Forged Through Fire

Hiratsu's mind spun with everything his father had just revealed.

The stories he had grown up believing-the noble Taki, the villainous Aguni-were nothing but carefully crafted lies.

And now, sitting by the fire, his father was telling him there was even more to the story.

His father's face softened as he looked at him with pride, placing a rough, calloused hand on his shoulder.

"Listen closely, my son,"

he said, his voice steady.

"In two weeks, there will be a tournament-one that will decide who becomes the next holder of the ring."

Hiratsu's brows furrowed in confusion.

"What ring?"

His father locked eyes with him, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire.

Then, with a voice heavy with meaning, he answered,

"The Ring of Destruction."

Hiratsu's breath caught in his throat.

"But... but the teachers told us the ring lost its power years ago. How could there still be a tournament for it?"

At that, his father threw his head back and laughed-a deep, knowing laugh that sent chills down Hiratsu's spine.

"I told you not to believe everything they say,"

his father said, shaking his head.

"The ring was never destroyed, and it never lost its power. They only want you to think that, to keep people from asking questions. But make no mistake-the ring still exists, and its power is as dangerous as ever."

Hiratsu's heart pounded harder in his chest.

If what his father said was true, the upcoming tournament wasn't just a competition-it was a chance to wield the most dangerous weapon the kingdom had ever known.

His father's voice softened, but there was a spark of something fierce in his eyes.

"And, my son... you must be ready."

Before the sun even touched the horizon, Hiratsu was jolted awake by a firm hand on his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion.

"Get up, boy,"

his father's voice rumbled softly but firmly.

Hiratsu groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"But... it's still dark,"

he muttered.

"I barely slept five hours."

His father stood over him, arms crossed, his face serious.

"I know," he said.

"But there's no time to waste. Your training starts now."

Hiratsu sat up, confused.

"Why now? What's changed?"

His father knelt down, his tone softer but filled with something different-something urgent.

"Son, I've known since you were a child that you were powerful-stronger than I ever was. You even defeated me in sword combat when you were only ten."

Hiratsu blinked, surprised. His father rarely spoke about those days-when their training had suddenly stopped.

"I stopped training you because..."

His father hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully.

"Because I was afraid."

"Afraid?" Hiratsu's voice was barely a whisper.

His father nodded, his jaw tight.

"Afraid you'd become a beast-so powerful that no one could control you. But last night, I realized something. You don't need to be controlled-you need to be prepared."

He stood, his presence filling the small room.

"In two weeks, the tournament will decide the next holder of the Ring of Destruction. If you want to survive-if you want to win-you must become stronger. Far stronger."

Hiratsu swallowed hard, the weight of his father's words sinking in.

"Here's how it will go,"

his father continued, his voice cold and focused.

"Every day, starting now, you will run around the city-twice. No breaks. After that, you'll fight me until you can barely stand.

And when we're done, you'll train with your mother in magic."

"Mother?"

Hiratsu's head shot up in surprise.

His father smirked faintly.

"You think I'm the only one with something to teach you? Your mother's magic is sharp as a blade-you'll need every edge you can get."

Hiratsu tried to process it all, but his father wasn't done.

"After magic training, you'll rest-one hour.

No more. Then, you'll drink half a liter of milk with protein powder to rebuild your strength.

And we'll do this again. Every single day until the tournament."

He knelt again, gripping Hiratsu's shoulder.

"By the end of these two weeks, you won't be the boy you are now. You'll be something else. Something stronger."

The room fell silent except for the distant sound of the wind outside.

Hiratsu felt a spark deep inside him-part fear, part excitement. He met his father's gaze and nodded.

"I'm ready."

His father smiled-a fierce, proud smile.

"Good. Now get up. Your new life starts today."

The cold morning air stung Hiratsu's lungs as he pushed himself forward, his feet pounding against the stone streets.

His father's words echoed in his mind-"Twice around the city. No breaks."

It sounded simple when he first heard it, but reality was far harsher.

His legs burned with every step, and his breath came in ragged gasps. By the time he finished the second lap, three grueling hours had passed. Sweat dripped from his face, and his legs trembled beneath him.

He stumbled back home, barely able to stand-but there was no time to rest.

His father was waiting for him in the yard, two wooden swords in hand.

"Good-you're not dead,"

his father said, tossing him one of the swords.

"Now fight me."

Hiratsu tried to grip the sword firmly, but his arms felt like lead.

The years without training had made his body sluggish and weak.

Still, he charged forward, swinging hard-only for his father to deflect the strike effortlessly.

"Too slow,"

his father grunted, landing a sharp blow to Hiratsu's shoulder.

Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

For an hour, they clashed-wood against wood, sweat pouring from both of them.

But Hiratsu's energy drained quickly. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, and no matter how hard he fought, his father never faltered.

Finally, his legs buckled beneath him, and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

His father stood over him, but instead of scolding him, he reached down and pulled Hiratsu back to his feet.

"You did better than I expected,"

he said with a rare, proud smile.

"But you still have a long way to go."

Before Hiratsu could respond, a new voice rang out behind them.

"My turn,"

his mother said, stepping into the yard.

At first, Hiratsu laughed.

Compared to the brutal physical training with his father, magic seemed easy-until he saw the massive, blazing fireball forming in her hands.

His smile faded.

"Wait... seriously?"

Without warning, she hurled the fireball at him. Instinct kicked in, and Hiratsu raised his hands, summoning a water sphere to counter it-but he was already exhausted. His magic sputtered, barely enough to weaken the flames.

The fireball exploded against his hastily-made shield, sending him stumbling back.

"Too slow,"

his mother said, mimicking his father's tone with a playful smirk.

Gritting his teeth, Hiratsu switched tactics. If brute strength wouldn't work, maybe intelligence would. He summoned more water orbs-smaller, faster-and began flinging them at her.

At first, she swatted them away with ease, raising a shimmering magical shield to block the attacks. But after a few seconds, her expression shifted-something wasn't right. She sniffed the air.

Her eyes widened in realization.

"Wait... this isn't water-"

Before she could finish, the last orb struck her shield and burst into flames. Hiratsu grinned.

It wasn't water-it was benzene, a flammable liquid.

The shield had protected her from the impact, but not the chemical reaction. Fire licked at her sleeves.

"Ah!" she gasped, quickly casting a healing spell to extinguish the flames and repair the minor burns.

When the fire was gone, she burst into laughter.

"Clever boy! Using your brain when your body is weak-that's my son!"

Despite her burned pride, she looked genuinely impressed.

Hiratsu dropped to the ground, panting. His body was aching all over, but for the first time, he felt a spark of pride in himself.

"Alright,"

his father said, stepping forward.

"You've earned your rest. One hour. After that-milk with protein powder."

As he lay back on the cool ground, staring at the sky, Hiratsu knew one thing for sure-this was only the beginning.