After what felt like an eternity, the door to the ritual room finally creaked open. Arthur and the priest stepped out, the boy's face beaming with excitement. He bolted toward his father and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, nearly toppling Sir John in the process.
"Dad! I felt it!" Arthur shouted, his voice brimming with joy.
"Good job, son!" Sir John said, patting him proudly on the back. "Now that you've awakened your mana, you can start pulling your weight around the house. All the cleaning is yours from today—using magic, of course!"
Arthur's face twisted into a grimace. "No way, Dad!"
As the father and son bantered, the priest approached Sir John, his face lit with enthusiasm. "John! Your boy is exceptional! He sensed mana much faster than most kids his age!"
Sir John gave a sheepish smile. "Well, I may have... helped a little. I've been injecting tiny amounts of mana into him now and then, just to build his sensitivity early on."
"Hoho! Classic Sir John," the priest said with a hearty laugh. "Of course, you would've read about that in some obscure book somewhere. Always one step ahead."
The priest leaned in slightly, "Honestly, I think your son is destined for more than what this small-town institute can offer. Have you considered enrolling him in one of the academies in the capital? He's got the talent to shine there!"
Sir John raised a skeptical brow. "The capital? That's a big leap, and the competition there is cutthroat. Nobles pour fortunes into grooming their children with private tutors and resources. I don't think Arthur's ready for that level of competition."
"You're selling him short!" the priest replied earnestly. "Do you know how rare it is for a child to sense mana in just half an hour? Most take an hour or longer. Not only that, but I was able to help him form the beginnings of a core during our session! He's already on his way to becoming a strong mage."
Sir John's face lit up with pride, though he tried to mask it with a modest nod. "Well, that is impressive..."
"Impressive? It's remarkable!" the priest exclaimed. "I'd bet that Arthur will have his red core within three months. And if he continues to train diligently, he could reach yellow by the age of eight. That's no small feat, even if it doesn't match those noble brats who hit yellow at seven. For a commoner, Arthur is an extraordinary talent!"
As this lively exchange unfolded, I sat quietly on the bench, watching the scene like an outsider. The priest's glowing praises, Sir John's humble-but-barely-contained pride, and Arthur's unmistakable smugness all played out like a staged drama.
Arthur turned toward me, his grin widening into a mischievous smirk. His expression seemed to say, Haha, loser! You don't even have a core because you skipped the ritual. Look at me—I'm a genius now!
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Arthur's arrogance was understandable; he was five, after all, and this was his moment to shine. Still, I couldn't help but wonder how their tune would change if they knew the truth—that I already had a yellow core at five.
From there, both our families headed to Arthur's house for a small, intimate celebration. It was just the five of us.
I'd always been curious about Arthur's mother. She was alive, as far as I'd gathered, but never around. In the five years of my existence, I hadn't seen her even once. There was a story there, no doubt, but I wasn't going to pry.
The feast was a hearty one, filled with dishes that far outclassed the simple meals we usually had at home. Arthur's family was clearly wealthier, with Sir John's position as a scholar making all the difference. After the meal, we moved to their spacious living room, a noticeable step up from our own modest setup. The size and decor only served as another reminder of their better circumstances.
But it wasn't long before I found myself in the hot seat.
I tried to avoid the inevitable by slipping away to join Arthur and his silly toys. Surely, they'd let me off the hook if I busied myself with the other kid, right? Wrong. Arthur was promptly sent out of the room, leaving me alone with my parents and Sir John.
They sat me down in the middle of the room, their gazes heavy with expectation.
"Look at Arthur!" my mother began, her voice tinged with frustration. "You can be a great mage too! You've always had the interest! Why not just go through the ritual? We can even get it done today!"
"Son," my father chimed in, his tone a mix of urgency and determination, "Arthur will be applying to one of the prestigious institutes in the capital. Don't you want that for yourself too? I'm willing to sell our land to afford a good education for you. With your curiosity and talent, you could make it to one of those great institutes!"
Sir John leaned forward, his scholarly demeanor adding weight to his words. "The earlier you awaken your core, the better your chances of progressing. You don't want to fall behind, do you? Your peers are already on their way. I believe you've got almost as much talent as Arthur. If you act now, you could aim for an institute nearly as good as the ones in the capital."
I sat there, absorbing their words while silently marveling at Sir John's confidence. Arthur hadn't even taken the entrance test yet, but his father was already planning his academic future in the capital. It was impressive, in a way—he didn't just have faith in Arthur; he was ready to bet on him.
And my father... His determination to afford my education moved me. The thought of him selling the land we'd worked so hard on stirred something in me. But how could I explain my decision to them without revealing my secret?
Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke. "Listen up, everyone. I'm not going through the ritual. I have my reasons. But I do want to go to the capital. I want to study Magic Linguistics. And for that, I plan on relying on books and myself."
Sir John raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Kiddo, you realize anyone pursuing advanced fields like Magic Linguistics has to go through nine years of primary education first, right? Only then can you even think about becoming a freshman scholar in any research institute. That dream is at least nine years away. What's your plan until then? You'll need to attend a school."
"I'll be home-schooled," I replied confidently. "Then, when I turn fourteen, I'll take the entrance exam for one of the research institutes in the capital. I'll study on my own till then. I don't need a school."
My father shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Home-schooled by who? Your mother and I are farmers. Schools exist for a reason. If Arthur finishes his primary education at a great school in the capital, he'll have the foundation to pursue any field he wants in the capital. Meanwhile, you'll be struggling to catch up with zero formal education. At best, you'd end up in some mediocre countryside institute—if you're lucky."
"I don't mind," I said firmly. "But you're not changing my mind on this!"
The room fell into tense silence. My parents exchanged worried glances, and Sir John sighed, shaking his head.
What followed was a long, drawn-out argument. They took turns trying to reason with me, their voices growing louder with every point they made. But I held my ground. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn't going to back down—no matter how convincing their arguments were.
By the end of it, nothing had been resolved. My parents were visibly frustrated, Sir John looked mildly exasperated, and I was left wondering if this was the calm before the storm.
"I get it now," my father said, his voice heavy with exasperation. "We'll just have to tie you up and drag you there." He turned to Sir John. "Lend us a rope, We're paying the priest another visit today."
I froze, the air around me suddenly thick and suffocating.
Sir John chuckled, shaking his head. "I agree, Alfred. This brat's stupidity knows no bounds. He might cry now, but once he's older, he'll understand we did this for his own good."
"Exactly!" my father said, nodding emphatically. "Sometimes, kids don't know what's best for them. It's our responsibility as parents to make the tough calls."
"I can't," my mother interjected, her voice softer but firm. "I can't force him like that. I'll stay behind with Arthur. You two can deal with this nonsense."
They continued their debate, exchanging glances and arguments, all while completely ignoring me. It was as if my opinion didn't even exist, reduced to background noise in the face of their unwavering determination.
"I'll go grab the rope," Sir John said casually, as though discussing the weather, and left the room.
Panic set in. My heart pounded in my chest, and my mind raced through possibilities. Run? Hide? Argue louder? But no words came. I was rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything but sit and listen to them plot my betrayal.
Sir John returned moments later, holding a length of rope in his hands.
**ck.