“Dad… you went out to help the new academy recruits? You know that’s against the rules, right?” Kirio asked.

  Hiro burst into loud, almost unsettling laughter. “KAAAAKAKAKA! Don’t worry. They won’t get that strong. In the end, I’m just giving them a little motivation for their training.”

  No matter how much I talk, he never listens to me… Kirio thought quietly.

  That day, every child blessed with great potential was guided by a light of hope. Their skills sharpened, their training deepened, and new paths of evolution opened before them.

  All but one.

  Blinded by the illusion of paternal affection, his words clung to his throat like blades pressed against skin. Tears were forced back with every ounce of strength he had, his trembling hands hidden behind casual gestures.

  (Present day...)

  “Huff…” Giyo exhaled deeply. “These past few months have been rough. Intense training, complicated studies… my head can’t keep up with all this information.”

  Paola let out a playful, almost teasing laugh. “Fufufu… So one of the strongest students in your class can’t handle a simple routine? Asuna’s already showing better results. You don’t want to fall behind, do you?”

  “Of course not!” Giyo shot back. “I have to prove to everyone that I can become strong without magic—even if it costs me everything!”

  Paola rested her chin on her hands and smiled. “Sometimes you’re a bit dramatic…”

  Later that night, the two of them sat together in their dorm room. Their laughter carried warmth, filling the space with a sense of family that momentarily pushed their troubles aside.

  But soon, Paola’s expression shifted. She straightened in her chair, concern flickering across her face.

  “Who would’ve thought you’d go through so much right at the start of your classes?” she said softly. “That incident with Petra, Asuna’s fear, your conversation with Forge… I’m honestly impressed. How can you stay so calm after all that?”

  Giyo looked directly at her, a gentle smile forming on his face.

  “I’m not calm, Paola. It’s hard for me too. But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making people smile. My father never had a problem with me loving flowers or choosing a different path than the one he imagined.”

  He paused.

  “The dream of an heir… of someone who would one day inherit the title of Captain Number One. Among my entire family… he always seemed to choose me.”

  His smile remained, though something heavy lingered behind it.

  “If there’s one thing my father admired, it was my smile. My ability to lighten the weight in people’s hearts. I never understood why… but maybe it’s just a gift.”

  Paola couldn’t help but feel uneasy. For a ten-year-old, Giyo carried himself with far too much maturity.

  She extinguished the single candle lighting the room, and the two drifted into the quiet of the night.

  “Did you summon me, Your Majesty?”

  The throne room was bathed in the cold glow of night. Snow drifted lazily beyond the tall windows, and silence ruled the vast chamber.

  Seated upon the throne was King Arthur Pendragon, his piercing gaze commanding the entire hall. Yet Hiro—whose strength rivaled the mightiest human alive—stood firm and proud before him.

  “Let’s not waste time,” Hiro said bluntly. “We both know why you called me. You want to talk about the boy.”

  “Direct as always, Hiro,” Arthur replied calmly. “Yes. The boy whose markings form spirals… whose black flames burn endlessly.”

  He rose from the throne, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked slowly across the hall.

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  “Strange, isn’t it? No record in any book speaks of such flames—fire that burns eternally in a shade darker than night itself.”

  His voice grew heavier.

  “But what unsettles me most is his lineage. Forge personally came to me with everything he knows.”

  Hiro placed his hands behind his neck, staring directly at the king. “I won’t deny it. I learned about the boy’s bloodline through one of his brothers. A clan born from royal blood—Merie Thunder—and another erased from world history… Jack Sun.”

  He continued, voice steady. “The boy’s lineage is powerful. Powerful enough to rival the strongest students I’ve ever trained. But he’s still just a child—one with no control over his true ability.”

  “No control, you say?” Arthur’s tone sharpened. “Are you familiar with the prophecy the Church delivered to us?”

  He stopped walking.

  “In a distant future, a marked warrior will rise to overthrow the gods and usher in a new mythology. Hair of flames. All races united under this new deity.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “That prophecy is the greatest threat ever spoken by the Church.”

  He turned slightly. “Giyo Sun. And his brother, Akio Sun. Two children bearing spiral-shaped scars—the mark inherited from their father.”

  Arthur’s voice dropped to a near whisper.

  “If the government learns of this… what do you think will happen to those children?”

  Hiro’s fists clenched, his presence turning dangerous. “What exactly are you implying?”

