The past month had slipped away like grains of sand—quiet, relentless, and impossible to fully grasp. Caelan spent that time training his body and mind, aware of a looming threat he barely understood. Each dawn broke with the sharp clang of steel meeting steel as he practiced sword fighting until his arms burned. He pounded his feet on the cold castle grounds during early morning runs, chasing after stamina he knew he would need. Hours were spent alone in the courtyard, fingers weaving through currents of lightning and water magic, seeking balance between opposing forces.
The cold sweat on his brow now came not just from exertion but from the weight of what awaited him.
Now, standing at the edge of the castle gates, Caelan raised his hand to summon his system's interface. The translucent screen shimmered into view, a quiet presence in his solitude.
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[Status]
Name: Caelan Aurelian Crowndread
Race: Human
Age: 16
Title: Third Prince of Varelia
Class: Unawakened (Potential: ???)
Affinity:
Lightning [Intermediate: Incomplete]
Water [Intermediate: Stable]
Rank: E+
Stats:
Vitality: 14 → 20
Strength: 11 → 17
Agility: 13 → 19
Intelligence: 18 → 19
Mana Control: 15 → 21
Mana Capacity: 20 → 24
Weapon Mastery [Sword]: F → E-
Elemental Control:
Water: D → D+
Lightning: D → D
Traits:
[Monarch's Dignity] (Passive): Grants a natural aura of authority and poise; improves presence in social and leadership situations.
[Undiscovered Trait(s)]: Hidden.
Skills:
[Enhanced Comprehension] (Passive): Allows rapid absorption and understanding of concepts, especially during study or training.
[Mana Resonance]: Improves mana response with elemental training when meditating near natural sources.
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
His eyes lingered on the numbers and progress bars, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips. "Not perfect," he murmured to himself, "but it's something."
He dismissed the screen with a thought and took a long breath, the cold morning air filling his lungs. His heart raced—not from exertion this time, but from nerves. Apex Academy awaited him, and the month of training felt like both a shield and a fragile hope.
He stepped beyond the castle gates, the great wooden doors closing softly behind him. The wide road stretched ahead, winding through the rolling countryside towards the academy's distant spires.
...
The cracked wheel of the royal carriage groaned before snapping off entirely, sending the whole vehicle lurching to one side. Caelan barely avoided hitting his head on the carved wood as the coach came to a shuddering stop on the gravel-laden roadside.
"By the stars," he muttered, stepping out with a hiss. His legs ached from sitting too long, and now this.
The lead soldier jogged up with an apologetic look, his armor clinking faintly. "Your Highness, the axle's split. We can't repair it without proper tools."
"And do we have those tools?" Caelan asked dryly.
"No, Your Highness."
Of course not.
Caelan exhaled and looked ahead at the winding dirt path. Distant smoke curled into the air behind a cluster of trees—signs of life.
"A village?" he asked.
"Aye, a small one. It should be less than a mile north."
Caelan nodded. "Leave two men here to guard the carriage. Take the rest to find us a cart, horse, anything that moves. I'll head in on foot."
"Alone, Your Highness?"
He raised a brow. "Do you think someone in a farming village will assassinate a prince barefoot in the mud?"
"Understood."
Before long, Caelan approached a small village nestled beside the road. The place was quiet and unassuming—wooden cottages with thatched roofs, smoke curling gently from chimneys, and villagers going about their morning routines.
As he walked through the village square, heads turned. Whispers began.
"The prince is leaving," an elderly woman said, holding her basket tighter.
"May the gods watch over him," a young man murmured with a hopeful glance.
Caelan nodded respectfully to those who dared meet his gaze. His noble status felt heavy, yet here in the village, it was met with a mix of awe and caution.
Near the edge of the village stood a modest shrine—a simple stone altar draped in faded cloth and surrounded by offerings of fruits, flowers, and small trinkets left by grateful villagers. This was the home of the local deity, a guardian spirit of the land who rarely revealed itself openly.
Caelan approached slowly, kneeling before the altar. The villagers watched quietly from a respectful distance, some bowing their heads in reverence.
His hands trembled as he laid down the offering he had brought—a small pouch of rare herbs, carefully gathered from the royal gardens.
"I don't have much to give," he whispered, his voice barely carrying over the soft breeze, "but I offer it with all my heart."
He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"I'm nervous. Scared, even. This test ahead… it might decide more than just my future." He paused, his voice cracking slightly. "I ask for your guidance. Not power, not miracles—just your blessing. A sign that I'm not alone."
A sudden stillness fell over the place.
Unseen by Caelan, the deity stirred, watching from the shadows of the nearby trees. It was a modest spirit, tied to the village's soil and history, often overlooked by nobles and commoners alike. Its form shimmered faintly—like sunlight through leaves.
This one is honest, the deity mused, its voice a gentle echo in the air. He carries a heavy burden. Unlike the others who come with pride or demands, he kneels with quiet hope.
As Caelan finished his prayer, the deity stepped forward, a gentle glow surrounding the shrine.
With a barely perceptible gesture, the deity reached out and touched the prince's forehead with a warm, flickering light—a blessing small but sincere.
Caelan felt it immediately—a soothing warmth spreading from his brow, relaxing the tight knot in his chest. His eyes snapped open, shock mingling with relief.
"Thank you," he whispered, standing slowly, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
The villagers watched in awe, murmuring prayers of their own.
The deity withdrew back into the shadows, a faint smile lingering.
Perhaps this one will change things yet, it thought, eyes glinting with quiet anticipation.
Caelan gave a final bow to the villagers and the shrine, his heart steadier than before.
He resumed his journey, the sun now climbing higher, painting the road gold.
After hours of traveling, the distant silhouette of the Apex Academy gates appeared—massive stone towers crowned with banners fluttering proudly.
As he reached the towering gates, Caelan tightened his grip on the sword at his side.
The real test was about to begin.