The morning was too quiet.

  Lucan noticed it the moment he stepped into the inner courtyard. It wasn’t an empty silence… it was a silence waiting for something.

  Eldric was already there, leaning against the stone railing, arms crossed, looking toward the distant walls.

  “You’re early,” he said without turning.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” Lucan replied with a shrug.

  It was true, but not because of fear.

  There had been something in the air since they returned to the capital. Something he couldn’t name. As if the city itself were breathing differently.

  Firm footsteps echoed behind them.

  Alaric.

  Lucan straightened immediately.

  “We’re heading out today,” the commander said without preamble.

  “A mission?” Eldric asked.

  “An evaluation.”

  Lucan frowned.

  “An evaluation of what?”

  Alaric looked at him directly.

  “You.”

  Silence.

  “There’s a selection tournament for youths your age,” Alaric continued. “It’s unofficial, but instructors watch closely. It’s meant to measure reflexes, physical control, combat awareness.”

  Lucan swallowed.

  “Why now?”

  “Because you’re not a child anymore.”

  The words weren’t harsh. They were simple. And that made them heavier.

  “You don’t have to win,” Alaric added. “Just show where you stand.”

  Lucan nodded, though a faint pressure was already forming in his chest.

  It wasn’t fear of losing.

  It was fear of being seen too clearly.

  Eldric noticed.

  “Relax,” he murmured. “No one knows you there. You’re just another kid.”

  Lucan let out a short laugh.

  “That’s never been true.”

  Alaric pretended not to hear.

  “We leave in ten minutes.”

  And he walked away.

  Lucan stayed still, staring at the ground.

  “What if I’m not ready?” he asked quietly.

  Eldric studied him for a moment before answering.

  “No one is, the first time.”

  That wasn’t comforting.

  But it helped.

  On the way to the training district.

  The city was waking as they walked.

  Lucan tried not to stare, but everything drew his attention: vendors opening stalls, people arguing over prices, apprentices carrying crates, soldiers patrolling in gleaming armor.

  Noise. Movement. Life.

  So different from the isolation he had grown up in.

  “Stop turning your head like a tourist,” Eldric muttered.

  “I’m memorizing escape routes,” Lucan lied.

  Eldric smiled faintly.

  “Sure.”

  Alaric walked ahead, steady, not joining the conversation.

  But he was listening.

  He always listened.

  They reached a large complex surrounded by low walls and the kingdom’s banners. Inside, the clash of steel and raised voices echoed.

  Lucan felt his pulse quicken.

  Not because of fighting.

  Because of entering.

  Alaric turned toward him.

  “Listen carefully,” he said quietly. “Fight clean. Don’t force anything. If you feel yourself losing control… you stop.”

  Lucan held his gaze.

  Nodded.

  He didn’t ask what he meant.

  Because he knew.

  The combat yard was larger than Lucan had imagined.

  Stone stands surrounded several circles marked on the ground with ancient lines. They didn’t glow, but they had a presence… like old scars.

  Boys and girls his age were everywhere. Some stretched. Others practiced strikes in the air. Some laughed too loudly, pretending not to be nervous.

  Lucan stayed near the entrance.

  Watching.

  Always watching first.

  “Hey.”

  The voice caught him off guard.

  A girl with dark hair in a loose braid looked at him with open curiosity, unashamed.

  “I haven’t seen you before.”

  Lucan took a second to answer.

  “I just arrived.”

  “Shows,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re not just looking at people. You’re watching how they move with each other.”

  That threw him off.

  “Selene,” she said, offering her hand.

  Lucan hesitated only briefly before shaking it.

  “Lucan.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  She smiled.

  “First trial?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Try not to faint before your match. Happened twice already today.”

  Lucan let out a short, nervous laugh.

  “I’ll try to stay conscious.”

  “Selene.”

  A deeper voice came from behind.

  A tall boy with a serious expression approached. He had the same eye color as her.

  “Bothering strangers again?”

  “I’m being social, Kael. It’s different.”

  Kael looked Lucan up and down, assessing him.

  Not with contempt.

  With calculation.

  “Sword or spear?”

  “Short sword.”

  Kael nodded.

  “Speed, then.”

  Lucan didn’t answer. He just held his gaze.

  Selene noticed that.

  He didn’t step back.

  Didn’t show off.

  Didn’t try to impress.

  She liked that.

  “See you in the arena,” she said with a half-smile.

  They walked away.

  Lucan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  Eldric appeared at his side.

  “You already made friends.”

  “They’re not friends.”

  “Not yet.”

  Lucan looked toward the combat circles.

  His name was written on one of the boards.

  The tournament was about to begin.

  And for the first time…

  He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be called soon.

  Or as late as possible.

  The Fights Begin.

