chapter 01 the beginning of a path of pain and scars

The sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the training field just outside my home. The sound of clashing swords echoed with each metallic strike, cutting through the air with force. My father, proud and upright, showcased his mastery of the Water God Style. His sword moved with a precision impossible for a novice to follow, the blade flowing like a current of water. It was no surprise that a holy-level swordsman possessed such skill.

Around him, a group of young people watched in admiration—among them, several women who seemed more interested in his physique than his technique. As always, he carried himself with confidence, basking in the attention.

A bit farther away, my mother watched me with a mix of tenderness and concern on her face.

"Darius, why don’t you train with your father?" she asked gently.

I knew that question would come sooner or later. Without taking my eyes off my father, I replied calmly:

"Because I’m not that interested in swordsmanship," I sighed. "And if I trained with him, I’d only end up humiliating myself. As much as I admire his skill, my blade will never be as sharp as his, nor my movements as precise. I chose a different path… I prefer magic."

My mother lowered her gaze slightly, and I noticed her lips pressed together in a melancholy expression. Maybe she was remembering better times, when mages were respected, not treated like mere shadows of swordsmen or those with fruit powers. Her fingers twirled a lock of her hair—a nervous habit that betrayed her worry.

I knew… I knew that being a mage in this world wasn’t easy. But that wouldn’t stop me. In just two days, I’d start university—the place where all disciplines—magic, swordsmanship, and fruit control—came together. There, I would prove my true potential.

After finishing his training, my father approached me with his usual arrogant grin, radiating confidence and pride. I couldn’t blame him—he had an enviable physique, and he knew it. With a sigh, he said:

"Hey, brat. At least train a little in swordsmanship. Your old man’s got insane agility."

I was tired of his insistence. He said the same thing every day, like he wanted to drill into my head that the sword was the only path. But I didn’t feel like arguing—it wasn’t worth wasting energy on something that wouldn’t change. So, with a carefree smile, I replied:

"If you insist that much, I’ll practice a bit..." I said with a crooked grin. "But don’t expect too much from your son."

My father let out his usual exaggerated laugh—the one he used to hide his poorly disguised pride.

"Hahaha! That’s what I like to hear, brat! Even if it’s just so you don’t embarrass yourself on your first day!" he said, tossing a wooden sword at me without warning.

I caught it awkwardly with both hands, stumbling a bit from the weight and momentum.

"Great..." I muttered as I got into position. The sword felt foreign in my hands, like I was holding something that didn’t belong to me.

We faced each other in the center of the field. A few onlookers approached, seemingly intrigued by what was about to happen.

My father made the first move—slowly, as if testing me. I blocked the strike with difficulty, the impact vibrating through to my elbows.

"Come on, Darius! Don’t fall asleep! Use those reflexes you always use to dodge my lectures!" he shouted with a mocking grin.

"Shut up, old man!" I gritted my teeth, trying a clumsy counterattack that he blocked with just one hand.

It went on like that for a few minutes. Weak blows, awkward blocks, poorly timed steps… until I eventually stumbled back and landed on the ground flat on my back.

My father stepped forward and offered his hand. I took it—not out of pride, but because the damp grass was soaking my shirt.

"You’ve got potential," he said quietly, his tone serious enough to surprise me.

I looked at him, suspicious. He never said things like that. Maybe… maybe he really did expect something from me?

"Was that a compliment?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tch... Don’t get used to it," he replied, giving me a pat on the back so hard I nearly coughed up my soul.

As I brushed the dirt off, my mother approached with a towel.

"Don’t be so hard on him," she said to my father while handing me the towel with a smile.

"Bah! I’m treating him with love!" he said, turning back to resume training with the younger students.

I stood there for a moment, watching his back as he walked away.

Maybe… maybe I do need to learn a bit of swordsmanship, I thought, looking down at my bruises.

But no… I wouldn’t change my path.

My goal was clear.

In two days, when I step into that university, I won’t just be another student… I’ll be a mage! I shouted in my mind with conviction.

After that small beating, my mother approached me with her tender smile and cast a healing spell. My body began to regenerate almost instantly—I was used to it by now… but something caught my attention.

