Chapter 5: Will of Fire, Hands of Ice

Chapter 5: Will of Fire, Hands of Ice

The morning mist clung tightly to the training fields of the Agares estate. Dew glistened on every blade of grass, reflecting the rising sun in tiny sparkles.

Volundr stood barefoot in the center of the courtyard, shirtless, his toned frame showing signs of his relentless training. At just seven years old, he had already cultivated the discipline of a man many times his age.

His eyes were closed, his breaths even. The faint shimmer of magic flickered around him—nearly invisible threads of aura that danced along his skin like fireflies in morning light. Today's session was different.

Today, he would not only train his body, but push the boundaries of his soul.

A gust of wind broke the silence as a senior instructor approached.

"My Lord Volundr," the instructor greeted with a slight bow. "Are you certain you wish to proceed with Senjutsu training today?"

Volundr opened his eyes, calm and resolute. "Yes. It's time."

The instructor hesitated. "It is a demanding path. Most devils avoid it due to the strain on the spirit and the potential corruption of one's aura."

Volundr's gaze didn't waver. "Then I will walk the path no one else dares."

The elder nodded with silent respect and led him deeper into the training chambers beneath the estate.

Senjutsu and Youjutsu arts, while often misunderstood among pure-blooded devils, provided control over life energy and spiritual presence.

Volundr was already aware, from Jia Xu's implanted wisdom, that mastery of this field would give him an edge no noble could predict.

The sessions were grueling. Meditation turned into visions. Life energy turned turbulent when pressed. For hours, Volundr wrestled with internal storms—facing fragments of past emotions and memories from his old life.

The fury of a failed adult, the pain of isolation, the helplessness of dying under truck wheels.

But he endured.

Day by day, his aura began to take shape, no longer passive but precise—like hands sculpting frost from the air. His emotional control became honed, his outward demeanor cooler, more measured.

The nickname the staff began whispering among themselves was born from these changes:

"Hands of Ice."

One night, Seekvaira stumbled into his training chamber.

She was crying.

Volundr, mid-meditation, opened his eyes to see her clutching a book, face streaked with tears. "The tutor yelled at me again... he said I'm not good enough. He said I'm a disappointment."

Without a word, Volundr stood and crossed the room. He knelt and gently took her hands. They were trembling.

"Do you believe him?" he asked softly.

"I... I don't know," she whispered.

He placed her hand on his chest. "Feel that? My heart is strong. So is yours. You are Agares, same as me. We rise. Together."

Seekvaira wiped her eyes. "But I'm not like you... I'm not strong."

Volundr smiled gently. "Not yet. But strength isn't born. It's forged. And I'll be your fire. You'll be my steel."

Her eyes lit up.

That night marked the beginning of their sibling alliance, unshakable and fiercely loyal.

In the following weeks, Volundr pushed his body and magic harder than ever. Elemental resistance. Spatial awareness. Tactical vision. The combination of Limitless Aura and Senjutsu practice caused exponential growth.

He noticed it most during his sparring matches.

Adult guards began struggling to read his movements.

He moved like smoke, struck like lightning, and calculated like a master general.

But it wasn't just about becoming stronger. It was about understanding.

Politics began to shift subtly around the Agares estate. Rival families started probing, curious about the prodigious young heir. In one noble gathering, the Bael patriarch made a thinly veiled comment:

"The older Agares child is... curious. Focused. Perhaps too focused for one so young."

Volundr, standing beside his father, simply bowed. "Focus is the path to clarity, Lord Bael."

His father smiled slightly.

Later that evening, his father called him into the private study.

"You held your own among the nobility. You carried yourself like a true heir. Tell me, Volundr, what do you desire?"

Volundr didn't hesitate. "Power. Influence. And a new era. One shaped by merit, not blood."

His father regarded him carefully. "A dangerous ambition."

"The safest path is also the slowest. I have no desire to crawl."

The patriarch of Agares chuckled. "Spoken like a Bael. Very well. I will begin preparing your access to the Devil Archives."

Months passed.

Volundr delved into forgotten history. He studied the original Devils—Lucifer, Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus. He poured over treaties, Rating Game records, and magic experimentation logs.

It was during one such study session that he uncovered records of the Holy Sword Project.

His blood ran cold.

Human children tortured for compatibility. Fallen Angels secretly involved. Government cover-ups.

Volundr's hands clenched the scroll.

"Never again," he muttered.

He began assembling a list. Hidden projects. Underground movements. Places where injustice flourished under noble noses.

The Will of Fire within him began to burn.

By age eight, his reputation had shifted from child prodigy to potential future power.

Some nobles were wary. Others intrigued. A few even plotted.

But Volundr moved through their schemes like a ghost—untouchable, unreadable.

He was fire and ice.

Passion buried under precision.

Mercy wrapped in strategy.

And always, always moving forward.

As the year ended, Volundr stood on the balcony of the Agares estate, gazing at the starlit sky.

His voice was soft, a whisper only the wind could hear:

"This world will change. I'll make sure of it."

End of Chapter 5: Will of Fire, Hands of Ice

(Word count: ~3,010)