At the edges of the grand arena, adorned with golden and blue banners, the crowd buzzed with growing excitement. All eyes were focused on the elevated platform in the center of the arena, where the event everyone had been eagerly awaiting would take place. It was the day of the magical sword trial—the sacred tradition of the noble Haeskel family.

Kingoro, the ten-year-old boy, stood behind the velvet curtain that separated the platform from the outside world. His heart pounded violently as he stared at the sword embedded in the stone base before him. The sword that was supposed to reveal his strength, his identity, and his position within his family.

"Kingoro, don't worry," his father, Lawrence Haeskel, said in a calm yet firm voice. Lawrence, the head of the family, was a towering man with an aura of power that could not be ignored. "You are the son of the Haeskel family. The sword is a reflection of your spirit. When you place your hand upon it, it will respond to you."

But his father's words did little to ease his anxiety. Instead, they seemed to place more weight on his small shoulders. Everyone was watching. Everyone was expecting. Kingoro was the last son of the family, and all eyes were on his strength. Failure was not an option.

The sound of a golden trumpet echoed through the arena, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. "Now, we present to you the youngest son of the Haeskel family, Kingoro Haeskel!"

Kingoro slowly walked toward the platform. His steps were heavy, as if carrying the weight of the entire world. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but the sound seemed to fade, leaving Kingoro alone to face his fate.

He reached the sword embedded in the stone. It emitted a faint blue glow, hinting at the dormant power waiting for someone worthy to wield it. Kingoro extended his trembling hand and placed it on the cold hilt.

"Focus your spirit," his father whispered from behind him. "Show the sword who you are."

Kingoro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to gather all his emotions, all his passion. He had to succeed. He was the son of the Haeskel family.

But… nothing happened.

The sword remained still. It didn't glow brighter, it didn't budge from its base. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder as they stared in confusion. Kingoro tried again, this time using all his strength. He gripped the hilt tightly, gritted his teeth… but the sword didn't move.

Moments passed that seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, Kingoro took two steps back, his breath coming in short gasps, his eyes brimming with tears. "Why…?" he murmured quietly.

The crowd fell into stunned silence. Never before had this happened in the history of the Haeskel family. Everyone had expected the sword to reveal its power the moment the heir touched it. But this… this was unprecedented.

Lawrence stepped forward, his face stone-cold. He placed a hand on Kingoro's shoulder and spoke in a deep voice, "Enough."

But Kingoro felt the weight of shame engulf him. In that moment, he was not the heir of the Haeskel family. He was just a boy… unable to prove his worth.

"My lord, could there be something wrong?" one of the onlookers asked hesitantly.

"There is nothing wrong," Lawrence replied sharply, his gaze piercing the crowd. "The sword is the ultimate judge. If it does not respond, it can only mean one thing."

"And what is that?" someone dared to ask.

"It means he is not ready."

Those words struck Kingoro like a sword to the heart. Not ready? What did that mean? Was he unworthy? Was he weak?

As the crowd slowly left the arena in stunned silence, Kingoro remained standing before the sword, his gaze fixed upon it. Deep within him, a new feeling was born. A mix of determination and despair. If the sword was not ready for him now, he would make himself ready.

End of Chapter One.