Dawn had not yet cast its first pale color upon the peaks of Ulfgard, but the muddy training courtyard was already awake. The expressions on the children's faces were mixed. Some looked around in fear, some tried to look tough, and some were already exchanging challenging glances. They were the first novice soldiers of a new age, and this muddy arena was to be their first real test.
In the middle of the courtyard stood a man, taller and more built than the others, his bald head reddened from the frost, an old scar on his chin amidst his dirty beard. With the thick leather armor he wore, he was silent proof of having survived countless struggles. This was Chief Instructor Harkan. A warrior of Saharan descent. Beside him were a few younger but equally tough looking Northerner assistant instructors.
Aurelion stood slightly to the side of the group. The seven year wait was over. He was finally here. The nervous murmurs of the children around him, the instructors' occasionally raised harsh commands... He heard none of it. Seven long years... Seven years he had wrestled with the weakness of this body, with the control of others, with the chained ambition within him. And now, the time had come for the chains to break.
His golden eyes, as if in a trance, were locked on specific points in the crowd. There, grumbling in the mud, were two large green shadows: Grok and Nazgûl. The day of reckoning was approaching. On the other side was Theron, the Eluvian brat who had pathetically brought Elara down. His turn would come one day too.
His eyes gleamed, a cold, predatory spark flashing within. That bloodlust, that primal urge he had suppressed for years, was burning to surface. This internal battle, this intense focus, had disconnected him from the outside world. He completely ignored the approaching danger, the instructor's eyes, or the activity around him. His chest heaved rapidly, his palms sweating. This feeling... this anticipation... was both unbearable and addictive.
"HEY! POINTY EARS! ARE YOU DREAMING?!" Harkan's booming voice momentarily dispersed the storm in Aurelion's mind.
Startled, he came to his senses, his eyes turning to the Chief Instructor in surprise. He realized that all the children around him had already started moving towards the muddy obstacle course. Only he remained.
Harkan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You didn't come here to daydream, brat! EITHER GET THROUGH THE COURSE OR GET A KICK IN THE ASS ON DAY ONE!"
Without a word, he quickly headed for the course. The course consisted of slippery iced poles, deep mud pits, low crawling obstacles, and rough wooden walls to be climbed. He cleared the first obstacles with surprising agility. He was reaping the fruits of his secret training. His balance on the poles was steady, he adjusted his speed well when passing through the mud pits, and he flowed smoothly under the crawling obstacles.
However, when he reached the wooden wall, he differed from the others. While the Northerners and Orks pulled themselves up with brute force, he used a climbing technique he remembered, utilizing the small handholds on the wall more efficiently. He was perhaps a bit slower, but he conserved his energy better.
Then came the task of pushing a heavy log a certain distance through the mud. Here, his physical disadvantage became apparent. The log was heavy, and the mud resisted like a sticky swamp.
He gritted his teeth. His muscles burned. Give up... Never! He pushed with all his might, he moved the log inch by inch. When he finished the course, he was out of breath but noticeably above average for his age. Harkan had stood aside, watching him with an expressionless face.
After the obstacle course, the children, covered in mud, were divided into two groups. Harkan walked into their midst. "Warm up's over! Now we get to the real work! Strength, technique, endurance... Those are just stories! The only thing that matters here is the will to defeat your opponent! Match ups!"
As the assistant instructors randomly called out children, Harkan's eyes scanned Aurelion. He had noticed Aurelion's dangerous focus when looking at the Orks and Theron. A faint smile appeared on his face. This new Elf... He was different. He had to be tested.
"Nazgûl!" Harkan called out. The large Ork stepped forward. "Your opponent... is this new pointy ears!"
When Aurelion heard his name, he felt something snap inside him. The moment he had waited for had arrived. He slowly stepped forward. Nazgûl grinned. "What's wrong, runt eh? You were lucky last time. This time I'll break your bones!"
Taunts continued, but Aurelion didn't hear him. His eyes were locked only on his opponent, his golden irises narrowed, focused. His breath quickened, his body tensed. The storm he had tried to keep under control within him was about to break its dam.
Harkan came between the two children. "The rule is simple! Until your opponent gives up, can't fight, or I say stop! Now... BEGIN!"
As the command echoed in the air, Aurelion shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. There was no fighting evasively, no maintaining distance. There was no plan left. Seven years of waiting, seven years of wrath and ambition, all exploded in that first second.
Emulating the style of that old heavyweight boxer he remembered, he quickly dived into Nazgûl's clumsy guard. He constantly bobbed his head left and right, making himself a smaller target, almost dancing beneath his opponent. His body was low. He suddenly moved in and landed a short, hard left hook to Nazgûl's ribs, followed immediately by a sharp right uppercut to his chin. His movements were a combination of pure instinct and years of training. Executed with savage but deadly precision.
