Sicily, Mayor’s Office

  “Fine. Flame of Youth, right? Alright, alright. I’ll represent Sicily and attend,” Aaron said with a long sigh.

  After Leonardo asked him for the tenth time, he finally gave in.

  “Excellent! Thank you, Aaron. This year will be something to look forward to,” Leonardo said.

  He tried to hold back his smile but failed. Reaching into his drawer, he took out a glass orb.

  “There’s one more thing. Put your hand on this and channel your magic into it.”

  Acher spoke up.

  “He’s testing your physical constitution, Aaron. Pull most of the solar magic back into your heart. Leave just a trace flowing. Then guide that bit into your bones. It’ll make you look like you have a much weaker physique.”

  Aaron followed the instructions and pressed his palm to the orb. Inside the clear sphere, a vague outline of a human form appeared. The skeleton within burned with bright golden light.

  “A solarbone…” Leonardo murmured with a sigh. “If only it were a noonchaser.”

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron asked.

  “Honestly, a solarbone is already impressive enough, but I’m not sure you can beat Gnomon’s lightning-type boy. They found him years ago and have been training him ever since. Last year, I already heard he’s close to completing his blood etherization. I don’t know if he’s reached peak high yet. If he has, our chances are slim.” Leonardo shook his head. “And Gnomon may still have other cards up their sleeve.”

  “It’s fine. I’m going to Flame of Youth to have fun,” Aaron said with a shrug.

  “You should know that if you make the top ten, you’ll earn at least a thousand purewhite Etherstones. You’ll also get the right to buy one item from Gnomon’s Everspring Center at a discount. A young demi-dragon starts at eight hundred purewhite etherstones. With the prize money and the coupon, you could afford a pretty good one,” Leonardo said.

  Over the past few days, he had learned how much the boy loved dragon-type creatures.

  “A thousand purewhite etherstones? That’s a lot!” Aaron’s eyes widened. “Wait, eight hundred to fifteen hundred for a demi-dragon? That’s insane!”

  “Of course. Once fully grown, a demi-dragon is at least elder-rank. Some rare breeds can even reach prime rank or higher, and they’re stronger than most creatures at the same level, and they can also fly. That makes them one of the most sought-after mounts in the cosmos.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Aaron said, nodding.

  If he didn’t already have Pyrasol, he might have aimed for the championship.

  When it was Luther’s turn, he placed his hand on the orb. The sphere showed an eye, with a jet-black feather as its pupil.

  “A nightcrow eye. Very good,” Leonardo said. “Once you become an arcane mage, if you’re willing, you could run for Deputy Chief of Civic Security. I’m sure Cindara would love that. She just keeps saying she never gets a real vacation.”

  That afternoon,

  The training grounds of the Sicily Guards lay on the western edge of the city.

  It wasn’t just a field. It was an entire district built for combat drills, public athletics, and even practical training for students of Zōespóros Aetherium Academy, Sicily’s magic academy.

  Three massive open-air stadiums stood side by side, rising like stone crowns against the horizon. The main field spread out in a wide half-oval, opening into a vast training zone spanning several thousand acres. Within that expanse lay every kind of terrain imaginable: grassy plains, shimmering lakes, stone labyrinths, shifting sand pits, raised platforms, and reinforced sparring arenas.

  Although Luther studied magic with Oowrie at the Nightcall Temple, she had urged him to train his combat skills here with Aaron as well.

  “Knowing many spells doesn’t make you a powerful mage,” Oowrie had said. “If you can’t react under pressure and choose the right move, you’re only half a combatant. The Sicily Guards run a solid combat program for mages at every level. It will help you.”

  Sicily’s mage training centered on three core principles: reflex, accuracy, and control.

  The training was strict. Targets moved without pattern, illusory constructs struck without warning, and environmental arrays disrupted mana flow in the middle of a cast. A delay of even a heartbeat could mean failure, a spell that missed by inches counted as flawed, and mana output that wavered beyond tolerance was logged and corrected.

