After four long months, the sound of hooves echoed faintly down the gravel road that wound its way to the house on the hill. The evening sun dipped low, casting long golden rays across the fields, painting the horizon in shades of amber and crimson. A lone figure appeared at the gate — his cloak dusty from travel, his boots worn from distant roads, yet his stride remained steady and strong.
"Father!!"
The shout tore through the quiet like a bell. Julius sprinted down the path with all the speed his little legs could muster, his wooden sword clattering forgotten onto the grass. His heart thudded with pure joy.
Nicholas barely had time to drop his travel pack before a small figure collided into him. Laughing, he swept his son into his arms and lifted him high into the air. "Julius… look at you," he said, voice softening. "You've grown taller already in these few months, I see."
Juliette stood in the doorway, her gentle smile brightening the dusk. The weariness of waiting slipped from her features. "Welcome home, Nicholas," she said warmly. "We missed you — more than you know."
"I missed you both as well," Nicholas replied simply. In his voice was the weight of miles traveled and the warmth of a man who had counted every day apart.
Turning his attention back to Julius, he gave a teasing smile. "Tell me, while I was gone… Did you practice with your sword properly?"
Julius puffed out his chest and nodded, his grin full of confidence and mischief. "Yes, Father! I trained every single day — and…" He paused, a sly glimmer in his eyes. "…I even learned some new tricks."
"New tricks, huh?" Nicholas arched an eyebrow, amused but curious. "Very well, my little warrior. Let's see what you've got."
Juliette, watching from the doorway, tilted her head slightly. There was something in Julius's expression — a spark of excitement, a secret barely contained — that made her heart stir. Whatever had changed in these four months, it was more than just growth.
And Nicholas, though he couldn't name it yet, felt it too. Something was different about his son — stronger, sharper… perhaps even greater than he'd dared to imagine.
———
Later that evening, once Nicholas had rested and shared a hearty meal with his family, Julius tugged eagerly at his father's sleeve, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"I, Julius Edric Neshveil, challenge you to a duel!" he declared, standing as tall as his small frame would allow.
Nicholas laughed, rising slowly to his feet. "A duel, is it? Very well. I accept."
The two stepped into the training yard, where the fading twilight painted the sky in deep hues of violet and gold. Wooden practice swords were brought forth, and father and son took their places opposite each other, the air between them charged with excitement.
"Are you ready?," Nicholas said, settling into his familiar, balanced stance. His gaze was steady, but a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.
Julius gripped his wooden blade tightly, his heart pounding with exhilaration. "I'm ready!"
Then the clash began.
Clack! Clack! The rhythmic sound of wood striking wood echoed across the yard. Julius lunged forward with surprising speed, his movements sharper and more fluid than Nicholas remembered. Each swing carried the weight of months of relentless practice.
"You've grown quick," Nicholas admitted as he parried a strike with ease. "But—"
Before Julius could recover from his last swing, Nicholas stepped in, twisting his blade in a smooth arc that sent the boy stumbling backward. Julius's small body, still unaccustomed to the sheer force behind his father's strikes, gave way, and he toppled onto his back with a soft thud.
Nicholas lowered his weapon and offered his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. "Come now, my boy. Get up."
But Julius did not take his hand.
Instead, a spark of mischief lit his eyes. He thrust out his free hand, and—whoosh!—a ball of water coalesced in his palm, shimmering in the twilight. Before Nicholas could even process what was happening—splash!—it exploded against his face, drenching him from head to toe.
"Wha—?!" Nicholas staggered back, blinking furiously as water dripped from his hair and beard.
Julius sprang to his feet, wooden sword raised triumphantly. "I won!" he declared, grinning ear to ear.
Nicholas stood frozen, stunned into silence. His five-year-old son… had just used magic.
"Julius…" he finally managed, his voice a low whisper of disbelief. "Did you just use magic?"
"Yeah, I did!" Julius replied cheerfully. "I found a book in the study and learned from it!"
Nicholas blinked, utterly floored. "You… learned magic by yourself? Just by reading a book?"
Julius nodded eagerly. "Uh-huh! And I practiced every day while you were gone!"
For a long moment, Nicholas simply stared at him — not as a father looking at his son, but as a warrior beholding something truly rare. He knelt down to meet Julius's gaze, placing a strong, calloused hand on the boy's shoulder.
"At only five years old…" he murmured, his tone shifting from astonishment to profound pride. "Julius, do you realize how extraordinary that is?" His voice steadied, warm and proud. "I am proud of you, my son. More than words can say."
And beneath the fading light of dusk, father and son stood together — one a seasoned warrior, the other a prodigy whose journey had only just begun.
———
That night, beneath the warm glow of lamplight, Nicholas recounted the duel to Juliette — every detail, from the clash of wooden blades to the unexpected splash of water magic.
"What!!" Juliette gasped, her hands flying to her lips. She turned to Julius, eyes wide in disbelief. "You… you can use magic? And I didn't even notice?"
Julius giggled, cheeks flushed with pride. "I practiced in secret to surprise you, Mother. When you were busy with chores, I used that time to train."
Juliette exhaled, half in shock, half in wonder. "That explains so much… Julius, do you realize how remarkable this is? Most children can't even awaken their mana until they're ten — and you taught yourself at five?" Her voice softened, trembling with awe. "You truly are special."
Nicholas's gaze lingered on his son, a quiet pride shining in his eyes. "She's right. You're… exceptional. And because of that, we can't just let this talent grow wild. You need proper guidance. A real mentor."
Julius's eyes widened, sparkling like twin stars. "A mentor? A real mage will teach me magic?" His voice was almost breathless with excitement. "That's amazing! I can't wait!"
