Morning sunlight pooled across the wooden dining table, catching the rising steam from three bowls of hearty porridge. Utensils clinked softly in the quiet house.
Darius leaned forward, pointing his wooden spoon at Ravon like a weapon. "Today, we move past the basics. I'm going to teach you how to chain a double-slash directly into a guard break. If you pivot your back foot just right—"
A wet cloth slapped the tabletop.
Mira stood over them. Even in a simple apron, her posture radiated the immovable, quiet authority of a veteran adventurer. Her spine was perfectly straight, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Enough sword training. He has been practicing your physical enchantments for more than half a year. His calluses have calluses." She shot the towering warrior a sharp look. "It is my turn to teach him some basic magic."
Darius shrank back slightly, hiding behind his mug of coffee. "Goddess save me," he whispered into the rim.
Ignoring her husband, Mira turned her warm amber eyes to Ravon. "Finish your breakfast quickly, sweetheart. Today, I'm taking you to Arkenfall."
Ravon swallowed a mouthful of porridge. "Arkenfall?"
"The nearest city," Mira explained, wiping down the table. "Before I can teach you a single spell, we need to know exactly what magic attributes you possess. The church in the city holds attribute readings every Sunday." She threw a pointed glance over her shoulder. "Darius will be staying here to take care of Lila."
An awkward, trapped smile spread across the warrior's scarred face. "Right. Just me and the baby. We'll be fine."
An hour later, the heavy wooden wheels of a rented horse cart clattered against the dirt road leading out of the Beast Forest. He leaned over the wooden railing of the cart as the house shrank in the distance. Darius stood on the porch, holding a giggling Lila in one arm, waving awkwardly until the trees swallowed them from sight.
Once the dense forest broke, the world opened up into a sprawling, vibrant sea of color. Ravon shifted to the back of the cart, his red eyes wide with wonder. Endless fields of golden wheat swayed under the breeze. In the grassy patches near the road, translucent blue slimes hopped cheerfully through the morning dew, completely ignoring the cart. High above, birds with brilliant azure feathers and incredibly long, ribbon-like tails wove through the clouds. To the left and right, massive fields of bright yellow sunflowers turned their heavy heads to follow the sun.
It was a beautiful world, and for the first time, a thrill of pure excitement sparked in his chest.
The cart eventually rattled to a halt just past the towering stone gates of Arkenfall. As Ravon stepped down onto the cobblestone streets, the overwhelming pulse of the city hit him immediately.
It wasn't suffocatingly crowded, but the market district was alive with noise and motion. Mira gently grabbed his hand, guiding him through the bustling walkways. Fascinated, Ravon dragged his feet, trying to look at everything at once.
They passed a fishmonger's stall where massive, strange catches hung from iron hooks—bizarre fish with bright orange skin and thick, glittering red scales. A few doors down, the rhythmic, ringing clang of a blacksmith's hammer beating hot iron drowned out the chatter of the crowd.
Suddenly, a rich, savory scent drifted through the air, completely halting his tracks. He turned his head toward a bustling tavern, his stomach giving a loud, involuntary rumble.
Mira followed his gaze and laughed softly. "I promise, we will eat there before we go home. But business first."
After weaving through alleys lined with flower vendors and vegetable stands, the bustling noise of the market simply vanished. They stepped into a massive, open square. At the center stood a towering building forged entirely of polished black stone.
"What is this enormous place?" Ravon asked, craning his neck to see the towering spires.
"The Church of the Goddess of Peace," Mira answered, her voice naturally dropping to a respectful hush. "This is where we find out what energies your body is made of."
Pushing through the heavy wooden doors, the air inside grew instantly cool and thick with incense. Because it was Sunday, a long, horizontal line of children and their anxious parents stretched across the polished marble floor. Mira and Ravon quietly took their place at the very back. While the other parents fidgeted or wiped sweat from their brows, Mira stood perfectly still. Her chin was tipped up, her breathing slow and measured, standing over Ravon like a calm, unbothered sentinel.
At the front of the hall, dominating the altar, sat a stupendous marble statue of the Goddess. She was seated upon a delicate crescent moon. Her posture was flawless—back straight, shoulders relaxed. One hand rested gently in her lap, while the other lightly touched the arc of the moon. Her carved face held absolutely no emotion, yet it didn't feel cold. Her marble eyes were half-closed, caught in a perpetual state between waking and sleeping.
Ravon stared up at the face of the Goddess.
Instantly, the world tilted. The ambient whispers of the church faded into a dull, distant underwater hum. The air turned to molasses. His breathing slowed, forced into a sluggish, heavy rhythm that didn't belong to him. Time itself froze, locking his joints in place. Deep beneath his ribs, his heart flared in violent rebellion against the oppressive stillness, beating faster to fight the paralyzing peace.
A hand forced his chin down.
The spell shattered. Ravon gasped, the normal sounds of the church rushing back into his ears. Mira knelt in front of him, her grip firm on his shoulders.
"Never look directly at a god, Ravon," she whispered, her tone unusually serious.