  Luther stood at the center of a mage formation as glowing spheres shot toward him from every direction.

  He raised his hand. Shadowed magic surged from beneath his feet, and slender arms of darkness rose around him. Each spectral limb reached with sharp precision, intercepting the incoming projectiles before they struck. The glowing spheres halted mid-flight, crushed in those grasping hands, then dissolved into fading motes of light. There was no excess surge, no wasted motion. His control stood out at a glance.

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  His mana ran deep and steady as well. Even with most of it suppressed, what he allowed to surface surpassed that of most mages his age.

  Then a target burst from his rear blind spot, and he reacted a fraction too late. The projectile hit his shoulder, leaving a dark mark before it scattered.

  “Late,” the centaur instructor said.

  Luther lowered his hand.

  “Your control is excellent, and your mana capacity is impressive.” The instructor gave a short nod. “But your reflexes and spell accuracy need more work. When the attack pattern shifts without warning, there’s a gap before your response locks in. Close that gap. In real combat, that moment will cost you.”

  It was only natural. Until recently, Luther had been a high school student with little real combat experience. Still, he improved with each round.

  On the next sequence, his reaction sharpened, and on the one after that, his interception angle improved. Each time, the delay grew a little bit shorter.

  After the final sequence, the formation dimmed, and the hovering sigils sank into the ground.

  Luther let out a breath and nodded to the instructor in thanks.

  Not far away, the three pumpkins and Acher were already waiting. Jack-O stood at the front, his carved grin tilted up. Pompo swayed from side to side, while Squashy bounced once, then again, as if ready to leave.

  Although each teleportation charm could carry only one person at a time, Luther could travel to Sicily first and then summon the pumpkins. The contract they had signed with him was an upgraded version of Conclave of Darkness, so it shared some of the same functions.

  As for Acher, he seemed able to appear at Luther’s side whenever he pleased.

  “Come on, it’s almost dinner,” Acher said. He flapped his wings and hopped onto Luther’s shoulder.

  “Alright. Let’s go,” Luther said.

  He gathered all three pumpkins into his arms. They left the mage training grounds and headed for the nearest open-air stadium, where the warriors trained.

  On the way, he stopped at a snack stall run by an elder willow tree. Long branches hung low, heavy with sweets and brightly wrapped treats swaying from the twigs. Inside the hollow trunk, carved shelves held chilled drinks resting in grooves lined with frost.

  “Can I get some smoke-spray candy, pleaseee!” Jack-O pleaded.

  “I want puffwind pies!!!”

  “One small snack each. Save room for dinner,” Luther said.

  He bought the three pumpkins their treats, then picked up a pack of coal cookies and a bottle of ice-cold watermelon juice.

  As they entered the stadium, the clash of steel and the thud of heavy blows rolled across the half-oval field. Luther led them to a corner of the stands and took a seat.

  Down in the arena, two figures sparred at full speed. They moved like twin sparks, darting back and forth, colliding now and then in bursts that sent showers of sparks into the air.

  Nearby, a group trained with spears, thrusting in tight sequences, while others cast spells at moving straw dummies.

  Some were members of the Sicily Office of Security. Others were young people taking self-defense classes. A few were students from Nerardeusis Academy attending practical training.

  A short-haired boy leaned toward his friends.

  “Who’s that guy? Why is Cindara training him herself?”

  “I heard he’s a secret student of the Nightcall Temple. And the mayor’s student too. I think his name’s Aaron.”

  “Even with her rank suppressed to high knight, it’s been over five minutes, and he still hasn’t gone down. What does he eat? Or is she holding back?”

  “Boom!”

  Aaron slipped at last. Cindara’s kick struck him in the chest and sent him flying. The layer of fire armor around him absorbed the blow, and he landed without injury.

  He jumped back to his feet.

  “You’re too strong, Cindara!”

  “Of course,” she said with a grin. “Not just anyone can serve as Sicily’s Security Chief.”

