Eryx stood in the training yard, the wooden practice sword gripped tightly in his hand. His body was still unfamiliar with the motions, his strikes coming slower than he would have liked, but each time he swung, the weight of the blade felt more natural. The Academy's curriculum wasn't just about refining magic. Combat and physical endurance were just as crucial. Magic without discipline, without control, meant nothing.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the yard, but the warmth of the day was already fading into the cool evening. A few other students were scattered around, practicing their own routines, but there was a quiet in the air, a stillness that made Eryx feel oddly detached from the world around him. It wasn't that he didn't see the others; it was more that he didn't quite feel connected to them yet.
A small flicker of movement caught his eye. Liora was nearby, her focus fixed on the glowing, swirling strands of energy she was manipulating. The way the magic responded to her, dancing with such fluidity, was almost hypnotic. Eryx watched her for a while before returning his focus to the sword in his hands.
He wasn't here to compare himself to anyone else. But that didn't mean it didn't affect him.
"Not bad," a voice broke through his thoughts.
He turned slightly, finding a group of older students watching him from a distance. They were standing with their arms crossed, the leader—a tall, sharp-eyed boy—giving Eryx a slight nod of acknowledgment.
"I wasn't aware the Academy was accepting students from the slums now," the boy said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Eryx remained silent, the familiar weight of their attention pressing down on him. He didn't react to the insult; instead, he focused on the sword in his hand, trying to block out the rest of the world. But the boy's words lingered, and Eryx knew that, despite his silence, they wouldn't leave him so easily.
"You think you belong here, don't you?" the boy continued, stepping closer. "That talent of yours might impress the instructors, but you'll learn quickly enough that the real value here isn't magic. It's power. Influence. Things that you don't have."
Eryx's grip tightened on the sword, but he kept his expression neutral. "I'm here to learn," he said flatly. "Nothing more."
The boy laughed, his eyes scanning Eryx with a look of disdain. "Learn all you want. Just don't forget your place."
Before Eryx could respond, Liora's voice cut through the tension, calm and unwavering. "Enough, Arius," she said as she approached, her gaze hard as she faced the older student. "Don't waste your time on him."
Arius shot her an irritated glance but didn't argue. There was something in the way Liora stood, her posture firm and unyielding, that seemed to shift the balance of the situation. The group of students, who had been leaning in to watch, pulled back a little, their attention divided between Arius and the new arrival.
"You're wasting your breath, Liora," Arius muttered, but the smile had gone from his face.
Liora turned to Eryx, her eyes softening for a brief moment, before she spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for him to hear. "Ignore them. They're just trying to get under your skin. Let them watch. You don't have to prove anything to anyone here."
Eryx didn't reply immediately, instead watching as Arius and his group slowly moved off, their eyes lingering for just a moment longer before they left the yard.
"Thanks," he said quietly after they were out of earshot.
Liora's gaze shifted to the practice sword in his hands, and for a moment, her expression softened. "You've got the right mindset. Focus on your own progress, not theirs."
She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Eryx standing alone in the yard once more. The weight of the moment lingered in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break. But Eryx didn't feel anger or frustration. He felt… something else. A quiet determination that had been growing steadily inside him. His path was clear: he wasn't here to win anyone's approval.
He was here to prove something to himself.
Later that evening, as Eryx practiced his magic in the courtyard, trying to summon a small flame to dance from his palm, his thoughts remained on the encounter with Arius. It wasn't the insult that stung—it was the implication. Arius had spoken as if Eryx's presence here was an accident, as if he didn't belong. But that was something Eryx couldn't afford to believe.
His mind was focused, his energy poised for the spark he needed. He reached deep within himself, focusing on the swirling energy in his core. The flame that danced in his mind's eye was slow to form, flickering weakly at first. But he didn't stop. He gathered more of his will, drawing on that quiet, steady determination he had learned to rely on. Slowly, the flame flared, growing bright and steady.
He held it in the palm of his hand, watching the light glow against the darkening evening sky. It wasn't much—just a small flicker—but it was progress. And that was all that mattered.
He wasn't going to stop.