The Garden of?
Chapter one :The Intriguing world;
Leif opened his eyes, his blue eyeballs reflecting his mother's beautiful face. A woman with a white hair which covered her ears, fair skin, and with an average height was holding the five-year old Leif in her arms. Embracing with love and affection of a mother.
Leif exclaimed, 'Mama, I can't breathe! You're hugging me too tightly!' Ferexia immediately loosened her grip, looking slightly worried about her clumsiness. Leif then stood up, took his mother's hand, and indicated that he wanted to head into town.
Ferexia affectionately patted her pouty son's head, her fingers lingering in his messy hair. She gave a soft chuckle at his sulking expression, the corners of her lips curving despite his stubborn silence. Taking his small hand in hers, she guided him toward the bustling town. The cobbled street echoed with the chatter of merchants and the scent of fresh bread, yet her attention remained on the boy at her side, her heart softening with every step.
Leif was engulfed in amusement as he walked through the extremely busy street, where people of every kind bustled about. His eyebrows perked with wonder when his eyes caught a mage performing dazzling tricks near the plaza, sparks of light dancing in the air.
Ferexia noticed her son's delight and leaned down slightly, her voice gentle.
"Leif, do you want to see it up close?" she asked, her expression soft with fondness.
Leif's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly, pure joy spilling across his face.
The streets swarmed with people, every corner alive with chatter and motion, but the boy's gaze ignored it all; he wanted only to see the mage's tricks.
There were a dozen children around Leif's age, all admiring the dazzling display of magic. Every single face shone with intrigue, their laughter and gasps filling the air. A brown-haired boy suddenly exclaimed that he wanted to become a mage, his words brimming with excitement.
Hearing this, Leif felt a strange flutter in his chest. What if I become one too? The thought stirred in his mind, filling him with a rush of curiosity.
Unable to hold it back, he scooted closer to Ferexia and whispered, his eyes sparkling, "Mother… I want books. I want to read and learn magic."
In this world, the art of battle is divided into three great Paths, each demanding a different bond between the fighter and the forces that govern existence. The first is the way of the Mage, who draws upon the boundless essence of mana—the energy that permeates every corner of creation. Through study, focus, and will, Mages bend this invisible current into spells that can heal, destroy, summon, or enchant, their mastery limited only by their intellect and control. The second is the way of the Aetherblade, also called the Aether Knight, whose steel is infused with aether, a divine power said to descend from the gods themselves. To walk this path is to embrace the harmony of body and weapon, where every strike is not merely physical, but charged with celestial force, their blade arts capable of cleaving through armor, magic, and even fate itself. And then there is the most mysterious and dangerous path—the way of Spiritflow, a discipline born from communion with the unseen. Practitioners bind spirits to their own souls, infusing their bodies with otherworldly strength, speed, and resilience. At higher mastery, they unlock the ability to blend Spiritflow with the arts of mana or aether, becoming living vessels of hybrid power. Yet this gift comes at a cost: those who fail to control the bond risk being consumed by the very spirits they seek to command. Together, these three Paths form the foundation of every warrior's destiny, shaping not only how they fight, but what kind of legend they will leave behind.
In the world of magic, the path begins with the Initiar, those who first awaken their mana veins and learn to shape their will into sparks of power. As their control deepens, they ascend into Arcanis, spell-weavers who command structured magic with precision. The next step, Mystara, marks those who bend mysteries beyond mortal knowledge, shaping reality itself. From there rises the Astralis, who channel cosmic mana, commanding the stars, storms, and the void between. At the very pinnacle stands the Zenithar, the embodiment of magic itself, a sorcerer whose mere presence bends mana around them like a living storm.
Ranks: Initiar → Arcanis → Mystara → Astralis → Zenithar
Among the Aetherblades, the journey begins with the Steelborn, warriors whose souls resonate with their first aethersteel blade. They rise into Veythar, disciplined fighters who channel raw aether into their strikes, merging body and weapon as one. Higher still are the Aetherion, knights whose very blades shine with pure aether, able to cut through magic and matter alike. Then come the Mythros, legendary warriors whose sword-dances decide the fates of kingdoms. And at the apex stands the Zenithblade, a being no longer bound by steel, for their blade is but an extension of their essence — an eternal weapon forged of will and aether.
Ranks: Steelborn → Veythar → Aetherion → Mythros → Zenithblade
The Spiritflow path begins with the Soulkin, those who first bond with a spirit and channel its essence into their movements. As they grow, they become Phorath, warriors who infuse spirit energy into strikes and combat arts, surpassing mere mortals in strength. The next stage, Animael, grants mastery over the fusion of body and spirit, making their every action a living manifestation of power. Beyond them lies the Kaelyth, rare masters who can walk between the spirit and mortal realms, commanding forces beyond human understanding. Finally, at the summit of the path stands the Ascendant, an enlightened vessel of spiritflow whose body, soul, and spirit are eternally one.
Ranks: Soulkin → Phorath → Animael → Kaelyth → Ascendant
Leif's small fingers lingered on the page as though the book itself were alive, its words glowing in his mind like embers fanning into flame. He closed it gently with his mother's help, the faint thud echoing like the end of a sacred vow. For a heartbeat, there was only the soft crackle of the lantern and the muffled chatter of the town outside.
Then his gaze drifted upward, through the open window where the fading twilight painted the sky in hues of indigo and gold. His chest rose and fell, and for the first time his young voice carried more than curiosity — it carried conviction.
"Mama… Dad… I'm gonna become so strong."
Ferexia froze, her hand halfway to tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. For years she had seen her son as gentle, shy, easily awed by the world's wonders — and now, suddenly, she glimpsed the spark of a boy who yearned for more. Her lips parted, eyes shimmering as warmth spread through her chest. She had never expected such boldness, yet her heart swelled with pride.
Airen, standing quietly by the hearth, let out a deep, surprised laugh. Not mocking, but full of pride and affection. He strode forward, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor, and with one smooth motion he lifted Leif high into his arms. The boy's laughter spilled out, bright and unrestrained, as though his dreams already carried him above the clouds.
"We look forward to it, Lei," Airen said, his voice steady and strong, yet thick with feeling. His rough hands, calloused from years of labor and training, held his son with a gentleness that belied their strength. For once, his stern face softened completely, and his eyes shone not with doubt, but with absolute belief.
Ferexia stepped closer, her smile radiant, brushing her fingers tenderly across Leif's cheek. "You have your father's spirit," she whispered, her tone warm, almost reverent. "And perhaps even more."
Leif's little hands gripped his father's shoulders tightly as he looked between them — his mother's tender fondness, his father's unwavering strength. In that moment, his heart pounded not with fear, but with joy. He wasn't alone. His dream was no longer just his — it was theirs, shared and nurtured by the two people who loved him most.
The night deepened, stars blossoming across the heavens, and Leif felt as though those distant lights were watching, waiting for him. Within the embrace of his family, he made an unspoken promise to himself: he would reach them one day.
Note:
(Airen – Airen caelith, Leif caelith, Ferexia caelith)
"Caelith"- family name of these charcaters.
Next: Chapter 2: