Light That Bleeds

The morning sun rose like a blade through the horizon, casting golden light over the training field where the air was thick with tension. Kaleb arrived in silence, his steps measured, his eyes focused. The Throncest twins were already there. Blair Throncest stood with a tilt of her hip, arms folded, her lips curled in a smirk. "You're late, Lightboy."

Her brother George leaned against a cracked statue, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded in mild amusement. "Had to stop by the infirmary," Kaleb replied, voice calm. "Some of your classmates are still recovering from yesterday."

Blair laughed, flicking a strand of crimson hair from her face. "How sweet. Want me to go easy on you so you don't join them?"

"Try me," Kaleb said in a confident tone, and that was all it took.

Blair launched forward like a viper. Blood from a small cut on her palm whipped into the air and solidified mid-motion, forming jagged daggers. Kaleb's pupils shrank. A wall of hardened light flashed into existence before him, deflecting the incoming attack with a sound like breaking glass. Blair's blood whipped again, this time shaping into chains that lashed toward him like serpents. Kaleb ducked low, sliding under them as they shattered the earth behind him.

Light shimmered around Kaleb's fingertips, then extended into a thin blade. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a pulse of radiance at Blair's knees. She blocked with a crimson shield, crafted from her blood. "You're fast," Blair admitted, voice light. "But let's see how you handle this."

Dozens of blood-formed weapons hovered around her, all poised to strike from different directions. Kaleb smirked. "Cute trick."

He shot skyward in a flash of blinding light. From above, he fired beams down, creating radiant platforms mid-air that guided his descent, allowing him to dodge and attack simultaneously. Blair gritted her teeth as her constructs shattered one after another.

Then, he vanished to be clearer; he used his light to turn into a flashbang, causing everyone to look away. Blair's eyes widened. Too late, she felt the pressure at her back. Cold steel kissed her throat. A bead of blood slid down her neck as Kaleb whispered, "Checkmate."

She raised her hands slowly, the blood constructs crumbling into nothing. "Fine," she said, turning her head slightly. "You win."

And then, unexpectedly, she smiled. "How about a rematch?" she asked with mock innocence. "Maybe over dinner? You can show me more of those dazzling moves."

Kaleb blinked, slightly caught off guard. "That sounded like a date."

"Did it?" she said, already walking away, a soft skip in her step.

George clapped lazily from across the field. "You charmed my sister. Impressive."

Kaleb's sword lowered, his eyes narrowing. "Your turn, then."

Blair vanished into the distance, leaving only a soft trail of blood in the grass. Kaleb's senses sharpened. George stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Before we begin," Kaleb said quickly, "troops, fall back."

The command was calm but commanding. The nearby guards and instructors hesitated before retreating to the edges of the field. George raised a brow. "You haven't even seen me attack. What makes you so sure?"

Kaleb didn't answer right away. His mind flashed to memories, burnt bread stolen in alleyways, whispered threats from older cousins, and mind games just to survive another day in the Lionheart estate. He had learned early on: intelligence wasn't optional. It was oxygen.

{Flashback}

Kaleb was seven, small, and hollow-eyed. Lionheart Castle was grand—but only for the chosen sons. He was not one of them. In the frostbitten servant quarters, meals were fought for, not served. One night, he snuck into the library just to sleep under warm carpets. Instead, he found scrolls. Books. Knowledge.

Every night he returned, memorizing everything he could—military tactics, mana theory, ancient war chronicles. He learned not to ask, but to observe. Not to speak, but to listen. In a world where affection was denied, strategy became his only ally. When food was short, he'd predict when a kitchen maid would smuggle leftovers. When punishments loomed, he'd escape before they knew he'd stolen firewood. Day by day, he grew, not in strength, but in sharpness. Survival demanded intellect.

{Back in the present}

George chuckled. "So you figured out I'm not built for precision. Very smart."

"You're a Throncest," Kaleb said calmly. "You wouldn't send your sister in first unless you knew her attacks wouldn't accidentally kill someone."

George grinned. "Correct."

Then he crouched low. Kaleb's eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, George appeared right in front of him. His palm glowed yellow. Kaleb's eyes widened. He started to move, but it was too late. The explosion hit like a thunderclap. Kaleb's body flew back through the air like a ragdoll, slammed into the ground, skidded across the earth, and came to a stop only by digging his heels in and dragging a trench into the soil.

George smashed into a nearby boulder, cracking it. A heavy silence followed. Then laughter. George stood, brushing dust from his shoulder. "Very creative…"

Kaleb stood too, wincing slightly. "Light Blink," he said, voice strained but steady. "A light explosion at light speed. At least, it was supposed to"

One of the professors in the stands stood up abruptly. Long golden hair fell over his shoulders, and a white blindfold covered his eyes. "Impossible," the professor said. Kaleb continued, "It throws everyone near me backward. The problem is, it's incomplete. When adding matter to light, to create the impact force, it slowed the speed. And worse, it hurts me as well."

The spectators whispered. Most were stunned into silence. All except one. In the VIP booth, Dameon leaned slightly forward. His eyes glittered with interest as he turned toward the Lionheart patriarch.

"This son of yours," he said quietly, "is talented. People have tried adding mass to light for generations. None came close."

He paused. "If he finishes that spell, he could destroy cities."

The patriarch didn't blink. He sighed. "That's what I'm worried about most." There was no warmth in his tone. "If I had known he'd grow this dangerous, I would have killed him as a baby."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even Dameon recoiled slightly, his expression one of disgust. Those around the patriarch–all seasoned mages, high-ranking nobles, and professional adventurers–took a step back in unison. Everyone knew the Lionhearts were ruthless. But this… this was another level.

Back on the field, Kaleb stood still. His breathing was heavy. His light shimmered faintly around him. He had heard none of the conversation, but something in the air had shifted. George gave a long, low whistle. "You've got issues, Lightboy."

Kaleb didn't respond. He had already begun thinking three steps ahead again. The fight wasn't over. But neither was his story. He would get his revenge at the Lionheart one way or another.