  Arthur laughed. “Relax. I’m not the one who trains anymore. But the Church… well, Pope Greiton and his army could easily destroy your academy.”

  He paused.

  “And crush every dream inside it.”

  “Listen carefully,” Hiro said coldly. “No one will lay a finger on my students. As long as I’m director—and still able to fight—I will stop anything that threatens them. Even you, King Arthur Pendragon.”

  Arthur smiled faintly. “I’m no villain, Hiro. I support your idea of preparing a new generation of captains. My only concern… is the Church.”

  His expression turned serious.

  “Choose your allies wisely. You don’t fully understand the forces you’re dealing with.”

  Hiro turned sharply and left the throne room. Each heavy step echoed with fury. At last, he drove his fist into the stone wall, leaving a deep crater that shook the castle.

  “I won’t allow it… not while I can still fight.”

  Meanwhile, back at the academy, Kirio sat cross-legged in meditation. His breathing was steady, posture firm. Cold air drifted through the room.

  But frustration soon broke his concentration.

  “Damn it!” he muttered. If this keeps up… my father will never see me the same way he sees Giyo, Asuna, or Pan. They’re too strong. If I want to keep up, I need to focus on my strengths…

  “Meditation alone won’t make you stronger, boy.”

  Kirio spun around to see a muscular man standing behind him.

  “W-Who are you?”

  “Relax,” the man replied. “I’m an old friend of your father’s. You could say… I’m his rival.”

  Kirio blinked. “Yellow hair, deep voice, dead-fish eyes… I know! You’re Forge Vermilio! Asuna told me about you when you visited the academy!”

  Forge’s expression faltered. “S-She described me like that…?”

  “But you’re right,” Kirio continued. “Meditation alone won’t make me stronger. But focusing and sensing the mana around me can sharpen my awareness.”

  He lowered his gaze. “My friends are incredible. Fast as the wind, strong as lions… and me? I’m just a kid who fights with water techniques.”

  Forge chuckled softly. “Those techniques aren’t useless. Hiro Ualter… I’ll never forget his name. Even if he refuses to see me, he’s still my rival.”

  He looked toward the window.

  “In the past, we were chosen by the same master. We trained for years—often without food or water. He taught us to hunt, to survive, to grow stronger with whatever we had.”

  A faint smile crossed his face.

  “We shared the same childish dream: to become the strongest man in the world.”

  Kirio’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t that mean surpassing every race?”

  “Exactly. The strongest man must stand above all races. In the end, I earned a similar title—the strongest human.”

  He sighed. “Your father didn’t accept it at first. But he promised he’d never lose to me again.”

  Kirio’s voice trembled. “He never told me any of that… After my mother died, he focused entirely on guiding the next generation. I never received special training or encouragement.”

  He clenched his fists. “I learned alone, watching him practice. I mastered one technique—Water Serpent Fist. It’s not much… but it’s all I have.”

  Forge placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “We weren’t the best fathers,” he admitted. “I treated Asuna like a tool, forcing her to train without giving her support.”

  He looked at Kirio firmly. “But I see something in you. Keep training. Grow stronger in your own way.”

  Kirio’s smile trembled, tears streaming down his face. “My mother used to say the same thing… ‘Become strong in your own way.’”

  Forge hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking… how did she die?”

  “Demonification,” Kirio whispered. “A disease that drives people into madness and grants them monstrous strength. Horns grow from their heads… they crave blood.”

  His hands shook.

  “One attacked her while we were walking through the city. A slave trader lost control of an infected captive. It struck her… and she began to lose herself.”

  His voice cracked.

  “My father arrived in time… but he had to end her life himself.”

  Tears fell freely now.

  “Before she died, she told me to become stronger than my father ever was. I just… wish she could see me. I want to see her smile one more time.”

  Forge tightened his grip gently.

  “I understand. Losing someone that important cuts deep.”

  He pointed to his own chest.

  “The ember guiding your dreams is still alive. Stand up. Wipe your tears. Become so strong that even your father—”

  He smiled faintly.

  “That much, I can guarantee.”

  Forge turned and left the room, fists clenched—not in anger, but sorrow. Tears welled in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall.

  “I couldn’t do anything… not even help my friend through that pain,” he muttered. “Hiro… next time we meet, I’ll tell you what really happened to our master. Death is never something to take lightly.”