2 weeks later..
The Flame Ceremony was taking place, a ritual held every three years where noble families brought their children to receive the Blessing of the Flame.
"Young master, are you ready?"
"yes"
The child and his butler boarded the carriage, guarded by four knights of the 2- and 3-star level.
"As I said before, young master, today's ceremony is of utmost importance, you must display only your finest etiquette."
As always, the child remained silent. Lost in his own world, his mind clung to a single thought for the past two weeks,how to finally wield his sword.
"So all I need to do is step into the flame and wait… right?"
"It's not that easy, young lord. Once you set foot in the flame, you will feel incredible pain, as if you were being burned alive."
"If I can endure it… will I finally be able to play with my sword?"
"Yes, young master. Do not push yourself too far,if you overreach, you could die."
To the child, death was an empty word, too distant to grasp, and not worth the effort of trying. His world was small, and in it lived only one desire; to wield his sword, no matter the cost.
The child, who had been lost in his thoughts this entire time, looked straight into the butler's eyes.
"I will do whatever it takes."
For decades the Butler had served this family, yet the sight of the child's piercing white eyes and flowing black hair stirred something even he had never expected. These were the unmistakable traits of the Valkyrien lineage, rare across the entire continent.
"You really resemble your father"
In the three short years of his life, the child had never once laid eyes on his father. and the man showed no intention of changing that anytime soon.
The mention of his father stirred nothing in the child. His mind was fixed on a single purpose: to endure the flame and return home to his sword.
The carriage slowly set off, weaving through winding roads, dense forests, and scattered villages. Hours later, the child and his butler finally reached Solfyria, the resplendent capital of the kingdom.
Solfyria was a city of breathtaking beauty, brimming with life and prosperity. Every street and market spoke of a people both affluent and vibrant.
Minutes later, the carriage arrived at the Flame Ceremony. Within the walls of the royal palace, the kingdom's most powerful figures had gathered, their eyes fixed on the sacred ritual about to commence.
"Young lord,we have arrived"
Throughout the long journey, the child remained motionless, never once glancing out the carriage window. His mind was consumed by a single thought: to endure the flame. Obsession burned in his thoughts, and a fierce determination lit his eyes.
with the sudden noises and carriage stopping the child came back to his senses
He and the butler stepped down from the carriage and entered the palace. The butler led him to a room where children between three and five years of age were gathered.
We must part here, young master. In a few minutes, the ceremony will begin, and you will be instructed on how to proceed.
The butler left the child behind and ascended to the upper floor, where the kingdom's most powerful families had gathered. Taking his place among the Valkyrien family, he bowed respectfully before the patriarch.
"Patriarch, I come to report: I have brought the fourth young lord."
The patriarch was a man of few words, his presence distant, as though the weight of being the strongest kept him forever apart from the world around him. His black hair, white eyes, and serious face made him easy to recognize
"How is the young one doing, Albert?"
"He resembles you, my lord."
Suddenly, the air shifted. The patriarch radiated bloodlust. Albert's words had enraged him. For the second thing he despised most was weakness, and for such a frail child to be compared to him was enraging.
Suddenly, a figure of great importance entered. It was Lucas Vankleef, head of the Vankleef family, the second strongest swordsman alive, and at once the Valkyrien patriarch's greatest rival and closest friend.
"Ban, what are you doing, radiating such bloodlust during a sacred ceremony? You're terrifying everyone! Hahaha!"
Lucas Vankleef was Ban's polar opposite. Boisterous and endlessly talkative, he laughed at everything and everyone, his presence impossible to ignore. Towering at 7'1" with a muscular frame and blue hair pulled into a man bun, he looked every bit the formidable figure his reputation suggested. yet entirely approachable.
The entire kingdom marveled at how these two could be such close friends despite their wildly different temperaments. Many whispered that it was their mutual passion for the sword that had forged an unbreakable bond between them.
The Valkyrien patriarch calmed down and returned to his usual untouchable, cold demeanor.
"i heard your fourth son is participating?"
"yes"
"I see, hahaha… They grow so fast. My little girl, Luna, is participating too."
"But tell me, why was your child placed to go in the middle of the ceremony?"
Not many people knew this, but the order of the ceremony was extremely important for prestige. The children who passed through the flame first and last were usually the ones most remembered. In the case of great success, a child's reputation would rise significantly, and the nine main families of the continent typically claimed those positions.
For the Valkyrien family, held in high regard even by the other eight main families, not securing one of those two spots meant they did not believe in the child's talent and wanted to save face in case of a possible embarrassment.
Ban looked clearly annoyed at Lucas's question. Noticing this, Lucas quickly changed the subject.
"Have you heard? Merlin won't be presenting the ceremony this time."
"He's still looking for that man… huh?"
Both fell silent.
A loud noise suddenly rang out, signaling the start of the Flame Ceremony.
A mage appeared. the head of the Solfyria Magic Tower, the one entrusted with presenting the ceremony.
"I am Julius Rondo, Head of the Solfyria Magic Tower. I welcome the nobility of the Solfyr Kingdom. Let the Holy Flame Ceremony begin!"
