The Scarlet Spear

Night fell slowly, as if the world wanted to pay respect to what had happened. In the Eloren household, the atmosphere was serene, yet carried a subtle tension—like a wound that still pulses even after being treated.

Yan could still feel the warmth of Helena's embrace on his shoulders, but now he sat at the table with the whole family gathered. Dinner had been prepared with care—not just by him, but for him. Comforting aromas filled the air: golden garlic, fresh herbs, warm, soft bread, and the thick stew he loved so much.

Diana and Alice were there too. Their presence made the table livelier, but Yan noticed how the gazes occasionally drifted toward him. Whenever the sound of cutlery softened or the subject changed, silence would give space for a question.

It was Alice who broke it first.

"So…" she said, a curious smile on her lips. "How was your first time killing a beast?"

Yan slowly lifted his eyes. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was respectful. Even Aurora, seated beside Diana, kept her gaze soft, as if expecting not just an answer, but a truth.

"It was… intense," he said finally. "It felt like every second pushed me to the edge. There was no time to overthink. It was either fight… or die."

Alice let out a low whistle. "Straight to the point."

"And you killed," Diana noted, watching him closely. "That changes people. Did it change you?"

Yan hesitated, then nodded, without smiling.

"I think so. Not in the way I expected. I don't feel stronger. Or braver. Just… more aware."

Helena watched him with silent pride, but didn't interfere. She let him process things. Aurora just crossed her arms and leaned back, wearing that look of someone who had already foreseen everything.

"More aware of what?" asked Diana, helping herself to more rice.

"That I could die at any moment. That my training only scratched the surface. And that… if I had hesitated for even a second, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."

The silence that followed wasn't one of sorrow. It was one of acceptance.

Alice rested her chin on her hand and murmured:

"So the little boy of the house finally understood how the world turns."

"And I didn't like it one bit," Yan replied, with a humorless half-smile.

Laughter followed, light and genuine. Even with the weight of the subject, there was love at the table. Companionship. The certainty that despite the shadows, they were still here. Together.

But time was not limitless. Diana stood up first.

"We need to go," she said, grabbing the coat she'd left on the chair. "The guild needs me early tomorrow, and Alice has a mission in the central zone."

"Top secret mission," Alice joked, following her mother.

Yan stood to see them off. Diana hugged him tightly.

"Stay strong," she said softly. "And don't lose yourself trying to become someone you're not."

Alice gave him a light pat on the chest. "Don't try to carry the world alone, okay? We're still here."

They left shortly after, disappearing into their personal transport. The house suddenly felt too big.

Aurora silently climbed the stairs to her room. Helena gathered the plates and kissed Yan on the forehead before going upstairs as well.

"Sleep well, my son. You deserve some rest."

Yan stayed there for a few more minutes. The dinner, the warmth of conversation, the presence of family—it all seemed to have happened in a bubble. Reality, however, pressed in again with weight.

Climbing to his room and sitting on the bed, he looked at his hands.

He still remembered the feeling of the blade cutting through flesh. The warmth of the blood. The frantic pounding in his chest. The certainty he was going to die. The rage. The pain.

"If I'd made the wrong move… it would've been over."

He closed his eyes.

The battle replayed in his mind in slow motion, like a film refusing to end. The misjudged leap. The poorly channeled mana burst. The hesitation before the final strike.

"It's not enough to survive. I want to dominate. Control. Surpass. Every part of my body, my mind, my magic… must be aligned."

He lay down, but sleep didn't come.

And as the minutes passed, he realized he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

He dressed again, quietly lacing his boots, and left the room carefully, not wanting to wake anyone. The house was at rest, wrapped in the soft glow of security lights. Yan opened the front door slowly, letting the cool night breeze touch his face.

The city was still awake.

At least part of it.

Lights floated in the sky like tiny artificial constellations. Drones patrolled the streets silently. The residential buildings lit the horizon with scattered windows still glowing. And people… were out there.

Some walking the sidewalks.

Others talking on rooftops.

Yan began to walk, without a fixed destination.

And then he noticed.

The looks.

Subtle, like people recognizing something rare—or dangerous—or worth noting.

There was respect. A certain admiration. But also something more…

Envy.

