WAKE UP CALL

 THREE YEARS LATER

The sun peeked over the horizon, sending soft golden rays streaming through the curtains. Outside, birds chirped cheerfully while a gentle morning breeze rustled the leaves of the trees…

Inside the stone-built quarters of the temple's west wing, I lay sprawled across my bed like a starfish one leg dangling off the edge, the other hopelessly tangled in his blanket, drooling slightly on the pillow like a true war casualty.

Then I hear a noise outside my door...

BANG BANG BANG.

"Shimei! Wake up! Training starts in ten minutes!" Tsarra's voice boomed like thunder.

I eventually gave her my real name because I could trust her but she was still upset when I lied about my name being Zeriaus but she was fine with it.

No answer.

"Don't make me come in there!"

Still nothing. Inside, I simply groaned, pulled the blanket tighter around me, and mumbled, "Five more minutes, mom..."

Tsarra cracked her knuckles. "You asked for it."

BOOM!

The door burst off its hinges in a shower of wood, dust, and pure morning fury.

I jolted awake like a squirrel on caffeine, letting out a startled "WAAAHHH!!" as I shot straight up only to smack my head against the ceiling with a loud THUD.

I fell back onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, groaning. "Wh-who's there?! Is this an attack?! Did a corpse beast enter?!"

As the dust settled, a figure emerged, standing tall like a villain from my worst nightmares: Tsarra.

Arms crossed. Eyes blazing with annoyance. Her vibe? Total Demonic Older Sister Energy.

I felt my soul nearly left my body. "Oh no... why you?..."

I tried to crawl backward off the bed, trembling. "I-I was awake! I was just meditating with my eyes closed!"

Too late.

Tsarra was already looming over me, her presence like a judge ready to deliver a verdict.

"Did you forget what you promised me yesterday?" she asked, tilting her head with a grin that was anything but comforting.

I blinked. "Uh... that I'd... umm... not eat all the cookies? Because if it's about the cookies, I swear it was not me this time"

Tsarra has a weird addiction over cookies, I saw it a year ago when we were training Liora brought us some cookies a whole bowl total of 20 cookies i only ate six while she devoured the other fourteen.

Without warning, Tsarra gave me a light bonk on the head.

"OWWWWW!!" I yelped, clutching his head. "Why is violence your love language?!"

"Because words don't work!"

She yanked me up by the ear, pulling me to my feet. "Get dressed, you little slug! We're going to be late for training!"

Still groggy and cradling my aching head, I grumbled, "I swear, I'm going to invent an alarm system just to keep you away from me…"

Tsarra shot me a smirk. "Great idea! Just make sure it has a self-defense turret, too."

As she dragged me out the door like a mom hauling her stubborn toddler, the hallway filled with our playful bickering.

"Quit pulling my ear, you tyrant!"

"Then hurry up, you bed-loving gremlin!"

"That's just rude."

"Shut up and get moving."

The training grounds were eerily quiet almost too quiet for comfort.

A gentle breeze rustled the dry leaves on the packed dirt, making them shuffle like soft whispers. But that tranquility was abruptly broken when two kids burst into the clearing, each wielding a wooden sword.

"I'm not slow!" Tsarra shot back, her cheeks puffed up as she stomped toward the center of the field.

"Then why did I dodge your punch yesterday with just a yawn?" I yawned dramatically, rubbing my eyes like a lazy cat. "You move like a sleepy turtle."

Tsarra jabbed her fist at my forehead—bonk.

"Ow! That's abuse!"

Varun stood there, arms crossed and hair neatly tied back, watching us with his usual mix of calm and annoyance. "Are you two done flirting?"

"WE'RE NOT FLIRTING!" we both shouted in unison.

"Could've fooled me." Without warning, Varun tossed both wooden swords into the air. "Catch."

The blades spun like windmill blades. We both lunged for them—me with a flashy spin, Tsarra with a straightforward grab. We landed in fighting stances, eyeing each other like rival cats ready to pounce.

"Try not to cry this time," I teased, grinning.

"Try not to wet yourself when I break your nose," Tsarra shot back.

Varun sighed and pointed between us. "You're both slow. Again."

And just like that, the clash began.

Wood met wood with a sharp clack. Dust flew up with every dodge, parry, and stumble. I ducked a horizontal slash and attempted to sweep Tsarra's leg, but she leapt over and shoulder-checked me into the dirt.

"Oof—okay, I deserved that," I wheezed.

After several minutes of intense combat, where neither of us gained a clear advantage but both were clearly worn out, Varun clapped his hands.

"Alright, alright. Next phase."

We collapsed beside each other, gasping for breath.

"You… smell like horse sweat," Tsarra muttered.

"Compliment accepted."

The sun hung high in the sky, proudly spilling its golden light over the expansive fields of the estate's training grounds. A warm morning breeze wafted in, bringing with it the fresh scents of dew and grass, while birds chirped cheerfully and leaves rustled softly in the gentle wind.

But one bird was regretting its choice to sing so close to the training grounds today.

"Focus your breath. Flow begins not in the core—but in the calm."

Varun stood tall at the center of the grounds, hands clasped behind his back, his long navy robe fluttering like a mix between a stern monk and a dad on a mission. His golden eyes scanned the two kids in front of him—one was face-down in the grass, snoring, while the other was trembling in a meditative pose, as if he were trying to hold back a sneeze.

"TSARRA!" Varun called out sharply.

