After six relentless months of training, Kael stood silently before Master Elric.
Beside him, Bren shifted uncomfortably, his usual easy smile gone. Kael already knew why—Bren's efforts had yielded no results. Not a trace of energy stirred within him, no matter how hard he tried.
And it wasn't for lack of effort. Bren had trained with the same tenacity—rising early, practicing late, repeating the Nameless Incantation with discipline few could match. But the technique simply hadn't responded to him.
Kael wasn't much more confident himself. Yes, he had felt some progress—but it was modest. His internal flow had grown from a hair-thin thread into something faintly stronger, perhaps the width of string. But would that be enough?
He wasn't sure.
"Are you ready to demonstrate your progress?" Elric's voice was as unreadable as ever. He sat in his worn high-back chair, his book for once resting closed on the table beside him.
"Yes, Master," both boys said in unison, though their tones lacked certainty.
Elric stood slowly and stepped forward, placing one hand over Bren's pulse and the other against his abdomen.
He closed his eyes.
An entire cup of tea's time passed before Elric let go and stepped back.
Bren flushed deeply, lowering his head in silence. He didn't need to be told he had failed.
But Elric said nothing. No harsh words. Just a faint sigh—and the briefest flicker of disappointment in his gaze.
Then he turned to Kael.
"Your turn."
Kael held out his hand, letting Elric grasp his wrist. The old man's touch was dry and callused, slightly rough, and cold as river stone.
Before Kael could consciously begin, his energy stirred—responding to the contact. The flow within him leapt into motion, racing through his channels in a swift, clean circuit. The discomfort of the old man's grip vanished instantly.
Elric's brow arched.
"Again."
Kael obeyed, this time guiding the current intentionally.
Elric placed his other hand firmly against Kael's abdomen. His hands trembled slightly.
"Slower," Elric murmured. "Let me feel each phase."
Kael complied. As the cool energy spiraled through him, Elric's eyes widened. Then his lips parted in a slow, building smile.
He began to laugh.
Not softly. Not politely.
A full, open-throated, half-mad laugh that echoed through the valley.
"Perfect," he said. "Exactly what I was hoping for."
His fingers dug into Kael's shoulders. His gaze burned with intensity, as if he were looking not at a boy, but at a sacred artifact long thought lost.
Kael winced at the grip, alarmed.
"Master…?"
Elric caught himself. The laughter stopped. He blinked and released Kael, brushing off his sleeves.
"Yes. Very good," he said, voice more measured. "From this day forward, you are no longer just an apprentice. You are my personal disciple."
Kael stared, stunned.
The man who'd barely acknowledged them for months had just named him his direct heir.
"You've done well," Elric added, his voice already returning to its cool composure. "Your potential is exactly what I've been waiting for."
Then, at last, he turned to Bren.
"You…" he began, but paused.
Bren tensed.
"You lack affinity for the chant," Elric said bluntly. "Not surprising. The technique is… particular. I had no intention of taking you further."
Kael's stomach sank.
But Elric continued,
"However… your constitution is unusual. I noticed it just now. There's another path—one less refined, but well-suited to your frame."
Bren looked up quickly, eyes wide.
"I'll take it. Whatever it is."
Elric nodded once.
"Good. Then both of you will remain. Tomorrow, I'll begin your new lessons."
He turned back toward the doorway, adding over his shoulder,
"That will be all."
Kael and Bren exchanged a look—one part disbelief, one part relief.
They had both passed. Somehow, despite the odds, they had made it.