Suspicion.

Fear.

Yan was no longer invisible.

The boy from the Eloren household had killed. He had survived. Now, he was a presence. A name. Perhaps even a threat.

He felt the air grow heavier around his body.

"If this is what it means to start walking the path to power… then I'm ready."

But he knew, with painful clarity: he wasn't ready yet.

And that was exactly what drove him.

---

Yan wandered aimlessly through the quiet residential district until his steps took him where his body already longed to be: the central training terrace of the north dome. A wide, semi-open space, with synthetic titanium flooring and battle marks etched into the walls and floor. A place many went to train when the world outside felt too big to face unprepared.

At first glance, the field was silent. But as he approached, he heard it.

The sound of a blade slicing through the air.

Rhythmic. Precise.

A figure moved with sharp grace at the center of the arena.

She spun with a spear in her hands as if it were part of her body. Each motion left a trail of shimmering mana in the air, like brushstrokes of light across the night. Her thrusts were sculpted by years of discipline, and her feet touched the ground with almost dance-like precision.

Yan stood still for a moment, watching without wanting to interrupt. There was something hypnotic about her. Something wild, and at the same time, utterly controlled.

Then, she stopped.

She turned slowly, the spear resting on her shoulder, and her eyes found him with the same ease as one might detect an unwelcome breeze.

"Are you just going to stand there watching me, or do you plan to do something useful with that body?" she asked, her voice firm and full of authority.

Yan blinked, a little surprised by the reception. He took a few steps forward.

"I… wanted to train, I guess. Didn't know anyone was here."

The girl looked him up and down. Her red hair, tied in a high ponytail, swayed in the night breeze, and her magenta eyes glowed like embers under the terrace's artificial light.

"You're the rookie," she said, raising an eyebrow. "The guy who took down the beast during the field test."

"Seems like news travels fast," Yan muttered.

"Everything spreads quickly when blood and surprise are involved." She twirled her spear once, casually. "Name's Lilia. Elite Advanced Unit. Third cycle. Mid-range combat specialist."

The way she spoke was like a résumé read with pride—but not empty arrogance. There was real weight behind each word.

"Yan. First cycle. Still trying to figure out what's going on."

She huffed lightly, as if that was both irritating and familiar.

"So, what are you doing here, Yan? Meditating? Crying over what you killed?"

"Came to train," he replied without hesitation. "I need to improve. A lot."

Lilia tilted her head, analyzing his expression.

"At least you're aware of that."

She turned and pointed to one of the training dummies, activating it with a gesture. The automaton raised an energy shield, preparing to simulate total defense.

"Show me."

"What?"

"What you've got. Your magic. Your weapon. Your intent."

Yan hesitated for a second, then raised his hand. He summoned his mana sword, the blade forming like liquid crystal hardening into light. He took a deep breath, focused, and lunged at the dummy.

He moved quickly. His strikes still held traces of hesitation, but the strength was there. Determination. Blow after blow, he hit the shield with force, seeking openings, creating angles.

Lilia watched without a word, her eyes sharp as a predator's.

When the exercise ended and the dummy deactivated, Yan lowered his weapon and turned to her.

"So?"

"You've got power," she admitted. "But you overthink. Your body moves forward while your mind pulls back. There's no trust between the two. That's dangerous."

Yan sighed and nodded in agreement.

"I'm trying."

"Trying is the bare minimum. Surviving once doesn't make you worthy of glory." She walked up to him, the spear still resting on her shoulders. "You think it was luck?"

"No."

"Shame. It'd be easier to accept."

She walked past him naturally, as if already deciding the conversation was over. But before disappearing down the stairs toward the upper dorms, she gave him one last glance over her shoulder.

"If you really want to get stronger, Yan… come here every night. And be ready to bleed. I don't go easy on anyone. Not even the hero of the day."

Yan stood still for a moment, absorbing her words. Lilia's presence was like an unsheathed blade: direct, sharp, beautiful, and dangerous. But something about her stirred him. Challenged him.

"To bleed… so that's what growth is about?"

He looked once more at the training dummy. The energy of his sword still pulsed in his hand.

And for the first time since the battle, he smiled.