The wind blew gently over the small village of Riven, a remote place in the kingdom of Valteria, where every day felt the same. Here, only the strong had a chance to rise, and those without wealth or talent were doomed to a life of misery.
Such was the fate of Kael, a fifteen-year-old boy with white hair streaked with faint blue markings along the sides and back of his head. Thin and frail, he drew only mockery and indifference. People said he was born without a magical affinity—an unforgivable flaw in a world where power determined a man's worth.
— "Look, it's that rat Kael again!" sneered a boy his age, surrounded by his friends.
Kael clenched his fists but said nothing. He had long since learned that fighting back was useless. He earned his meager living by doing chores for the village farmers. Every day, he woke before dawn to carry heavy sacks of grain, chop wood, or clean stables. Exhausting work for a few meager coins, but it was the only way to survive.
A dream too big for a weakling. That was how others described his ambitions whenever he dared to speak of leaving Riven to enter Azalith Academy, the most prestigious magic school in the kingdom.
That evening, as he finished his last chore, a cry echoed in the distance.
— "Help!"
Kael's head snapped up. Black smoke was rising on the horizon. The village was under attack.
He dropped his bucket and ran toward the danger. His legs trembled, his heart pounded. He had never faced real enemies before, yet an inexplicable force pushed him forward.
In a narrow alley, he spotted a young girl pressed against a wall by an armed bandit. She had long auburn hair and golden eyes that shone with fear.
— "Let her go!" Kael shouted without thinking.
The bandit turned, a mocking grin on his face.
— "And what do you plan to do, kid?"
Kael didn't know. He had neither strength nor magic. But that day, without realizing it, he had taken the first step toward becoming the most powerful warrior this world had ever seen.
To be continued...