As the camp settled into a quiet rhythm, Lucas sat near the edge of a crackling fire. The flames cast shadows across his face, their flickering light mirroring the turmoil within. Around him, the survivors whispered in subdued tones, their voices tinged with grief and exhaustion. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their armor glinting faintly under the dim moonlight.
Lucas' eyes drifted toward the commanding tent. Astrid Silverflame had just stepped out, her silver armor shining even in the faint light. Her stride was purposeful, her presence magnetic. Lucas' chest tightened. He had been rehearsing this moment in his mind all day, and now, as the chance presented itself, his nerves threatened to take over.
*No. You have to do this.*
He stood, brushing off the dirt from his worn trousers, and made his way toward her. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he pressed on. Astrid paused near the edge of the camp, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon before she turned, sensing his approach.
"Lucas," she said, her tone measured but not unkind. "You should be resting. The road ahead will not be easy."
Lucas stopped a few paces away, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I... I wanted to thank you. For saving us."
Astrid's expression softened, though her posture remained firm. "You've nothing to thank me for. It's my duty."
He hesitated, then asked, "Why do you fight? I mean, how did you become so strong? What drives you?"
Her silver eyes studied him for a moment, as if weighing how much to share. Finally, she motioned for him to sit on a nearby log. "Those are heavy questions for a boy your age. But you deserve answers, at least in part."
Lucas sat, his bright red-orange hair catching the firelight, making it appear as though his head were crowned with flames. Astrid remained standing, her silhouette imposing yet serene against the backdrop of the forest.
"I fight because someone must," she began. "This world is cruel, Lucas. You've seen it now, haven't you? The strong prey on the weak. Without people willing to stand against that, there would be no hope."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with conviction. Lucas leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "But how? How did you become so strong? Was it... martial arts? Magic? Some kind of secret training?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of Astrid's lips. "All of those, and more. Martial arts teach discipline and control over your body. Magic allows you to bend the world's essence to your will. Secret techniques, as you call them, are the culmination of centuries of knowledge passed down through those willing to suffer to master them. And then there is cultivation—the art of honing one's very spirit, pushing past the limits of what it means to be human."
Lucas' eyes widened. "You've learned all of that?"
She nodded. "I was fortunate to train under Sir Alaric, one of the greatest knights to ever live. He taught me that strength is not just about power; it's about purpose. Without purpose, strength is a hollow thing."
Her gaze turned distant, her voice quieter. "When I was your age, I was just as lost as you are now. I didn't seek strength to protect others at first. I sought it out of anger, out of a desire to prove myself. Sir Alaric showed me the path, but walking it was my choice."
Lucas' heart pounded in his chest. Her words resonated deeply, echoing his own inner turmoil. He looked up at her, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to break through. "I want to be like you."
Astrid raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her otherwise composed expression. "And why is that, Lucas? What drives you?"
He took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. "Because I don't want anyone else to suffer like we did. I don't want others to lose their families, their homes. I want to be strong enough to protect them. But... deep down, I know it's more than that. I can't forget what they did to my mother, to our village. I want justice. I want vengeance."
Astrid studied him intently, her silver eyes piercing yet unreadable. "Vengeance is a dangerous path. It burns bright, but it consumes everything in its wake. Are you prepared for that?"
Lucas met her gaze, his voice unwavering. "I don't know. But I can't ignore it. And I can't stand by and do nothing."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, Astrid sighed, a hint of weariness breaking through her stoic demeanor. "You're brave, Lucas. Foolishly so, perhaps. But bravery alone won't save you. Strength comes with a cost—a cost you may not be ready to pay."
He leaned forward, desperation in his voice. "Then teach me. Please. Show me how to be strong."
Astrid hesitated, her expression conflicted. "Teaching you would mean setting you on a path you cannot turn back from. It's not something I can agree to lightly."
"I'll do whatever it takes," Lucas said firmly. "I'm ready."
Her gaze softened, though her resolve did not waver. "We shall see, Lucas. For now, rest. The road ahead is long, and your choices will determine the man you become."
Lucas watched her walk away, her silver armor gleaming under the faint moonlight. Despite her reluctance, he felt a spark of hope. He had taken the first step on a journey that would shape his destiny, and though the road was uncertain, his resolve burned brighter than ever.