Before he could ask why, a priest in flowing white robes called the next family forward. A burly blacksmith and his young daughter stepped up to a pedestal holding a perfectly clear, flawless crystal ball. The father wiped his sweaty palms on his apron, looking far more terrified than the little girl.
"Place your hand upon the glass, child," the priest instructed mildly.
The girl reached out. The moment her skin touched the crystal, a soft hum vibrated through the church. Deep inside the glass, two tiny orbs flared to life—one a steady orange, the other a calm blue.
"A balanced composition," the priest declared loudly. "Creation and Order."
The blacksmith exhaled a massive breath, the nervous tension vaporizing from his shoulders. He scooped the giggling girl up into the air. "Did you hear that? You're going to be a master blacksmith with that kind of focus!"
Ravon tugged on Mira's sleeve as the happy family walked away. "What does a balanced composition mean?"
"It means her body holds equal amounts of those two energies," Mira explained softly, keeping her place in line. "But remember, a composition doesn't measure how powerful you are. Think of it like a sack of grain. The girl has an equal mix of rice and wheat. But the crystal doesn't tell us if she has a handful of each, or a thousand pounds of each."
The line moved quickly. Soon, an arrogant-looking nobleman in velvet coats shoved his young son toward the pedestal.
The boy placed his hand on the glass. Instantly, four distinct orbs ignited within the crystal: green, orange, blue, and violet. But the blue orb swelled, burning twice as bright and large as the others.
"Four energies," the priest announced, a hint of genuine surprise breaking his calm facade. "Motion, Creation, Order, and Logic. The Order energy is dominating, while the remaining three are balanced."
A shockwave of whispers rippled through the gathered crowd. Having an affinity for more than three energies was incredibly rare. The nobleman beamed, his chest puffing out with overwhelming pride. He hoisted his son onto his shoulders. "A prodigy! I'll transfer the neighboring village to his name by nightfall!"
As the boastful father paraded out of the church, the priest looked down at his ledger. "Ravon."
A cold jolt hit Ravon's stomach. He stepped out of the line, his boots echoing too loudly against the marble floor. His hands were shaking. He glanced back. Mira was watching him, her own hands clasped tightly together in nervous prayer.
He approached the pedestal. The crystal ball looked like a frozen drop of water. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his small palm flat against the cool glass.
Nothing happened.
No soft hum. No glowing orbs. The crystal remained perfectly, stubbornly clear. Ravon's heart sank, a cold weight dropping into his stomach. He looked back at Mira, panic rising in his throat. Had he done it wrong?
The priest frowned, leaning closer. "Perhaps the surface is—"
The light exploded.
It wasn't a gentle hum. A blinding, prismatic shockwave illuminated the dark stone walls of the church. Inside the crystal, seven distinct orbs violently flared to life. Yellow, orange, red, green, blue, pure white, and violet. They spun like a caged galaxy. But the red orb—Emotion—did not stay balanced. It surged, swelling massive and bright, casting a fierce, crimson glow across the priest's pale face.
The priest staggered backward, nearly tripping over his robes. He caught himself against the altar, his trembling hands hovering over the glass as if searching for a hidden trick or a crack in the crystal. But the seven blazing suns remained.
"He…" The priest's breath hitched. His voice dropped into a frail, terrified whisper that somehow echoed perfectly through the dead-silent hall. "He possesses all seven."
He looked up, staring at Ravon with wide, unblinking eyes. "Light. Creation. Emotion. Motion. Order. Stillness. Logic. His Emotion energy is absolutely dominating. The rest are perfectly balanced."
Absolute chaos erupted behind them.
Parents shoved forward to get a better look.
"All seven?" a man hissed. "That's impossible. Even the legendary hero Kan only possessed six!"
"He's a true prodigy," another whispered reverently. "A monster in the making."
The heavy weight of a hundred staring eyes made Ravon pull his hand back as if the glass had burned him. The brilliant lights vanished. Before the crowd could swarm him, Mira pushed through the front of the line. She dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around Ravon in a fierce, protective hug, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead.
"We are leaving," she declared, glaring at the encroaching crowd.
They hurried toward the heavy oak doors, desperate to escape the murmurs.
***
Because of the rush, no one looked at the pedestal.
Inside the forgotten, silent crystal ball, a tiny, microscopic speck of absolute black appeared. It didn't glow. It simply existed as a void. In the span of a single second, the black speck violently expanded, devouring the lingering traces of the seven colors, eating the light itself.
Then, it vanished.
A sharp, quiet crick echoed from the altar. Deep inside the flawless glass, a single, jagged fracture splintered the crystal right down the middle.
The cart ride home was a blur of setting suns and shifting shadows. Ravon sat close to Mira, his head resting against her side as the wooden wheels bumped along the dirt road.
"What kind of magic can I learn?" Ravon asked quietly, still overwhelmed by the shouting in the church.
