallways adorned with portraits of his ancestors—powerful figures who had achieved greatness.
"Zaryth!" his father's voice boomed from the main hall, echoing through the corridors. "Get in here now!"
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. As he entered the hall, he was met by his father's fierce gaze, flanked by his two mothers and his older siblings.
"What were you thinking?" his father thundered, frustration etched into his features. "You embarrassed us out there! You can't even defeat a dummy?"
Zaryth lowered his head, fighting back tears. "I tried, Father. I really did."
One of his mothers, a tall woman with fiery red hair, shook her head sadly. "Zaryth, we all know you have potential buried somewhere within you. But you need to train harder. You can't let your brother and sister surpass you."
"I'm not good at this!" he shouted, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not like you or Ruby or Dorian!"
At that moment, Ruby entered the hall. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her bright purple eyes held a gentle strength. She stepped forward, her presence calming the tension.
"Hey, Zaryth," she said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. We all have our struggles. Remember when I couldn't summon even a flicker of lightning?"
But instead of calming him, her words ignited something within Zaryth. "You don't get it!" he shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not the honored one here! My mana core is undeveloped! Do you know what that means? If I try to perform magic, it'll put a strain on me, and I'll die! You all know that!"
"Zaryth, darling, calm down," one of his mothers said gently, concern etched on her face.
"Shut up!" he yelled, his voice breaking. "You don't understand what it feels like to be this weak!"
Nico, his younger brother, watched with wide eyes, tears brimming in his own. "Zaryth, don't cry!"
But Zaryth couldn't contain his rage any longer. He bolted from the room, running past his family and out into the night. He felt the cool air hit his face as he sprinted into the darkness, the weight of their expectations crushing him.
As he dashed through the familiar streets of their estate, the voices of the archons echoed in his mind. "Awaken, Zaryth. The threads of your destiny are woven with fire and shadow." But he could only focus on his own pain and anger.
He finally collapsed onto the soft grass of a nearby field, gasping for breath as his heart raced. The stars above seemed to mock him, twinkling as if to say he would never reach their heights.
As he lay there, Zaryth felt a flicker of something deep within him—a burning rage mixed with jealousy of his siblings. Why couldn't he be like them? Why couldn't he be strong?
The voices of the archons returned, but this time they felt distant, almost taunting. "Find your strength, Zaryth. Discover your true self."
With his fists clenched, he yelled into the night, "I will prove them wrong! I will find my strength!"
The darkness around him felt heavy, but he clung to that spark of determination, vowing to uncover the potential that lay dormant within him. The path ahead was uncertain, but Zaryth was ready to face whatever trials awaited him.