  The combat circle was made of pale stone, worn by years of training. Around it, semicircular stands were filled with young aspirants, instructors, and a few silent officers observing.

  A deep horn sounded across the yard.

  Conversations died instantly.

  A gray-haired instructor with a rough voice stepped forward.

  “Evaluation matches. No intent to kill. No grudges outside the circle. If you can’t control your strength, you don’t belong here.”

  Several faces tightened.

  Lucan felt something different.

  Excitement.

  Not for violence.

  For the test.

  Names began to be called.

  Selene went early.

  She stepped into the circle lightly, exhaling slowly. Her opponent was taller, visibly stronger, carrying a training spear.

  It didn’t matter.

  Selene didn’t try to match strength with strength. She moved like she was hearing music no one else could. Deflecting, turning, entering through impossible angles. A precise strike to the wrist. Another to the knee.

  Her opponent fell onto his back.

  A brief silence.

  Then scattered applause.

  Lucan didn’t clap.

  He smiled faintly.

  Precise. Intelligent. She doesn’t fight to look good. She fights to win.

  “You like analyzing, don’t you?” a voice murmured behind him.

  Lucan turned.

  Alaric.

  “I like knowing who might kill me,” Lucan replied without thinking.

  Alaric looked at him a second longer than usual.

  He wasn’t joking.

  Kael fought next.

  Nothing elegant. Nothing flashy.

  Pure weight, pure pressure. Every blow drove his opponent backward, forcing him out of the circle.

  He didn’t knock him down.

  He expelled him.

  Space control, Lucan thought.

  Sister wind. Brother wall.

  Interesting.

  Lucan had observed every detail.

  Not out of competition.

  Out of instinct.

  “You’re up soon,” Selene said, leaning on the railing near him.

  Lucan nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nervous?”

  He thought about it.

  “Not about losing.”

  She tilted her head, curious.

  “Then what?”

  Lucan looked at the circle.

  “About not knowing how much to show.”

  She didn’t fully understand… but she sensed it wasn’t false modesty.

  “Lucan Veyr!” the judge called.

  The murmur rose slightly. The “new kid” was finally fighting.

  His opponent was only a little older, broad-shouldered, old scars on his arms, smiling confidently. He had already won a match.

  Lucan stepped into the circle.

  Breathed.

  Gave a slight bow.

  “New, huh? Relax. I’ll try not to break anything.”

  Lucan didn’t answer.

  He just took his stance.

  And the fight began.

  The other boy attacked first, with direct force. Lucan dodged with a slight turn of his torso.

  He didn’t counter.

  He measured.

  Second attack. Faster. Lucan blocked and stepped back twice.

  People assumed he was on the defensive.

  From the higher stands, Eldric watched in silence, arms crossed. Beside him, a veteran instructor muttered,

  “That new kid… moves like someone trained since childhood.”

  Eldric didn’t reply.

  He just watched Lucan.

  He knew he was studying.

  On the third exchange, Lucan finally stepped in.

  He attacked with more strength.

  Started moving.

  Evade. Deflect. Relax shoulders. Micro-tensions before each strike.

  The world became simple.

  Movement.

  Space.

  Time.

  Sounds dulled.

  Breathing clear.

  He was enjoying it.

  For the first time in front of people.

  Without hiding.

  Without restraining every gesture.

  Just… fighting.

  His opponent charged with all his weight behind a downward strike.

  Lucan deflected, turned along his side, and struck him in the ribs with the pommel of his sword.

  Air gone.

  Knee to the ground.

  The instructor raised a hand.

  “Stop!”

  Lucan lowered his weapon.

  He had won.

  But he didn’t hear the murmurs.

  Didn’t hear anything.

  Because inside his chest…

  Something vibrated.

  A spark.

  Heat beneath his skin.

  His smile tightened slightly.

  Under his clothes, the old marks burned for a second.

  They didn’t glow.

  But the air around him trembled.

  Like invisible heat.

  Eldric felt it.

  From the stands, his eyes sharpened.

  “Lucan,” he murmured, barely audible.

  In the circle, the opponent tried to stand.

  Lucan pushed him back down.

  Too much force.

  Too much emotion.

  And then he noticed.

  The heat in his back.

  His racing pulse.

  “No… not now.”

  But the excitement kept rising.

  Blood moving faster.

  Heartbeat pounding like a drum.

  His opponent, frustrated, lunged again without control.

  Lucan reacted.

  Instinct.

  Too fast.

  Too strong.

  He stepped back.

  But it was too late.

  A faint wave — like a sigh of energy — spread outward, barely perceptible.

  Some thought it was wind.

  Others, tension from the moment.

  But not everyone.

  In the upper stands, Renar slowly stood.

  His eyes weren’t on the opponent.

  They were on Lucan.

  Recognition.

  Not certainty.

  But memory.