Mira wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. "Anything," she whispered, her voice thick with absolute awe and an edge of fear. "With all seven energies, there isn't a spell in this world you cannot grasp." She rested her chin on top of his messy hair. "We were lucky to find you… before the world did, Ravon."
By the time the cart pulled up to the familiar wooden house, the stars were out. The front door swung open before they even reached the porch. The rich, mouth-watering smell of roasted, juicy meat and thick broth wafted out into the cool night air.
"Dinner is ready!" Darius called out from the kitchen, wearing an apron over his tunic.
Down on the floorboards, Lila squealed happily. She aggressively crawled toward the doorway as fast as her little arms could carry her. Smiling for the first time since the church, Ravon knelt down and scooped his baby sister up, earning a fistful of grabbed hair and a bright, toothless smile.
"Wash up and get to the table," Darius ordered, waving a wooden spoon.
Moments later, they were seated around the heavy oak table. Darius set down massive plates of perfectly seared meat and bowls of steaming soup. Taking his own seat at the head of the table, he wiped his brow. "So? How was the big city? What kind of magic is the kid hiding?"
Ravon excitedly recounted the market, the strange orange fish, and the intimidating statue of the Goddess. Then, Mira set her spoon down.
"He possesses all seven energies, Darius," Mira said plainly. "With Emotion dominating."
Darius had just taken a large gulp of broth. He choked violently, sputtering as soup flew across his empty plate. Slamming his mug down, the warrior's eyes bulged as he stared at Ravon.
"You're joking. Seven? Our Ravon is a generational prodigy?"
Ravon puffed his chest out, feeling incredibly proud of the shock on the warrior's face.
"Exactly," Darius continued, recovering his breath and pointing a finger at the boy. "He has the potential to become a Sword Master and a High Sage. But since he's already mastered the intermediate sword forms, he doesn't need to waste time with books. He's going to be a Swords—"
"Absolutely not," Mira interrupted smoothly, crossing her arms. "Having every energy means he is uniquely suited to manipulate the laws of the world. He doesn't need to swing a piece of metal like a barbarian. Starting tomorrow, he is learning magic. He will be a Sage."
"A Sage who gets crushed if a monster gets within five feet of him!" Darius argued, leaning over the table.
"A Swordsman who can't heal his own broken bones!" Mira shot back.
Lila clapped her hands, highly entertained by the loud voices. Ravon looked between the two A-rank adventurers, realizing they were bickering over a completely solvable problem.
"I want to learn both," Ravon interrupted loudly.
The dining room went silent. Darius and Mira stopped glaring at each other and slowly turned to look at the boy. The sheer simplicity of the solution hung in the air, making them both realize how foolish they sounded.
Darius let out a booming laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, if you're willing to put in the sweat to learn both, I certainly don't have a problem with it."
Mira smiled softly, the fierce competitive edge melting away. "Alright, sweetheart. You can learn both. Tomorrow morning, your magic lessons officially begin."
The excitement of the day, combined with the heavy meal, finally caught up to Ravon. By the time the plates were cleared, his eyelids felt like lead weights. He barely remembered walking down the hallway. The moment his head hit the lavender-scented pillows, he was deeply, dreamlessly asleep.
***
Down the hall, the master bedroom was quiet, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the window.
Mira sat on the edge of the mattress, running a brush slowly through her long brown hair. Darius stood near the washstand, unbuckling his bracers. The playful energy from dinner was completely gone, replaced by a heavy, heavy silence.
"I didn't see it," Mira finally whispered, staring at her own reflection in the dark glass of the window.
Darius paused, turning to look at her. "See what?"
"The black energy," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She gripped the brush handle tighter. "The terrifying aura from the yard last week. When he touched the crystal today, the light was beautiful. It was pure. There was no black orb. Nothing to suggest that awful corruption is inside him."
Darius exhaled a long, slow breath. "Then it means we don't need to fear it. Maybe it was just a strange manifestation of his physical enchantment. A negligible amount of wild mana."
He walked over, sitting heavily on the bed beside her. He stared at the floorboards, his broad shoulders slumping. "But Mira... having all seven energies... that kind of potential cannot be kept in this house forever. He is meant for a much larger world." He swallowed hard. "And he is still a missing child. With that kind of power, his real parents—whoever they are—might come looking for him soon."
Mira's amber eyes hardened. She turned to her husband. "If he joins the Adventurer's Guild when he's older, I will rejoin him. I can protect him out there."
"No," Darius said softly, but the word carried the immovable weight of a mountain.
He didn't need to explain the fatality rates of A-rank quests. He didn't need to describe what a Wyvern could do to a healer's body.
"We have Lila now," Darius reminded her, his voice rough with emotion. "We cannot afford to lose another child, Mira. I won't let her grow up to be an orphan."
The argument died in Mira's throat. She wanted to fight back, to insist that she could keep Ravon safe from whatever darkness lingered at the edges of his unbelievable power. But thinking of Lila sleeping in the next room, she had absolutely nothing to say.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Darius's solid shoulder in a silent, painful agreement. The world was too big, and eventually, their boy was going to have to face it alone.