Chapter 2: The Weight of the Blade

  ?The rhythmic, deafening clang of metal against petrified wood echoed across the dusty rear yard of the Suru orphanage.

  ?Boran stood shirtless in the morning sun, his heavily scarred shoulders corded with muscle as he swung a massive, rusted industrial pipe. He wasn't practicing traditional forms; he was just hitting the unyielding wood with sheer, stubborn, earth-shattering force.

  ?A few yards away, Valerius moved like water. Even holding a splintered wooden practice stick, Val exuded a natural, undeniable elegance. He stepped and pivoted, the wooden blade slicing the humid air with the precise, deadly geometry of a highborn noble.

  ?Aric, meanwhile, was a chaotic blur of motion. Armed with two short, heavy iron rods he’d scavenged from a broken tractor, he practiced his father's dual-hand swordsmanship. He didn't have Val’s grace or Boran’s overwhelming mass, but his movements were brutally efficient. He ducked an imaginary swing, pivoted in the dirt, and drove both rods forward in a synchronized, lethal thrust that would have gutted a man.

  ?Boran paused, resting the heavy pipe on his shoulder, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked over at the elegant noble and grunted. "Happy sixteenth birthday, Val. It’s about time. I was getting sick of swinging this pipe like a mortal."

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  ?Val gracefully twirled his practice stick and offered a polite, genuine smile. "Thank you, Boran. And thank you for waiting. You did not have to delay your own cultivation for an entire year just for me."

  ?"A true knight doesn't walk the path alone," Boran scoffed, easily offended by the mere suggestion that he would leave his brothers behind. He planted his pipe into the dirt. "We start together."

  ?Aric dropped his iron rods and flashed a wide, goofy grin, scratching the back of his messy head. "Well, technically... I might have tried breathing in some Aether a few days ago while you guys were sleeping."

  ?Boran glared at him. "You did what?"

  ?"I was impatient!" Aric laughed, rubbing his temples. "But it didn't work anyway. I couldn't get the energy to settle. I just gave myself a massive migraine and threw up my breakfast."

  ?"Because you were doing it like an idiot," a raspy voice called out from the porch.

  ?Elias, the Caretaker, stood leaning heavily against the wooden railing. The old man looked frail, wearing a faded linen shirt, but his posture held the quiet, seasoned wisdom of a man who had survived the harsher sides of the galaxy.

  ?"Inside. All three of you," Elias instructed, gesturing with a weathered hand. "Valerius turning sixteen means the Imperium officially considers him an adult. His portion of the orphan stipend stops today. If you boys don't start building your foundations now, you'll be working the planetary wheat fields until your backs break."

  ?Aric scooped up his dual iron rods, twirling them effortlessly before tossing them into the dirt. "Alright, old man. Let's see how this is actually supposed to work."