The ground crackled beneath their steps. Gaël and Érikan moved through a clearing arranged as a training ground, just a few minutes from the heart of the village. It was an open space, encircled by towering trees whose interlaced branches formed a natural canopy, diffusing the sunlight into golden shards. The air was thick with mana—as if each leaf, each blade of grass, pulsed with silent energy.
Around them stood wooden training mannequins, fixed in combat stances. Burn marks, frost scars, and cracks from past battles marred their surfaces, silent witnesses of intense clashes.
Then, Érikan saw them. Six figures. Aligned. Still. Majestic. He didn't need an introduction to feel it—these people were in a class of their own. An invisible weight pressed down on his chest. The mana surrounding them didn't simply exist—it rippled, pulsed, obeyed their very breath.
Yet one among them radiated... nothing. Not a wisp. Not a flicker. A void so complete it was more terrifying than the others.
Érikan stopped in his tracks.
Gaël stepped forward, arms crossed, his voice firm:
— I present to you my son, Érikan. As agreed, he has awakened and formed his first star. I entrust him to you for training.
A heavy silence followed. Then, a playful, mocking voice cut through the stillness:
— This little one? Isn't he the one who escaped a Fenrir? A mythical beast? How in the world did you lure such a disaster to yourself, little jewel?
The speaker was a striking redhead. Her sun-kissed skin glowed against her tight black outfit, which clung to her every curve. Twin blades were strapped to her back, and her smile mixed charm with a hint of danger.
— That's enough, Lia, snapped a deep, commanding voice.
Érikan turned to the source.
A tall man with jet-black hair tied neatly, eyes as dark as abyss, clad in immaculate black with a long white coat. This was Nour. His gaze pierced—one would swear he could see straight through flesh, bones, down to the soul.
— Greetings, Érikan. I'm Nour, head of the Sentinels. I'll oversee your martial training. My element is Shadow.
Érikan bowed slightly, voice clear yet cautious: — Pleased to meet you. I'm Érikan. I've just awakened and I'm aligned with the Fire element.
Nour nodded, then gestured to the silent young woman at his side: — This is Salmi. She wields Water and Ice. She'll face you one day, if you survive long enough.
Salmi was breathtaking. A sculpted face, hazel eyes devoid of emotion, pale skin glowing under her chestnut hair. She acknowledged him with a slight nod, her gaze as detached as a mission report.
— Yorr and Yvnir, Nour continued, pointing to two towering men.
One was bald, wielding a massive axe. The other had shoulder-length brown hair and a rune-engraved hammer. They embodied Earth and Metal. Their only response was a nod.
— And finally, Josh, said Nour, gesturing toward a smiling youth in a simple white robe. Green hair, calm eyes, seemingly ordinary—and that's precisely what unnerved Érikan.
— If he chooses, he may one day reveal his element.
— And I'm Lia, added the redhead with a wink. I embody the Wind. And I'll have you begging for mercy the moment I get my turn, pretty boy.
Érikan stood still. Fenrir? A mythical beast? What were they talking about?
— No one's going to ask how he survived? pouted Lia.
Josh shrugged, dreamy-eyed: — Mythical beasts are smarter than men. Perhaps the Fenrir got bored. Or maybe… it saw something in him.
Gaël cut in, voice as cold and sharp as steel: — Doesn't matter. What matters is my son is alive.
Érikan was stunned. The aura of these people. Their power. Their presence. They were like living monuments of war. Though he had the mind of a man with decades of experience, in this life he was only eight. And still, they unsettled him.
People like this didn't belong in a quiet, forgotten village.
Something felt off.
And Nour—especially Nour. The Shadow element was rare. Dangerous. Reserved for warlords and gifted prodigies. Érikan felt stripped bare under that gaze. Like prey before a predator.
He swallowed hard.
— Let's begin, Nour announced.
He raised a hand: — Yorr. Yvnir. You'll handle his physical conditioning. Lia, you'll train his agility. I'll teach him hand-to-hand combat. As for mana control and fire affinity…
He looked to Gaël.
— That's for you and Stella.
Gaël nodded silently.
Érikan's palms were sweaty as he glanced at each master. The air seemed to grow heavier, as if the world itself was bracing for what was to come.
But beneath that pressure, a fire stirred inside him.
He wanted to understand.
And if walking through hell was the price for power… then so be it.
He stood tall—not out of arrogance. But because he chose to.
The fire in him pulsed.
And the training began.
The atmosphere thickened, as if the clearing itself held its breath. Érikan stood alone, center stage, as the six Sentinels observed in silence. The sun filtered through the canopy in shifting patterns, casting trembling shadows across the dirt-streaked ground.
Then, a voice—playful, too cheerful to be innocent—broke the tension.
— When do we start training?! Lia chirped, practically bouncing.
She leaned toward Nour like a girl nagging her father for a gift, her voice filled with false innocence.
— I go first, right? Come on, let me play with the new toy!
Érikan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. That dazzling exterior hid a bloodthirsty will. A chill ran up his spine.
But Nour replied without even glancing at her: — No.
One word. Cold. Final.
He pivoted slightly, coat flowing like moonlight: — Yorr. Yvnir. Begin. Reshape his body.
His tone was quiet, but it brooked no refusal.
The two giants nodded as one.
Yorr cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, a predator's grin stretching his lips: — Let's see what you're made of, kid.
His footsteps rumbled the ground.
Yvnir chuckled, arms crossed over his broad chest: — Bet he runs crying to mommy before we're done! Two minutes? Three tops? Hahahaha!
— You have full authority, Gaël declared, arms folded, his voice a steely blade.
Only a small twitch in his jaw betrayed the care hidden beneath the mask.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Érikan's neck.
"What have I gotten myself into...?"
His fists clenched. He wasn't afraid of the pain. But this… this was beyond anything he'd ever faced—even in his past life.
This world didn't offer mercy. And these warriors, even less.
— Pity, pouted Lia, arms crossed, lips forming a childish pout.
— But once they're done, I'm next. I'll teach you how to dance, darling…
She winked, her daggers glinting ominously.
— Follow me, Érikan, Yvnir barked, already walking toward a section of the training ground.
— Warm-up starts now, added Yorr.
Neither turned to check if he followed.
Érikan took a deep breath. One step. Then another. The dry soil cracked beneath him.
He didn't intend to run.
Not this time.
The star nestled in his chest throbbed gently, whispering readiness.
"I'm ready... or at least, I think I am."