He bounced on his toes, spinning in place, his joy overflowing into laughter.
"Calm down, calm down," Juliette said, laughing softly herself. "Don't get too carried away now."
Nicholas chuckled, the sound rich with pride. "Enjoy this moment, Julius. This is only the beginning."
Father, mother, and son shared a rare, quiet happiness that night — their laughter echoing gently against the walls of their modest home.
And so, a new chapter in Julius's young life began — one where sword and sorcery would grow side by side. Under Nicholas's watchful eye, he would hone his blade. And soon, under the guidance of a skilled mentor, he would learn to wield the boundless power that stirred within him.
———
The day had finally come.
Julius could hardly contain himself. He darted across the yard again and again, wooden sword in hand, his small boots kicking up puffs of dust with every hurried step. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves — today wasn't just any day. Today, his journey into the world of magic would truly begin.
"When will my mentor get here!?" he demanded for what felt like the tenth — maybe even twentieth — time that morning.
Nicholas, leaning casually against the wooden fence with his arms crossed, watched his son's impatience with a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Patience, Julius," he said, teasing. "She'll be here soon. Just a few more moments."
"But I can't wait any longer!" Julius groaned, puffing out his cheeks. "What if she never comes? What if she got lost? What if—"
"—What if you wear yourself out before she even arrives?" Nicholas interrupted with a chuckle.
From the doorway, Juliette watched the scene unfold with tender amusement. "Patience is part of growing, my love," she said gently. "A strong warrior isn't just strong with a sword or magic — he's strong here." She tapped a finger lightly against her temple.
Julius stopped pacing, though his small hands still fidgeted with the hilt of his wooden sword. "I am patient," he insisted, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed the lie.
Nicholas pushed himself away from the fence, glancing toward the winding dirt road that led into the village. "Then perhaps you can prove it," he said, nodding in the distance. "Because I think… she's already here."
———
The rhythmic crunch of wheels over gravel announced the arrival of a carriage. Julius's head snapped up, eyes wide with anticipation. A sleek, polished vehicle slowed to a halt before the house, sunlight glinting off its varnished wood.
The door opened, and a figure emerged — elegant, and commanding. Long silver hair cascaded like liquid moonlight down her back, and her emerald eyes glimmered with intelligence and authority.
"I am Elina," she said, her voice calm and composed, each word deliberate. "I have been assigned as the mentor for a boy named Julius."
Nicholas stepped forward, bowing his head slightly in respect. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Elina. This is our son, Julius."
Juliette laid a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. "Go on, dear. Greet your teacher."
Julius straightened, recalling his mother's lessons. Bowing with surprising grace for his age, he said brightly, "I am Julius. It is my pleasure to meet you, Teacher."
Elina's sharp gaze softened at his manners — but a flicker of doubt crossed her face. Most apprentices she had trained were ten or twelve at the youngest. Yet here stood a child barely five.
"How old are you, Julius?" she asked, curiosity lacing her tone.
"I'm five years old!" Julius declared proudly.
Elina blinked, her eyes darting to his parents. "Five…?" Disbelief etched her features. "Forgive me, but isn't that far too young? Children usually cannot even channel mana until ten or twelve. Surely—"
Nicholas interjected, his voice steady and firm. "Our son is different. He's a prodigy. He began using magic on his own — self-taught, simply by reading a book."
Elina's brows shot upward. A self-taught, five-year-old mage? The claim seemed absurd. Yet Nicholas's conviction left no room for doubt. She turned back to Julius, her tone now cautious.
"Is that true? Can you really use magic at this age?"
"Yes, Teacher!" Julius answered, eyes alight with excitement. With a small gesture, a perfectly formed water sphere shimmered and hovered above his palm.
Elina's mouth fell slightly open. "This… this is… unbelievable." Her voice trembled with awe. Slowly, disbelief gave way to admiration. "You truly are special, Julius."
The boy grinned, pride radiating from every inch of him.
Elina let out a quiet breath, her pulse quickening. "I have clearly underestimated you," she admitted, kneeling slightly to meet his gaze. "You are far more talented than any apprentice I have ever taught. I will train you with everything I know."
Nicholas stepped forward, pride etched into every line of his face. "We believe in you, Miss Elina. Under your guidance, our son can refine his skills and grow into a formidable mage."
The elf inclined her head, a faint but genuine smile curving her lips. "Thank you, Sir. I will do my utmost to teach your son." Her eyes shifted back to Julius, emerald fire sparking with determination. "Well then, let's begin our first lesson. Are you ready?"
"Yes!" Julius exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. "I'm so excited!"
With a final glance, the parents withdrew into the house, leaving the courtyard bathed in warm, golden afternoon light.
Elina folded her arms, studying the boy with sharp curiosity. "Julius," she said, voice calm but charged with anticipation, "what kinds of magic can you use?"
His face lit up. "I can use water magic… wind magic… earth magic… and healing magic!"
Elina's composure wavered. "Four…? You've already learned four schools?"
"Yes, Teacher!" Julius replied, beaming. "I practiced every day while Father was away!"
The elf knelt to bring her eyes level with his. "Show me each one, then."
Julius lifted his hand, and a sphere of water hovered gracefully. With a flick of his wrist, a gust of wind swept through the yard, scattering dry leaves. He stomped his foot, and a jagged stone spike thrust skyward from the ground. Finally, he pricked his finger on the tip, then healed the wound instantly.
"All better!" he announced proudly.
Elina drew in a long, slow breath. Her voice was soft, almost reverent. "Julius… you truly are a miracle."
The boy's grin widened, eyes shining with anticipation. He was ready — eager to learn, — and utterly unaware of just how far his talents would one day carry him.