Soon enough, the entire hall was bathed in a blinding radiance. As the curtains drew apart, the sacred flame revealed itself, its brilliance growing ever more vivid. It was a sight of exquisite beauty, one that only those of the highest class were privileged to behold. To the people of the Sylfir Kingdom, this flame was more than a symbol of pride; it was proof, in their eyes, of the divine. They believed it to be the sign of God's existence
and that He had chosen them above all others.
Julius Rondo closed his hands together and initiated a prayer
"O Lord of the Flames, hear our prayer. Bestow Your blessings upon Your descendants, and grant us strength to stand against evil and uphold what is right. Give us wisdom, that we may walk ever upon the righteous path, and faith, that we may find Your light in our darkest hours.
Gize rA abOme Us."
The people replied in unison, "Gize rA abOme Us," and at once the hall erupted in thunderous applause, the sound echoing through its grand arches like a wave of devotion and enjoyment.
Julius Rondo stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding, and began a brief introduction to the ceremony. When he had finished, he called upon the chosen participants to take their places.
Soon enough, the children were led before the sacred flame, each one stepping forward to seek its blessing. As tradition dictated, the murmurs soon began to ripple through the crowd, soft gossip threading between the solemn moments. This time, the main topics were all too predictable: whose child would endure the flame the longest and thus receive the greatest blessing, and why, of all people, the child of the Valkyrien had been placed to go midway through the ceremony.
"Poor child… he was abandoned by his own family."
"His life is destined to end abruptly."
"The downfall of the Valkyrien has finally come."
"He truly is a dishonored one."
Those were but a few of the words that drifted through the ceremony, laden with pity, grief, and even mockery. Yet such emotions were nothing new to the fourth child of the Valkyrien. He had grown so accustomed to them that they no longer pierced his heart; they merely echoed around him like distant whispers in the wind.
"Siegfried Balmung! The flame has called upon you. Will you answer the call of fate?"
"Yes, I will!" came the clear, confident reply.
The child of the Balmung family was the first to be summoned. As a member of one of the nine great houses of the kingdom, much was expected of him, perhaps even greatness itself.
The child walked forward with unshaken confidence, a wide smile lighting his face as he stepped into the flame. The first minute passed with ease, his body blessed with a heavenly constitution, his raw talent hailed as the finest on the continent. With the full backing of the Balmung family, it was said he could one day reach the very peak of swordsmanship itself.
As time stretched on, the sounds of the ceremony grew louder, swelling with every passing second. By the sixth minute within the flame—a feat few could hope to endure—Siegfried's body began to falter, and the radiant smile that had graced his face so long started to fade.
For a moment, he glanced to his left, drawing strength from something unseen, and steeled himself. Enduring just a little longer, he finally stepped out of the flame, his smile restored. The hall erupted in astonishment, the entire ceremony stunned into silence as the child of the Balmung family strode out, triumphant.
The hall erupted in noise. A child had matched the record of the continent's strongest warrior, enduring the flame for a staggering seven minutes and fourteen seconds, the same as the legendary 8-star knight, Ban Valkyrien. The news was a boon for the Sylfir Kingdom; they now had a new figure upon whom to pin their hopes and dreams. Word of the extraordinary feat spread like wildfire, and soon people were pouring out of the hall, eager to carry the exclusive news to every corner of the continent.
"Poor child he is going to have a tough life won't he Ban?"
Lucas turned to Ban Valkyrien, hoping for a response, but the knight remained silent, his usual composed demeanor unshaken. He knew everyone was waiting for his reaction, yet he gave none. Lucas's jaw tightened, and he let out a long, forceful sigh, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the hall.
And thus, with a breathtaking display of light, the Ceremony began.
Several children of lesser nobility stepped forward one after another, yet none lasted more than a minute or two within the sacred flame, a result expected of their lineage. Then, midway through the ceremony, the air shifted.
"Lancelot Valkyrien! The flame has called upon you. Will you answer the call of fate?"
"Yes."
The fourth child of the Valkyrien family began his slow walk toward the flame. Every gaze in the hall turned to him. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, wagers whispered beneath the breath of nobles, would he even last a minute beneath the Holy Flame's searing heat?
He stepped into the blaze. The instant his foot touched the sacred fire, it felt as though every inch of his body was melting. Muscles tore, nerves screamed; the pain was beyond anything he had ever known.
Yet the first minute passed. And in that moment, it became clear that the people had gravely underestimated the strength of his will.
Through the agony, Lancelot's thoughts clung to what mattered most, his sword, his friend, his family, and the one person who had never sought to use him. The sword awaited him still, waiting for the day it would once again be held by his hand.
If there was anything worse than being consumed by the flame, it was the thought of never again playing with his friend.
And then something changed. As his resolve solidified and his purpose became clear, the fire no longer burned. The pain dulled into warmth. It felt like the gentle comfort of a winter's night, wrapped safely beneath a blanket… or the familiar weight of his sword resting in his arms.
For the first time in his life, the child felt safe and protected as if nothing in the world could harm him.
For the first time, Lancelot Valkyrien could simply be a child.