The soldiers, upon seeing the baby, were terrified and murmured among themselves, deciding what to do. Their gray armor, marked by discreet scratches, clinked as they approached, their faces hardened with hatred.
— This is definitely a bad omen! They are trying to destroy us from within. It's all a deception by those monsters to kill us! — thought one of the soldiers, his heart racing.
— Hey, did you see that symbol? It's the emblem of the Three Princes of Ákatlon! I don't know how this baby ended up here, but we must get rid of him immediately. He is clearly a symbol of destruction! — exclaimed the soldier who found the baby, his brown eyes wide.
The other soldiers quickly agreed, their eyes gleaming with fanaticism.
— We would be doing the kingdom a favor by eliminating this descendant of those monsters who have polluted Turfazia with their filthy presence since ancient times! — added one of the warriors, pointing his sword at the baby with a look of contempt.
— Kill this baby immediately! — shouted another soldier, gripping his comrade's shoulder firmly.
— Kill! Kill! Kill! — the surrounding soldiers echoed, inciting the attack with voices filled with hatred.
The strongest of the group raised his sword, infusing it with powerful magic that crackled in the air.
— Disappear, you detestable creature! — bellowed the soldier, attacking the baby with all his might.
The moment the blade neared, the symbol of the third eye on the baby's forehead shone intensely, activating a protective barrier.
The defense reflected the attack with doubled force, hurling the nearby soldiers backward in an explosion that shook the ground.
The group's commander, who had been observing from a distance, rushed to the gates to understand the commotion.
The soldiers were still stunned, their bodies scattered on the ground, trying to recover.
— What are you doing? Are you all insane? — roared the commander upon seeing his men sprawled across the field.
— **Sir, we were merely fulfilling our oath to destroy all threats to the kingdom! We found this Katlonian baby and decided to eliminate him. He is not a normal child, as he bears the symbol of the Three Princes of Ákatlon! — justified one of the soldiers, still panting.
The commander stared coldly, his eyes scrutinizing the infant with caution.
{Despite being just a baby, he hasn't cried even once...}
{...Well, I shall now take this baby to the king so he may decide the child's fate.}
He picked up the baby from the box, cradling him carefully, feeling his light brown skin and observing his light orange eyes, a distinct shade never before seen in Dirfázia.
When he arrived at the throne room, the white marble doors swung open.
The king sat on his imposing throne, watching the commander with curiosity.
— My king, during a patrol, we found this. — he said, opening the box with caution.
The king's green eyes narrowed, his voice thick with contempt.
— A Katlonian baby… But he carries the emblem of the Three Princes of Ákatlon!
— Why have you brought this vile creature before me? Kill him immediately!
The commander swallowed hard, recalling what had happened earlier.
He unsheathed his sword with hesitation.
But then—
The throne room door burst open, and Charles, the king's advisor, stepped in.
With his long gray tunic and lavender-purple eyes, he gazed at the baby in surprise.
— My king, I implore you! Do not kill this child.
— We can raise him in our way, mold him into a powerful soldier. That way, we can use his strength against the Katlonians!
The king pondered for a moment.
Then, he nodded.
— Very well, Charles. But know this—you will bear full responsibility. If anything goes wrong, we will kill this Katlonian immediately!
Charles left the king's presence with a victorious smile.
Casting a spell over the child, concealing the symbol on his forehead, he declared:
— This child shall be called Arthur.
Five Years Later
Arthur sat beneath the shade of an apple tree with his foster mother, where the gentle breeze swayed the leaves.
— Mom, why must I stay trapped in this castle? Why can't I go out and play with the other children? — Arthur asked, his bright eyes full of curiosity.
The woman sighed, closing her eyes briefly before replying in a sharp tone.
— Arthur, you must remain here because the king has decreed it. Do not question him.
He furrowed his brow, his gaze insistent.
— But, Mom, why? I haven't done anything wrong...
She clutched the fabric in her hands tightly.
{I have wasted five years of my life caring for this child, pretending an affection I do not feel. I can't take it anymore...}
Her breath grew labored, and before she realized it, her hand struck Arthur's face with force.
He fell to the ground, his cheek marked and red.
For a moment, she expected him to cry.
But he did not.
Arthur slowly stood up, looking at her without a hint of resentment.
Seeing the tears streaming down her face, he approached and embraced her gently.
Before she could react, footsteps echoed in the distance.
— Hey! We saw you strike the child the king has taken in! You will be duly punished. — announced a soldier, a cruel smile on his face.
The woman turned, her eyes wide with panic.
— No! Please, I—
The soldier grabbed her by the hair, ignoring her screams, and dragged her away.
Arthur remained still, paralyzed, watching as she vanished.
Tears slowly ran down his face.
He did not know it yet, but that would be the last time he ever saw his foster mother.
Later, Charles summoned him to a room, where he fixed his gaze firmly upon the boy.
— From now on, for three months, you will be trained by different soldiers to learn how to wield a sword. When magic lessons begin at the Dirfázia Magic Academy, you will be sent there.
Arthur blinked, trying to process the information.
— Magic... academy?
— Yes. The academy is attended only by the children of the most influential nobles in the kingdom. Behave well and do not cause trouble.
The advisor narrowed his eyes.
— Remember—you are only alive because I pleaded with the king. Do not make me regret that decision.
Arthur swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the words.
Days passed, and the training began.
But the soldiers were not merely teaching.
They used the training as an excuse to beat him, venting their hatred against the Katlonians on him.
Every day, the boy was humiliated and assaulted, yet he never complained or shed a tear.
Despite the beatings, he learned quickly.
His sword movements became more precise and powerful.
In the final training sessions, after three months, he blocked blows and counterattacked with surprising strength for his age.
For a brief moment, it seemed like he was going to defeat a soldier.
But then—
Another warrior intervened, shoving him to the ground, thwarting his victory.
His eyes burned with disdain.
Months later, the Dirfázia Magic Academy announced its admission of new students, and Arthur was taken there in a carriage alongside Charles.
As the vehicle traveled down the road, he gazed out the window.
He thought that, upon entering the academy, his life would finally change for the better.
He barely noticed the time pass, and before he knew it—
The carriage had already stopped before the gates.
Charles descended first, casting a stern glance.
— Remember what I told you. Behave.
Arthur took a deep breath, attempting to conceal his nervousness.
— Yes, sir! — he replied with determination, a faint glimmer in his eyes.
The academy gates slowly began to open.
An intense light seeped through the cracks, illuminating his face and warming his skin.
He felt that something new was about to begin.