The laughter still echoed in the hall.
"Did you see that kid? He picked the Sword Path!"
"But his magic score was way higher!"
"Maybe he's just scared of spells."
Eiden ignored them.
He stood quietly, holding the wooden sword in his hand. His grip was firm, but his face showed no emotion.
The sword was light—too light for someone like him, who once controlled storms and fire with a flick of his fingers.
But that life was over.
Now, he was Eiden Valtz, not Arkanos the Archmage.
---
After the test, Eiden returned home with his parents.
His mother made warm stew for dinner. His father talked about how proud he was.
"You did great, Eiden," his father said, ruffling his hair. "Sword or magic—it doesn't matter. Just be true to yourself."
Eiden gave a small smile.
"I will."
That night, while his parents slept, Eiden sat alone in his room.
He took the wooden sword and swung it gently in the air.
His eyes glowed faintly with hidden mana.
"I can't cast spells here," he whispered. "But I can shape the sword."
With every swing, he added tiny amounts of magic—not enough to be noticed, but enough to improve his balance, speed, and control.
He was rebuilding himself.
From the ground up.
---
A week later, school began.
The Sword School was large and fancy. Its training grounds were wide. Students walked in groups, excited to start.
Eiden walked alone.
In his first class, the instructor asked everyone to show their basic sword swings.
When it was Eiden's turn, a few students giggled again.
He stepped forward, calm and quiet.
He gripped the sword with perfect form.
One swing. Two. Three.
The air felt sharp around him.
The instructor raised an eyebrow.
"Perfect angle. Perfect footing," he said. "Have you trained before?"
Eiden shook his head. "No, Instructor."
The class fell silent.
---
During lunch, Eiden sat under a tree alone, reading a sword manual.
A girl with silver hair stood nearby, watching him.
Elara. Cold eyes. Top of the class.
She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned away.
Another student walked by—Sera, cheerful and bright. She waved.
"Hey, you're Eiden, right? You were amazing this morning!"
Eiden looked up. "Thanks."
"You're kinda quiet, huh?"
He nodded.
Sera smiled. "I like that."
She skipped off, leaving Eiden a bit confused.
---
Training continued.
Eiden watched every move the instructors made. He analyzed sword forms like he once studied ancient spells. His body was still growing, still weak, but he added small, hidden mana boosts to each step—faster recovery, better focus.
No one noticed.
But soon, they would feel it.
---
One afternoon, during sparring practice, the instructor paired Eiden with a student.
The boy snickered. "Easy match."
The fight began.
Eiden moved like wind—no wasted motion, no flash.
Just clean, quiet strikes.
He didn't use magic. He didn't need to.
He won in seconds.
The instructor looked impressed.
"Eiden Valtz… very efficient."
The class looked at him differently now.
---
That night, as the moon rose, Eiden stood in the yard behind the dorms.
He closed his eyes, letting mana rise gently in his core.
"I'll keep it hidden," he whispered.
"Until I need it."