  “Enough,” Eldric said firmly to the judge, already coming down the steps. “The match ends here.”

  The judge, surprised by the direct intervention of an instructor of that level, nodded without argument.

  “Winner: Lucan Veyr!”

  There was scattered applause.

  Nothing seemed out of place.

  Except to three people.

  Eldric.

  Renar.

  And Lucan.

  When he left the circle, Lucan avoided looking at anyone.

  His hand was shaking.

  He clenched it into a fist until it stopped.

  The tournament continued.

  But for some, it was no longer the focus.

  Renar did not sit back down.

  His jaw was tight.

  He watched the remaining matches without really seeing them.

  His mind was years in the past.

  He had felt it.

  Not with his eyes.

  With memory.

  That pressure in the air.

  That pulse.

  That echo.

  He had felt it before.

  This cannot be a coincidence.

  When the event ended, he headed straight for the administrative wing.

  He didn’t ask for an audience.

  He entered.

  Alaric was already waiting, standing beside a table covered in maps.

  Tense silence.

  “What was that?” Renar asked directly.

  “A boy fighting.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Alaric held his gaze.

  Renar shut the door with force.

  “Explain why.”

  Alaric didn’t look away.

  “There’s nothing to explain.”

  Renar let out a dry laugh.

  “That’s exactly what they said years ago. ‘There’s no danger.’ ‘It’s under control.’ And then they decided it was a risk and removed him.”

  Alaric didn’t blink.

  “This isn’t the same case,” he said at last.

  “I don’t know that,” Renar replied coldly. “Why was I never told what really happened back then? They just said it was ‘for everyone’s good.’”

  “You weren’t in that position at the time.”

  “But I am now!” Renar slammed his hand on the table. “I’m responsible for the kingdom’s military security, and you bring that boy — with that… that power — without telling me anything.”

  “I’m watching him.”

  “That’s not an answer!”

  Alaric lowered his voice.

  “This time he isn’t alone.”

  Renar stared at him, incredulous.

  “And what does that change?”

  Alaric didn’t answer immediately.

  Because the answer was simple.

  And dangerous.

  “Everything.”

  Renar exhaled sharply through his nose.

  “I’m likely to lead this kingdom one day. I command the army. I know what happens at every border… and about this I’m told nothing?”

  “Silence.”

  Heavier than a shout.

  “Not this time,” Alaric said.

  That was worse than a blow.

  Renar stepped back half a pace, pride wounded.

  “With Riven they said it was necessary. That it was for the good of the kingdom.”

  His voice lowered.

  “And now? What changed?”

  Alaric held his gaze without blinking.

  “I learned what happens when we act out of fear.”

  Renar had no answer.

  But his distrust didn’t leave.

  It just changed shape.

  Alaric looked away for a single second.

  That second was enough.

  “This isn’t fear,” Renar continued, lower, firmer. “It’s responsibility. If the boy loses control in the middle of the city, it won’t be a simple mistake.”

  “And if we cast him out for what he might become,” Alaric replied, “we’ll repeat mistakes we’ve already made.”

  Renar stared at him.

  “It’ll be his decision. Not mine.”

  And he left.

  Not furious.

  But far from convinced.

  Outside, on the steps.

  Lucan sat on a stone step, staring at his hands.

  Selene approached first. Kael behind her.

  “Hey.”

  He looked up.

  “That thing earlier… you okay?”

  Lucan hesitated a second.

  Then nodded.

  “Yeah. I just… got carried away.”

  She studied him for a moment longer.

  Didn’t look convinced.

  But she smiled anyway.

  “You fight like you’re breaking chains.”

  Lucan didn’t know how to answer.

  Because he wasn’t sure

  whether she was wrong

  or far too right.

  Kael sat down on his other side.

  “That happens. It’s fighting. Not tea time.”

  Lucan let out a short breath of laughter.

  Selene looked at him more carefully now.

  “Does anything hurt?”

  Lucan hesitated.

  “No… just… it’s weird.”

  He couldn’t explain the heat.

  Or the feeling that something inside him had woken up and then gone back to sleep.

  Selene leaned back on her hands.

  “Weird or not, you fight like someone born for it.”

  Lucan looked ahead.

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  Kael glanced at him sideways.

  “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

  Lucan nodded, grateful.

  Comfortable silence.

  For the first time since arriving in Valthera…

  He didn’t feel watched.

  Or evaluated.

  Just… accompanied.

  Selene broke the silence.

  “We’re training again tomorrow. And I’m not losing to you that easily.”

  Lucan looked at her.

  This time he did smile, just a little.

  “Then you’d better not hold back.”

  Kael snorted.

  “Great. Two competitive lunatics. I’ll just try to survive between you.”

  The three of them stayed there a while longer, watching the sun lower over the city’s towers.

  End of Chapter 4