The Fire Within

"How'd he do?" Alaric asked the empty air around him, his voice calm but expectant.

"Poorly," came the answer as Grandmaster Smoke stepped from the shadows into the dimly lit study.

Alaric didn't look surprised. "Really? I was expecting more."

"So was I," Smoke replied, settling into the chair across from him. He crossed one leg over the other and let out a quiet sigh. "He doesn't think when he fights—it's all instinct and impulse, everything on the fly."

Alaric chuckled under his breath. "Well, he doesn't get that from me. That's his mother's blood. When's the last time you saw a dragon walk into battle with a plan?"

Smoke didn't smile. "They don't need one. But Theo does."

Alaric leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "I've given him to you to train. Why does he still struggle?"

Smoke's eyes narrowed. "I cultivated him to the ultimate level of Tier 1. He's proficient with nearly every weapon. I didn't expect him to be sent after a Tier 2 beast—especially a flying one. And you know why we've kept him from fighting beasts. His bloodline is too potent—it stirs the wild."

Alaric waved a hand dismissively. "He wanted to see the real world, so I gave him a taste."

"He needs more time," Smoke argued.

"That," Alaric interrupted, rising from his chair, "I cannot give. The resurgence of the wastelands is nearly upon us. When that happens, the scattered powers of this solar system will return, eager to reclaim and divide the lands. Twilight grants us a foothold, but how long can we hold it without fresh blood?"

He walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "And once the resurgence begins, the convergence of the realms will follow. I won't be here much longer—I have matters to handle back home. Theo needs to be ready now. He may know how to fight men, but men will soon be the least of his concerns. What he must learn is how to kill everything in his path—men, beasts, whatever stands in his way."

Smoke's voice dropped. "And what about the hearts of men? Who will teach him about betrayal, ambition, and the weight of power? You know those wounds cut deeper than any blade."

Alaric's reflection in the glass sharpened. "Life. Life will teach him those lessons. Time is the greatest teacher. It won't matter what I say—he won't remember until he learns it for himself. If he survives, he'll have time enough."

Smoke stood slowly. "When will you tell him about the plans you've made for him?"

Alaric turned to face him, eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light. "Never."

Smoke exhaled. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, Grandmaster Smoke."

Without another word, the old man turned and walked into the corridor, vanishing as silently as he came.

The Next Morning

Stella blinked awake, her eyes focusing on the familiar ceiling above. She had no memory of how she got there.

Why is this becoming a habit?

She sat up, then immediately groaned and collapsed back into the bed. Every muscle screamed, and her bones felt as though they had been rearranged in her sleep.

Knock Knock.

A gentle knock echoed through the door, followed by her mother's voice, warm with amusement. "Stella, honey. I figured you'd be sore after yesterday, so I brought you this."

Nyasha entered, carrying a small glass vial filled with a golden liquid that shimmered faintly in the morning light.

Stella eyed it skeptically. "What is it?"

"A mana potion," Nyasha replied, placing the vial in her daughter's hand. "It replenishes the body's mana reserves. For you, it will help your recovery and begin attuning your body to the element you'll be training with."

"Element?" Stella raised an eyebrow.

Nyasha sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. "Cultivators usually possess an elemental affinity. After the body refining stage, they start drawing mana from their surroundings. At that point, a person's affinity determines the type of mana they should absorb. Neutral mana works—but you'll grow faster if you use the mana aligned with your element."

She rested a hand over Stella's heart. "As a member of the Orunson family, your affinity lies with light and star attributes. The potion will introduce that mana into your system. Although it will dissipate due to your current limitations, traces of that mana will remain, subtly reshaping your constitution and preparing you to cultivate that element."

"So in layman's terms… this is just laying the foundation?"

"Exactly."

Stella gave the vial a last glance, then downed it in a single breath.

"It tastes... light," she murmured. "Am I supposed to feel anyth—"

(Heartbeat)

The vial dropped from her hand as pain tore through her body. Heat surged in her veins. Her skin turned red, almost glowing.

Nyasha remained still, observing her daughter's reaction. "It seems the constitution of someone blessed is different. The mana isn't spreading evenly—it's settling in your heart."

Stella clenched her jaw and endured. The pain was overwhelming, but not a single scream escaped her lips.

Five minutes later, her body began to cool, and the spasms finally ceased. Stella lay panting, then slowly looked up at her mother.

"You didn't tell me it was going to hurt."

Nyasha merely shrugged. "It wasn't supposed to. You were meant to feel a rush of energy, like an instant energy drink—but it seems your body doesn't react like that of other cultivators. I suspect it has something to do with you being blessed."