She didn't even flinch. A small bubble formed at her nose as she drooled contentedly, lost in dreams of grilled fish or epic battles—whatever it was that kids like her dreamed about.

I, however, jolted awake as if I just been called by the Grim Reaper.

"Y-Yes, Master Varun! I'm focusing! Really focused!"

He quickly settled back into a cross-legged position, shutting his eyes again, desperately trying to shake off the sharp sting of failure that still lingered in his chest from earlier.

Varun let out a sigh. "You're both equally hopeless. But you, boy, at least you pretend well."

Varun started to pace slowly in front of them, his voice taking on a deeper, more serious tone.

"The art of mana manipulation is like a river and a stone. Your core is the spring, but the pathways are shaped by the river. If you try to force too much at once, you'll break it. If you hesitate, it'll stagnate. Flow requires trust—in yourself and in your body."

"Feel it move. Don't push. Don't pull. Let it run. If your mind is like a cracked cup, no matter how much mana you pour in, it'll always leak out."

"Control doesn't come from brute force. It comes from precision, intention… and pain. Especially pain."

He cracked his knuckles ominously as he spoke.

I gulped nervously.

"Now begin. And please, no screaming this time."

Suddenly, a flicker of blue light sparked from Tsarra's skin.

WHOOSH!

She shot up with a loud gasp—as if struck by lightning—and exclaimed, "I GOT IT!"

Mana flowed through her arms like glowing vines, graceful and smooth.

Her hair rose a little, her feet lifted an inch off the ground.

Varun blinked. "Okay... that was freakishly fast. ."

"TSARRA!" I shouted, startled. "Were you even awake five seconds ago?!"

Tsarra smirked confidently, swaying as if she might faint again.

"I'm just built different."

Tsarra opened one eye, gave a smug grin, and immediately fell backward—face-first into the dirt.

Thunk.

She didn't move.

"...She knocked herself out," I muttered. "That's has to be a record."

"Get back to work," Varun said without looking at her limp form.

Varun simply nodded, looking pleased. "Better than yesterday."

It was my turn now.

I found myself sitting alone, cross-legged, with my hands resting gently on my knees. I took a deep breath, trying to channel mana just like Varun had shown me.

I could feel a warm energy swirling in my core.

But then—there it was—the flame. It began to stir.

The inner flame crackled within me, almost as if it were offended by the foreign energy trying to invade its space. When I attempted to merge the two, a sharp pain shot through my chest, like molten spikes crawling up my spine.

I gasped.

My body shook, and I could feel my skin starting to steam.

But I didn't back down.

I remembered that the flame was a part of me, not something separate.

And then, just like that—it clicked.

My mana shifted to a vibrant orange. It didn't just flow; it danced. I opened his eyes and gasped. The air around him shimmered like a mirage.

"…You're lucky that didn't kill you," Varun's voice came from nearby.

I gently wiped the sweat from my brow. "Feels like it almost did…"

Varun settled down next to me, both of them watching Tsarra snore in the dirt, drool escaping her mouth like a defeated gremlin.

"You two are something else," Varun said, shaking his head.

I chuckled. "She headbutted a wyvern illusion last week because it 'looked smug'."

Varun laughed. "And she also punched a good friend in the crotch because he 'talked funny'."

"Wait—that was your uncle?"

"…It was."

They both burst into laughter again.

Then Varun turned to me. "I know who you are. Kureha Clan, right?"

I tensed up.

"Relax. I won't spill the beans. But that mark on your left hand when you trained just now? Only your clan channels mana like that."

I glanced down at his hands. "I didn't ask for this."

"You didn't have to. You are it."

I paused, taking a moment to process. Then he gestured toward Tsarra. "What about her?"

Varun chuckled. "You found her at five in the Hollow, right?"

Shimei nodded in agreement.

We both just stood there, staring at her.

Varun couldn't help but grin. "Like a royal cow."

I blinked in confusion. "Wait—what?"

Varun raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"

"SHE'S A WHAT NOW?!"

Varun chuckled. "Tsarra. Her full name is Tsarra Virelles Inaria D'rastai IV. She bolted from her family three years ago."

I froze in disbelief. "Hold on. Virelles? As in the Inarian royal bloodline?? The same family that Liora and the books talked about? She's, like, actual royalty?!"

"More like... fourth in line. She tried to stab her cousin for touching her cookie and got kicked out of the family breakfast. She took off before they could send her to etiquette school."

My jaw dropped. "...So you're saying the girl who kicked down my door, broke my nose, and called me 'Frog-boy' is a real princess?!"

Varun nodded. "Absolutely. A royal pain in the butt."

We both burst into laughter.

Then Shimei whispered, "So, she's a runaway princess… and I'm a fireborn cursed heir."

Varun shot him a grin. "Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

"…Yeah, and we're the punchline."

But then Varun's expression turned serious.

"And you, Shimei... you've really changed. It's not just your mana control. You're starting to figure yourself out."

Shimei smiled softly, then gazed up at the clouds. "I guess... I just want to protect what I have now. Tsarra. You. This strange, broken family."

Varun smirked. "Then keep training. Because protecting her? That's a full-time gig."

They both turned their attention back to Tsarra.

She mumbled in her sleep, "I swear if anyone touches my sword, I'll bite your kneecaps."

Shimei sighed. "...Yeah. Full-time."

Then Shimei whispered, "So, she's a runaway princess… and I'm a fireborn cursed heir."

Varun shot him a grin. "Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

"…Yeah, and we're the punchline."