Nazgûl was completely stunned by this sudden and unexpected attack. How could this little Elf be so fast and aggressive? He couldn't properly set his guard before taking the first blows. Aurelion's punches might not have been as hard as his, but his speed, accuracy, and the momentum he generated using his body were surprising.
An elbow strike landed on the Ork's ribs, and Nazgûl groaned in pain.
However, Nazgûl was an Ork. After recovering from the initial shock, he roared and began to swing his massive arms blindly. This was where the cost of Aurelion's risky tactic became apparent. He had neglected defense. One of the Ork's crude but powerful punches slipped past his guard and hit him directly on the nose.
"Crack!" Pain momentarily blurred Aurelion's vision. Warm blood began to flow from his nose. He staggered backward. But the pain, instead of extinguishing the fire within him, fueled it even more. A pained but simultaneously wild, almost pleasure filled, gruesome grin appeared on his face. He growled. This feeling... this real pain and struggle... was what he had desperately longed for for years. Suddenly, a muffled laugh escaped his lips. "Yes! This is it! This feeling!" he screamed inwardly.
"Is that all?" he cried out, his face covered in blood and mud, his voice laced with mocking joy. "Come on! Harder! I want more!" And he attacked again.
This time, he was even more reckless. He no longer cared about taking hits. He stayed in close range, trying to counter every one of the Ork's blows with two of his own. He delivered a flurry of punches to Nazgûl's body to lower his guard, then suddenly rose to try an elbow to his face.
His body worked like a machine, but it was an uncontrolled, explosive machine. With every successful hit, he let out another laugh. Nazgûl was also getting injured. His face was swelling, bruising. An elbow strike from Aurelion cut his eyebrow. Just as Nazgûl opened his arms to grab him, Aurelion suddenly lunged forward and, with all his strength, delivered a hard headbutt to the Ork's already bleeding nose. The sound of bone cracking again was heard.
A chilling silence fell over the courtyard for a moment, only the sound of the bone and Nazgûl's muffled groan could be heard. Aurelion saw the pure fear in his opponent's eyes, wide with pain and shock, and a satisfying warmth spread through him. This was power.
The fight had turned into horrific savagery. The other children watched in terror. Elara had covered her face with her hands. Theron's face was pale. Even the assistant instructors hadn't expected such brutality and ruthlessness from such young children.
At the edge, Linnea's face showed deep concern. She had sensed that something was different about this Elf child, but this rage and the obvious pleasure he took from violence... it was deeper than she thought.
This wasn't just self defense. It was pure aggression, almost a desire to tear his opponent apart. She involuntarily clutched the parchment in her hand. Harkan, on the other hand, watched intently, his brow furrowed. This child... yes, he was uncontrolled, dangerous. But there was an undeniable warrior spirit in him, a terrifying will, and a disturbing... potential.
Aurelion took another hit, this time his lip burst. The metallic taste of blood filling his mouth mixed with his laughter. Nazgûl was also exhausted but stubbornly stayed on his feet. Aurelion noticed the Ork's guard drop for a moment, his eyes glazing over with pain and fatigue. Without mercy, he lunged forward in a final move, striking the Ork hard in the stomach with his left knee, then spinning to bring his right elbow down on Nazgûl's temple.
Nazgûl's eyes rolled back, and his hulking body collapsed face down into the mud.
Aurelion stood over his opponent, panting, his whole body throbbing with pain. His chest heaved like a bellows, blood from his nose and lip creating streaks on his muddy face. That savage grin was still on his face.
He looked down at the motionless body and whispered "Finally... I'm free."
"ENOUGH!" Harkan's voice was sharp this time. He intervened. "Winner, Aurelion!"
But Aurelion seemed not to hear. His eyes were still on the fallen Ork. When Harkan grabbed him firmly by the shoulder and pulled him back, Aurelion instinctively turned, a momentary wild reaction in his eyes. But he instantly recognized Harkan's gaze and stopped, startled, coming to his senses.
Realizing how he had lost control in that brief moment added a new layer of anger to his face. And at that moment, all the accumulated tension, adrenaline, and savagery drained away. The pain in his body began to make itself felt.
But on his face, despite all the blood and mud, there was a strange, twisted smile. He almost laughed out loud with a deep sense of relief. He had succeeded. He had exploded. And he had survived. He wasn't sorry. On the contrary, he felt alive with this savage feeling of freedom. Perhaps truly alive for the first time in.