Stella sat up slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Is that… good or bad?"

"Luckily, it's for the better," Nyasha replied. "The pain occurred because your body isn't yet ready to hold mana permanently. But it retained it by force, and that has its benefits. With mana settled in your heart, it'll circulate more consistently through your body, giving you a slight edge over others."

Excited, Stella jumped to her feet. "Then can't I just take more potions? I could get even further ahead!"

"No," Nyasha said firmly. "Aside from the excruciating pain you just endured, any more mana in your heart would tear it apart. Secondly, the mana that's there hasn't formed a core—it's become part of your heart's very fabric. That means you have no control over it. And without control, tampering with it could kill you. Finally, do you truly believe, after hundreds of thousands of years of royal cultivation, that no one's created techniques far more refined than this accidental development? Back home, we had countless methods superior to what just happened. At best, you've only narrowed the gap slightly."

Stella's expression fell, her excitement deflating into silence. Seeing this, Nyasha reached out and rested her hand gently on her daughter's head.

"Don't be discouraged. Your path is just beginning. Even I don't fully understand what it means to be blessed. That's for you to discover. Now get ready, you still need to go to school."

Stella met her mother's gaze. In Nyasha's eyes, she found warmth and reassurance.

"I'll try my best."

Nyasha gave a small grunt and nodded, turning to head downstairs while Stella got ready.

When Nyasha reached the kitchen, Shaka sat in his usual seat, eyes scanning the morning paper.

"That took longer than expected," he remarked without looking up. "Did something happen?"

"A new development," Nyasha said, walking to the counter. "The mana in the potion fused with her heart almost instantly."

Shaka lowered the paper. "That's... remarkable. Almost like dragonheart. But I assume there are limits."

"She can't manipulate the mana, and it won't increase over time. But the current flow is already at the maximum her body can handle until she reaches the ultimate level of Tier 1."

Shaka folded the paper neatly and set it aside. "Still, it's something. I've got news, though—not the good kind. The president wants us to start looking for new blood for the organization."

Nyasha's eyes widened. "Already? We only just started training her."

"That's exactly why," Shaka replied. "When the seal broke, it didn't just alert the strong within the solar system—it signaled to the realm that she's ready. The resurgence has begun, and the world will now move to match her pace."

Nyasha slammed her fist on the table. "Damn it. This is exactly what I was afraid of. It's too much, too soon. She's not ready."

"She has to be," Shaka said quietly. "The first pulse is predicted to hit within a month."

Nyasha's shoulders slumped as if the weight of years had settled atop them. "Accelerate the training, she won't return to school after today , let her say her goodbyes."

Shaka gave a grunt of agreement and picked up his paper again while Nyasha began preparing breakfast.

Stella came down moments later in a crisp white jumpsuit. "Morning, Father."

Shaka looked up and nodded. "Morning, Stella."

He exchanged a glance with Nyasha, who sighed and turned to her daughter.

"Honey," she said gently, "today is your last day of school."

Stella froze mid-bite. "What? You always said never to miss a day—or I'd fall behind. And now I just stop going?"

"We've come into some new information," Nyasha replied. "It forces us to accelerate our plans."

Stella's voice trembled. "What kind of information? Is someone coming for us?"

"It's—" Nyasha began, but the words caught in her throat.

Shaka stepped in. "We can't delay your training any longer. To be blunt, most cultivators begin at five, Royals begin at three. You're fifteen years behind, and splitting your time between school and cultivation isn't going to cut it."

Stella stood abruptly and slapped the table. "Then why wait so long? Why keep it from me? I begged you to tell me what was going on."

Shaka's glare silenced her, and she slowly sank back into her chair.

"Let me say this once, and I hope I won't have to say it again. There are beings in this world beyond your comprehension—forces that could snuff us out with a thought. Your very existence is an irritation to them, we only told you now because your seal is breaking, and the contract that protected you is nearly up. Until recently, you were too insignificant to notice. Now that's changing, all your mother and I have ever done is protect you. You just don't understand yet, but you will. Soon, you'll glimpse the corners of this world and what we truly face."

With that, Shaka stood and walked toward the basement. The floor creaked under his weight. But before descending, he stopped.

"Until that moment comes, listen to us. Enjoy your last day of school. The bus is here."

He disappeared below, and silence returned.

Nyasha sighed. "Let's go. Your bag is by the door."

They walked together to the entrance. Nyasha opened the door, sunlight streaming in, and quietly wished her daughter goodbye.