She spoke the incantation aloud, as always.

Then, a thought crossed my mind: Is it possible to cast magic without chanting out loud…?

At first, I dismissed it. I thought it was impossible. But I decided to wait until I got to university. Maybe I’d find an answer there.

With that thought in mind, I went back inside. I took a quick shower and changed clothes. As usual, I decided to practice some magic.

I went out to the backyard. The place was quiet—my father had already finished his training. That was a relief.

I took a breath, closed my eyes, and began with the basic offensive spells. Fire, wind, small magical projectiles—the usual.

But then, I remembered that thought again…

What if I tried it… without chanting?

I took position. Closed my eyes again, this time focusing on visualizing the spell. I felt the flow of mana through my body—circulating, forming.

I didn’t utter a single word.

I opened my eyes…

And in front of me… a fireball floated in the air.

I froze. It wasn’t big or powerful, but it was there!

Without thinking, I launched it into the sky. It shot upward, vanishing into the clouds. My heart pounded.

I did it.

A smile spread across my face. Excitement surged through me—but then, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit. Maybe casting without chants required more mana than I thought. Without dwelling on it, I returned to the house and collapsed onto my bed.

"I guess… without the chants, my attacks will be unpredictable… heh… heh…" I muttered with a grin before closing my eyes.

Just as I was starting to relax, my door burst open.

"Mom! Why do you come in without knocking?!" I said with an annoyed face.

She smiled sweetly and sat beside me, letting out a soft sigh before speaking.

"Darius… are you really not going to change your mind? I’m worried… I don’t want them to treat you badly at university."

Her words were gentle, but heavy with concern. She hugged me lovingly and began to stroke my hair, like she used to when I was little.

I hated to admit it… but I liked it when she did that.

Even so, I couldn’t let myself be swayed by her tenderness. I looked up and replied firmly:

"No, Mom. I’ve already decided. I’m going to prove that I’m amazing and strong."

I smiled as I said those words with conviction, and my mother smiled too. Before leaving the room, she said:

"Rest up. Only two days until university starts… and tomorrow, my mother will be visiting us."

She left my room, saying that, and closed the door behind her.

I relaxed and sighed in bed.

"So… Grandma’s coming tomorrow… just my luck. All she does is criticize—she’s such a proud old lady…"

I fell asleep right after saying that.

The sky brightens. I woke to the light of dawn brushing across my face. I yawned and got up, still a bit groggy. Walking to the window, I pulled open the curtains and felt the morning breeze gently graze my skin. I glanced at the yard… and noticed my father wasn’t training. I frowned.

"Huh? The old man’s not training… what’s going on?"

Curious, I went downstairs and straight to the bathroom to wash my face. Then I headed to the living room. When I entered, I saw my parents sitting together, chatting. It was strange… the scene had a calm, almost suspicious air to it.

I sat beside them as my mother served breakfast.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said in her usual cheerful tone.

"Good morning, son," added my father.

For a moment, I hesitated… had I worried for nothing? Everything seemed normal. I figured they had a good night together, and that’s why Dad skipped training. They were always like that—so close… and I liked seeing our family happy.

"You okay, son?" my father asked, noticing how quiet I was. "You seem lost in thought."

"Ah, yeah, I’m fine. Just got lost in my head," I replied with a smile.

My mother sat with us and we began to eat.

"Dad, Mom… Grandma’s visiting today, right? Isn’t that kind of… regrettable?"

My father put down his utensils with a sigh before answering:

"I get you, son. Your grandma’s way too picky about you. Wish I had a better mother-in-law..."

"Darling!" my mom interjected, giving him a light smack on the head. "Don’t talk about my mother like that. Remember, she saved you from that political mess."

Dad grunted in resignation—he couldn’t argue with that.

As much as they complained, I knew she was my grandmother… and even if she was strict, I accepted her for who she was. Maybe they were just exaggerating. Maybe she was kinder than she seemed…

Just as I thought that, someone knocked at the door.

"Huh?" I stood up, confused. "So early…? Could it be her?"