Linnea quickly came to his side. Her face was both worried and definitely disturbed. She looked at Aurelion and then at Nazgûl lying on the ground. "Both of you to the infirmary, now!" she said.
She brought her hands close to Aurelion's bleeding nose and then to Nazgûl's wounds.
That familiar blue white light flashed briefly, at least stopping the bleeding, but the broken nose or other damages were permanent. However, Aurelion didn't even pay attention to this healing magic happening right under his nose.
He noticed everyone, especially the new children, staring in amazement at the shocking brutality, technique, and obvious satisfaction this little Elf had displayed.
As Aurelion was being led to the infirmary by the instructors, he looked back at Harkan. The instructor still had that stern expression on his face, but something new gleamed in his eyes. Aurelion grinned. The game had begun. And what a beginning!
The orphanage infirmary was simple but clean. A few beds lined the walls, an examination table in the middle, and jars and bandages lined the shelves.
Aurelion had been roughly seated on an examination table by an instructor. On the other side, Nazgûl lay moaning on a bed.
The Ork's eyes were filled with fear and pain. When his gaze drifted to Aurelion, he quickly looked away.
When Linnea entered, the concern on her face was more pronounced. With her was Gretha, the elderly, experienced, and calm looking healer who usually handled infirmary matters.
Linnea first went to Nazgûl's side, speaking briefly and in a low voice with Gretha. The Ork's condition looked serious; a broken nose, suspected cracked ribs, numerous bruises and cuts...
Then Mistress Linnea turned to Aurelion. Gretha followed her. Aurelion sat silently, but his face held an expression still glowing with the echo of that fight rather than pain.
Gretha was an experienced healer and had seen all kinds of war wounds. However, as she approached Aurelion, the unsettling aura the child emanated worried her.
This wasn't just a children's fight. "Your nose is broken," she said, as she gently examined Aurelion's face. "Your lip is badly cut too. It might need stitches."
Linnea looked into Aurelion's eyes. There was no trace of remorse in those golden irises.
"Why did you do it, Aurelion?" Linnea asked. This time, her tone carried not just that of an administrator, but also the weight of a deeply disturbed adult. "Why did you have to go so far? This was just a drill. It wasn't a matter of life and death."
Aurelion shrugged, feeling the ache in his ribs with the movement but again ignoring it. "He attacked me," he said simply. "We had an old score to settle. I defended myself. Besides... wasn't it a matter of life and death? Isn't every day in this courtyard like that, Mistress Linnea? Weren't you the one who said "weakness is unacceptable"? I just did what was necessary to survive."
"Survive?" Linnea's voice rose an octave"This wasn't survival, this was an attempt to destroy! Even when your opponent lay motionless on the ground, you didn't extinguish that fire within you! You almost attacked the instructor when he touched you! That look in your eyes... That savagery... This isn't normal! This is far beyond the instinct for survival!"
Aurelion's indifferent expression cracked for a moment. "Normal?" he hissed. "What is normal in this world, Mistress Linnea? The children crushing each other in that courtyard? Or you, who force those children into it? I just played by the rules of the game. Perhaps I understood the rules better than anyone. The strong win, the weak get crushed. Isn't that exactly what you want? Isn't this how you raise the "warriors" of the future?"
Mistress Linnea was momentarily stunned by this logic, this critique of the system. The child's words were disturbingly true. It was as if he were a distorted reflection of the very system they implemented. But still... this was too much. "This brutality..." she murmured, her voice softer now. "This pleasure taken from violence... This makes you different, Aurelion. Disturbingly different."
At that moment, Gretha, with a serious expression, continued her work. "Mistress Linnea," she said, as if to distract. "We'll need to set his nose. It might... hurt a bit."
Mistress Linnea nodded. Her eyes were still on Aurelion. What were they going to do with this child? How would he be guided? "Gretha, please do what's necessary." She looked at Aurelion one last time. "This conversation isn't over," she said clearly. "Rest for now. But know this, your actions have drawn attention, both good and bad. And there will be consequences. My eyes will never leave you." She turned and walked away to deal with Nazgûl's situation.
Aurelion gritted his teeth as Gretha's experienced hands worked to set his nose. The disgusting grating sound of bone and the sharp pain that followed involuntarily contorted his face, but this pain, instead of erasing that twisted, bloody smile from his lips, seemed to make it even more pronounced.
Pain was a price for being alive, for fighting, for breaking those chains, and Aurelion was content to pay this price.
His eyes were on the Ork moaning in fear at the other end of the room. There wasn't a shred of remorse in him. Only... a cold satisfaction and a strange feeling of emptiness left by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Linnea's threat? He didn't care. Harkan's look? It had even felt like a kind of approval. And Aurelion, with this bloody beginning, had shown everyone who he was.