  This kid is a monster. His progress is just unbelievable. It’s only been a few days, hasn’t it? A solarbone, no wonder. At this rate, in a few years, no, maybe less, I’ll have nothing left to teach him.

  She had no idea that Aaron was also absorbing the battle experience of Orpheus within his mind, a divine being, the pride of Lumenos.

  “He lasted seven and a half minutes. That’s insane!”

  “No wonder he’s Lady Oowrie’s student. And the mayor’s.”

  The guards murmured among themselves. They knew better than anyone how strong Cindara truly was.

  Aaron wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “One more round!”

  Since he began training here, he had grown addicted to it. The rush of pushing his body to its limit, training until he could barely stand, stirred something in him. It reminded him of the tension from fierce soccer matches before his awakening.

  “We’ve already gone past half an hour,” Cindara said. She jerked her thumb toward the stands. “And your little best bro has been waiting.”

  “When did you finish?” Aaron ran over.

  “Squeak, Aaron!!” the pumpkins squealed as they hopped toward him.

  “About fifteen minutes ago,” Luther said, handing him the watermelon juice and the cookies.

  “You’re the best!” Aaron beamed. “Bye, Sister Cindara! We got you a Serenity gift. I left it in your office, so don’t forget to grab it before you go!”

  “Thank you, boys. Happy Serenity,” Cindara said with a smile.

  “Happy Serenity! Sister Cindara, I hope you smile more and act a little gentler, so people won’t be scared to come near you,” Aaron added.

  Cindara arched a brow. “What did you just say?”

  “Ioustinos told me that.” Aaron blinked, then burst into laughter and dragged Luther away.

  Cindara turned toward a certain bloodkin Sicily guard standing nearby and gave him a smile that promised trouble.

  “Aaron!!!” Ioustinos roared, his face flushing red.

  …

  Evening, December twenty-first.

  “Are you done?” Aaron called from the living room.

  “Give me a second,” Luther replied.

  He was hanging a large photo on the wall. In it, he and Aaron stood with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, the other hands holding the pumpkins, while Acher perched on Luther’s shoulder. Behind them stretched the Golden Wheat Valley, fields glowing gold beneath rolling green mountains. Above them, the sky spread wide and blue, dotted with soft white clouds.

  Aaron’s grin in the photo stretched from ear to ear. Luther’s eyes curved like crescents as he smiled.

  The walls were now covered with photos like that. Him, Aaron, the pumpkins, and Acher. At first, Aaron had been the one putting them up. Over time, Luther began doing the same.

  In one corner of the living room sat a pile of gift boxes in all sizes and colors. During Serenity, everyone received presents, no matter their age, and people usually opened them on the morning of the twenty-third.

  “Can I open one? Just one, pleaseee!!!”

  “Pleaseeeeee!!!”

  The pumpkins begged for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “No. Opening gifts early is not lucky,” Luther said. “Two more days.”

  “That’s so long!” Jack-O groaned.

  “Luther, let’s go,” Aaron called again. They were having a sleepover at Kevin’s house that night.

  “Coming.”

  “You three behave and listen to Acher. We’ll be back tomorrow morning and take you out,” Aaron said.

  “Let me come with you,” Squashy pleaded, eyes glossy.

  “Honestly, it’ll be super boring there. You won’t get to run around. No TV, no games. If you come, you’ll have to sit still until morning,” Aaron said.

  The pumpkins kept their sulky faces but stopped complaining.

  “Please keep an eye on them, Mr. Acher. There’s plenty of food in the fridge. If anything happens, call us, and we’ll head back right away,” Aaron added.

  “Damn it, you always treat me like a babysitter!!” Acher grumbled.

  “Thank you, Mr. Acher! Bye!” the boys said, waving as they headed out.

  Notes:

  - I fixed a small detail in the last chapter. The Scarlet One was formerly known as the Exiled King before she ascended, not the other way around.

  - The next chapter is the final chapter of Book 1!