The evening, only a single oil lamp in Chief Instructor Harkan's modest office cast its flickering light on the three figures inside. Harkan sat behind his desk, running his fingers over the old scar on his chin.
Opposite him, Mistress Linnea stood, the day's fatigue and the deep concern left by the morning's incident evident on her face.
The door was knocked lightly, and Captain Roric entered. He wasn't wearing armor, just a thick tunic.
His eyes went first to Mistress Linnea, then to Harkan. "You summoned me, Linnea?"
"Yes, Captain," Linnea said "Won't you sit? The matter is... Aurelion."
Roric nodded but didn't sit, preferring to lean against the wall by the door. His questioning eyes flickered between Linnea and Harkan.
Mistress Linnea took a deep breath. "Today in the courtyard... he faced Nazgûl in the first sparring match."
Harkan interjected. "Faced is an understatement, Linnea. The boy literally tried to tear the Ork apart."
His gaze turned to Roric. "He was fast, Captain. Unexpectedly so. His techniques... were different from what we teach. His instincts are sharp. He took a solid hit to the nose, was covered in blood, but he laughed. He actually laughed and asked for more." He paused, his expression serious. "But he acted purely on instinct, forgot about defense. Even when Nazgûl was motionless on the ground, he didn't stop. When I pulled him away, he almost attacked me too."
Linnea continued, obvious concern in her voice. "The problem isn't just his lack of control, Captain. That savagery... The expression on his face at that moment... It wasn't just a child's anger. It was as if he derived some kind of... satisfaction from violence, from inflicting pain. Even in the infirmary, he showed no sign of remorse, on the contrary, he was almost proud."
Harkan nodded. "His potential as a warrior is immense, no doubt about it. This will, this pain tolerance... it's rare. If guided correctly, he could be one of the best the College has ever seen."
"I agree," Mistress Linnea said immediately. "His potential is undeniable. But Harkan, there's a dark side to that potential. If we train him just like a war machine, I can't predict what he'll become. This child... is different. A delicate balance is needed. I'm worried for his well being. We need to be much more careful, more constructive when training him. Not just break him, but make him understand."
Harkan grumbled. "Constructive... Doesn't quite fit with knee strikes in the mud, Linnea. Discipline is essential. He needs to know his limits."
"I'm not against discipline," Linnea replied patiently. "But I am against blind harshness. Especially with this child. My observations... he has incredible intelligence and manipulative ability for his age. But he also seems to carry a deep distrust. If we just push him, that alienation within him might grow even larger." Mistress Linnea paused. "This situation... Do you think it's something the War Chieftain should know?"
Harkan frowned. "For a brat's first day fight? I don't think so. War Chieftain has more important things to do. This is our responsibility, we need to solve it here."
Roric, who had been listening silently until then, now pushed himself off the wall and approached the table with a few steps. "Harkan is right," Roric said.
"Reporting this specific fight to the War Chieftain is unnecessary. It can be seen as a disciplinary issue in the training yard." He paused, his gaze turning to Linnea. "However, Mistress Linnea's concerns are not unfounded either. This wasn't an ordinary fight. Your observations are correct. The child has both incredible potential and a dangerous imbalance."
He leaned slightly on the table. "I agree with both of you. This child's development is important. His potential shouldn't be wasted, he should be trained in the best possible way. But this training must include not only physical strength, but also control, discipline, and perhaps... some kind of moral compass. We need to raise him not just as a weapon, but also as an individual. Achieving this balance will be difficult."
He straightened up, his expression determined. "I said I'd keep an eye on him. From now on, I'll be more closely involved. I'll personally observe his training, maybe talk to him one on one. Harkan, your harshness is necessary, but let's not ignore Linnea's sensitivity. The three of us must ensure this child stays on the right path."
Mistress Linnea let out a relieved breath. Roric's support was important. Harkan just nodded. Roric's words were logical, and the Captain's direct involvement could make things easier.
"Understood, Captain," Harkan said.
"Good," Roric said. "Now, if there's nothing else..."
Mistress Linnea shook her head. Roric gave a brief nod and left the office.
Linnea and Harkan remained silent for a while. This small, golden eyed Elf... He had managed to shake all balances from the very first day.
Harkan's fingers involuntarily tapped on the table as he thought about the uncontrolled savagery in the courtyard and the raw potential within it.
Linnea, on the other hand, couldn't get the child's disturbingly satisfied look in the infirmary and his sharp words questioning their systems out of her mind.
They both felt the same thing. This child could be the brightest jewel in their hands, but predicting which way he would go seemed impossible for now.
The game had truly begun, and it was not yet clear who would set the rules.